53. The Clash of Divine Constructs

Hello, this is my first time writing a fanfiction. If you notice any errors, please feel free to give me constructive feedback. English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please mention them in the comment section at the end of the chapter. Let's begin the story!

Word Count: 4100 Words

AN:

I have had this idea for very long time now. Thought of just typing it away.

It's a Lord of the Mysteries Cross Over Fanfiction with Other Verses.

Possibly, The Eminence in Shadow, DxD, That time I got reincarnated as a Slime, etc.

Just give it a try, I've written three chapters so far. I would like to know your opinion on it.

Just give it a try.

The MC reincarnates in LotM World and then travels to different Verse to escape the Will of the Original Creator.

I am waiting for your opinion about it and would love to read your thoughts on it.

It's Title: The Primordial Lórd

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Aincrad

The Root

The New World

"What do you think Saber's chances are against Cthon, Dormammu, TerrorBlade, or Ghost Rider?" Bruce's voice, calm yet curious, cut through the stillness of the luxurious VVIP room.

Seated comfortably on an ornate throne, he gazed intently at the spectacle unfolding in the Colosseum below. His attention was riveted to the clash of Knights on the battlefield, their movements shaking the very ground.

Beside him, World reclined gracefully, her demeanor serene. She turned her head slightly at his query, a sigh escaping her lips before she answered.

"That's a complex question. Against TerrorBlade, Saber has a fair chance, but when it comes to Ghost Rider or Cthon, the battle would likely end in a draw."

Intrigued by her assessment, Bruce shifted his gaze to her, his curiosity unrelenting.

"And Dormammu?"

World met his enthusiasm with a knowing smile, her tone measured.

"If the fight takes place on his floor, he wins without question. However, outside his domain, Saber would likely emerge victorious."

Bruce leaned back. "Interesting dynamics. Tell me, World, don't you think our lower-floor bosses are surprising stronger than some of the upper-floor ones? Where would you place Albion, Ashborn, or Tiamat in this power spectrum?"

World tilted her head slightly, considering his query.

"They are formidable among the NPCs, certainly, but the ones you've mentioned before—like Dormammu or Ghost Rider—are stronger. Saber's edge against these demons lies in the World Item you gifted her with her being created from a World Item and her special class. Dormammu is undeniably powerful, but his strength is bound to his floor. We crafted his abilities without introducing external mechanics to enhance him, to not change the plot. His invincibility is potent but floor-restricted. Ghost Rider, on the other hand, matches him because of their antithetical abilities, a clash of essence that disrupts Dormammu's dominance. The same logic applies to Tiamat—they're just poor matchups for him."

Bruce let out a sigh, his intrigue for his floor Guardians strength and their relations among themselves relenting. "Fascinating. The more I learn, the more complex this dynamic relations and power balance becomes, tipping the scale in either side."

His gaze wandered back to the arena, where two knights clashed with unrelenting fervor. Their swords collided with earth-shattering force, each blow causing tremors that reverberated throughout the Colosseum. A pillar of flames erupted, engulfing Agravain, the Area Guardian of Avalon, in a dazzling inferno.

"It's a bit bland, don't you think, World?" Bruce asked, turning to her. His posture relaxed, though his voice carried a tinge of dissatisfaction.

"How so?" she replied, her tone curious yet reserved.

He exhaled, leaning further into his throne.

"Watching two men fight, even in a fantasy world, starts to lose its charm after a while. I mean, sure, seeing battles like these—the kind we mortals from Earth only dreamed of—is thrilling. But honestly? It's starting to feel monotonous." He raised his hands in mock surrender at the glance World shot him. "Guilty as charged. I used to watch fights like these back on Earth. But here? Here it's boring."

World smirked slightly, her gaze shifting back to the Colosseum.

"Humans are like that, I suppose—always craving more, never content with what they have. And though you've transcended your humanity, it seems your old habits persist. Your meeting with ROB may have altered your form, but you have yet to shred off your Greed that has carried over from your human days."

Bruce chuckled softly, her insight cutting to the heart of his musings.

"Quite the observation, World. But enough of this philosophical banter—I'm getting bored."

World turned to him, her smirk deepening.

"You're so easily dissatisfied. What is it you want, S? Another spectacle? Perhaps something more elaborate than swords and flames?"

Bruce stretched, his posture casual yet deliberate. "Nothing I guess. I really have nothing here that could cure my boredom. It's just Ainz and the Dragon Emperor on the stage. I can't wait to enter the stage myself."

