The pool of blood that had dripped out of the stump where Azathoth's head once was bubbled and foamed, a sanguine steam rising up. The entire body of the deity began to melt, clothes and all, turning into more boiling red liquid. Once there was only vaporous blood, the mist gathered and solidified, becoming a fully healed Azathoth.

The Nuclear Chaos' face was at war with itself. The sides of her mouth were powered by two desires, one for them to rise into a smile, the other trying to make her frown. What was solidly in place were the lids of her eyes, so wide it was as if they were trying to retract into the Daemon Sultan's face.

"You actually hurt me. I've never felt like this before. On the one hand, this is probably the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me. On the other hand, I'm mad. You hurt me, and that makes me mad."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad!" Mui was bowing over and over so fast she was a blur.

"Quit bowing."

"Okay!"

Azathoth flexed her power, putting Mui at the center of an eruption of energy so beyond definition that the labelless power Yahweh's Ayin wielded was less than nothing in comparison.

The martial artist flew through the barrier's ceiling due to the power of the ignition, sending her across space and outside the bounds of totality. Her body, however, was in surprisingly good shape, only slightly reddened. Mui's durability was leagues ahead of her offensive capability, and after that burst of energy hit her, her defenses grew ever tougher due to her absurdly quick adaptation rate.

Adjusting to her environment, Mui ran despite there being nothing to step upon, returning to the battlefield before the barrier even had time to begin repairing.

Like an arrow fired by the greatest of archers, Mui's body made a beeline for Azathoth, who created another eruption on the martial artist. Mui's improved durability allowed her to pierce through the surge of power as if it weren't there and kick the Daemon Sultan, turning the Nuclear Chaos' body to

deteriorating remnants of akasha that soon fizzled away, leaving nothing behind.

That simple kick held such thorough destructive power that it erased its target on more levels than any of the previous fighters could achieve.

But, Azathoth was still Azathoth.

She was back and in top condition the next tick.

But, she was gone when Mui attacked again.

And she was back again.

And then she was gone again.

This pattern repeated ad nauseam.

Each attack Mui made was greater than the last, but each and every one failed to do any damage that couldn't be reversed.

Ending her passivity, Azathoth jumped and kicked Mui in the face, making the martial artist's nose bleed.

The deity was snatched by the head and slammed into the martial artist's knee, obliterating Azathoth again.

The Daemon Sultan reformed behind Ng and punched her in the back with her stubby arm, the tiny fist hidden inside an oversized sleeve carrying enough force to make the human's spine nearly break and two.

Mui didn't hide her pain, yelling but not letting the pain that slid up and down her spinal cord hinder her and she rotated around for a spin kick. The pink horror grabbed the leg before it hit, planning to redirect the blow.

Azathoth wasn't ready when Mui reached for and pinched her nose with the toes of her caught foot. The deity's head was stomped into the knee of the martial artist's other leg.

Head gone, Azathoth's body kept moving. The Nuclear Chaos punched Ng rapidly in the head before finishing the combo with a kick to the throat. The deity's head respawned and the martial artist fell backward, but her expression lacked the pain that was clear before when she was hit in the back.

More punches and kicks from the pink grotesquerie were flung, but as the strikes slammed Mui into the floor and began pummeling her, the human clearly wasn't getting hurt. Even the ground beneath her didn't crack or shake, Mui's body being able to absorb the full brunt of each hit.

Knowing not to waste time, Azathoth abandoned hand-to-hand combat in favor of creating an energy ball in each hand that she rammed into Ng's gut before letting them detonate point blank in the human's face.

The dust settled, but Mui was still no more harmed than she was before.

After kicking Azathoth off her, the deity landing perfectly on her feet, Mui got up and leapt backward and shifted her posture slightly, punching forward despite the distance between herself and Azathoth being too vast for her arm to reach across. Imitating and combining Ali's Accupunch and Khutulun's friction based fire attack, the jab ignited and fired forward a condensed shot of air. The blue-white fireball was so intensely hot and focused it looked like a shooting star.

"Star Punch!"

Ng hit Azathoth dead center in the solar plexus. The deity was annihilated once more in a flash of flames, but this time, Azathoth didn't just come back, the process taking a near nonexistent moment longer than normal, while the Daemon Sultan felt a throbbing pain pulse through her being, an ache that wouldn't go away.

Mui had done permanent damage.

