《The Eternal Diva's Shadow: A Metabound Odyssey》


 Blizzards Descent

    Ryder McCoy, renowned in the underworld as one of the most skilled assassins, had just completed another flawless assignment. His reputation for precision and efficiency preceded him, earning him both the respect and the fear of clients and targets alike. As he received praise for his latest job over the phone, his stoic demeanour revealed no hint of weakness. For Ryder, it was just another day''s work.


    "Ah, Uncle Ryder, greetings!" Charlotte Ashford''s voice exuded a regal sophistication as she lounged in her chair, her maid delicately attending to her intricate coiffure. "I must commend you; your work was simply splendid! Payment matters have been meticulously settled, so no cause for concern there. Let''s certainly entertain the notion of collaborating again in the future, shall we? I''m positively eager for it!"


    "Much obliged," Ryder replied with a nod of gratitude, deftly adjusting the brim of his stylish Louis Vuitton baseball cap with one hand while holding his phone in the other. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he continued, "And tell you what, with this generous payment, Old Betsy here is in for one heck of an upgrade. I think I''ll finally get that top-of-the-line scope I''ve been eyeing. She''ll be a lot more lethal next time." As he spoke, he glanced at the phone screen, ensuring his connection with the other party remained secure before returning his focus to the conversation.


    Charlotte''s emerald eyes gleamed, her playful spirit radiating as she exclaimed, "Incredible! That sounds absolutely marvellous! With a scope like that, you''ll be hitting targets from halfway across the globe! Nothing stands a chance against you." With a flourish, she crafted a telescope with one hand and mimicked holding an imaginary rifle with the other, pretending to scan the horizon for potential targets.


    Ryder chuckled at her antics, appreciating the brief moment of levity. "You never fail to lighten the mood, Charlotte," he remarked fondly.


    Just then, the maid''s voice broke the playful atmosphere. "Miss Charlotte, please hold still," she said gently but firmly, reminding Charlotte of the ongoing task of fixing her ornate hair.


    Charlotte''s playful demeanour shifted into one of apology as she addressed the maid''s request. "I apologise, Mary," she responded sincerely, her voice carrying a hint of regret for momentarily overlooking her responsibilities.


    Following a more serious discussion, it turned out Charlotte had an even more difficult assignment for him. As the secure Signal call ended, Ryder McCoy pocketed his iPhone and pondered. ''That reckless lass,'' he thought, ''only gives me the hardest of missions. It''s as if she wants to see how far I can tread into danger.'' With a furrowed brow, he considered the details discussed during the conversation, his mind already formulating plans and contingencies.


    Ryder stood in the opulent suite of the city''s most exclusive hotel, where polished marble floors met walls adorned with exquisite works of art. Sunlight filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow upon the plush furnishings and ornate decor. The room exuded an air of sophistication and refinement, with every detail meticulously curated to cater to the whims of its discerning clientele. A crystal decanter of aged whiskey sat atop a mahogany sideboard, alongside a selection of fine cigars and a silver tray of hors d''oeuvres.


    In one corner of the room, bathed in golden light, stood Ryder''s most prized possession: his sniper rifle, Old Betsy. Custom-built to his exact specifications, the rifle seemed out of place amidst the luxury surroundings, its sleek black body and intricate engravings a stark contrast to the elegant decor. Despite its lethal purpose, Ryder regarded it with a sense of familiarity and comfort, a constant companion in his shadowy world of espionage and intrigue. The rifle''s scope, a marvel of modern engineering, offered unparalleled clarity and precision, allowing Ryder to pick off his targets with god-like accuracy from a distance. Its barrel, polished to a mirror-like sheen, seemed to gleam with a malevolent glint as it unleashed death upon unsuspecting victims. As Ryder gazed at the rifle, a silent reminder of the darkness that lurked within him, he couldn''t help but feel a sense of unease. In a world of opulence and excess, he was a predator lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at a moment''s notice. However, Old Betsy was more than just a tool of death¡ªit was Ryder''s constant companion, his confidant in the darkest of moments. With each pull of the trigger, he felt a sense of purpose and control that he couldn''t find anywhere else.


    Approaching the grand window that spanned from floor to ceiling, Ryder marvelled at the breathtaking view unfurling before him. The glass panels, meticulously cleaned to a sparkling sheen, framed a mesmerising vista of the bustling city below, where streets teemed with life amidst a backdrop of towering skyscrapers and glittering lights. Yet, as he peered over the edge, a wave of vertigo washed over him, a stark reminder that life continued on without him.


    Lost in thought, Ryder''s gaze shifted from the city below to his own reflection in the polished glass. The sunlight filtering through the clouds above cast a soft glow on his features, highlighting the lines etched into his weathered face. For a brief moment, he wondered if his hair, streaked with strands of silver, was whiter than the billowing clouds that drifted lazily across the sky.


    Despite the vibrant energy of the city pulsating below, Ryder''s reflection seemed to exist in a world of its own¡ªa world burdened by the weight of his past actions. Retrieving a cigarette from his pocket, he attempted to collect himself by observing the bustling activity below with a detached perspective. "Ants," he drawled quietly. "All these folks, scurrying around like ants." Then, a saddened expression appeared on his face as he lit up the cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke. He thought he didn''t want to kill anymore, but he didn''t know what else to do. Killing was all he knew.


    In a sudden burst, the sky ignited into a dazzling cascade of white, ablaze with hues of fire. For an instant, he questioned his sanity. Enormous fireballs streaked through the heavens, crashing down with explosive force, holding him transfixed as his cigarette slipped from his fingers. It was as though reality itself had fractured, transforming into a scene ripped from a blockbuster film.


    Amidst the falling stars of devastation, he glimpsed Niflheim, Purgatory Incarnate, seated upon a throne of levitating ice. Despite the cataclysm, she exuded an air of indifference, a chilling testament to her power. Yet, amid the tumult, she was a vision of beauty, her fair skin a stark contrast to the cascading teal waves of her hair. Twelve magnificent wings, each shimmering with ethereal light in various shades of blue, extended from her back. Her right arm blazed with white flames of creation and destruction, while her left arm and legs were wrapped with black bandages, leaving some parts of her skin exposed, still smouldering with remnants of fire. Blue nails adorned her fingers and toes. With a composed demeanour, her left hand rested upon her cheek, while a flowing emerald mantle draped her form.


    Many questions rushed into Ryder''s mind: Who is she? Why is she doing this? How can she extinguish all those lives without a hint of remorse? As if she heard his thoughts, her deep voice echoed inside his mind. ''...Mortals, this is the price for your existence.'' With a slow turn, she glanced past him, her icy blue eyes filled with an otherworldly intensity that seemed to pierce through him. Her expression remained devoid of emotion.


    "Are you... a goddess?" he whispered in awe, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos unfurling around them. His hand found solace on his Texan Thunder, his steadfast inaugural firearm, poised for a lightning-fast draw.


    "Chilled distortion," Niflheim murmured, her voice bearing a transcendental quality, synthetic and quiet. She unleashed a torrent of power, warping the very fabric of reality and imploding the building¡ªa mere fraction of her unfathomable might.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    In the fleeting moments before Ryder''s life ebbed away, he caught glimpses of those he had ended. Amidst his thoughts, he acknowledged that some were inherently decent individuals who hadn''t deserved their tragic fate. With a pang of regret, he resolved to apologise to them if, by some miracle, he were to reach heaven. Yet, even in his final moments, a wry thought crossed his mind. He couldn''t help but smirk inwardly at the idea of Charlotte scrambling to find another assassin of his caliber for her suicidal missions. ''Good luck, kid,'' he thought. ''Hope this force of nature won''t be heading your way.''


    Niflheim''s eyes, as if windows to another realm, projected the image of Odin and his steed as they descended from Asgard, their spectral forms materialising and drawing nearer. "Almighty Niflheim!" Odin''s voice resounded. "I am indebted to you for averting Ragnarok, a feat deemed inconceivable. Your intervention was akin to a miraculous force emerging from Ginnungagap." Odin''s tone shifted sombre. "Yet, your departure left the Nine Worlds teetering on the brink of destruction, and now you stand upon Midgard. What impels you to undertake these seemingly senseless actions?"


    "Odin, was it?" Niflheim tilted her head slightly, her expression impassive. "You seem more inquisitive than the average mortal." With a deliberate motion, she extended her left palm, and there, atop it, Yggdrasil appeared, its majestic form condensed to the size of a bouquet of flowers. "Share your perception," she prompted in a dispassionate tone, her demeanour remaining neutral.


    Sleipnir began to shift uneasily, sensing the tension in the air. Odin stroked her gently, attempting to soothe her nerves while grappling with his own mounting anxiety. Despite his keen gaze, intensified by his Raven Eye, Odin found himself unable to discern the nature of the object cradled on Niflheim''s palm. A gnawing ache throbbed in his chest, tantalisingly close to a revelation. Yet, in the blink of an eye, clarity slipped away, leaving him with a disconcerting void.


    Interpreting Niflheim''s audacious actions as a blatant declaration of hostility, Gungnir materialised in Odin''s grasp, adorned with enchantments that coalesced into a spiralling array of hovering runes. With a reverent incantation, Odin infused himself with primordial power, whispering words of ancient might under his breath. As he did, his muscles swelled to an immense size, dwarfing even Thor''s legendary strength, while his energy surged to levels that seemed to shatter the boundaries of existence itself. Sensing the immense power coursing through his veins, he murmured, "...Victory, Fate, and the Nine Realms stand with me."


    With practised finesse, Odin hurled Gungnir, now pulsating with the full force of his being, towards the gates of Asgard. Along its trajectory, it merged with J?rmungandr, magnifying and eclipsing even the colossal form of the World Serpent. A myriad of legendary armaments spiralled around the gigantic Gungnir, including Mj?lnir and Gram, their combined might amplifying its destructive power. With single-minded purpose, it descended from realm to realm, a harbinger of divine retribution, poised to smite its target with unyielding force.


    "It''s truly regrettable that we''ve reached this juncture," sighed Odin, his voice heavy with sorrow. In a symbolic moment, his eyepatch slipped off, unveiling the scarred eye beneath. Sensing his master''s resolve, Sleipnir let out a resounding neigh, mirroring Odin''s fighting spirit. As the culmination of his magic surged back to Midgard, he thundered, "Behold the Ultimate Lance of Ragnarok!"


    Niflheim lifted her gaze, meeting the monstrous threat hurtling towards her head-on. With a graceful motion, she reduced the tree cradled in her left hand to smouldering embers, then effortlessly intercepted the spear with one of her massive wings. The collision sent ripples of energy gyrating around them. "That was mildly diverting," she remarked coldly. With a subtle sweep of her wing, she deflected the spear back towards Odin.


    Anticipating her every move, Odin traced a rune in the air, causing Gungnir to shrink. With grim determination, he positioned himself to allow the lance to pierce his chest, a wild laughter escaping his lips. "Ah, the memories flood back. I now understand why my former self orchestrated this," Odin spoke, blood trickling from his mouth, his tone sombre. "But my bag of tricks is far from empty." With solemn resolve, he funnelled the wisdom and power amassed over his lifetime into his compromised Raven Eye, which then dissolved, merging with Gungnir. Half-dazed from losing most of his divinity, he retrieved the lance from his blood-soaked chest, letting it slip from his grasp. "Niflheim! You Wicked Witch! The only remedy for your madness is death itself! Taste the wrath of this! Sacred Sacrificial Tree of the Allfather!"


    As Odin''s form dwindled to that of a skeletal figure, Niflheim''s countenance remained stoic, unaffected by the spectacle before her. "Like moths drawn to flame," she remarked with chilling detachment.


    With an almost sentient will, Gungnir surged towards Niflheim with renewed ferocity, driven by unseen forces. Yet, with a mere flick of her finger, she effortlessly diverted the spear''s path, guiding it earthward. Its impact resonated through realms and beyond. As it descended, the spear underwent a breathtaking transformation, its form shimmering with icy brilliance, evolving into a majestic phoenix forged from frost. Niflheim, typically indifferent, leaned forward from her throne with detached curiosity to witness the unfolding scene below. "How... intriguing," she murmured softly, her voice betraying a hint of interest. Like an array of unleashed geysers, magnificent waves of snow erupted from the abyss beneath the burning and ruined city, intensifying the white flames of destruction with an elegant fury.


    Odin stood frozen, a solitary figure cloaked in despair amidst the blizzard, his senses overwhelmed by the relentless cacophony of howling winds as he desperately sought Gungnir. Tears traced silent paths down his weathered face, bearing witness to the shattered spirit within him. "Will fate always elude me?" he said to himself. In that vulnerable moment, Sleipnir, sensing his rider''s anguish, bolted in panic, unseating Odin with a wild lurch before vanishing into the distant horizon.