His gaze focused on the Skeleton Being, a being whose skull was set on fire. The Skeleton Man sat spectating the fights in another balcony, a lot lower than the one, Bruce was placed.

Seated on his throne, the Skeleton Man watched the fights.

A sigh escaped Bruce's lips as he wondered, 'I wonder what would have happened if, the fight had broken out?'

---

Aincrad

The Root

The New World

"That was good." Bruce's voice carried an undertone of satisfaction as he leaned comfortably on his throne, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his true delight. Below, the Colosseum roared in a storm of anticipation as Saber struck the final blow, forcing Tiamat to her knees. At the same time, Ghost Rider's hellfire consumed Ashborn in a spectacular defeat.

"It seems that my boredom was… temporary," he murmured, his gaze never leaving the battlefield.

World, seated elegantly beside him, nodded in agreement. "I suppose. Now we have our two finalists. With Dormammu, Cthon, and TerrorBlade barred from participating due to their prior misconduct, this might not reflect a true measure of power. Still, it serves its purpose."

"True," Bruce acknowledged, his expression thoughtful. "But without such restrictions, they would have learned nothing, and more importantly, the other Guardians would have been left dissatisfied."

"Exactly." World's agreement was resolute, yet her eyes flickered toward the rubble below—a grim testament to the destructive clash between Ghost Rider and Ashborn. A section of the Colosseum lay in shambles, a stark reminder of the power these warriors wielded.

Bruce's gaze followed hers, landing briefly on Oogway. The turtle's serene smile seemed to reflect a silent conversation with destiny itself. Nearby, the Area Guardians of Aincrad wore thinly veiled expressions of displeasure, their discipline tested by the chaos.

"Fine," Bruce declared with a wave of his hand. "Let's have the final match take place in the NULL Void. It should provide an environment that can withstand their strength."

World nodded in silent agreement and rose from her seat, walking toward the balcony railing. The Guardians below immediately stilled, their collective attention focused entirely on her. Each held their breath, their anticipation a palpable force in the air.

The memory of Saber's duel with Tiamat still lingered in their minds—a battle of unparalleled ferocity, blending raw power and magical prowess. It had surpassed even the legendary clash between Arcueid and Enkidu. Yet the destruction wrought by Ghost Rider's fiery wrath and Ashborn's shadowy dominion had left an indelible mark. This tournament was no mere spectacle; it was a testament to their strength and spirit.

World cleared her throat delicately, her voice commanding reverence. "Ahem!" At once, the Guardians straightened, their respect for the Voice of the Supreme Ones evident in their posture.

"First," she began, her tone warm yet authoritative, "allow me to extend my congratulations to Ghost Rider and Artoria Pendragon for making it to the finals." She paused, watching as both finalists bowed deeply in her direction—and to the Fool seated behind her. A smile graced her lips as she continued.

"And to everyone who participated, you have my gratitude. Do not let these results dishearten you. Each of you has your own unique strengths and weaknesses, gifts bestowed upon you by the Supreme One. If you were all the same, devoid of individuality, what meaning would your existence hold? Remember, your purpose is to serve the Fool in different capacities, mastering distinct crafts and excelling in your own ways. From my conversations with him, I can assure you—he is proud of each and every one of you."

The Guardians exchanged smiles of quiet satisfaction, their hearts swelling with pride. While many had yearned for the chance to claim the Fool's blessing, the knowledge that their efforts had pleased him was more than enough to quell their disappointment.

---

Bruce's gaze lingered on World as she spoke, her eloquence weaving a bond between the Guardians and their creator. Her words carried the weight he himself could not bear to utter—the truth of their origins.

'How could I tell them I made some of them stronger while others remained weaker? All because of my biases…' he mused, his thoughts heavy with regret. He glanced back at his throne, to the shadowy corner behind the curtain.

"What about you, King Hassan?" Bruce's voice broke the silence. "Don't you have any interest in this tournament? While Sebastian is busy organizing the event, here you are, standing guard over me. Surely, you know there's no need for such precautions. There's no one in this Guild who would wish me harm, nor anyone capable of doing so. Besides, with World here, any threat would be dealt with long before it reached me. Why didn't you participate?"

From the shadows, an elderly figure emerged, his presence solemn yet unwavering. King Hassan bowed low before the throne. "To guard and accompany you is all I desire, my lord. The wish means nothing to me, nor does the tournament. I speak not only for myself but for all the Guardians of the Root. We exist solely to serve you, to do your bidding."