Azathoth's conflicted feelings synchronized, became unified as one desire.

To kill Mui.

Everyone, absolutely everyone, felt like they were going to die, even Death himself.

This instinctual acceptance of the end originated from Azathoth's right arm. The limb radiated a power greater than any other that has ever existed. In the arm contained the apex of power, truly. It was Azathoth's greatest trump card, something she had never used before. It was her strongest weapon, and now, it was being unsheathed.

From the overly long sleeve slid out a tendril made of matter unlike any other. It was ever shifting in its qualities, yet it was unchanging before all things. It was a paradox, the nonsensical incarnated. The tentacle extended and extended, not being limited by any specific length. It had no rules binding it, but it could apply any law upon another. In particular, the slightest grazing touch would sentence one to the law of 'the end.' It is death beyond death.

"Azoth."

The grotesque limb ignored the limitations of spacetime to attack Mui from all angles, from all points in time.

The tentacle was everywhere, always, and its touch was instant death.

Mui's talent for adaptation kicked into overdrive. She dodged through the fabric of spacetime and reality, to the domain of concepts, going further to beyond ideas, and further, and further, to outside totality, and she kept going, further, trying to find a place the deadly limb wasn't.

Living what would be Marco Polo's dream, Mui found new vistas beyond what was believed to be the edge of what was, going outside Yahweh's creation to the domains of other totalities, entering new hierarchies of beings, the tendril still chasing after the martial artist wherever she went.

Mui saw realms so different from the likes of the one she knows, so divorced from her preconceptions of what a world could be, that it was only thanks to her ability to grow and adapt that her mind didn't crumble upon seeing such unintelligible new realms.

It was a stalemate that Mui and Azathoth were in, an eternal chase like Achilles and the tortoise. Mui hadn't even realized they had been doing their race for an incalculable amount of time.

The martial artist spun around, ready to face the disgusting limb. She attacked, not with a physical strike, but with the idea of a strike. A concept beyond concepts. It was Mui's unparalleled mastery of the fundamentals of what combat is turned into an attack. It was an offensive in the same vein as Yahweh's Ayin form attacks or Satan's self-sacrifice move.

"My Strike!"

The formless embodiment of Mui's martial arts assailed the tendril, and it failed to do anything beyond make it wobble and slow down a touch.

The brief pause provided enough time for Mui to prepare herself for when the tentacle hit her. Just as she focused all the skills she had forged into an attack, she was now forming it into a defense. It was the greatest block she could perform, though it looked merely like a normal cross arm block.

"My Block!"

The tip of the tentacle was like a pike, embedding itself into Mui. The limb dug into the martial artist's crossed arms.

But, that was where it stopped.

The tentacle couldn't go further, the arms wouldn't give any more.

Mui didn't die. The tentacle's power failed.

The limb pulled back and charged forward again, but Mui blocked again, the tendril stabbing less deeply this time.

It was like hitting a gate with a battering ram if the doors didn't wear down and instead got stronger with each hit.

The tendril reared back for another stab, but before it lunged, the tendril thinned, or rather, condensed. It became so thin that even the most miniscule amount of akasha, the fundamental material that makes up all things, wouldn't be able to fit inside the tendril, which was composed of nothing but Azathoth's power.

The string became a spear that went right through Mui's block and her brain, the tendril's power of enforcing the end working in its full capacity.

The martial artist's entire being was ended, finished, gone.

"Sin!"

And Ng Mui was back and in full form thanks to Sin's power to create anything similar to Mulciber but on an even greater level.

Faster than before thanks to her rapid improvement, Mui returned to the battlefield while Azathoth was genuinely stunned by the martial artist managing to return after getting hit by Azoth.

The Nuclear Chaos barely managed to reel her thread arm back to herself before Mui could Star Strike her again, forming the tendril into a circular shield that blocked the fireball.

The thread attacked from all directions and time periods at once as it ignored the laws of spacetime again, but this time Mui countered by using My Strike, this time the embodied martial arts being able to also be everywhere and everywhen at once to counter the tendril.

As the attacks clashed and cancelled each other out, the fighters took a moment to breath and reevaluate their strategies.

"The final round is off with a bang! We all thought this'd be over immediately, but Mui's not just putting up a fight, she's going toe to toe with Azathoth, making her work! Can Mui keep it up, or is this just the last gasp of humanity?"

