Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop

"Forget it! JUST DESTROY HIM! 6% OUTPUT!"

It wasn’t that easy. What Apex Two did to them was position their ship with the correct amount of disadvantage so they couldn’t unleash their big blasts without destroying themselves in the process too.

His slashes and attacks were full of purpose. His own strategic maneuver was to create a pattern of a snake eating its own tail, even though the snake was invisible and floating freely in the sky with the power of a dying sun in its tail-eating mouth.

But how would they dumb it down to their blissfully ignorant Junior Fleet Admiral? Telling him that Burn’s basically saying, “Haha, you shoot me, you die too,” with his barrage of strategic attacks?

While it was true that they needed to blast him eventually, and that they knew they needed to destroy this world to kill him, they knew some of them didn’t want to end here today, like the Fleet Admiral.

“What is the maximum safe output currently?” the ship’s tactical officer asked.

The weapon officer answered, “Less than 2%, sir. More than that, we die.”

“Wait until it’s more than 3% and immediately hit it when it reaches it,” the tactical officer commanded.

“Inputting commands to the AI. Focusing the algorithm.”

“Pilot, Co-Pilot, how long until he will be able to corner us?”

“30 seconds, sir, no—twelve!”

“3%—!”

GRASP!

"What are you doing?!" Rudolf grabbed the tactical officer by the collar. "I told you—UGH! BLEUGH!"

The man didn’t know what hit him, but he was suddenly sprawled on the ground. He saw the back of the tactical officer’s shoes and realized he had just struck his gut and was immediately back to focus.

“3,05%!”

“HIT!”

BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASTT!!!

Complete white. They successfully landed a clean shot, right at Apex Two.

For a moment, Rudolf felt that he had no place on his own ship. The crew didn’t even blink once, their eyes focused on the screen—yet he alone observed everything with no knowledge of how and why.

Alone, he didn’t know that they were absolutely about to die.

Because even after they hit death clean in his face, the look of complete desperation in their eyes hadn’t changed. No celebration, no sharp release of breaths—

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Emperor Burn's grand re-entrance had all the pomp and flair one could expect from a man who clearly believed he was the hottest thing in the galaxy—literally.

As he emerged from the aftermath of his little sunbathing session, there was no denying the effects of his roasting rendezvous with the dying sun.

He, the absolute force of mastery, was still a sight to behold. His luminous golden locks still glowed, emitting wisps of smoke that mingled with his crazy, ecstatic smile.

His eyes, still ablaze with power, flickered with energy within, maintaining majesty amidst the scorch marks etched deeply into his skin.

The metal griffin beneath him, a symbol of his formidable presence, now bore scars of battle that rivaled the graffiti of a drunken bard scribbling nonsense on a tavern wall. The ancient letters that once glowed with a mysterious enchantment now seemed to dim, but not yet diminished.

As he sat upon his steed of steel, the billowing cape of his armor now resembled more of a tattered rag, flapping in the wind like a flag of surrender from a defeated army. The thing is, there was no hint of surrender from him.

Not even a glance.

The intricate inscriptions on his armor were now a bit warped and twisted, but still had the very magic they once held. Even his own skin, infused with ancient enchantments, now bore the marks of his hubris, cracked and scorched like a poorly baked loaf of bread left too long in the oven.

Yes. Despite the devastation wrought upon him by the dying sun's wrath, Emperor Burn remained defiant, a proof to his stubborn willpower or sheer insanity.

The damage might have been great, but his spirit burned brighter than ever, like a candle in a hurricane, flickering and dancing in the face of overwhelming odds.

And so he sat, a laughing, scorched majestic ruler.

Until—

[Virellanar enashta valrin, kolthar drigara lassorindeshe, dor'anarisht shan, ver'ethorin anuvias des'thara, deltondor sharru eneri, val'shara virellan andorin, valdisesh talmar'dor eneshara relaral valrin…]

The crown of light started spinning faster when everyone present heard the voice of an angel echoing in their middle ear ossicles. The tactical officer immediately zoomed the camera on the woman standing atop a big white branch in the middle of the crown of light.

She sang like cursive was having babies with summertime, and the song flowed like a sonnet on roller skates crashing into a nest of chirpy baby birds—indescribably unfair and cruel, yet nonetheless beautiful.

Why unfair and cruel? Well, because the effect of the song was immediate.

[Ventarashton elthirion, orameldenar solinarisht des'tara, drenin vinavar ethrindu, virenalenar ar'ethrin valrin, valrin derathar shoronuindes, alar'eren navar irinar shardu, virellan alinorin lissanir, andora'ethorin virellan virunost…!]

A wave of radiant energy enveloped Emperor Burn in a dazzling display of divine magic. The scorch marks that marred his skin began to fade, gradually vanishing as if they were never there. 

His golden locks regained their luster, flowing freely without a hint of damage. The wisps of smoke dissipated, leaving behind a renewed sense of vitality in his appearance.

The metal griffin beneath him shimmered with renewed strength, its scars melting away like snow under a blazing sun. The ancient letters etched on its surface glowed with a newfound brilliance, the mysterious enchantment within them reignited to full potency.

[Varenraithor elanduin virenalenar anuvias, velthirion valdonorin shonar arin, vedrindar anuvias valdisesh lissandor, tal shendu'dor vendrethar anuvias rendi!!]

The tattered cape of his armor mended itself, transforming back into a majestic banner that fluttered proudly in the wind. The intricate inscriptions on his armor straightened out, regaining their original form and radiating with the potent magic they once held.

[Aah! Anethin varalar aravirin asthendu, ventarashton des'ethor haventula, thir'aren alinorin arin…!]

[Aah! Drigara valanun shendror, enorindeth ararushthor enashta'an, talmardesh arin varunar alinorin…]

Emperor Burn's cracked and scorched skin healed before your eyes, rejuvenated by the goddess's unparalleled healing spell. The hubris-inflicted damage was undone, leaving behind skin as flawless as marble. His eyes, now clear and sharp, shone with renewed vigor and determination.

In a matter of moments, Emperor Burn was restored to his former glory, standing tall and proud upon his steed of steel, as a sinister grin escaped him.

“Let’s continue!”

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