Though he communicated with World through his connection to her, while the Guardians and everyone else in the Omniverse who witnessed their talk in the dark. King Hassan was no different than the Children of Yggdrasil, like Saber, who remained in the dark for the conversation between The Fool and World.

Bringing back Bruce from his inner thoughts, King Hassan continued. "My only wish is for Lord Mors to continue blessing me."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face as King Hassan receded back into the shadows. The old man's words left Bruce pondering.

'Is this how they all feel? Have they each aligned themselves with one of my Avatars? King Hassan mentioned Mors, but what of the others? Is their loyalty to me, or to the fragments of myself I created? And have they really created a religion out of me.' Amazement flickered through his face, bringing back memories from when he roamed Arcadia with World before his dinner date with her. The temples established for his different Avatars, he hadn't thought much of it back then, but now, It was different.

'If so, who does World follow?'

His musings were interrupted by World's voice. She had returned to her seat beside him, her expression serene yet knowing. "You," she said simply, her tone filled with quiet conviction. "I follow you, my S."

A rare smile adorning her face.

---

NULL Void, The Root

Flames erupted violently as the female knight was hurled backward, struggling against the fiery chain wielded by the skeletal demon, Ghost Rider. His hollow sockets gleamed with eerie amusement as he whistled sharply, summoning his flaming steed through a smoldering summoning circle. The air crackled with energy as the ethereal horse burst forth, its fiery mane blazing like a comet.

Hearing the beast's haunting neigh, Saber brushed the sweat from her forehead, her breathing labored but unwavering. Her golden eyes narrowed, focusing on the galloping inferno charging toward her. She raised her sword, bracing for the impending impact, when a glint of metal caught her eye—the chain was already upon her.

Pivoting swiftly, she parried the chains with her sword, their fiery sparks dancing like wild embers. Yet, her back was left exposed. Seizing the opportunity, a torrent of flames surged toward her in a fiery storm, engulfing her. The heat roared, threatening to consume her completely, but Saber did not falter.

Planting her sword into the barren ground of NULL Void, she stood resolute, her body a testament to sheer willpower. Her knees trembled, but she did not fall. Blood trickled down her forehead, staining her once-pristine armor as it mingled with the sweat of her efforts.

Her resolve was unwavering. With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of her soul, Saber lifted her gaze to the endless void above, as if seeking her master—the Fool. Was she apologizing for her perceived weakness, or asking for strength? Her grip tightened around the hilt of her blade, the light in her eyes flickering with newfound determination.

As the fiery chain lashed toward her once more, the distance between it and her face narrowed to a hair's breadth. They were upon her, a centimeter from her eyes. Yet, she did not blink. In that instant, a storm of energy erupted from her core—a spiraling draconic aura that surged through the air like a tempest. The chain was deflected, if only for a moment, its trajectory disrupted by the sheer force of her will.

Ghost Rider's hollow grin faltered as he watched the darkness envelop her form, twisting and writhing like a living entity. His flames roared in defiance, the intensity of their heat doubling in response to her transformation.

{Spell: Summon Meteor Strike}

A burning rock of colossal size descended from the void above, summoned by Ghost Rider's fiery will. It hurtled toward Saber with devastating speed, its heat rivaling nuclear fusion. But just as it seemed the meteor would crush her, she swung her sword in a wide arc, a black slash of energy carving through the flaming mass. The meteor split in two, the halves crashing harmlessly to the ground around her.

Saber stood firm, her sword still raised. The golden brilliance of her blade had been consumed by a suffocating darkness, its divine radiance replaced by an ominous energy that seemed to devour the very air around it. Her armor, once gleaming with divinity, was now as black as the void itself, exuding a menacing aura that sent shivers through even the most stalwart of spectators.

Laughter echoed through the NULL Void, a deep, mocking sound that reverberated from Ghost Rider as he gestured with his hands. Chains materialized from the empty air, countless fiery chains writhing and striking toward Saber in unison.

Her empty gaze flickered with intensity as the chains approached, each strike of the chains carrying enough power to surpass even the meteor she had cleaved apart. She met them head-on, deflecting blow after blow with precision. The clash of her darkened blade against the fiery chains sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield.

Amidst the chaos, her vigilance did not waver. Her attention flicked toward the flaming horse, its presence looming like a predator waiting to strike. With each burst of her negative draconic aura, she forced the creature to retreat, its fiery form flickering in hesitation. Even Ghost Rider hesitated, wary of driving his steed into the storm of her power.

