"Shatter!" Ryker's voice came out calm and steady, belying the seriousness of what he was doing.
His eternal seal—a seal created by Rowan himself, to store their living weapons—was destroyed by the fog of Death, releasing the monstrosity hidden within.
Forged with the heart of a living Bone Dragon, encased in the shell of an Ouroboros Serpent, and linked with the soul of another God, Ryker's living weapon was born to destroy, obliterate and put an end to anything it touched.
A black double headed scythe rested in his palm, emanating a chilling aura of death and finality.
The polearm was as dark as an abyss, seemingly absorbing light and anything that touched it. The blades were just as black—just as eerie—having a sharpness to it that appeared out of place.
SHING!
Ryker brandished the weapon, his movements carrying a grace that looked all too familiar—and at the same time, strange—to Rowan.
The God which the weapon had been linked to was not quite dead; but if a person had lost their will to live, wasn't responsive to pain, and had their mind permanently shut down… then was that death?
Ryker laughed, remembering how that particular God—the Sword God—has caused him so much pain and loss.
His wife… His unborn son!
The aura Ryker radiated multiplied by several levels, his mind going into overdrive as he used the memories as fuel for his next attacks.
"DEAD GOD ARTS: LAST FORM- FINALITY TEMPEST!"
Rowan's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat.
Was Ryker going too far? No. But if he didn't respond with the same amount of fervor, then there was a high chance that he would die. Worse, erased from existence entirely.
His living weapon slapped into his palm, its cold form filling Rowan with ease.
The weapon wasn't a stark contrast to Ryker's, but it carried its own sharpness and deadliness.
A sleek staff, its origins unknown, but said to have a universe sealed within.
There was nothing so special about its looks, the only eye-catching thing being that looking at it was like gazing at the stars under a starry night. A dark expanse filled with countless dots of blinking lights.
Rowan accessed one of the staff's powers, and the blinking lights within it blazed to life, roaring with no less momentum as Ryker.
"The weight of a thousand stars," Rowan began solemnly, vanishing from his spot and speeding towards Ryker.
"The flames of a longing heart," he continued, his polearm spinning, completing a formation as a blinding light began to come from the staff.
"...And the heat of a loyal lover,"
As the last poetic line left his mouth, the building light within the polearm exploded outward in a destructive supernova. The formation completed at the same time Ryker's attack crossed the final distance to reach him, resulting in the Finality Tempest clashing with the explosions of the supernova.
The Finality Tempest, a storm of reaping black scythes, rocketed towards Rowan; but it met an opposition—light, the first creation!
Death, the end of all things, and light, the first concept to be created, clashed in a beautiful grandeur. Each time the two combatants were forced to separate and reengage.
They completed a series of dance-like steps, their weapons blurring and fading out of view seamlessly.
Raging scythe of death roared forward, and star explosions repelled them, consuming each other in a deadly display of power.
Reality shattered. Millions of kilometers were decimated, yet, they didn't stop.
The scythe rebounded off the polearm as an explosion went off upon contact.
Like light and darkness, all other colors faded out.
On one side there was death and the pessimism of life, and on the other hand, there was life… and Time.
The millions of Rowans had vanished upon the unsealing of the living weapon. That was a prerequisite to use the weapon that Rowan couldn't bypass.
His advantage of numbers had been taken away, and although he still had the upper hand, it wasn't going to last for long.
Ryker retreated, his red eyes leaving streaks as he flashed back.
Rowan didn't give chase, instead taking that time to prepare for another clash.
His body shifted, breaking down into time fractals. There was a shift in the atmosphere again, and time began to flow weirdly around him.
His body was no more, and he had become the Archive of Time. He was immune to Death and Finality, just like Ryker was immune to Time and Infinity.
The playing field was leveled perfectly now, and whoever came out on top from the next bout would be dimmed the winner.
"Ready?" Rowan asked, his voice coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
In response, Ryker waved his living weapon, circulating Death around his being.
Rowan acknowledged the action with a raise of his hand, and as he brought it down, all hell was let loose.
Time began to collapse around them. They no longer cared for the lives of the universe's residents. After all, when two elephants fought, the grass suffered.
When two Gods fought, the mortals suffered.
Finality and Infinity, two opposing concepts. There was no End in Infinity, and there was no Eternity in Finality.
They were equal… and unequal.
And the two beings who seemingly owned them knew this, so they didn't make use of it, only using it as armor for their mortal shells.
Rowan's Time Fractal form turned him into a featureless being formed from countless translucent cubes, each cube being a timeline, undulating like ripples in a lake.
If he couldn't use time based attacks on an opponent, what stopped him from using it on himself?
This was the thought that had led to the creation of this transformation. A form where he was almost omniscient.
He knew all that was going to happen, and what had happened, both in his timeline and the various timelines making up his shell.
However, the Finality armor coating Ryker prevented Rowan from seeing the past or future of Ryker.
This would have been a problem, but with his rolodex of information, he found devious and conniving ways around the problem!