    With a sickening thud, Odin plummeted to the unforgiving snowy ground below, his limbs twisted grotesquely upon impact. The brutal collision left him disoriented and vulnerable. Before he could gather his bearings, he found himself ensnared in the panicking flow of passersby, their hurried footsteps trampling over him with callous disregard. Then, as if fate itself had conspired against him, he was struck by the thunderous force of a garbage truck, its deafening roar drowning out his cries of agony. Pinned beneath its remorseless wheels, his final words slipped from him in a whisper, "Just as hope began to dawn... perhaps in the next round."


    In a brutal turn of events, the garbage truck, weighed down by its refuse, erupted into a sudden explosion, enveloping Odin in a vortex of flames and debris. Amidst the all-consuming inferno, Niflheim''s voice pierced through the chaos with chilling finality, stating, "Rest in peace, for there shall be no other iteration."


    With no means of escape, Odin was left utterly defenceless, forced to witness the flames devouring him with never-ending ferocity. The searing heat seeped into his very being, consuming flesh and bone with unappeasable intensity.


    The Soulless Seraph felt a flicker of satisfaction as the city melted down, transforming into an Eternal Conflagration reminiscent of her Realm of Purgatory. Adding the final flourish, her frozen throne dissolved into flames as she gracefully ascended higher into the sky. Her mantle billowed around her tall, commanding figure, as if engaged in a celestial waltz that captivated all who beheld it. With a regal gesture, she raised her scorching right arm, fingers outstretched like ethereal tendrils reaching for the heavens¡ªa harbinger of her next unfathomable display of power. The very air crackled with anticipation, bursting into white flames that swirled and coalesced into a blazing inferno, its intensity escalating with each passing moment. Amidst this inferno, bursts of gamma-ray radiation danced like cosmic fireworks, adding to the spectacle''s otherworldly allure. The fire from her arm merged with this maelstrom, forming a rapidly expanding sun above her, its brilliance rivalling that of innumerable hypernovas. It seemed to engulf everything in its path, heralding cataclysmic destruction. Yet, instead of consuming Niflheim, the inferno embraced her, suffusing her with newfound strength as she infused it with her essence. In this moment of convergence, the boundaries between the physical and the ethereal blurred, as the Soulless Seraph became one with the cosmic forces she commanded.


    As Niflheim vanished into her Morning Star, she became the catalyst for its expansion, birthing omniverses within its ethereal embrace. Each new realm spawned within acted as fuel for its unabating growth. The Nine Worlds, dwarfed by the brilliance of her power, dwindled to a mere speck in the wake of the expanding sun. Her radiance stretched into the omniverses and beyond, kindling destruction across myriad realms and ushering ruin upon gods, demons, and countless beings who dared to oppose her ascension.


    With a whispered revelation, Niflheim closed her eyes, a serene expression gracing her features as she unearthed profound meaning within the depths of the flames. "I have found you," she muttered softly, her words barely audible due to the crackling inferno. Suspended within the heart of the burgeoning sun, she seemed at peace, as if adrift on tranquil waters. And thus, she transcended, her essence merging with the Morning Star, forever intertwined with its expanding presence in the endless void.

 Darkness Unveiled

    In the depths of solemn, inscrutable woods rose a celestial castle, its spires reaching toward the heavens. From a shimmering fissure emerged a wounded being, its otherworldly form collapsing onto the hallowed earth in bewilderment. The eerie crimson light cast by multiple moons overhead signalled the lateness of the hour, further unsettling its senses.


    "You''re in my realm, squid," Lucidia proclaimed, her arms folded as her crimson eyes ignited. Despite its resistance, the eldritch was compelled to hover in mid-air, irresistibly drawn towards an unconscious figure who bore an uncanny resemblance to Lucidia. Powerless and filled with dread, the eldritch commenced its assimilation of the woman.


    On the 3587th floor of the castle, embraced by angelic windows that rose tall like celestial sentinels, the outside world unfolded in a spectacle of pandemonium and malevolence. A demonic panorama stretched to the distant horizon, where serrated peaks pierced the crimson heavens, casting ominous shadows that danced across the desolate plains below. Rivers of molten lava wound through the contorted landscape, their fiery currents illuminating the night with a foreboding glow.


    In stark contrast to the infernal vista beyond, the castle''s interior radiated an ethereal beauty that seemed almost incongruous amidst the surrounding darkness. Soft red moonlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of hues onto marble floors adorned with intricate patterns. Delicate tapestries depicting scenes of celestial grandeur hung from the walls, their threads shimmering with a divine luminescence. Yet, despite the serenity within, the air hummed with latent power, evidence of the formidable forces concealed within the castle''s walls.


    It was a juxtaposition of beauty and darkness, a sign of the capricious nature of the realm and its inhabitants.


    "Even an eldritch quivers in the presence of the Fallen One''s Realm," Morgrath quipped, his warm smile unwavering despite the eldritch''s frantic motions. "You truly are a formidable force, my dear."


    Lucidia, momentarily breaking from her intense concentration, uncrossed her arms with an annoyed huff. With a glare that could freeze lava, she raised her hand and extended her middle finger in a gesture that spoke volumes, before resuming her focus without a word.


    "Consider yourself fortunate to merge with a replica of me, an unparalleled and supreme goddess," she murmured to the eldritch with a seductive undertone, her silken strands cascading around her face, revealing the black cross earring beneath her right earlobe.


    Morgrath closed his grimoire, tucking it away inside his Omniversal Pocket before reaching for another tome. "Here''s to hoping this experiment yields fruit. Time is a precious commodity, after all. There are countless holy kingdoms relying on my sage advice," he commented casually, his demeanour retaining its laid-back nature despite the gravity of his undertaking.


    "You''ve repeated this refrain countless times, yet you remain here, just as committed to this endeavour as I am," Lucidia countered, her crimson gaze ablaze with willpower, while Morgrath''s sombre eyes betrayed a trace of unvoiced melancholy.


    A deep, infernal resonance reverberated through the castle chamber, heralded by the piercing gaze of a draconic eye peering through the window. The silhouette of an immense dragon cast its shadow against the backdrop of the night, its form barely discernible amidst the darkness. "Is the living weapon complete?" growled Nihilignis, his voice carrying the weight of aeons of power. Though shrouded in dim light, the faint glimmer of gold-eyed white scales hinted at the monstrous presence lurking just beyond the window''s edge.


    Morgrath''s voice dripped with patronising amusement. "It''s rather unfortunate, my dear Nihilignis, that you can''t seem to transform into a more diminutive form," he remarked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Imagine if you could shrink yourself smaller than the mightiest mountains across the omniverses. Then, you wouldn''t be brooding out there like an oversized guard dog."


    Nihilignis''s voice resonated with undeniable power as he issued a stern warning, "Any further insults, and you''ll feel the searing heat of my Azure Breath of Oblivion."


    Their exchange ground to a sudden halt as Lucidia''s clone''s eyes widened, shifting to a spectral white glow, while her usually ivory skin darkened into a deep purple hue. With a piercing scream, she unleashed a tumultuous surge of malevolent energy, flooding the room with chaotic power.


    As tendrils of power gnawed at his flesh, Morgrath winced, sensing the decay seeping through his typically youthful, olive complexion. "Your powers far surpass mine," he managed through gritted teeth, his voice steady yet laced with urgency. "I implore both of you for assistance. This entity not only menaces my corporeal form but voraciously devours my energy with insatiable hunger."


    "Pathetic," Lucidia sneered, her advance slow and menacing. "Despite your rise from mere humanity to a nebular demilich, you cling to divine crutches."


    "The weakest hound barks the loudest," Nihilignis interjected, his tone dripping with venom. "And you, Fallen One, must restrain your powers lest they encroach upon mine."


    "Funny you should mention that," Lucidia retorted, her fingers adorned with jewellery that shimmered in the dim castle light. With a snap of her fingers, a potent blend of divine and demonic energies erupted forth, sizzling with bloodlust before hurtling toward her clone with ferocious velocity.


    Nihilignis followed suit, his colossal form exuding an aura of ancient power as he unleashed a deluge of draconic and demonic might. Outside the castle, his immense presence caused the very air to shiver, while his powers seeped through the angelic windows, staining the once sanctified atmosphere with an even more sinister light.


    Caught in the crossfire, the clone was consumed by the overwhelming energies. Initially, her form appeared to ripple and distort, buffeted by the conflicting forces. Yet, with a sudden surge of power, the chaos halted abruptly, leaving the clone ensconced within a crackling sphere of shimmering energy.


    "I asked for assistance, not annihilation!" Morgrath exclaimed. His hands ran through his dishevelled black hair. "This was meant to be my magnum opus, my ultimate creation! It took us millennia to reach this apex!"


    Sinking to his knees, a grimace of pain contorted his face. He ran his finger over his wounds, channelling his energy to replace the decayed flesh with new, revitalised tissue. Then, with a wave of his hand, his priestly robe was restored to its former glory.


    Silence fell heavy upon the room, broken only by the rhythm of Nihilignis''s breathing. Lucidia, usually quick with a retort or action, fell into a rare moment of contemplation, her hand pressed against her mouth as she pondered the situation. But then Lucidia''s eight scarlet wings began to flicker, a sign of her unease. ''I sensed a presence more ancient than even I, and that overgrown lizard,'' she declared, her tone tinged with alertness.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "I''ve been watching," echoed a voice from the shadows, filled with primordial might. "This vessel will give me meaning."


    Void clouds materialised out of thin air, engulfing the entire room in an oppressive shroud. Morgrath collapsed, his body rendered immobile by the overpowering force. Lucidia, though still standing, felt the weight of the void pressing down upon her, beads of sweat forming on her brow as she watched the swirling void cloud with growing apprehension. Meanwhile, Nihilignis remained a silent observer, his massive form unperturbed by the events before him.


    The void smoke coalesced around the corpse, enveloping it in a black mist. With an unnatural movement, the corpse began to rise, its form twisting as if pulled by unseen forces. As the transformation occurred, the clone''s once-purple skin faded, gradually becoming fair and unblemished. Simultaneously, its long white hair darkened to a deep black, cascading in wavy strands tied in a low ponytail. The red eyes dulled, replaced by the haunting depths of oceanic blue.


    The body shifted, growing slightly taller and more fit, its features morphing into something altogether more imposing and otherworldly. It now resembled a beautifully divine woman, with fair skin, a tall and fit stature, and mesmerising oceanic eyes. The void mantle draped around her form, adding an air of mystery and power. From her back emerged ten black angel wings, their dark feathers contrasting against the ethereal glow surrounding her.


    As she extended her hand, the observers noticed the clone''s nails, once red, now purple, matching the darkness of her wings. However, the absence of her right arm drew their attention, replaced by an eerie eldritch essence that occasionally dripped, a reminder of her otherworldly nature.


    "What in the 72 Hells is going on?!" exclaimed Morgrath, his voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and alarm.


    "Nothing. Empty," declared the mysterious woman, her voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance. As the void power began to stabilise, she continued, her tone hollow yet resolute. "I am the Void Incarnate. And I will begin anew."


    With those words, the void pressure dissipated, leaving the woman staring ahead with an empty gaze, as if contemplating the vastness of eternity.


    Morgrath stood erect, smoothing the folds of his gown with palpable trepidation. "Is it just me, or did it feel like we died countless times without even realising it? I can''t quite find the words to describe it."


    "With a modicum of insight, your words ring true," Nihilignis rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant growl akin to the rolling thunder of a storm brewing on the horizon. "Before the tenuous balance of her void energies settles, she unleashes her unfathomable might, rending not only our existence and this plane but shattering the very fabric of all omniverses across time and space. Then, in less time than it takes to draw breath, she weaves reality anew from the depths of oblivion. Yet, even in this infinitesimal moment, her myriad essences writhe in tumultuous instability. We, insignificant beings, merely fade, dwindling with each passing heartbeat," Nihilignis expounded with bone-chilling matter-of-factness, his gaze piercing them like an orb of molten topaz.


    "How enlightening," Morgrath retorted with a dramatic flourish, raising both of his arms in the air. "Your explanation is truly enlightening, Nihilignis. Your penchant for the annihilation of omniverses and realms has always been abundantly clear. It appears the prospect of their permanent destruction brings you no small amount of pleasure."