Astaroth felt like her brain was going to explode. She wasn't breathing, her entire mind's attention was focused on every little insignificant action in the fight. The fight was her whole world. The world hinged on the outcome of this duel between the gods' strongest and humanity's strongest.

Everyone felt as Astaroth did.

Everything felt as Astaroth did.

Pebbles dragged across the ground toward the fighters, as did the air itself, oxygen becoming thin in the stands while the fighters became surrounded in an atmosphere so thick it was visible. Totality itself was shrinking, condensing, pulled into its new center of Azathoth and Mui. Even the other realities outside totality were getting caught in the gravity of the two strongest of all.

Azathoth's face had become one of seething anger, teeth bared, slobbering like a rabid dog, her face a canvas covered in lines. Not a single muscle in her face at peace, all dedicated to the cause of portraying a mere fraction of her outrage.

Mui, on the other hand, was focusing solely on her next move, her next one hundred moves, and even further. For every possible event that could happen, she was thinking of an endless series of moves she could take in response to successfully counter Azathoth, and then thinking of an infinite number of moves she could take if any of those already calculated moves were to fail.

The anxieties and embarrassment that were hindering Mui before were gone. Mui knew when it was time to focus, to move beyond her own troubles and concerns for the sake of the greater good. Behind her stood every other being. If Azathoth killed her, got past her, then it was over. She had to pour every yoctogram of her energy and attention toward overcoming the monster before her who wore the mask of a child.

Everyone needed her, and she refused to give up on anyone in need.

Back during her lifetime, Ng Mui, her head bald, was walking in a forest of bamboo.

"Excuse me."

Ng turned and found a teenage girl of a size not dissimilar to her own.

"Yes?"

"H-Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Yim Wing-chun. You're Ng Mui, correct?"

"I am."

"Fantastic! Ah, I'm sorry, uh, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but do you have some particular business with me?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just so nervous! I-I need your help."

"With what?"

"Okay, so, um, I'm sorry, I need a moment to get my thoughts straight."

"Take your time, I'm in no rush."

"Okay, thank you, okay. So, I, uh, I'm not married, and there is this man in my village who, wh-who is trying to force me to marry him. He's a bandit by the way. He took over the town, and he wants me to marry him, but I don't want to, so he's going to force me, and he's taken over the village! I need your help, my village needs your help. Please, we can pay you, please defeat the bandit!"

"I'm glad to help, but, why me?"

"You'll help? That's fantastic! I've heard legends of your skill! You're a martial arts master and you're undefeated and y-are you okay?"

Mui was looking away, her fingers tying themselves in knots.

"You really think I'm a master martial artist?"

"Of course! I mean, I've never seen it for myself, but I have faith in you!"

Mui was crouched, a wide smile hidden behind her balled fists.

"You-you-you-you're just being nice. I'm nobody."

"You're amazing! If the tales I've heard are only half true, you're still one of the strongest people ever!"

Mui was rolling around on the ground like a cat. She tried to talk but her words were just indecipherable babble.

It took a bit, but Mui managed to compose herself and stand back up.

"Sorry, I struggle with praise. Back on topic, about helping you, I will, but not by beating the bandit for you. I'll teach you to beat the bandit."

"What? But, I'm too small and weak! The bandit is practically a giant!"

"You're bigger than me."

"That's true, but I'm just a normal person."

"I'm a normal person, too. We're all normal. Ideas like being special or talented are just constructs born from human perspective based on our biases towards putting value on certain skills over others. Nobody's good at everything, but everybody's good at something. As for you, you've got the potential to be a master martial artist."

"How do you know?"

"I have an eye for these kinds of things, it comes with being a martial artist."

"But, even if you do train me and I do get strong, the bandit is still in control of the village."

"To deal with that, you'll issue him a challenge. You have a year to train and beat him, and in that time, he has to stay out of the village. If he doesn't agree initially, poke at his pride, claim he's only refusing because he's afraid to lose to a girl. It'll work."

"He is pretty misogynistic, so I agree that'd work, but I'm still not sure I can do it. He's just so strong."

A hand gripped Yim's shoulder. "You can do it. You're human. Humanity's greatest skill is our ability to adapt and improve."

Yim looked inward and gathered her courage. "I'll trust you."

Mui and Wing-chun issued their challenge to the brute that conquered the village, who accepted upon having his pride prodded, and the duo began training.