Resolute, Saber raised her sword high, the tip pointing to the heavens—or what passed for the heavens in this void. Her voice, low yet commanding, called forth a power buried deep within her.

The battlefield stilled, the void holding its breath as the atmosphere thickened with tension. In the Colosseum, Bruce leaned forward in his throne, clearly shocked. "She isn't?" he murmured, his voice laced with worry.

Beside him, World's normally composed expression gave way to fleeting surprise. "I did not expect this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze flickered to the other Guardians, whose wide eyes mirrored her astonishment.

The Children of Yggdrasil stood frozen in awe, watching as Saber's power surged beyond anything they had imagined. This was no ordinary display of strength—this was something otherworldly. Making them aware of the reason, why she was their leader.

---

NULL Void, The Root

Ghost Rider braced himself, his flames roaring ever higher, their heat intensifying with every passing fraction of a second. The inferno spread, consuming the floor of NULL Void, drowning it in an all-encompassing blaze. Yet, amidst the chaos, Saber's voice rang out, resolute and commanding.

"Rhongomyniad."

Her sword dissolved into particles of light, shimmering before vanishing entirely. The air above the floor split open, reality itself torn apart as a colossal golden spear, wreathed in darkness and chaos, emerged. Rhongomyniad, the embodiment of destruction and divinity, pierced through the void like the wrath of an ancient god.

A sound like glass shattering echoed across the battlefield, reverberating through the endless expanse. The very barriers of NULL Void—the dimensional walls that kept the floor isolated—fractured like a spiderweb, each crack spreading with ominous finality. The Guild trembled under the weight of this otherworldly clash.

Morgan Le Fay, watching from the shadows of the Colosseum, couldn't suppress her amusement. Her lips curled into a smirk as she observed Saber's might. The Rhongomyniad Saber wielded far surpassed her own, its power dwarfing anything Morgan could muster.

Bruce leaned forward in his throne, his body taut with tension. His hand hovered over the armrest, ready to intervene. Beside him, World mirrored his unease, her normally calm expression betraying a flicker of alarm.

As Ghost Rider's flames surged to consume the entire floor, his skeletal form seemed to blaze with renewed fervor. His right arm stretched outward, summoning a weapon forged by the Supreme Ones—a spear radiating malevolent power.

"The Spear of the Underworld."

The dark spear materialized in his grasp, its wicked energy pulsating with raw intensity. With a swift motion, Ghost Rider hurled the weapon at Rhongomyniad. The two World Items rivaling divine constructs met in a cataclysmic collision, their origins tied to the Guild's greatest treasures.

Rhongomyniad, born from a fusion of Excalibur, the World Item and Caloric Stone— World Items—shone with chaotic brilliance. The Spear of the Underworld, crafted from pure Caloric Stone, stood as its equal, a weapon of unrelenting darkness.

The clash of these two weapons sent shockwaves rippling through the NULL Void, threatening to tear apart the pocket dimension. The air vibrated with their violent resonance, and the fabric of space-time cracked under the strain. The Guild itself seemed on the brink of collapse, its intricate architecture groaning under the weight of this apocalyptic battle.

Bruce and World exchanged glances, their mutual understanding clear. Both prepared to step in, their power the only force capable of averting disaster.

But just as Bruce was about to move from his seat, the chaos stilled. Silence fell upon the NULL Void, the echoes of destruction fading as if swallowed by an unseen force. All eyes turned upward.

The spears—Rhongomyniad and the Spear of the Underworld—remained locked in their deadly embrace, suspended mid-air. Around them, strange glyphs appeared, swirling and glowing with ethereal light.

Unowns.

The Guardians of the Sefirah Castle, materialized above the battlefield, their presence suffused with an overwhelming sense of authority. They encircled the spears, their silent movements imposing order upon chaos.

The battle ceased. Time itself seemed to halt within the NULL Void. Saber and Ghost Rider, their forms frozen mid-strike, were enveloped by translucent barriers created by the Unowns. The barriers shimmered like fragile crystal, containing their destructive power.

Rhongomyniad and the Spear of the Underworld continued their clash, yet their energies no longer threatened to consume the floor. The Unowns had sealed their might, holding them in a delicate, incomprehensible balance.

