Sergon typhoon - chapter 50
Oblivion vs Kytrhone
When Logic Met the End
The sky didn't darken.
It failed.
Air thinned as if it had forgotten how to exist. Colors dulled, not fading but losing agreement with themselves. Clouds convulsed, releasing thunder that sounded like choking.
Something had entered the Sky Kingdom.
Kytrhone turned first.
A realm-sized figure, his form bound by constellations and laws older than Olympus itself. He saw the disturbance not as shape—but as a termination point.
And then Oblivion stepped forward.
Five feet and eleven inches tall.
Floating.
A scythe resting casually over one shoulder.
Kytrhone's massive palm descended—fast, precise, final.
Oblivion raised the scythe and blocked it.
The impact didn't make a sound.
It erased one.
Oblivion twisted the blade and swung.
The slash didn't travel.
It ended the idea of distance.
Kytrhone's chest split open across a span that should have been impossible. He staggered—not from damage, but from confusion. The wound sealed instantly, logic stitching itself back together.
Oblivion tilted his head.
> Oblivion: "Huh. So that's what it feels like."
He drifted backward as Kytrhone reoriented, the sky cracking behind him from the pressure of thought alone.
Below, the Sky Legion surged forward—
> Hyperion: "STOP."
His voice burned like a dying sun.
> Hyperion: "Do you understand what's happening? Logic and End are collapsing there. We're alive because Kytrhone is limiting the death field. Past that line—existence doesn't know whether it's allowed to finish dying."
The legion froze.
Kytrhone moved again, faster now. He canceled levitation in the zone around himself.
Oblivion dropped.
Falling—not because gravity pulled him, but because flight had been disallowed.
Kytrhone's fist met him mid-fall.
The punch shattered Oblivion's body into fragments of shadow and void, pieces scattering like broken punctuation.
Then—
Laughter.
Oblivion reassembled midair, bones clicking back into place, flesh reasserting itself.
> Oblivion: "Oh, that's good. I don't get hit often."
Kytrhone hissed as pain bloomed in his knuckles.
Blood.
A single dark mark spread across his fist—quiet, patient.
Not poison.
A death mark.
Kytrhone couldn't die.
But the mark didn't want that.
It ended his ability to think logically about survival.
Choices began to blur.
Reason thinned.
> Kytrhone (to Hyperion): "Take them. All of them. Go to the capital. Find Zeus. Find every faction under the sky."
Hyperion hesitated.
> Kytrhone: "WAR IS COMING."
Hyperion obeyed.
Kytrhone pushed himself upright. He could negate the mark—normally. But Oblivion had ended the concept of logic prioritization within his mind.
Every thought now arrived equally urgent.
Reckless.
Kytrhone brought his palms together, clapping space itself between them.
The pressure collapsed inward—an attempt to crush the End.
Oblivion vanished inside the force.
For half a second—
Nothing.
Then the world shook.
Atlas looked up.
> Atlas: "—SON!"
The word echoed through centuries.
Kytrhone froze.
That single moment of recognition—of being seen—snapped him back. Awareness surged as atlas always believed kytrhone deserved better and never acknowledge himself as his dad but now atlas called him son but-
Too late.
The foundations of the Sky Kingdom cracked.
Fourteen dimensions screamed as stability failed. The ground beneath Atlas gave way, his grip faltering as the sky slipped—
And through the widening fracture—
Gaea fell from the gap of sky and earth.
Oblivion emerged from the crushed space, drifting backward, amused.
He and Gaea vanished escaping.
Atlas released the sky—only for Kytrhone to catch it.
Invisible force surged as he held reality together by refusal alone, bracing himself against a mountain that cracked beneath the strain.
Atlas knelt beside him.
For the first time.
Silence followed.
The war had not begun.
But the universe had been warned.
Pov inside Tartarus:
The air inside Tartarus' endless hall of shadows was heavy but alive. Walls pulsed faintly as the Harbinger of Siege spoke through them, each vibration a low hum that filled the cavern.
> Tartarus (through walls): "They come. The universe bends before them, but here, we are constant. Speak."
Around the massive chamber, the Harbingers gathered. Each exuded their aura: inevitability, terror, rebirth, blood, awareness, and knowledge of the End. Even here, Kronos' presence weighed like gravity itself—though he rarely spoke, the others listened as if every word were a law.
Marmon leaned forward, voice measured.
> Marmon: "And if we move without thinking," he said, eyes scanning the group, "Abyss will turn us into lessons. Every action, every misstep, will teach him—and not in our favor."