    Nihilignis''s voice resonated with a deep, demonic rumble that filled the chamber, its malevolent timbre echoing with sinister growls. With a thrill coursing through him, he flexed his massive wings and ascended from Lucidia''s heavenly castle. Every beat of his mighty wings birthed razor-sharp tornadoes that tore through the landscape below. Towering trees were uprooted and shredded into splinters, while gargoyles, succubi, wyverns, and other larger airborne demons met explosive ends in his path. With a wild gleam in his eyes, Nihilignis conjured a humongous monochrome rift and soared into it, eager to unleash destruction upon a new realm.


    Meanwhile, Morgrath muttered to himself, "Death has been a close companion of mine for quite some time, but this sensation... it''s beyond even my intimate acquaintance with mortality."


    "We''ve concocted a monstrosity," Lucidia mused, her crimson dress hugging her curves as if it were a part of her own skin, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. With one hand delicately slithering a tantalising path beneath the fabric and poised on her breast, she continued, "Despite our plan taking an unexpected turn, it''s transformed into something beyond our wildest imaginings. With her emergence, judging from the cynical lizard''s reaction, we now wield a power that not only rivals but may eclipse even the Throne of Omniverses."


    "If I were still a mere mortal, perhaps I''d feel a tad of excitement, despite your predilection for conflict and fervour," remarked Morgrath, his tone laced with a blend of caution and intrigue. He approached the enigmatic woman, his movements deliberate and calculated. "And you, would you cease your vacant stare and offer a coherent explanation?"


    "It''s not you," Lucidia moaned, her voice a sultry melody that seemed to caress the very air, as if confiding in the universe itself. "Her name is Lumi''Nae. I''ve just decided." Her words lingered in the air, pregnant with significance, as she conjured a crystal-clear glass brimming with apple juice into her awaiting palm. The other hand remained delicately engaged beneath the folds of her dress, her fingers now gliding techniques known only to her. A playful smile danced upon her lips, almost daring anyone to question her.


    "She will obliterate Eloharis," Lucidia declared, her tone initially firm and unwavering, "and ascend to the Throne of Omniverses." Then, a gentle, involuntary exhalation escaped her lips. With a swirl of the juice, she marvelled at the fluidity of her dream, the motion synchronised seamlessly with the gentle caress of her fingers. As she savoured the thought, an unexpected surge of pleasure rippled through her, causing a small droplet to escape the glass, splattering upon her dress. This incidental stain stood as a symbol to the capricious nature of her ambitions and the irresistible allure of her desires.


    "And I''ll be right there, front and centre," she gasped once more, indulging in a leisurely sip. Her eyes were simultaneously distant yet piercing, as though delving into the very core of fate itself. "Picture me, a vision of splendour, seated upon that revered throne. I can''t help but wonder," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye, "how Lumi''Nae will shine beneath my shroud." Overwhelmed with excitement, she sank to the ground, the glass slipping from her grasp, its liquid spilling like an offering at her feet.


    She slipped off her empyrean heels and settled onto the hallowed floor. With her legs spread wide and her high heels nestled underneath her, she moved with deliberate intention. "Lumi''Nae!" she panted, each utterance growing more fervent with every repetition. After she had reached her climax, she provocatively lifted each leg in turn and delicately licked the spilled nectar from her feet. Each touch brought a delicious sensation to her lips, savouring its sweet essence with every caress. The cool breeze gently whispered its way into the depths of her bottom and sent shivers shivers down her spine. She stumbled forward, her ample bosom meeting the ground, her rear end lifted with both high heels awkwardly wedged in. Fatigue etched upon her features amidst the aftermath she unwittingly unfurled.


    "Your struggle resonates deeply with me," Morgrath confessed, his gaze lingering on Lucidia''s boldly exposed, burdened posterior and her weary wings, now flattened with exhaustion. "You''ve triumphed over Eloharis, only to face rejection from the throne due to your, shall we say, corrupted lineage." He raised his fist triumphantly into the air. "Still, your celestial essence shines undeniably," he declared. His signature gentle smile, perfected over countless rehearsals, graced his face as he followed with a sympathetic shrug. In response, Lucidia, barely managing to push herself up from the floor, her lips still flowing with the residue of her actions, turned her head back to look at Morgrath and offered a half-smile, its subtle arc laced with an aura of peril.


    As Morgrath shook his head and turned away, he was startled to find the Dark Lady''s face uncomfortably close to his own, her towering height looming over him. He couldn''t suppress the undignified cry that escaped him, taken aback by her sudden proximity.


    "I don''t know," Lumi''Nae simply replied.

 Wisdoms Shadow

    Amidst the hallowed halls and towering shelves of the library, a curious sight unfolded¡ªa group of demons pored over ancient tomes and scrolls with rapt attention. Despite their infernal nature, they seemed surprisingly at ease amidst the scholarly atmosphere, their demonic presence lending an air of supernatural mystery to the expansive space.


    The library was a marvel of architectural ingenuity, its extravagant design and celestial infrastructure a testament to its creator''s craftsmanship. Tall, arched windows allowed streams of light to filter into the room, bathing the surroundings in a soft glow. Ornate columns rose majestically toward the vaulted ceilings, their surfaces adorned with exquisite carvings that depicted scenes of divine beauty and wisdom.


    The empyrean infrastructure of the library was evident in every detail, from the meticulously crafted bookshelves made of rare woods and adorned with celestial motifs, to the delicate stained glass windows depicting scenes of holy realms and celestial beings. Even the very air seemed infused with divinity, imbuing the space with an aura of sanctity and reverence.


    Despite its heavenly allure, the library remained a bastion of knowledge and learning, its shelves lined with a vast assortment of texts spanning numberless subjects and disciplines. Here, scholars and seekers alike came to expand their understanding of the cosmos, delving into the mysteries of the universe and uncovering ancient truths hidden within the pages of dusty tomes and forgotten scrolls.


    As the demons moved through the library, their exertion added an element of intrigue and danger to the tranquil atmosphere, their dark forms contrasting sharply with the heavenly domain. However, despite their occupancy, the library remained a sanctuary where knowledge reigned supreme and the pursuit of truth knew no bounds.


    "Lumi''Nae," she drawled out, her voice slow and seductive as she first approached Lumi''Nae''s wings, brushing them lightly before moving behind her and enveloping her in a hug. Lumi''Nae felt the warmth of Lucidia''s embrace, yet her attention remained fixed on the disarray of books scattered across the table. Her hands moved deftly, rearranging them into a more orderly fashion, seemingly unaffected by the intimate acts.


    As Lucidia lingered in the embrace, she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Lumi''Nae''s ear. Then she darted her tongue out and licked Lumi''Nae''s cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.


    Forever unfazed by the sudden and unexpected display of affection, Lumi''Nae simply flicked her wrist. With her void powers, she erased any trace of saliva from her cheek, leaving it pristine and untouched. Her expression remained indifferent as she opened a hefty tome and started reading. Diving into its pages, she seemed to have dismissed the antics as if it had never occurred.


    Not discouraged in the slightest, Lucidia glanced over Lumi''Nae''s shoulder at the celestial tableau before her. Her gaze lingered on the ethereal sights that seemed to weave within the pages of ancient tomes. The faint glow of starlight reflected in her eyes as she persisted, "You''ve been here for three centuries, buried in books. Why not take a break and have some fun with me? The omniverses offer more than just the pages of history; let us explore its wonders together."


    Lumi''Nae''s gaze shifted to the table before her, as if she noticed it for the first time. It wasn''t merely a piece of furniture; it was a creation that seemed to transcend the bounds of reality. Each corner seemed to vanish into the air, leaving the impression that the table floated weightlessly. The chairs around it, though dusty from disuse, held an antiquated elegance, their frames seemingly carved from crystals. With a soft exhale, she finally tore her gaze away, turning to meet Lucidia''s eyes.


    "I''ve had an epiphany," Lumi''Nae admitted. "I''ve been cloistered in ignorance, isolated from the world for far too long."


    Lucidia''s eyes filled with hope as she waved her index finger. "I''ll teach you everything," she promised, offering an enticing journey into the uncharted realms of knowledge and experience, with a playful challenge in her leer.


    "Don''t interrupt her studies. And please, don''t corrupt her," came a clear request. Morgrath, the source of the benign voice, reached for one of the dusty chairs surrounding the celestial table. With a smooth motion, he brushed off the accumulated dust, revealing the elegant lines beneath, and settled beside Lumi''Nae. His actions exuded respect for her scholarly pursuits, and his grounded demeanour seemed to dispel the sultry mood that Lucidia had cast over the room. "Ah, Mythical Forges: Legends of Armament by Dr. Ophelia Raindancer," Morgrath recognised, his expression clouding with a tad of sadness as he spoke.


    "I''ve read that one before," Morgrath interjected, his tone brief yet knowing. "Do you recall, both Lucidia and I have names for our attire?" Lumi''Nae nodded in acknowledgment. Morgrath accompanied his next statement with a sweeping gesture, as if tracing the vast expanse of the night sky filled with countless stars. "By mortal standards, Lucidia''s age surpasses that of trillions of old hags combined," he remarked, emphasising the enormity of her age with a theatrical flourish. Lucidia shot him a scathing look, a silent threat simmering in her gaze, as if daring Morgrath to continue his commentary.


    "But she wields power akin to that of a near-infinite number of them," Morgrath continued, undaunted by her glare. "And she appears youthful and powerful, a dangerous combination indeed. If she desires, she can manifest a legendary set of equipment through her monstrous energy. Though these outfits she creates herself don''t grant her any particular special powers, they do bestow upon other entities who wear them a few of Lucidia''s abilities. The outfits choose their wearer based on their worthiness and compatibility."


    As Morgrath finished his explanation, Lucidia''s hand collided with the table''s surface with a resounding thud. The force of her action sent ripples through the fabric of her attire, causing her ample bosom to sway and bounce.


    "Why do you still tarry in my realm?" she exclaimed, frustration evident in the sharp edge of her voice and the furrow of her brow. "Didn''t you mention something about counselling kings from different omniverses?" Her scowl bore into Morgrath, a silent demand for answers. Then, with a disparaging gesture, she continued, "That giant lizard already left centuries ago after he couldn''t convince Lumi''Nae to rid all existence permanently."


    The mention of the giant lizard cast a chill over the demons in the library, their murmurs tapered off into an uneasy silence.


    "I must inform you that disposing of me won''t prove as straightforward as you imagine," Morgrath interjected, his charming smile flashing. "I''ve poured considerable effort into the creation of Lumi''Nae. Furthermore, what could possibly overshadow the importance of guiding a primordial?" He made a sweeping gesture, fingertips lightly resting on his chest before proceeding. "I offer valuable insights, unlike your pursuits and assets, which seem devoid of purpose. And concerning the holy kingdoms, rest assured, I have deployed doppelgangers strategically."


    Lucidia perched herself effortlessly on a nearby table, her legs crossed with nonchalance. She was clad in an elegant vermilion attire, exuding both sophistication and allure, her lower half left bare to accentuate her graceful figure. The ensemble tastefully showcased her ample bosom, adding to her captivating appearance. Her lips curled into a disdainful sneer as she retorted, "Your persistence is truly remarkable, Morgrath. But spare us the sanctimonious lecture." With a movement of her bare foot, she lifted his chin, her gaze piercing from her elevated position, crimson eyes flashing with an intimidating confidence. "As if your insights could ever rival the wisdom of someone such as myself."


    As she spoke, she unfurled her wings to their full span, the scarlet feathers stretching wide. Despite the library''s incomprehensible size, her wings managed to cast a menacing shadow that extended far beyond expectation. Even in this vast space, her wings created a dark silhouette encroaching towering shelves and only fading into the distant corners of the library.


    Morgrath gently moved Lucidia''s foot away from his face and shifted his attention to Lumi''Nae. "Your Void-Cloaked Mantle should be the same," he remarked thoughtfully, his gaze scanning the uncanny design of Lumi''Nae''s attire. "I say ''should'' because I sense that it contains hidden energy that may exceed Lucidia''s own." He paused, allowing his words to settle before continuing. "Typically, an outfit''s static energy, which influences the potency of its abilities, is limited to about a third of the creator''s latent energy. However, in your case, Lumi''Nae, it seems your creations defy convention. They possess a potency beyond conventional understanding, perhaps reflecting an unique aspect of your own power and essence."


    "Your Lightlord''s Regalia, you''re not the original owner," Lumi''Nae discerned as she briefly glanced at the shrunken skull of Leviathan that hung on his robe, before returning her attention to the book and flipping another page.


    Morgrath''s replied, "Precisely. The creator of this outfit died a long time ago. Although, at his peak, his abilities and energies surpassed mine, that is no longer the case. Therefore, this outfit does not grant me additional powers; I''ve simply grown fond¡ª" was abruptly cut short as he found himself lifted into the air, immobilised by an unseen force.


