War between hypnotists

OSIRIS CHAMPION'S BAPTISM: A BATTLE OF SPIRITUAL REALMS

The Moment of Severance: Where Humanity Meets Myth

The highway’s chaos—screaming metal, gunpowder stench, the wet thud of bullets finding meat—ceased to matter.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Stefano Vasudeva and Johan Neumann stood elsewhere.

Not in the physical world.

Not in any world mere mortals could comprehend.

Tanzil'Uddunya, soul realm's descent.

Johan’s nightmare domain stretched infinitely in every direction—a gothic tapestry of twisted oaks, their bark weeping viscous amber. The ground breathed, rising and falling like a sleeper’s chest, carpeted in blood-roses whose thorns dripped with liquid shadow.

Above, a false moon pulsed, its surface writhing with wailing wraiths.

Reality had been twisted.

Stefano stood suddenly in a Black Forest realm, surrounded by blood-roses that siphoned his energy with every prick.

Worse?

His physical body was still on the highway—being shot to pieces by .50 caliber rounds.

"Clever," the Incubus growled.

Johan materialized between the thorns, the cunning hypnotist's athletic frame silhouetted by the dusk-lit trees.

"You’re strong," she admitted. "But even monsters bleed."

Stefano laughed—a sound like breaking bones.

"You think thorns can stop Osiris Champion?"

Stefano’s Incubus Form towered amidst the thorns, his three-meter frame already pierced in a dozen places by Johan’s spiritual barbs. Each wound bled not blood, but shimmering motes of his soul radiance.

Johan materialized atop a rose-barbed throne, the mature woman's lithe body draped in monastic leathers stitched from ghost-skin.

"Welcome," she murmured, "to my garden of consequences."

Stefano snarled, the sound distorting the very air.

"A child’s sandbox."

First Exchange: The Thief’s Gambit

Johan flicked a wrist.

The thorns detonated.

A thousand barbed filaments lanced into Stefano’s shadow-flesh, siphoning his spiritual mass with vampiric hunger. The roses bloomed grotesquely, petals swelling with stolen divinity.

Johan’s ice-blue eyes flared crimson as the mature woman absorbed his power.

"You burn so brightly," she sighed, "like a firefly in the new moon sky."

Stefano laughed.

A deep, tectonic sound.

"Fool."

His claws clenched.

"Osiris Rebirth."

The hieroglyphs carved into his talons erupted in golden fire, unraveling the thorns’ curse. The stolen energy reversed course, reclaiming itself in a torrent of ember-lit scripture.

Johan hissed, her throne splintering as the backlash hit.

"Impossible! My spiritual realm is—"

"A borrowed technique," Stefano interrupted, stepping forward. "Rama’s hand-me-downs won’t save you."

The ground quaked.

Second Exchange: The Champion’s Counterstroke

Stefano’s voice changed.

No longer a sound, but a vibration that resonated in Johan’s bone marrow.

"Blaze Burst."

His Incubus Form imploded.

Three meters → 1.9 meters.

Shadow → Smoldering Flesh.

Monster → Osiris-Touched.

The Thorn Garden SCREAMED.

Every rose within a kilometer radius combusted, their petals becoming ash-moths that swirled around Stefano’s new form.

• Skin: Now cracked magma, veins pumping liquid solar flares.

• Eyes: The Eye of Horus painted in pupil and iris.

• Voice: Triple-layered—human, beast, and something older than language.

Johan staggered, her soul realm buckling under the weight of his transformation.

"No… this is Nirvana-grade pressure! You’re not even a Meditative Realm master yet!"

Stefano flexed his fingers.

Five sonic booms.

Five mercenaries' souls drained, their bodies turning into ash in the physical world, ceasing to be.

Johan felt each **** like a knife-twist in her psychic tether.

"You—!"

"I exist in both places," Stefano corrected, "because my domain is already manifesting."

The guru raised his palms.

"Tanzil'Uddunya! First form: HELLISH THERAVADA!"

Johan's soul realm shook, the roses withering as Stefano’s embryonic domain clashed against hers.

The forest convulsed.

Roses mutated into barbed wire.

Trees twisted into screaming faces.

Too late.

Stefano's deep baritone echoed with the whispers, the **** screams of damnation.

"Osiris Judges."

The sky tore.

The Eye of Horus opened—pupil dilating like a black hole.

Johan collapsed, the hypnotist's soul realm CRUMBLING under Nirvana-grade pressure.

"W-Wait! I—"

Stefano stepped on her throat.

"You stole my energy," he mused. "Now I take your mind."

Hieroglyphic brands slithered up her limbs, devouring her techniques, her memories, her very will.

The last thing Johan saw before consciousness fled was the Abyss opening beneath her—swallowing the mercenaries whole.

Third Exchange: The Divine Kingdom’s Birth

From the moon’s fissures, amber light flooded the Black Forest.

Not light—liquid time.

The Eye of Horus opened fully, its gaze scouring Johan’s soul realm like desert wind over hieroglyphs.

"W-Wait... We don't have to do this, I-I can still put a good word fo..."

Stefano grinned wickedly, yet the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Silence, whore."

The sentence was final.

Johan’s Tanzil'Uddunya shattered.

• The roses melted into cobra-shaped smoke.

• The trees uncoiled into papyrus scrolls, their text rewriting itself into Stefano’s mythos.

• The moon collapsed into a sarcophagus lid, its surface now carved with Johan’s true name.

She screamed, clawing at her eyes.

"STOP! You’re erasing me!"

Stefano stepped through the disintegrating realm, his footsteps birthing obsidian tiles beneath him.

"No," he murmured, "I’m taming you."

The incubus' hand pressed against her forehead.

"Anubis Weighs the Heart."

Hieroglyphic brands erupted across Johan’s athletic frame:

• Her left arm: Now inked with the Book of the Dead’s 125th decree.

• Her throat: Ringed by a serpent-collar of soul-binding vows.

• Her mind: Flooded with visions of the Osiris Temple’s true depth.

Johan collapsed, whimpering.

"W-What… are you?"

Stefano gazed into the collapsing sky, where the last remnants of her realm dissolved into his expanding dominion.

"Good question," he answered, "I am the one who breeds."

Epilogue: The First Pillar of a New Pantheon

Reality reasserted itself.

The highway.

The wreckage.

The bodies.

Stefano stood human again, his suit unblemished, his hands clean.

At his feet, Johan twitched, her brands pulsing under moonlight.

A living tome.

A conquered soul.

The first of many.

From the shadows, a jackal padded forward—not real, not unreal—and dropped a single black rose at Stefano’s feet.

Message received.

Game acknowledged.

Stefano smiled, turning toward Torino’s skyline.

"Now," he whispered, "we build."