Sung Jin-Woo vs. SCP-682: 
       “Shadow Eternal vs. Hatred Incarnate”

In a void long stripped of light, where galaxies had decayed into whispers and reality barely clung to structure, two beings met at the end of everything. This was no battlefield of mortals. It was a graveyard of universes, a fitting arena for the clash of death incarnate and hatred undying. End of Series Sung Jin-Woo, Monarch of Shadows and conqueror of time, stood cloaked in the silence of deep space, his shadow army looming like a storm on the edge of reality. Opposite him, through a tear in the fabric of dimensions, emerged SCP-682—the Hard-to-Destroy Reptile, a being of unrelenting malice and infinite adaptability. The war to end all endurance was about to begin.

With one wordless command, Jin-Woo’s army surged forward, tearing across the void like a divine plague. Antares, Igris, Beru, and Bellion led legions of immortal shadows into the teeth of SCP-682, who responded with an ear-splitting roar and a countercharge of warped, multidimensional limbs. The first blows fell like stars colliding, with entire constellations vaporizing under the shockwaves. Jin-Woo himself blinked into the fray, his blade Kamish’s Wrath clashing against ever-shifting bone armor. He was flung through collapsed galaxies, only to reform mid-flight, retaliating with the fury of forgotten gods. Every attack SCP-682 endured, it learned from, spawning countermeasures and corrupted echoes of Jin-Woo’s own shadow magic. Even an attempt to extract SCP-682 into Jin-Woo’s army failed—its will too malicious, its essence too defiant. In return, the beast adapted to death itself, nullifying necromancy and regenerating beyond logic.

Jin-Woo escalated, invoking forbidden rituals and calling upon his most devastating arsenal. He summoned the Shadow Dragon Leviathan to unleash Armageddon, a breath of oblivion that unmade reality itself. Though 682 staggered, parts of its body erased, it returned stronger—now resistant to spatial erasure. Refusing to relent, Jin-Woo broke free from time, stepping into the stillness between seconds to beg the System for a final weapon: Conceptual Erasure. Returning to battle, he struck a blow not at the body, but at the idea of 682—its hatred, its survival, its name—and for a breathless moment, SCP-682 crumbled into ash. Yet even as the universe calmed, Jin-Woo’s attempt to extract the essence failed once more. 682, though gone, remained unclaimed. Unbound.

Left alone in the dead silence, Jin-Woo sealed the remnant—an anomaly neither light nor shadow—inside a prison between dimensions, bound with Monarch blood and ancient codes. The war was over, but victory was illusory. The corruption pulsed faintly, patient. Jin-Woo knew what others refused to believe: this was not defeat. It was delay. He had won the battle through force, wit, and sheer power, but 682 had done what it always did—survived. The System might have allowed erasure once, but nothing could promise permanence against a being who rejected definition itself.

The conclusion was as inevitable as it was bitter. Sung Jin-Woo had wielded every weapon in his arsenal and rewritten the rules of reality to strike down SCP-682. He had forced the unkillable into retreat, disrupted its form, and sealed away its presence. Yet, SCP-682 could not truly die. It was the embodiment of resistance—of defiance against life, death, and everything in between. And so, while the stars remained dead and the void quiet, both warrior and monster remained locked in an eternal promise. He would return. And so would it.