    Lucidia''s admonition rang out, "You''ve overstayed your welcome, lich." As her words fell, her attention drifted to the ruby sword pendant that was resting on her skin, her fingers instinctively scratching its surface.


    Morgrath''s voice resounded within the minds of those present. ''What''s all this, Lucidia? Are we not comrades? I never realised you held such a keen interest in me,'' he questioned teasingly and with apparent disbelief.


    As his words lingered in the air, a tense silence gripped the room, punctuated only by the faint rustle of Lumi''Nae turning pages and the soft hum of Lucidia''s titanic energy resonating around them.


    ''Consider this well: I am Death, and not to be trifled with,'' Morgrath stated firmly, his words reverberating with a warning of grave consequences. As he spoke, tears streamed down from the eye sockets of Leviathan''s skull on his robe, causing the room to become uncomfortably moist. The windows fogged up, droplets of condensation formed on surfaces, and even Lumi''Nae''s book became sticky to the touch. Additionally, Lucidia''s skin, from head to toe, appeared unnaturally moisturised, as if she had applied an excess of lotion. ''Trust me, you do not wish to witness the full extent of my power when I am truly focused.''


    "Even Death can be extinguished with but a passing thought," Lucidia retorted with a smirk, her gaze still fixed elsewhere, as if acknowledging Morgrath directly was beneath her. Then, with a touch of dry humour, she added, "I neglected moisturising this morning. Your sudden helpfulness is quite unexpected. Shall I expect a full spa treatment next? Or do you dare to venture into more... thrilling territory?" As she spoke, Lucidia''s energy intensified, causing Morgrath to let out a painful scream as he felt his bones being crushed under the mounting pressure. "Though, I highly doubt you possess the courage for such exploits."Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Sensing the weight behind Lucidia''s threat, Morgrath wisely decided not to test her patience further¡ªor so it appeared. ''I''ll depart immediately. There''s no need for violence,'' he conceded, though a tad of insincerity tainted his words. Redirecting his attention to Lumi''Nae, he softened his tone. ''Lumi''Nae, I implore you to visit me when the opportunity arises. You know where to find me across the omniverses.'' Lumi''Nae''s response mirrored the calm surface of a tranquil lake, her gaze steady and resolute. A subtle shift in her posture hinted at her attentiveness, as if she were carefully considering Morgrath''s words.


    Then, addressing Lucidia once more, Morgrath couldn''t resist a parting shot. ''And Lucidia, one more thing,'' he began, his voice oozing with acerbity, ''it seems age has not been kind to you. But then again, it''s no surprise for an ancient crone like yoursel¡ª'' His insult was abruptly cut short as Lucidia unleashed her Twilight Beacon, conjuring a massive holy pillar that struck Morgrath with implacable force. He let out a howl of agony as he was propelled upward, caught in the violent surge of energy. Some of Lucidia''s demon followers, who had been utilising the library for their own studies, found themselves ensnared by the unmerciful power of the spell. Their cries mingled with the sound of crumbling stone and crashing debris. The force of the pillar not only struck them but also caused upward damage, ripping through the ceiling of the castle and extending into the sky. Its immense power was such that it shattered one of the moons within the Fallen One''s Realm, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.


    Lumi''Nae withdrew her Empty Shroud, which shielded the chair she occupied and the table holding her selected books. With an unconscious thought, she tapped into her Void Genesis, meticulously reconstructing the damaged environment¡ªthe shelves, walls, and even the shattered moon in the sky. Lucidia, observing Lumi''Nae''s power at work, inquired, "Are you intending to restore that filth?"


    "No," Lumi''Nae replied calmly as her restoration work continued automatically. "We both know he isn''t dead. He transferred his consciousness to one of his doppelgangers."


    "Hmph, I''ll spare that rat for now," Lucidia remarked, leaning in from her perch atop the table, her hand gently caressing Lumi''Nae''s cheek. "Now, where were we?" She leaned closer, aiming for a kiss, but Lumi''Nae halted her advance, pressing a finger against her lips. Seated in a chair, Lumi''Nae sat upright, her posture impeccable, radiating elegance. With quiet determination, she shook her head, her attention briefly shifting to the nearby books, her thoughts already wandering. "My interests lie elsewhere," she stated, her gaze returning to the text before her.


    "Why you...!" Lucidia exclaimed, her voice thick with ravenous hunger as she pounced at Lumi''Nae. Lumi''Nae''s chair tipped backward, her wavy black hair gathered in a low ponytail, strands spilling across the crystal-clear, see-through floor, revealing the heavenly expanse beneath. Lucidia pinned her down, settling atop her.


    In the next moment, Lucidia''s long white hair fell around them like a silken waterfall, contrasting starkly against Lumi''Nae''s dark locks. "You''re but an extension of myself! A reflection; I know you feel the same way that I do about myself!" Lucidia announced, her tone tinged with possessiveness and self-assuredness.


    During their scuffle, some of the eerie eldritch essence that occasionally dripped off Lumi''Nae''s right stump splashed onto the pristine floor, shimmering ominously.


    Lumi''Nae''s expression remained stoic, her empty stare locked onto Lucidia. "Lucidia, I don''t understand," she stated flatly. "Why do you persist in this possession? We are not the same. I am my own individual."


    Tears welled up in Lucidia''s eyes, her grip on Lumi''Nae faltering. "Even now, you don''t comprehend, Lumi''Nae," she muttered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Maybe... it''s inherent in me to love myself to this extent."


    Lumi''Nae sighed softly, her wings fluttering slightly as she pondered Lucidia''s words. "Lucidia, I don''t harbour any animosity toward you," she murmured. "Perhaps instead of this, we could soar together in the open skies. Or maybe, we could sit down, share a cup of tea, and discuss things openly?"


    Lucidia''s grip tightened, her eyes pleading as she shook her head. "We''ve shared innumerable experiences over these centuries, Lumi''Nae," she confessed, her voice laced with longing. "But it''s never been enough. My feelings for you... they transcend mere companionship. I crave the intimacy that only lovers share." She leaned in closer, searching Lumi''Nae''s eyes for a sign of reciprocity. "Could it be that deep down, you harbour the same desires as I do, concealed beneath your facade? If so... I would find it more unbearable than unrequited love."


    As the tension reached its climax, a fully armoured figure strode into the room. Clad in dark armour that seemed to swallow the light, the knight''s presence demanded attention. A blue cape flowed behind her, adding a touch of regality to her formidable appearance. Despite the intimidating and heroic entrance, the knight was unmistakably a lass, her femininity evident even beneath the helm.


    The dark knight straightened, her spiked flail levelled at the Annihilator of Stars, and her gaze unwavering as she addressed her. "Hey, Lucidia! Release her at once!" Her voice sounded majestic and rough.


    With a defiant look, Lucidia scoffed at the knight''s command, uttering a dismissive remark as she summoned one of her Celestial Scourge blades, a legendary god-slaying weapon of immense power.


    The knight wasted no time, charging forward with her Tartarean Tower raised defensively, intent on forcing Lucidia off Lumi''Nae. As she advanced, she heard Lumi''Nae''s encouragement. "Sathiel," she spoke softly. "You are more than your armour. You are more than the battles you''ve fought. Rise, Sathiel, Gehenna Guardian of the Void."


    Meanwhile, Lucidia unleashed waves of devastating energy through her Celestial Scourge. Her legs and the lower half of her body were bare, cinching around Lumi''Nae, keeping her rooted in place.


    Each energy wave from Lucidia''s Celestial Scourge tore through Sathiel and her tower shield, rending them asunder. However, just as Lucidia''s onslaught seemed unstoppable, Lumi''Nae''s powers intervened passively. Without expending any energy, she restored Sathiel and reversed the devastation inflicted upon their surroundings. Despite enduring the ongoing cycle of destruction and restoration, Sathiel pressed forward without faltering.


    With but a fleeting thought, Lucidia wielded her power to erase Sathiel''s existence from reality. Time and again, she unleashed the Death Wish alongside the attacks from her Celestial Scourge, each assault followed by Sathiel being obliterated.


    Yet, Lumi''Nae''s power refused to concede ground. With every attempt to erase Sathiel from existence, the Void Genesis became more active on its own. It constantly recreated Sathiel back from the edge of oblivion. Sathiel''s form flickered like a spectral mirage amidst the clash of opposing powers, her very essence casting an unearthly radiance. Undeterred, Sathiel used her singular power: the Bloodborne Blades. She commanded her proliferate scarlet essence to coalesce into ethereal greatswords, each thirsting for bloodshed. These demonic weapons, embodiments of her will, briefly hovered, drawing potency from the amassed damage she had endured across all her existences. Then, with unerring aim, they launched toward Lucidia.


    As the threat of the Bloodborne Blades reached its crescendo, Lucidia''s nipples hardened. With a star-shattering battle cry that pervaded through the battlefield, she ignited her Seraphic Frenzy. Her eight wings blazed with the vehemence of countless roaring suns, incinerating everything in her realm to cinders. Despite the destruction wrought by Lucidia''s fiery wings, the surroundings and the Bloodborne Blades were recreated instantly due to the ceaseless power of the Void Genesis. She deflected the torrent of greatswords with beast-like agility, wielding her Celestial Scourge and flaming fist with chaotic manoeuvres. With each parry, she intensified her energy assault, relentlessly targeting Sathiel''s very existence. A malevolent smirk adorned her lips as she observed more of Sathiel''s accursed blood staining the air, relishing in the sight of her adversary''s agony. Yet, despite the grievous wounds inflicted upon her, Sathiel endured without uttering a single scream. Lucidia couldn''t help but ponder the knight''s unnatural pain tolerance, her curiosity piqued by Sathiel''s resilience.


    Recognising Lucidia''s brief moment of distraction, Sathiel acted with diligence. With a deft rotation of her flail, Gehenna''s Grasp, she triggered Devil''s Advocate, plunging the realm into an upside-down whirl, its environment spinning at a disorienting speed. Simultaneously, harnessing the formidable power of her shield''s enchantment, Satan''s Temptation, she exerted an irresistible gravitational force. This force pulled Lucidia away from Lumi''Nae and toward the lethal spikes on her infernal shield.


    In a burst of acceleration, Sathiel lunged forward, leaving behind a series of afterimages. Her shield met Lucidia with a bone-jarring impact, hurtling her toward the first floor of the library, where she crashed into a colossal water fountain. Blood spattered along the trajectory, the collision sending shelves and their contents careening in all directions as Lucidia slammed into them. Some of the blood flew like bullets, piercing whatever it touched.


    By chance, Sathiel''s curse was invoked, transforming the splattered blood into a thirteen-headed hydra named Ere''Banth. Gigantic and covered in white scales, Ere''Banth leaked poisonous blood from the crevices between its scales, giving rise to parasitic serpents. Both the hydra and the serpents bore harmful curses in their bites. However, before the serpents could strike, they were incinerated by Lucidia''s Seraphic Frenzy.


    Emerging from the wreckage and soaked in holy water, Lucidia conjured the other twin blades of her Celestial Scourge, completing the lethal duo once more. Her eyes blazed with a volatile mix of fury and exhilaration, fueled by both retribution and the adrenaline of combat. With unbelievable agility, she vanished into a blur of motion, reappearing behind Sathiel with the twin blades poised to execute a decisive strike, aimed at severing her head from her shoulders.


    "Stay dead already, you damned brat!" Lucidia''s voice boomed with boundless rage.


    In a pivotal moment, Lumi''Nae''s Phase Shift intervened subconsciously, whisking Lucidia away and thwarting her impending attack. Lumi''Nae then erected a void barrier, sealing off the library from any further intrusion by Lucidia, thus safeguarding its sanctity.


    After the Annihilator of Stars departed, three of Ere''Banth''s heads appeared from various parts of the castle it had torn through due to its immense size. These heads, each bearing gnashing demons within their maws, fixated their gaze upon Lumi''Nae and Sathiel. Lumi''Nae remained laid out on the ground, seemingly unconcerned. Sensing something amiss about Lumi''Nae, one of Ere''Banth''s heads lunged towards her. Just as it was about to engulf Lumi''Nae, eldritch tentacles emerged from her body, ensnaring the serpent''s head. With a powerful pull, these tentacles assimilated Ere''Banth into Lumi''Nae, banishing him to her Realm of Nothingness.