The beginning days were grueling for Yim. She had never trained to fight before, but as her muscles screamed as they tore and her heart beat as fast as the flickers of virtual particles, Yim felt her teacher's words of encouragement fill her with new life every time she believed her limit was reached. She broke through every ceiling that seemed unbreakable, traveling ever further up the tower of her potential.

The martial art Mui taught Yim was one of her own invention, one she named after her student, wing chun.

Soon enough, the day came for Yim Wing-chun and the bandit to face off.

It was held at the village center, the town surrounded by the forest of bamboo. Every single resident of the settlement came to see the event, praying for Yim's success in liberating them from the cruel rogue that had taken over, though they lacked much belief that the young woman could actually do it.

The brute was seven feet tall, and thick with muscles that pressed tight against his flesh. He was raw force incarnated, that was his philosophy. It was a belief that said that strength was all that mattered, and all that possessed less strength than him did not have purpose beyond serving him. Might makes right, plain and simple.

Yim had trained for a year, but she still shivered upon looking at the bandit. Mui's hands grabbing her shoulders managed to make Yim still herself and calm down.

The two fighters squared up, Yim looking tiny before the giant man. Mui, acting as referee, raised a hand, and as she swung it down, the match had begun.

The bandit, without technique or grace, punched at Yim, his arm fast and strong enough that one hit would be enough to incapacitate the young woman. The petite martial artist knew she wouldn't be able to block due to its power, and she didn't have enough time or room to dodge. She had only one option.

With her forearm, Yim hit the side of the bandit's wrist, knocking the punch to the side and making it miss. The woman's body wasn't deflecting the blow with force, it was through manipulating the direction of the energy of her own body and of the brute's own blow. Throughout the entire action, Yim stayed loose, relaxed. Her muscles were limp, her body was able to flow and move smoothly, every motion transitioning to the next without even the slightest jerkiness. Yim's style was one antithetical to the bandit's method of combat. It rejected power's purpose and it's perceived value over all else.

In redirecting the force behind his punch, Yim made the bandit lose his balance. The energy in his own strike dragged him forward. As he was on a collision course with the dirt, Yim, all in a single motion, maneuvered behind the brute and knife hand chopped the back of his head, right where his brain stem was, not enough to kill, but with just enough strength to drag him to unconsciousness.

With a booming sound, the giant hit the ground and Yim stood tall, her fight over in a single exchange, and at the cheers and embraces of her fellows, she never felt taller, even as she looked up at everyone.

While everyone celebrated, Mui snuck off with grace, not wanting to draw any attention away from her student, and because she was never a fan of the spotlight. She knew her student would want to reward her for her help, to treat her as the hero, but Mui knew it was all thanks to Wing-chun's own efforts that her village was made safe, and would stay safe from then on.

Mui left the village, and continued on her journey. Her only goal was to better herself and to better others when given the opportunity.

Azathoth's beastial snarls that spread spittle about gradually shifted to manic guffawing, uproarious laughs that beat on the framework of reality, threatening to end totality, even beyond totality. Her outpouring of emotion was at risk of erasing all totalities.

The fact that she was actually facing a challenge for the first time was becoming too amusing for Azathoth not to laugh. It had been so long since she came to be with only Yahweh being older than her, and it was only now that she faced someone anywhere near her power.

The only person who didn't cover their ears was Mui, who, despite having the most sensitive hearing of all, endured the pain so her fists would be unoccupied, ready for a possible surprise attack.

With a sharp stop, the laughing died.

"What's your name?"

Mui answered with caution. "Why are you asking?" She didn't know if Azathoth was trying to use some sort of ability based around names. "Don't you already know my name? It was announced when I showed up."

"You think I bother remembering names? Just tell me your name."

The martial artist's intuition told her that it was safe to answer, so she relented.

"Ng Mui."

"Ng Mui. Ng Mui. Ng Mui. Got it. You have a name worth remembering."

"Why?"

"Because you're the first being besides myself that is strong."

"And, why does that make me worthy?"

"Because strength makes one superior. All other skills are valueless. It doesn't matter if you learn all knowledge there is to know if I can just kill you, making all that effort pointless. The power to kill is all that matters."

"You really believe that?"

"Do I seem like I'm joking?"

"No, no you don't. You really believe that."

"I don't think that, I know that."

"You're wrong."

"I'm wrong?"

"You're wrong."

"Oh, I'm wrong? Really? You got any proof, any evidence?"