Within their barriers, Saber and Ghost Rider stirred, the adrenaline of battle dissipating as they surveyed the aftermath of their clash. Their eyes fell upon the cracks that marred the floor of NULL Void, each fissure leading to an unknown dimension, its swirling colors and incomprehensible shapes hinting at worlds beyond imagination.

Realizing the magnitude of their actions, both fighters lowered their weapons. Their once-burning resolve gave way to a shared silence, their rivalry momentarily eclipsed by the enormity of what they had unleashed.

While Bruce sighed, remembering the day he came back. 'I did send them to NULL Void didn't I? Sorry my little fellas. How could I have forgotten them there.'

When his gaze moved to World and other Guardians who watched him with profound respect for his Omniscience. After all, it was only he and World who possessed the ability to open the doors of any floor above Arcadia and no other Guardians possessed them. Even the Unowns did not possess the ability to travel to the NULL Void. Though they could travel to other floors, even they couldn't travel to NULL Void or the floors above Sefirah Castle.

---

Unbeknownst to all present in the NULL Void, a strange presence stirred within the fractured fabric of reality. Its countless eyes, scattered across a grotesque body, fixated hungrily on the cracks that marred the dimension. This ancient entity, long imprisoned, began to seep through the fractures, its form swimming fluidly through the rift.

The beings within the NULL Void—Ghost Rider, Saber, and the enigmatic Unowns—were insignificant to its gaze. In its current state, weakened as they were, they posed no real threat. Perhaps in their prime, they might have annoyed it, delayed it? Now, they were mere obstacles to bypass on its path to the other side of the dimensional tear.

It moved with deliberate intent, coiling its body toward freedom. Just as it prepared to break through, every lid on its grotesque form snapped open. Dozens of eyes, reflecting malice and purpose, turned in unison toward a singular figure—a man, clad in an impeccable black suit, who had appeared without warning in the NULL Void.

Fear.

For the first time since its genesis, the entity felt fear—a visceral, suffocating sensation that gripped its very essence. It was also the first emotion it had felt.

Its grotesque form shivered uncontrollably as it beheld the figure. The man exuded an aura unlike anything it had ever encountered. He stood at the center of his domain and realm connecting to some higher dimension, an area that warped and overwrote the very fabric of reality around him, asserting dominance over the NULL Void.

The aura was overwhelming, unrestrained, and absolute. It wasn't just power—it was a force that defied comprehension, a presence that threatened to erase not just its body but its very concept of existence.

The entity couldn't gauge his strength, couldn't comprehend the limits of this mysterious man's power. It realized, with growing horror, that this figure was beyond its understanding, beyond even the Deus that had once sealed it.

The man gave nothing of himself—no expression, no discernible emotion, no acknowledgment of the entity's presence. He was void incarnate, an embodiment of nothingness.

It couldn't sense the presence of the Man. Neither his strength nor his existence. Just his Realm, that overpowered and threatened to Overwrite the very reality. Had it not maintained its vision over the space beyond the cracks, it would have failed to notice the presence of the Man.

The entity's instinct, its very will to survive, screamed at it to flee, it's instincts born from the Will of its Verse. The cracks in the NULL Void, once a gateway to freedom, now seemed trivial compared to the abyssal terror this man represented. Its singular purpose—to escape and wreak havoc—crumbled before the weight of its dread.

With a final shudder, it abandoned its efforts, retreating into the farthest reaches from the cracks. Its grotesque form swam swiftly away, driven by a primal fear it could neither understand nor suppress. The cracks would remain untouched—for now.

---

At that very moment, in another corner of the Omniverse, a certain Giant Red Dragon stirred from its slumber. Its massive, scaled head lifted, and a sneeze escaped its mighty maw.

The dragon's eyes narrowed as it noticed something peculiar—a small, persistent flame floating unbidden within its domain. Shock flickered across its face.

"What fire is this?" it rumbled, its voice reverberating like distant thunder.

Curious and irritated, the dragon raised one immense claw, intending to snuff out the strange flame. Yet as its claw made contact, the flame retaliated, searing its tip with a heat that rivaled its own breath. The dragon recoiled in surprise, staring at the now-extinguished ember.

"Hmm!," it muttered, its deep voice laced with both awe and annoyance. This was no ordinary fire. It remembered a certain annoying dragon.

The dragon's golden eyes scanned the space, searching for the culprit. "Who dares?" it growled, assuming the annoying dragon had sent the flame as a challenge or to troll it.

Yet no other presence could be found. The space remained silent, save for the echo of its own voice.

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**The End**

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