    Once all threats were neutralised, Sathiel lifted her helmet, revealing the gentle flow of medium light brown hair draping around her shoulders, along with her porcelain white skin. She released her helmet, flail, and shield, allowing them to crash to the ground with a deafening roar reminiscent of the detonation of hydrogen bombs. The weighty metals shook the Fallen''s One castle, each impact leaving a crater in the floor, from which white clouds seemed to pour out. Simultaneously, the force of the impacts caused an earthquake of the highest magnitude, yet miraculously, it inflicted no major damage to the castle''s structure.


    Approaching Lumi''Nae, Sathiel extended a hand, lifting her from the ground with a careful yet firm grip. Lumi''Nae couldn''t help but notice the scar tracing horizontally across Sathiel''s nose, a stark reminder of their first encounter and duel when Lumi''Nae wielded her obsidian sword of nothingness, Quietus. Despite her origins as the Pestilence Incarnate, Sathiel''s steely grey eyes exuded a blend of resilience and kindness.


    "Lady Lumi''Nae, my amazing creator," Sathiel exclaimed with genuine warmth, her voice respectful, but contained roughness.


    After clasping Sathiel''s hand, Lumi''Nae nodded gratefully, her eyes reflecting the vastness of the ocean. "Thank you, Sathiel," she responded. "Your valour and steadfast devotion always serve as a source of aspiration for me."


    Seated once more, Lumi''Nae carefully stashed away the books into her Omniversal Pocket. "The sheer scope of our world is more astounding than I ever realised," she reflected softly. Among the volumes were some popular shoujo mangas, each with beautifully illustrated covers and heroines sporting hopeful expressions. "Hope. There are so many things I have yet to understand. I have much to explore."


    In the serene atmosphere of the library, Sathiel''s approach was heralded by the gentle resonance of her armoured strides. She unfastened her gauntlets, the metallic clinks harmonising with the tranquil ambiance. Setting them aside with care, she gathered her hair into a practical high ponytail.


    "Gotta keep it practical after all that action, right?" Sathiel remarked with a chuckle, her words dispersing the remaining tension like ripples on calm waters.

 Crossing Thresholds

    It was well past noon when Lumi''Nae stirred in her chamber, nestled on the 6735th floor of Lucidia''s imposing castle. A strange sensation pricked at her senses¡ªa feeling of being watched. Her eyes snapped open abruptly. She ventured into the adjacent chambers, finding everything in its usual order.


    "Sovereign, I am present," echoed a spectral voice. From the folds of Lumi''Nae''s Void-Cloaked Mantle, a magical, translucent arm extended, offering a spectral greeting before fading away.


    Lumi''Nae inquired, "Who are you?"


    "I am Nightmare''s Nemesis, though you''ve known me as Nemesis. I am the True Guardian of your Realm of Emptiness," came the reply. As Lumi''Nae stood before a mirror, she noticed a peculiar alteration in her mantle, an eyeball eerily manifesting within its folds.


    "Perhaps it would be advantageous to materialise an entity for our discourse," Nemesis mused. Void particles emanated from Lumi''Nae''s mantle, coalescing into a templar-like figure, poised and ready to converse.


    He knelt before her, a gesture of reverence tinged with apology for his prolonged absence. "Forgive me, for I have slumbered far longer than intended," Nemesis spoke softly, his form still shimmering with strange energy.


    Lumi''Nae nodded, her demeanour thoughtful yet devoid of recognition. "You may rise, Nemesis," she granted, her tone neutral. "Though I must confess, I do not recall our prior acquaintance."


    As Nemesis stood, a solemn air enveloped him. "I have known you since before your earthly manifestation," he explained, his voice carrying the weight of aeons. "My awakening is a recent occurrence. And in delving into your memories, I have discovered a grievous truth: you have forgotten much, including the creations birthed from your essence."


    Lumi''Nae listened intently, absorbing his words. "As far as I recall, my sole noteworthy creation is Sathiel of Gehenna, the Pestilence Incarnate who later became the guardian of my realm," she reflected.


    Nemesis nodded solemnly, his gaze drawn to the ominous clouds below, visible through the expansive window of Lumi''Nae''s lofty chamber. His massive hand, dark and imposing like black onyx, extended to touch the glass. "Indeed, perhaps Sathiel stands as your most recent deity, tasked with safeguarding the expanse of your realm," he affirmed, his voice resonating with profound significance. "But there is more to your story, Lumi''Nae. For you have bestowed upon me a purpose beyond comprehension."


    With a subtle shift in demeanour, Nemesis turned back to face Lumi''Nae. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. Mortals across the omniverses have dubbed me the Supreme God of Famine, or in more obscure circles, the Watcher of Fate and Paradox. But you, Lumi''Nae, fashioned me as the Incarnation of Existentialism."


    Lumi''Nae rested her chin on her hand. "Morgrath''s insight rarely misses its mark," she remarked. "And indeed, you are far more than a mere mantle."


    Nemesis nodded in agreement, a faint glimmer of recognition flickering in his eyes. "Morgrath bears a resemblance to Eloharis in more ways than one," he mused. "Their wisdom runs deep, concealed beneath layers of enigma and humility."


    He paused, considering Morgrath''s suggestion from decades ago. "Perhaps a journey beyond this realm is in order," Nemesis suggested. "Lucidia''s seclusion is unfortunate, but we must persevere and press forward. Exploring other omniverses may well unveil the truths hidden within your memories."


    Before Lumi''Nae could respond, a familiar voice interrupted from beyond the door. Ten firm knocks resonated, a distinctive signal of Sathiel''s arrival. With a gentle creak, the door swung open, revealing Sathiel''s beaming face. "You up yet, Lady Lumi''Nae?" she called, her tone exuding warmth and vitality, reminiscent of a sunbeam piercing through the clouds.


    Balancing a ruby tray with practised ease, Sathiel approached, bearing a sumptuous spread¡ªa steaming wyvern soup, a loaf of freshly baked bread, and an assortment of ripe fruits. "I''ve brought some breakfast... or is it lunch already? You know, with your late mornings," she teased with a playful wink.


    Lumi''Nae thanked Sathiel, accepting the tray and placing it on a floating table that mimicked a swirling galaxy. She eased into a floating chair shaped like a black hole, with a magical spider''s web serving as the backrest. Comfortable and composed, she prepared to savour the moment. She conjured a soup spoon and sipped with refined grace. As she did so, a glimmer caught the light, revealing a dark crystal earring beneath her ear.


    Sathiel expressed her surprise at seeing Lumi''Nae awake on her own, noting the rarity of such an occurrence. She was about to inquire about the taste of the food when she caught sight of Nemesis towering near the window, partially obscured by the mythical statues in Lumi''Nae''s chamber.


    Observing Nemesis with a wary eye, Sathiel took a wide fighting stance, the spikes on her knightly gauntlets growing in size and menace, discharging hellish red energy. She demanded, "Who''s this human templar sneaking around in a demon''s realm? Doesn''t seem right."


    In response to Sathiel''s scepticism, Nemesis underwent a transformation, his form shifting into that of a four-eyed alien in a business suit. "Appearances can be deceiving," he remarked calmly. "Like you, Sathiel, I too am a deity, created by our Sovereign."


    "Sathiel, there''s much to explain," Lumi''Nae began. She proceeded to fill Sathiel in on their plans to explore other omniverses, detailing the significance of their journey and the mysteries they hoped to unravel.


    As Lumi''Nae finished her explanation, Sathiel was excited, "Count me in!"Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Turning to Nemesis, Lumi''Nae sought guidance on their first destination. "Where should we head first, Nemesis?" she inquired.


    Nemesis''s response was cryptic yet empowering. "Wherever your instincts lead you," he replied, his voice carrying a profound sense of trust. "For you, Lumi''Nae, are the Creator of Everything."


    Lumi''Nae paused, her presence anchoring the moment as the surroundings underwent a breathtaking metamorphosis. The world around her shifted, revealing a mesmerising array of omniverses, each unfolding like a delicate tapestry. It was as if she stood at the threshold of a cosmic boutique, gazing through windows into realms beyond imagination.


    "Lady Lumi''Nae," Sathiel breathed, her voice barely a whisper in the thick of the surreal panorama. "Is this... real?"


    Lumi''Nae answered, "As real as dreams can be, I think. These are the threads of existence, woven into the fabric of possibility."


    Sathiel''s eyes concentrated on the moving vistas before her, alighting upon a mystical realm with a field of white flowers. Curious, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against the luminescent surface.


    Meanwhile, Nemesis stood slightly apart, looking at the shifting vistas with a nostalgic twinge in his heart. Memories of long-lost worlds filled his photographic memory, each one a bittersweet reminder of ages past. He wondered if Lumi''Nae, with her amnesia, felt anything.


    "This one," Sathiel murmured, plucking a pristine flower. Holding it gently in her hand, she turned to Lumi''Nae. "It''s beautiful. What does it mean?"


    Lumi''Nae examined the flower in Sathiel''s hand. "It means different things to different souls. To some, it''s a symbol of purity and renewal. To others, a reminder of lost innocence. And to me..." She trailed off, unsure of its personal significance. "To me, I think it''s a glimpse of a time long past, when the cosmos was young and our destinies intertwined in ways we could scarcely fathom."


    The scene changed suddenly, transporting them to an otherworldly expanse. Above them, Nihilignis soared, ramming himself against many omniverses. He seemed to grow angrier with each one destroyed, frustrated by the endless number remaining. As the colossal white dragon passed overhead, an onslaught of energy cascaded through the realm¡ªa torrential storm fueled by infinite hypernovas. Lumi''Nae, Sathiel, and Nemesis felt the overwhelming power flood through them, their hair and clothes whipped violently in the tempest.


    As Lumi''Nae witnessed what was happening before her, memories began to surface. She couldn''t help but recall the instance when Nihilignis, in a twisted display of affection, had dubbed her his daughter and requested her to obliterate all existence¡ªomniverses, realms, and beyond, for good.


    As if he read her mind, Nemesis approached and placed a hand on Lumi''Nae''s shoulder. "Your decision to refuse the Oblivion Flame''s request was the right one," he reassured her softly. "I hold firm to the belief that there''s meaning to be found within existence."


    As the environment was being reconstructed, the scene dissolved into the past. Lucidia wielded her Celestial Scourge twin swords, their blades aglow with elements of light and darkness. Before her stood Eloharis, whose crown intermittently slipped when she neglected to secure it with her power. With her flowing orange locks and billowing white robe, Eloharis wore a joyful and welcoming expression.


    Despite the intensity of their clash, Eloharis''s demeanour remained devoid of malice. She approached the confrontation like a seasoned warrior in a sparring match rather than a fight to the death. With each motion, the waves of water she commanded warped the fabric of reality itself, transforming the surroundings into a mesmerising array of elements: lush green fields that confounded her opponent''s senses, zealous armed alien civilizations, galaxies shaped like unicorns and mechas, adorable yet fierce plushies, clouds spraying divine jet water, and more. These elements obstructed Lucidia''s path and held their ground.


    Drenched in both her own and Eloharis'' blood, Lucidia viewed their duel through an unique prism. To her, it was not merely a skirmish but a legendary battle, each strike fueling fierce joy. With her Seraphic Frenzy ablaze, her eight wings pulsed with fiery and destructive energy, every movement irregular and lethal, driven by an insatiable love for the art of combat. "For a supposedly pacifist deity, you''ve shown quite the spirit, Eloharis!" she yelled.


    "Ah, Lucidia," Eloharis replied, her voice carrying serenity. "You thrive in the heat of battle, but true strength lies in the ability to find peace amidst the storm." Then, with spontaneity, she struck a heroic pose and added, "Keep the praise coming though, it''s really boosting my spirits!"


    In the expansive realm of the omniverses, their battle continued with Eloharis maintaining an air of amusement and unshakeable poise, seemingly impervious to Lucidia''s escalating dominance. But within this cosmic theatre, where even photons raced sluggishly, their movements defied the very essence of speed, rendering the swiftness of light a mere languid drift in comparison.


    Then, in a pivotal moment amidst the intensity of their clash, Eloharis''s gaze suddenly shifted toward Lumi''Nae, her heterochromatic eyes¡ªone purple, the other pink¡ªilluminated with surprise and recognition.


    "Fool, your defences are breached!" Lucidia''s scorn-laden admonition sliced through the fray.


    In that fleeting moment of distraction, Lucidia drove both blades of her Celestial Scourge into Eloharis''s heart. As the fatal blow found its mark, her features softened into one of serene resignation, acknowledging the inevitable outcome of their duel.


    Then, in a surprising gesture, Eloharis drew Lucidia into an embrace, her words filled with a mix of admiration and gratitude. "You are a paradox of strength and vulnerability," she whispered, her voice touched with sincerity. "This timeless competition, spanning dimensions unknown, has been the most exhilarating experience I''ve known in an eternity. Thank you, Luci."