Atlantos' crimson eyes reflected the depth of oceans unknown.
> Atlantos: "We strike when necessary. Not for pride. For the eventual collapse of Olympus and Poseidon's arrogance. Every bloodline will remember."
Mira's hands rested lightly on her weaving loom of golden threads, eyes never leaving Kronos.
> Mira: "I cannot bend fate to my will around him," she said, voice calm but precise. "Every calculation dissolves. Abyss is… not a variable. He changes the equation itself."
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched the lips of the figure who seemed merely to watch—the one everyone assumed was Synthria but carried a subtle smugness when Mirage's powers were whispered about.
> Synthria: (softly, almost to herself): "Heh… everyone underestimates how fragile certainty is."
Kronos' voice finally cut through, deep, commanding, but calm.
> Kronos: "Hyperion remains outside. The only Titan I trusted to think differently, and he refuses to join. Even then, the war does not wait for loyalty. Decisions must be absolute, but deliberation is permitted. Use it."
Tartarus' walls vibrated again, a subtle rumble that made the floor shiver—a faint echo of the clash above, Oblivion and Kytrhone battling where logic and the End warped the air itself.
> Tartarus: "Do you feel it? The foundations tremble. Their victory is temporary, yet instructive. Let it remind you—power is not always grasped, sometimes it is tested."
Marmon nodded, voice low, analyzing.
> Marmon: "Even with our collective strength, we cannot rush. Abyss' moves are above any predictable pattern. He will exploit the first sign of impatience. But patience alone is not enough—understanding him, even partially, is required."
> Tartarus: "Correct. The lessons he teaches are ours to survive, not ignore. I will provide sanctuary; use it to your minds' advantage, not just your arms."
Atlantos leaned against a jagged stone pillar.
> Atlantos: "Dreams guide us, yes—but some of us do not dream. We plan. We wait. The river of fate flows differently for those willing to carve the banks themselves."
Mira tilted her head, golden threads shifting almost imperceptibly.
> Mira: "And yet… fate has its limits. Around him, they dissolve. Around Abyss, nothing is inevitable. Our victories, our calculations—they are only temporary alignments."
The smug figure—Synthria—shifted, her eyes glinting
> Synthria"Funny, isn't it? How knowledge becomes chaos when perceived by the wrong eyes." who could have thought sytrhina hitted puberty? She's 45cm for some reason- wait a bit that what marmon was thinking as he slowly realized
Kronos' gaze swept across them all, his aura radiating authority and strategy.
> Kronos: "Our shared dream—Abyss contained, or the cycle redirected—is not idle fantasy. Each of you has chosen purpose. Each of you is essential. And yet, I see doubt creeping in the corners. Remove it before the war begins."
Marmon crossed his arms, voice calm but piercing:
> Marmon: "Doubt is a tool, if handled with intellect. Ignore it, and it will destroy us. We plan, we observe, we act—on his moves, not our assumptions."
The chamber shivered again—stronger this time. Dust fell from the high, shadowed ceiling, and the Harbingers instinctively braced.
> Tartarus (through walls, approving): "Good. Feel the victory of the first strike. The enemy above falters—briefly. That tremor is yours to celebrate, but remember: even the tremor will vanish unless it is reinforced with resolve."
A quiet cheer rose among them, voices echoing off the walls. Even Kronos allowed himself a small nod.
> Kronos: "Yes. Let this be our first victory. But remember, it is not a war won—it is a war begun."
The Harbingers exchanged glances, subtle camaraderie weaving itself into the shadows. Allies, strategists, philosophers of destruction—they were unified, yet aware that betrayal and challenges lay ahead.
Marmon leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as he considered the reports from Abyss' side. He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
> Marmon: "There's someone… a variable we can't ignore. Mirage. Her reputation precedes her—dangerous, yes, but not in the obvious sense. She could be anyone. Her illusions manipulate reality so subtly that often no evidence remains. The world itself obeys her command, even when it refuses to acknowledge it."
Mira, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Her expression was cool, almost amused, though her silence carried a warning. She did not like anyone speaking of her best friend—but now that Mirage was an enemy, that caution had to remain.
Atlantos' crimson gaze flickered toward the same direction, his voice calm but measured.
> Atlantos: "One of our followers—unified under Kronos' banner—reported something intriguing. Every choice he believed he made freely, every decision he swore was his own, was… manipulated. Mirage gave him the illusion of choice. He never realized it. She is dangerous indeed."
The subtle smirk on the figure—Sytrhina —was almost imperceptible. A slight tilt of the head, a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes, hinted at the truth without confirming it to anyone else.