"I have a simple one. Why does the ability to destroy something make you better than it? You could kill someone who makes other people's lives happier, but I know most people would think more highly of that person over you. You just destroy things. You aren't creating value, you're taking things of value away. You aren't someone to be praised, to look up to, you're a threat. Your actions are valueless."

Azathoth had a belittling smile. "Oh, how smart. How enlightened you are."

"Go ahead, look down on me, but let me ask one thing."

"Ask away."

"Are you happy?"

Like an unexpected smack to the face, those words made the Daemon Sultan's mind drain, becoming an empty sea. Such a simple question. That was all it took to touch the core of Azathoth's being.

"May I add to the conversation?" Sin's voice spoke out of Mui's entire body.

"Fine." Azathoth spat out.

Sin manifested out of Mui's body to talk to the deity face to face.

"Azathoth, you are always bored, correct?"

"Yes."

"You struggle to find anything that brings a sense of energy to your life."

"Get on with it."

"What methods have you used to curb your boredom?"

"Fighting people that are supposed to be strong. Watching people that are supposed to be strong fight. Watch people argue that leads to fighting and stuff. Breaking things."

"So you've only ever tried to entertain yourself through violence or displays of power?"

"Yes, since they're the only things of value."

"But, I'll ask what Mui did before, are you happy?"

"…"

"Do you not know, or do you not want to answer?"

"I…"

"…"

"I'm not happy."

"Alright, thank you for answering. So, your philosophy about the nature of life isn't making you happy, so why do you stick so closely to it? Wouldn't it be better to try and disregard, at least temporarily, your philosophy on the nature of power, and try to find happiness in new ways, ways other people do? Maybe you'll find something that will cure your boredom."

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know? What is it that makes you unsure?"

"I don't know."

Mui got on her knees, meeting the short deity on the same level. "I know it's scary to venture into the unknown, but it's necessary to improve ourselves."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid, I'm older than you'll ever be, and we're supposed to be fighting, why are the two of you trying to play therapist?"

"I just like helping people." Mui traced her own chin with her thumb as she contemplated for a moment. She was coming up with the same idea Sin was. They looked at each other for a moment, relaying their mutual feelings. "Azathoth, do you want to put a pause on the tournament and see if there is anything you might find fun? We can try some things, some things not related to fighting and strength."

The crowd began to whisper amongst themselves, perplexed by the turn the fight was taking.

"This, perhaps, is the strangest twist we've had all tournament." Anansi commented. "Mui's proposing Revelations be put on pause so that they can try and have fun. Wacky."

Azathoth craned her head back and released a mix of a laugh and a sigh.

"You really think you can trick me? You're trying to convince me that power and violence aren't the only things of value so I'll believe that this tournament is immoral or I'll not care about continuing it because I'll like other forms of entertainment more, which also means I wouldn't want to rule and toy with everyone in totality ever again. You're doing this for yourselves, not me. I'm the cause of all your problems right now and I killed a third of everybody. You hate me."

"Well, obviously." Sin said. "Everything you said is right and it'd be stupid to try and deny it, but that doesn't change the fact that if we succeed, it'll make you happy for once. This isn't a two sides kinda thing, it's not whether our side or yours gets to win and be happy. We can all be happy, or we can have things go your way, and everyone will be miserable, including you."

"But, if I do what you want, and it works, that means you won."

"Who cares? What does it even mean to win at that point?"

"I don't know."

"Then why do you care about it? Don't imprison yourself within abstractions."

Sin got onto her knees just like Mui and extended a hand for Azathoth.

Azathoth hadn't realized she had coiled her tendril arm up, returning it to normal limb, ready to grasp the hand in front of her.

She wanted to take the offer, but the nagging voice at the back of her mind, telling her she will lose if she even grazes Sin's fingers with her own.

"Azathoth." The deity was addressed by Mui. "I actually do want to help you. You're making yourself empty for no good reason. Please, let us help you. We can only help you if you let us, because, honestly, we aren't going to be able to do anything besides assist you. Only you yourself can do it. You need to help yourself. Help yourself, and we will be there with you." Mui extended her own arm towards Azathoth.

The deity in pink didn't realize how shaky her breathing was. She felt like running away for the first time, but she didn't. She put out both her arms, her oversized sleeves sliding down both to reveal Azathoth's small hands. They reached out, each grabbing one of the offered hands, gently holding them.

"Fine, let's try it."