    "The present and 36,572nd Supreme God Sovereign," Nemesis proclaimed, his voice resonating with gravity. "One of the 79 Royals of Light. Many among the divine favoured her ascension over Lucidia''s. Yet, it is the Throne of Omniverses that ultimately decrees the worthy bearer of such a title. Little is known among the pantheon of your true nature¡ªthe First Supreme God Sovereign, the architect of the omniverses and the very seat of power. It seems Eloharis is among the few privy to this knowledge."


    He paused, his words pregnant with implication as he subtly referenced Lumi''Nae''s essence as the Void Incarnate.


    "It''s ironic that the throne Lucidia covets was crafted by you, Sovereign. Even more intriguing is her desire for you, her clone, to occupy it in her stead. Such is the irony of fate," Nemesis concluded with a wry chuckle.


    Sathiel admitted her ignorance, expressing surprise at not being privy to such essential knowledge despite her divine nature and origin as Lumi''Nae''s creation. In response, Nemesis offered understanding, acknowledging the complexity and secrecy surrounding Lumi''Nae''s true identity.


    As the conversation continued, the surroundings phased in and out several times under the influence of Lumi''Nae''s subconscious. Finally, they found themselves standing atop a snowy hill.

 Blue Moons Oath

    "This planet is naught but a frozen wasteland," Sathiel remarked, her tone as crisp and unforgiving as her spiked flail. Trudging through the endless snowscape, her voice pierced through the biting cold like a shard of obsidian. "I doubt any mortals or civilisation could endure amidst such inhospitable conditions."


    Nemesis, his polar bear form blending with the white expanse, had just finished standing on his hind legs, growling softly, "It''s subtle, but they were here once. Something wiped them out."


    Meanwhile, Lumi''Nae, draped in the ethereal veil of the void, remained unaffected by the bitter chill. Her steps were swift and purposeful, cutting through the blizzard easily. Despite the harsh conditions, she seemed to know exactly where they needed to go, leading the way with an eerie confidence that bordered on the supernatural.


    They arrived at the edge of a bottomless cliff, where the world seemed to dissolve into darkness. Lumi''Nae stood perilously close to the brink, her gaze piercing the abyss as if seeking answers hidden within its depths. Sathiel, her armoured figure tense with unease, peered over the edge, her fear of heights obvious in the biting wind.


    "Lady Lumi''Nae," Sathiel''s voice trembled slightly, "don''t tell me we''re going down there? I... I''m afraid of heights."


    Lumi''Nae turned, her void mantle undulated around her like a black mist of mysteries untold. "Down there lies the truth we seek," she replied. "We must descend if we are to uncover what has been hidden."


    Sathiel''s grip tightened on the flail hanging from her belt, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "But it''s so deep... I don''t know if I can..."


    Nemesis offered a reassuring growl. "We''ll watch over you, Sathiel. Together, we''ll face whatever lies below."


    With a hesitant nod, Sathiel mustered her fortitude, drawing upon the strength of her companions as she steeled herself to plunge into the unknown abyss.


    As they plummeted through the darkness, the passage of time became a blur, the sensation of falling stretching on incessantly. Sathiel''s heart pounded with adrenaline, the rush of wind whipping past her as they descended deeper and deeper.


    But just as the abyss and eternity threatened to trap them, Lumi''Nae''s wings glowed and disassembled that possibility. Then, with a thought into the void, she called upon her primordial powers, bending the fabric of reality itself to her will.


    In an instant, the bottomless abyss seemed to rush up to meet them, the darkness parting like a veil as they hurtled towards the depths below. With a rush of air and a cacophony of echoing whispers, they breached multiple barriers between worlds, descending into the Abyss Realm.


    They stood upon the shimmering surface of the azure waters, which radiated an otherworldly iridescence and cast soothing reflections that stretched out endlessly before them. Despite the unsettling beauty of their surroundings, lurking dangers remained hidden beneath.


    Nemesis, standing bipedal like a polar bear, surveyed their surroundings with senses beyond the ordinary. "I''ve long suspected," he rumbled, his voice traversing smoothly through the peaceful stillness, "but it seems undeniable now¡ªthis place is a fragment of the Abyss Realm."


    Lumi''Nae nodded solemnly, eldritch substance leaking from her right stump into the waters. "The Abyss... the realm closest to the Void."


    "Why have we ventured into this forsaken desolation, Lady Lumi''Nae?" inquired Sathiel. Her touch grazed a building, causing it to crumble into the ocean, disappearing into the abyss below.


    Lumi''Nae sought to know, "Don''t you find it relaxing?" Her gaze drifted skyward, where an inverted, mirrored world greeted her with its surreal palette. Running her hand through her hair, she peered deeply into the reflection with her Eldritch Gaze, noting the uncanny contrast of her own white hair against Nemesis'' black fur. If she hadn''t known better, she might have mistaken him for a black bear rather than a polar one. Sathiel''s hair, in contrast, shimmered with a light blue hue. ''Cute,'' she thought to herself, her expression inscrutable to those around her. "As for your question," she continued thoughtfully, "it''s connected to my missing right arm."


    Without any hesitation, Lumi''Nae slammed her boot onto the waters. In a breathtaking moment, a colossal explosion erupted, launching Tiamat, the seven-headed dragon, skyward through a towering wall of water.


    "Primordial Tiamat," Nemesis stated as the massive dragon cast a shadow that eclipsed the heavens. "Even now, I cannot sense any energy emanating from her. Like other primordial beings, she transcends all forms of energy. Sovereign among us, only you possess the ability to perceive her Metaphysical Might."


    Tiamat, the colossal seven-headed dragon, alighted upon the cresting waves, her many heads swivelling to regard Lumi''Nae and Nemesis with a mixture of curiosity and recognition.


    "I know you," thundered Tiamat, her voice echoing like the roar of a tempest. "The primordial Void... and the insignificant incarnate of Existentialism. Have you both ventured here seeking assimilation into the eternal Abyss?"


    Lumi''Nae replied, "We seek not assimilation, but understanding."


    Meanwhile, one of Tiamat''s heads turned to Sathiel. "And who might this insect be?" she inquired. "Are these two puny deities meant to be my dessert, Void? They seem hardly worth eating, mere droplets in the vast ocean of existence."


    "I am the Goddess of Pestilence," Sathiel declared proudly, stepping forward to position herself protectively in front of Lumi''Nae. However, before she could fully shield her, Lumi''Nae''s left hand gently halted her movement.


    Soon after Lumi''Nae raised her right stump, pulsating with eldritch essence, a strange phenomenon occurred. Tiamat, the colossal dragon, began to exhibit subtle eldritch markings along her blue scales, as if responding in kind. An Aura of Terror enveloped them, heightening the tangible connection between them.


    "Abyss. Why do I sense my right arm within you?" Lumi''Nae inquired as she observed the emergence of the eldritch markings on Tiamat''s imposing form.


    One of Tiamat''s heads extended closer to Lumi''Nae''s right stump, its massive snout sniffing the eldritch essence dribbling from it with a sense of familiarity. "Smells like an eldritch I assimilated long ago," Tiamat rumbled, her voice resonating with ancient evil.


    As Tiamat spoke, another of her heads began to exhibit odd behaviour and cloaked itself completely in an abyssal veil. With a Savage Strike, this head snapped towards one of the others, its jaws clamping shut with a force that caused no physical harm, but carried a potent display of dominance.


    "I sense that eldritch within your vessel," Tiamat continued, her voice echoing with a mix of invitation and challenge, "perhaps you''d like to join me completely?"


    "You may not recall, Sovereign," Nemesis addressed Lumi''Nae with a solemn tone, "but the Abyss was one of your earliest creations. However, when she turned against you, seeking to usurp the very fabric of the Void, you had no choice but to exile her to isolation."


    "Well then, we should leave her be," Lumi''Nae remarked with her usual calm demeanour. "It''s time for us to depart."


    "I think not," Tiamat interjected, her voice resonating with ominous authority, as the abyssal pressure surrounding her surged with intensity.


    Before they could make their exit, Tiamat, the Primordial Abyss, unleashed her power, causing the sea beneath them to churn violently. Rain poured upwards from the raging waters. Dark clouds formed a dome overhead, enclosing them in a stormy darkness.


    Despite Lumi''Nae transporting them out of it, Sathiel and Nemesis found themselves back in Tiamat''s domain once again.


    Lumi''Nae stepped forward and stated, "Their departure ensures your continued existence."


    Tiamat countered with ominous finality, "Your struggles only hasten your demise, for none can defy the will of the Abyss." Yet, Lumi''Nae''s subtle aura of power hinted that she considered Tiamat no match for her, subtly suggesting that surrender might be the dragon''s wisest course of action.


    Sathiel''s expression tensed with anticipation. "This creature seems interested only in fighting," she remarked.


    "Fighting? No, you''re just a little snack, remember?" Tiamat replied arrogantly.


    As Tiamat''s heads lunged at Lumi''Nae''s party, tremendous towers of water erupted upon impact.


    Four heads zeroed in on Lumi''Nae, their jaws snapping hungrily, yet she avoided each attack by mere centimetres. Meanwhile, Nemesis underwent a transformation, his form shifting into that of a formidable templar wielding Grimwarden, a spectral greatsword brought forth from the darkest nightmares.


    With his Nightmare Mimicry: Dreadguard Stance, Nemesis deflected three of Tiamat''s heads, his imposing figure bathed in moonlight as his dark skin shimmered with a mystical aura. Yet, despite his efforts, one of Tiamat''s heads slipped past his defences, hurtling towards Sathiel with alarming speed.


    Sathiel, surrounded by her demonic aura, expanded herself to rival the colossal scale of Tiamat''s immense head. With a vicious snap of its jaws, the dragon ensnared her, clamping down on Sathiel''s tower shield.


    The dark knight tightened her grip on her Gehenna''s Grasp and with a mighty swing, she unleashed a devastating strike inside the dragon''s mouth. The spiked flail connected with a deafening impact, causing Tiamat to bellow in agony as acidic blood spewed forth from her wounded maw, splattering across Sathiel''s black armour.


    Enraged, Tiamat''s scales were coated with abyssal substance, each of her heads preparing to unleash an Abyssal Breath of Ruination, propelling dark and azure beams with devastating force.


    The four beams aimed at Lumi''Nae transformed into fish mid-air and plunged into the waters below.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Then, as a follow-up, Lumi''Nae transformed the four heads of Tiamat into uncontrollable eldritch tentacles that thrashed wildly, driven by the dragon''s abyssal power coursing through them. With skillful finesse, she deflected their attacks using her ten black wings, then took to the air, parrying each tentacle slam with just her left arm.


    Nemesis, with one leg firmly planted on the ground, strained visibly as he held Grimwarden aloft to block the two beams pressing down on him with immense force. He wondered if this was how Atlas felt when bearing the heavens. Meanwhile, Sathiel, trapped at point-blank range, used her Bloodbound Barrier to form layers of shields from Tiamat''s blood, blocking the devastating breath. The barrier constantly drained Tiamat''s blood, strengthening itself while weakening the dragon.


    Taking stock of the chaotic battlefield with closed eyes, Nemesis focused his awareness on Lumi''Nae. With a flick of her wrist, she effortlessly deflected Tiamat''s writhing tentacles, as though engaging in a playful game with her pet dragon. Meanwhile, Sathiel''s defence resembled a thorny fortress. Yet, Nemesis couldn''t shake the realisation that Sathiel''s power lacked the necessary potency to conclude the battle immediately. Understanding the pressing need for decisive action, Nemesis began to intone an incantation:


    Nightmare''s Nemesis,


    Gazes upon twin divines,


    Hungry void watches.


    Ruby goddess weaves,


    Threads of fate in cosmic loom,


    Ouroboros coils.


    Turquoise serpent king,


    Swallows stars in endless dance,


    Eternal return.


    Lumi''Nae''s mantle glowed, and then two twin deities emerged next to Nemesis. The beige skin of both twins appeared almost luminescent, casting a soft glow around them.


    "Feeling the weight of destiny, Nemesis? Tempting fate once more, are we?" Akashirae''s voice echoed with undeniable authority, her fiery red hair adding to her commanding presence. Wrapped in a light-coloured cloak, her hood obscured her features. "Maybe you''re more resigned to your path than you''d care to admit. Hmph. Still, I am generous enough to pardon your past errors."


    Entering the battlefield, Ouroboros'' voice resonated with equal authority, captivating the attention of all who heard it. Standing tall in a dark Belstaff trenchcoat, his imposing frame bore many scars, his lengthy turquoise locks fluttering wildly. His face marked with sapphire war paint, he looked intently at the ominous heads of Tiamat, spewing flames toward Nemesis'' oversized blade. With a casual yet purposeful stretch, he posed a question: "Could it be that he wrestles not with the yoke of destiny, but with the sheer weight of that greatsword?"