Then the hall shivered. A low vibration ran through the walls, faintly at first, then stronger, as if the very foundation of Tartarus reacted to some distant power.
> Tartarus (through walls): "Do you feel it? The tremor… their victory is confirmed."
Mira's golden threads shimmered as she consulted the log of fate, eyes scanning the invisible paths of probability.
> Mira: "Oblivion has bested Kytrhone. The shockwaves confirm it. Our first advantage is tangible."
The Harbingers exchanged glances, tension and camaraderie mixing in the dim light of the hideout. The tremor was a reminder: even victories are only the beginning. And some variables, like Mirage, were far more dangerous than any of them had expected.
Different pov
Arthur pushed through the dense foliage of the fairy forest, calling out, "Sytrhina! What's—"
He froze. Blood coated the ground, the remnants of fairies scattered across the forest floor. Sytrhina, barely forty centimeters tall, crouched amid the carnage, her small hands slick with red. She had devoured them. And yet… she had not created a new form from their essence.
Arthur's voice rose, incredulous and panicked. "Sytrhina! What was that for? We talked about this!"
Sytrhina's head snapped toward him. Her eyes, wide and wild, betrayed something darker than fear—a fracture within her mind. Two voices fought behind those irises. One screamed obedience, the other chaos. And then, in a voice that was not entirely hers, she shouted:
"Arthur… RUN!"
Before he could react, the forest warped around him. The vibrant life of the trees twisted into the Forest of Rebirth, Sytrhina's private dimension, where she tried to regain control. But inside her, the darker personality gained strength, whispering its singular goal: "Relieve Gaea's madness. Nothing else matters. Friends, enemies… irrelevant."
Arthur's eyes widened as the ground trembled and shadows coalesced behind her. Emerging from the mist, a colossal abomination rose—Sytrhina's ultimate creation.
> "Sergon Typhoon."
It was the original Typhoon reborn, but stronger, evolved, unnatural. Its body bore the power of countless creatures: the torso of a lion, standing on impossibly strong legs; both angelic and demonic wings sprouting from its shoulders; thousands of writhing tentacles trailing behind, each tipped with a sky serpent, monstrous heads, and faces recalling the original Typhoon. It pulsed with bio and kinetic energy, a mutation born from fragments of fourteen dimensions his power is bio and kinitcic energy evolutions.
Arthur's jaw clenched, but his stance was ready. He had faced many threats, yet this—this was something else entirely.
Sytrhina, sensing Abyss approaching from afar, realized she could not withstand him in her frail body. Her voice, trembling yet resolute, called out:
"See you in the war, Arthur."
In an instant, she closed the dimension, dragging the Sergon Typhoon with her. The forest of rebirth collapsed behind them, leaving Arthur standing alone amid the ruins of what had once been a sanctuary.
Arthur barely had a moment to catch his breath when the air above the forest shimmered. A sudden gust stirred leaves and petals alike, carrying a faint hum of power that made the ground tremble.
A figure descended gracefully from the sky—Abyss, towering and imposing, his presence bending the very wind around him. His dark aura pressed against the forest like a tide, yet his gaze was calm, precise.
Arthur straightened, relief and awe mixing in his chest. "Abyss…"
"Arthur," Abyss said, his voice low, almost a whisper that carried across the clearing. "Get ready. The war starts now. Kytrhone has fallen. Gaea has slipped free. Time waits for no one."
Arthur's eyes hardened, determination flaring. "Understood. My legion… my Angelic Legion is ready."
Abyss nodded, the faintest shadow of a smile crossing his features. "Then let's make sure nothing catches us unprepared."
With a blur of movement, Abyss shot skyward, leaving a trail of distorted air behind him. Arthur rose to his full height, spreading his wings, feeling the power of his legion respond to his call.
They shared a single, unspoken understanding: paths would diverge, battles would be fought across dimensions, but the tide had turned. The war was no longer coming—it had already begun.
With a powerful leap, Arthur launched himself toward the edge of the forest, Abyss vanishing in the distance as the first signs of chaos rippled across the horizon.
(And if you're asking yes the sytrhina was with Kronos and other is mirage in disguise the real sytrhina who was with Arthur I mean boogyman and Mira noticed but didn't snitch you think marmon didn't notice? Boogyman told him not to speak if you ask why? Fun fact mirage is the shadow of nyx while boogyman shadow of boogyman they came from same source and he's interested to see what his sister can do)
Long live the shady queen mirage long live the error