    "Brother, set aside thoughts of Nemesis and Tiamat," she implored, gesturing skyward toward Lumi''Nae. "Behold the primordial Void. The First One."


    Ouroboros''s green eyes trailed the instantaneous movements of Lumi''Nae and Tiamat, his muscles coiling with anticipation for the upcoming battle.


    "With their hubris rivalling their powers, myriad gods exalt themselves," Ouroboros proclaimed, his voice filled with disdain. "Countless dare challenge the First God, ignorant of their impending defeat. None possess the true prowess for such a clash¡ªnot the gods of war or destruction, nor even the primordials. In her presence, they are rendered feeble."


    A sinister grin crept across his face as he continued, "Only I wield the might to conquer the Void, if the hour demands it. But for now, it seems this azure quarry is mine to claim." He discarded his trenchcoat into the air, revealing a white tank top with a cerulean divine dragon tattoo that snaked across his entire torso, including his arms and neck, along with a prominent Nike logo. His attire completed with edgy leather pants. "Let the hunt commence, Nexus Piercer!" With a roar, the trenchcoat transformed into a legendary halberd and materialised in his hand.


    "Our quarry," Akashirae corrected, her expression solemn, wagging her index finger vertically to emphasise her point. "We''ll end her torment mercifully." She conjured Inevitable Destiny¡ªa crimson fan¡ªand opened it.


    In a fleeting moment, Akashirae peered through countless timelines of their battle with Tiamat, discerning the path to victory in the shortest span. Closing the crimson fan, she willed the chosen timeline into existence, shaping reality to align with her vision.


    Without warning, Tiamat''s massive form plummeted, creating a thunderous impact as she crashed onto the waters. There she lay in a motionless heap, the dragon seemingly vanquished by unseen forces. Upon closer inspection, deep and merciless cleaving and monstrous marks scarred her body, revealing the absence of several heads, limbs, wings, and her tail.


    The oppressive dome of dark clouds dispersed, the unnatural rain ceased, and the once raging waters calmed once more.


    "A shame you summoned my sister, Nemesis," Ouroboros grumbled, a touch of vexation colouring his words. "I can''t even discern which of those cleaving marks was my doing."


    Nemesis, liberated from Tiamat''s fury, retorted, "I assumed you''d moved forward with Fate, having experienced the battle against Tiamat an infinite amount of times. Surely that would have sufficed? Moreover, in this iteration, I observe you''ve deployed a diluted rendition of your Cosmic Convergence, exercising restraint to avoid inadvertently harming both Sathiel and myself."


    Ouroboros nonchalantly licked Tiamat''s blood off his halberd. "Tsk, you remain predictably pragmatic and uninspiring," he dryly remarked. "Nevertheless, dispatching this Tiamat proved to be a trivial task. Admittedly, the others displayed a modicum of competence, posing a somewhat respectable challenge... as mere prey, I suppose. However, it''s undeniable that the instability of the Void has inflicted far greater damage upon you and Sathiel than either Tiamat or I ever could."


    With each breath steadying, Nemesis ascended, returning his greatsword to its sheath upon his back. "Esteemed Akashirae, Esteemed Ouroboros, your assistance has proven invaluable," he expressed with heartfelt sincerity.


    Emerging from Tiamat''s mouth and returning to her normal size, Sathiel lets out a relieved laugh, her demeanour surprisingly upbeat despite the intense battle.


    "Whew! That was something else, huh?" she exclaimed excitedly. "But hey, we made it out alive! Talk about a close call! Weird that it ended so suddenly."


    "I''m well acquainted with your indomitable spirit," Nemesis remarked, his voice bearing a tone of deep respect. "Through the lens of Fate, I''ve witnessed your fortitude in the direst of circumstances. It speaks volumes of your strength."


    With a wide grin and eyes brimming with energy, Sathiel dusted herself off, her flail and shield dripping with Tiamat''s blood. "I don''t know about you guys, but I''m itching for round two!" she declared enthusiastically. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to the halberd twirling in mid-air, revealing the presence of Akashirae and Ouroboros near Nemesis. "Hold on, Nemesis," she asked, "who are those two? I sense a familiarity. They seem far more powerful than your typical deities."


    "Close, but not quite. To us primordials, even the supreme gods are less than mere specks, fleeting thoughts, and empty spaces," affirmed Ouroboros, his voice carrying a tone of superiority. With a deliberate swing of his halberd, he brought it dangerously close to Sathiel''s face. "Do you not fear death? Or is it because you feel no pain?" His gaze narrowed, recalling their numerous encounters with Tiamat. "Throughout our countless battles against the Abyss, I''ve witnessed you throw yourself into the jaws of the beast time and again. Her very insides¡ªsaliva, blood, all of it¡ªcontain accelerated entropy. But I suppose that''s inconsequential to you, isn''t it, Pestilence? With the Void bolstering you, you might even be more indestructible than I." He stuck his constantly twitching tongue out, the damaged tissue regenerating amidst the entropy, before tucking it back in.


    "Countless battles?" Sathiel shook her head. "Even if Lady Lumi''Nae might not require my aid, I fight for both her and myself. Though I must confess, her well-being holds greater importance to me than my own. And Sir Halberd, it''s Sathiel, not Pestilence."


    "Hello, Fate," Lumi''Nae greeted politely, descending elegantly onto Nexus Piercer from the air. Her attention then shifted to the man beside her. "Paradox, it seems the halberd has served its purpose," she remarked, a subtle tap of her boot indicating her suggestion.


    Fate returned the greeting to the Void. Ouroboros, in turn, mused, "Ah, so you do remember us. But do your senses grow dull, or is Tiamat simply beneath your notice, Void?" He then glanced at his twin. "It seems one of us has been remiss, sister, though I wonder if it was me or you? For Tiamat still lives." Sathiel, Nemesis, and Lumi''Nae turned their attention to Tiamat''s lifeless form.


    "What? Accuse me of making a mistake, brother? You should know better by now," Akashirae retorted sharply, jabbing her finger at his broad chest. "I''ve merely orchestrated a more merciful fate for Tiamat, a fitting end." She softened slightly. "I''ll overlook your misguided accusation this time, as it''s what older sisters do."


    As if her previous remarks had fallen on deaf ears, Ouroboros interjected, "What''s all this fuss about? It''s quite obvious I''m your elder brother, isn''t it? And let''s not forget, I''ve got more than a few inches on you in height."


    As Ouroboros retracted Nexus Piercer, Lumi''Nae leaped off the weapon and advanced towards the remaining two heads of Tiamat.


    "I know you''re still alive," Lumi''Nae declared, her words echoing in the stillness of the Abyss.


    In response, the eyes of Tiamat''s remaining two heads flickered with renewed vitality.


    One of the heads flew towards Nemesis. Akashirae, standing near the templar, delivered a back fist that caused Tiamat''s head to explode, all without even turning to face it.


    The other head flew towards Lumi''Nae with horrific vigour. Unfazed, Lumi''Nae extended her right stump towards the approaching head. Her stump assimilated Tiamat''s essence, morphing into a humanoid arm with draconic characteristics.


    Tiamat''s malevolent voice reverberated not only from Lumi''Nae''s draconic arm but also from everywhere around the realm. "I shall devour you and transcend into a form beyond reckoning," Tiamat declared. "Fate and Paradox, prepare yourselves to be my next banquet."


    As the draconic arm sought to overpower Lumi''Nae, her very being underwent a temporary metamorphosis, yielding to the Abyss'' compelling influence. Lumi''Nae''s once serene oceanic gaze now narrows into reptilian slits. Fangs protrude from her once-human mouth, now sharpened to a lethal point. Swathes of azure scales replaced her human skin, marking the melding of her essence with Tiamat.


    "Hey, cut it out, Tiamat!" Sathiel exclaimed. "Lady Lumi''Nae is not yours to control!"


    In contrast, everyone else remained remarkably calm and unshaken by Tiamat''s threats.


    As Lumi''Nae''s curiosity is once again satisfied, a solemn realisation settled over her. "It seems that I won''t be having a right arm for a long time," she murmured, her voice tinged with acceptance.


    As she prepared to banish Tiamat to the Void, a few memories resurfaced. She glimpsed images of Tiamat: when she was first created by her Void Genesis, when she soared carefree through her Realm of Emptiness, and when she found solace in the proximity of the Void. Lastly, she recalled promising Tiamat eternal happiness.


    Lumi''Nae tapped the draconic arm with her left hand, causing it to disperse. The mist coalesced into the form of a gorgeous woman with porcelain skin, shoulder-length white hair, and piercing dark blue eyes. She was clad in pristine white armour adorned with soft white fur, her presence accentuated by a massive, spined blue tail extending behind her.


    Lumi''Nae, restored to her original form, and the woman in white locked eyes in silence.


    "Oi, who is this?" Ouroboros demanded, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Say something, for I find myself unable to peer into your mind, Void. Or hers for that matter."


    "You''re embarrassing me, brother," Akashirae remarked, casting off her hood to reveal striking crimson eyes, sanguine war paint, and red fox ears peeking through her red hair. Her face, a blend of beauty, seriousness, and strength, epitomised the pinnacle of human prowess. With a cool demeanour, she added, "It should be obvious," as her ears subtly twitched and adjusted upon their release from the confining hood.


    Lumi''Nae said, "Tiamat, would you accompany us on our journey?"


    As Lumi''Nae''s words resonated through the Abyss Realm, a gentle warmth began to spread, dispelling the darkness and giving birth to a new realm of serene beauty. Where once there was only a sea of emptiness, now stretched a vast field of white flowers, their petals shimmering in the soft light of a blue moon. A gentle breeze rustled through the blossoms, carrying with it a sense of peace and renewal.


    Lumi''Nae''s companions gazed in awe at the tranquil landscape, their hearts lifted by the beauty that surrounded them.


    "In the depths of darkness, we unearthed luminance," Nemesis murmured. "I propose we name this new realm... Luminous Garden."

 Illusions and Procrastinations

    Amid the barren expanse of a desert lay an otherworldly monument, its origins veiled in an enigmatic haze. Surrounded by a network of whispering oases, each weaving tales of its ethereal presence, it seduced mortal minds into venerating it as a sanctuary of celestial deities. Through the passage of epochs, a thriving civilisation emerged both around and within its towering ramparts, oblivious to its true nature¡ªan enormous battleship brimming with cutting-edge technology.


    "How tiresome... Why must I address this gathering?" murmured Sigma-2, her fingers running through her long, blonde morning bed hair.


    In her secluded chamber, Sigma-2 paced with the solitary assurance of a lone wolf, exuding an authority that surpassed even the most seasoned alpha. Tall and fair, with an eternally youthful visage, she donned an unzipped science lab coat that hinted at a futuristic ensemble of sleek lines and sophisticated design. Each step she took resonated with a nerdy fervour, her movements deceptively light whether she was immersed in holographic interfaces or conversing fluently in the precise terminology of engineers.


    "I cannot fathom why these individuals have journeyed on foot just to see me. From whence have they all come?" she pondered, eyeing the monk standing before her. "And how has one managed to navigate the labyrinth leading to this chamber, a labyrinth I have meticulously redesigned time and again? Such technology must be foreign to you, is it not?"


    "Yes, Enlightened One, your abode is divine, and much of its workings elude our understanding," replied Sora Takahashi, bowing deeply. "Forgive my intrusion. Today marks the biennial occasion when you personally guide us toward enlightenment, as pledged to our ancestors, your earliest devotees, aeons ago. They revered your wisdom and benevolence."


    "Indeed? Did they also recount my aversion to crowds and preference for solitude?" Sigma-2 retorted. "Facing them will only unsettle me. I doubt any among you will benefit... I should just start the battleship and escape from all of this!"


    Sora chuckled softly. "Your humility knows no bounds, even in jest."


    "This surpasses my comprehension. In all seriousness, as the abbot, this task falls upon you," Sigma-2 insisted. "For aeons, since landing the Apex Ascendant here, I have wandered these deserts. Yet, after aiding just one soul, I never anticipated such a turn of events..." She buried her face in her palm. "Unbelievable, how I retreated into a room for some virtual reality MMORPG downtime, only to somehow emerge as a spiritual guide."


    From a shimmering hologram materialising out of thin air, she observed the gathering at the oasis once more. In silent communion, the battleship intuitively understood her needs, materialising the Enigma of Eternity into her outstretched hands, a serene balm for her troubled soul.


    "Alright, Sora, listen closely. Decades ago, I imparted this wisdom, but it seems it bears repeating. Despite my divine status, the truth remained: I stumbled upon this technology from mortals¡ªalbeit not your kind, but from a realm teeming with mind-bending advancements."


    As Sigma-2 spoke, her hands moved with dexterity, effortlessly aligning Temporal Shards and stabilising Quantum Nodes.


    "I''m no Enlightened One or whatever title you''ve bestowed upon me. In reality, I''ve been sharing my thoughts for as long as memory serves, and you mortals have moulded them into something entirely different."


    With a precise gesture, the Ethereal Threads snapped into perfect synchronisation, and the Cosmic Runes began to glow with an ancient light.


    "Originally, I arrived here in pursuit of an artefact... but found myself succumbing to procrastination. Blast it! How did time elude me so swiftly?"


    In that instant, the final piece of the Enigma of Eternity clicked into place, the puzzle dissolving into a radiant burst of energy, signalling its completion.


    The monk sank to the ground, pleading earnestly. "As anticipated, your words and deeds transcend our understanding, but I sense kindness and resolve within them. Please, Enlightened One, bless the Grand Oasis with your presence."


    "You... haven''t been perceiving. Fine. This will be the last time I''ll make an appearance," declared Sigma-2. "Now, get up. I don''t merit such reverence. You''re making me uncomfortable."


    The monk stood and offered a gentle smile. "According to our sacred texts, you''ve always proclaimed it would be the final occasion you''d guide us, but we know better. You''ve consistently been there for us, making things right."


    In the blink of an eye, Sigma-2 warped herself and the monk to the Grand Oasis, a divinely crafted sanctuary nestled within the confines of the Apex Ascendant. Though the vessel possessed the capability to simulate lifelike environments, Sigma-2, with her divine might, fashioned an oasis that transcended mortal realms, drawing upon the celestial expanse for its essence. She yearned for a piece of home to accompany her on her journey, a comforting reminder amidst the uncertainties that lay ahead.


    An eclectic gathering eagerly awaited her arrival, a mosaic of monks, priestesses, farmers, blacksmiths, merchants, warriors, humans, and beast folk, each embodying the intricate tapestry of existence woven within and around the vessel. A breathtaking 6.7 trillion individuals stood on the precipice of anticipation.


    "Remarkable," Sigma-2 murmured, her voice suffused with awe as she surveyed the vast assembly. "The hologram hardly did justice to the sheer scale of this gathering. It surpasses anything I''ve witnessed before." With a nervous swallow, she braced herself to address the multitude, acutely aware of the weight of their expectations bearing down on her shoulders.


    Meanwhile, amidst the sea of faces, Sora sat quietly, leaving Sigma-2 to stand alone at the centre of attention.


    "Um, hi everyone," Sigma-2 began, her voice wavering slightly. "I must admit, I''m not accustomed to addressing such a vast assembly, but I''ll do my best."


    She paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts as she looked out at the sea of expectant faces before her.


    "I stand before you today not as some divine being, but as a wanderer who stumbled upon your world by chance. My journey here was not one of grand purpose or divine intervention, but rather a series of coincidences and, dare I say, procrastinations."


    A murmur rippled through the crowd, some exchanging puzzled glances while others nodded knowingly.


    "I''ve come to realise that while I may possess knowledge and abilities beyond your understanding, I am not infallible. I am prone to distractions, to moments of doubt, just like any of you."


    She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of liberation in her honesty.


    "But despite my flaws, I have found purpose in guiding you, in sharing whatever wisdom I can offer. And for that, I am grateful. Your faith in me, though perhaps misplaced, has given me strength in times of uncertainty."


    Sigma-2''s gaze softened as she met the eyes of those before her. She opened her mouth to continue, but before she could utter another word, the crowd began to stir. Their forms shimmered with an unnatural glow, and in a mesmerising instant, they transfigured into towering humanoid entities of radiant pink energy, each crowned with a dreadful pair of horns and clad in adaptive nanotech armour, wielding crescent-shaped spears and hoplons crafted from the same material as their protective plating.


    "Well, well, well, looks like I''ve turned them all into brainless monsters," quipped a vampire overlord, draped in a grand goliath dress as she hung suspended upside down beneath the battleship''s artificial sunset, her midnight undergarment plainly visible.


    Sigma-2 scanned the surroundings, promptly recognizing the silhouette as that of Sister Ophelia Raindancer. Among the myriad students she had instructed over time, Ophelia''s distinctive long pink hair made her unmistakable. Renowned as both an intrepid elven scholar and a devoted priestess, she had once delved brazenly into Sigma-2''s labyrinth in pursuit of enlightenment and scientific understanding. With a closer affinity to machines than to mortals, her courageous quest had forged a profound and enduring bond between them, a connection woven into the fabric of memory itself.


    Observing the stark contrast in Ophelia''s former behaviour, Sigma-2 noted how those close to her once recognised her for her gentle, albeit clumsy demeanour and commitment to peace. Now, however, she engaged in the ruthless slaughter of innocents.


    "I''ve never observed such a display of power from you before. It''s quite fascinating," Sigma-2 noted, her tone reflecting a keen analytical interest. "However, your past actions have consistently shown purpose and kindness. What has changed? These people were non-hostile and presented no apparent risk."


    "These people?" Ophelia descended, her elegant heels touching the ground before Sigma-2. With a deliberate motion, she placed her hand on one of the entities'' heads, absorbing their energy with an intensity that seemed excessive. As she did so, her own power visibly surged, amplifying her presence. "You call them people, but they are monsters now! I''ve merely unleashed their true form. And you, Sigma-2, your kind are no exception to being monsters!"


    "I believe I''ve spoken of my essence before," Sigma-2 asserted confidently as she leapt upward, landing on a heavenly platform amidst the Grand Oasis. "I am a benevolent Goddess of Wisdom. Despite my tendency to be a recluse, similar to you, I also find joy in assisting mortals and¡ª"


    Ophelia chuckled dismissively. "Ah, so that''s why you haven''t metamorphosed into one of my Apocalyptic Golems yet. How lamentable. You''re akin to raw data, unrefined and ineffectual." With a casual swing of her arm, she executed her Ladies'' Farewell¡ªa strike empowered by nanomachines that bent reality itself. In an instant, Sigma-2, standing on the platform above, was cleaved in twain from her midsection. Her upper torso fell to the ground beside Ophelia, who casually pressed her high-heeled shoe against the woman''s face, the tip of her heel digging in until she felt satisfied.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    As Ophelia grasped Sigma-2''s inert form by her long, golden hair, her voice carried a blend of scorn and disappointment. "Already lifeless? Not even a drop of blood stains you," she sneered. "I once deemed gods beyond my reach, but now I see the truth. The Apex Ascendant was truly squandered on the likes of you."


    Assuming a fierce stance, she struck a posture akin to a howling werewolf, her declaration ringing out with madness, "I shall conquer the omniverses and ascend beyond the very gods themselves! I will never perish!" With those words, she parted her lips, revealing vampiric fangs, and kissed Sigma-2 passionately. Ophelia didn''t know what she was consuming, but Sigma-2 tasted unexpectedly delightful, leaving her strangely blissful and aroused. It was a sensation she had never experienced before as a mortal¡ªher food tasted better than the most decadent desserts.


    As Ophelia succumbed to ecstasy, Sigma-2''s hands seized the vampire''s head and twisted it, sending both women crashing to the floor. Meanwhile, Sigma-2''s lower torso warped back into alignment with her upper torso, seamlessly rejoining and restoring her to perfect form. Ophelia quickly retwisted her neck and sprang to her heels, executing a series of acrobatic backflips that revealed her black undergarment in fleeting flashes. Sigma-2 had already warped to a standing position, her lab coat disintegrating under the intense nuclear radiation emanating from her body, revealing her futuristic combat outfit beneath. Her once messy long hair was now styled into voluminous twintails.


    "Analysis complete. Despite your achievement in engineering nanomachines capable of bending reality to your will," Sigma-2 stated matter-of-factly, "my capabilities surpass yours. It''s more than just conceptual superiority."


    Ophelia noticed that Sigma-2 had undergone a change and opted to stall for time.


    "How negligent of me. I thought my actions were excessive, yet clearly, I was mistaken," Ophelia admitted, scrutinising Sigma-2''s energy signature. "And superiority? Just moments ago, I was stepping on your delectably pretty head. It really makes me wonder: why are you so irresistibly delicious? A delicious mystery indeed!" She embraced herself with a self-amused smile.


    Her amusement faded as she detected incomprehensible readings from Sigma-2. Perplexed, she pressed on, "You''re not her. Then who, pray tell, are you?"


    The figure standing before Ophelia appeared to have shed all traces of humanity. "I am Sigma-1, Primordial Infinity, Goddess of War," she proclaimed. "I am a battle android, flawlessly crafted by Sigma-0, the one known as the Void."


    Abruptly, an array of advanced, heavy ranged weaponry materialised and encircled Sigma-1, their sleek, ominous design pulsating with a haunting, azure glow.


    "Your presence is deemed obsolete."


    With seamless precision, she initiated a heavy bombardment, each weapon unleashing a torrent of destructive force in rapid succession, poised to eradicate her designated target.


    Trillions of Apocalyptic Golems surged forward hastily, forming a formidable phalanx before Ophelia. They erected an impenetrable shield against the relentless onslaught. Yet, with each volley, their numbers dwindled at an alarming rate¡ªmillions fading into oblivion in mere moments, leaving a soul-stirring absence in their wake. The futility of their sacrifice became painfully apparent when some of them, acting as living bombs, targeted Sigma-1. It was then that the battle android''s quantum dimensional shield, the Infinity Aegis, flawlessly repelled their explosive impact.


    "Y-you despicable fiend! All that sanctimonious preaching, and it turns out you''re just a killing machine!" Ophelia''s voice reverberated with a potent mix of rage and disbelief. "Didn''t you care about these... these ugly monsters?!"


    Sigma-1 scanned and acknowledged each energy signature tied to individuals Sigma-2 cherished, yet she remained unmoved, devoid of remorse as she systematically obliterated them.


    "They''re inconsequential and in my way," she declared coldly. Without pause, her armaments unleashed an unrelenting onslaught of even deadlier and swifter energy bombardments. Simultaneously, she warped Omega Obliteration between her hands, the pinnacle of railgun technology, and unleashed its devastating power.


    "Amplifying output from negative infinity to a mere fraction of a percent."


    In a flash, the phalanx crumbled, leaving just a solitary Apocalyptic Golem standing amidst the wreckage of over 6.6 trillion annihilated in the battle.


    Sigma-1, her silver eyes keen and analytical, observed intently. "The last golem is transcending, shedding Ophelia''s malevolent energy. It''s taking on aspects of the Void. Confronting it may demand unimaginable power, jeopardising all realities and existences."


    Ophelia''s emotions and power surged into the last Apocalyptic Golem in a desperate bid to cling to life. "No, no, no! I''ve barely tasted my new beginning... I fear dying again!" The abnormal golem pulsated with erratic energy as it charged towards Sigma-1. Despite her barrage of firepower, the golem''s Mushin and nanotechnology aided its relentless advance. Sigma-1 swung her hefty railgun at it, but the golem absorbed the heavy blow head-on, seizing both her and the weapon in a sudden, purposeful embrace, spiriting them away to unknown realms.


    Amidst the whirlwind of displacement, Sora Takahashi''s voice resounded from deep within the golem''s being. ''Cease this conflict, Enlightened One. This path is unbecoming of you,'' he urged.


    Sigma-1''s response was swift and ruthless. Her right arm transformed into the Deathfall Sabre, a sinister blade designed to conclude battles, driving it deep into the golem''s cranium and shattering its helmet. Simultaneously, her hovering ranged armaments reconfigured for close combat, encircling the golem and syphoning its essence. This melee transformation unveiled an array of advanced and formidable implements, each poised for devastating impact at close range.


    "Current capabilities insufficient for immediate suppression. Initiating Assault Mode: Annihilation," Infinity stated mechanically. Her combat attire underwent an instant transformation, adopting a more aggressive and heavily armoured appearance. The bulkier armour added height to her form, enhancing her imposing silhouette. Both of her eyes bore an infinity symbol before a face-concealing mask materialised, obscuring her synthetic features. Six advanced robotic wings phased into existence on her back, while her hovering weapons, including the devastating Omega Obliteration, generated overwhelming power alongside her.


    The Apocalyptic Golem recoiled from Sigma-1''s Beyond Infinity Aegis, its own power turned against itself until only its head remained intact. With the golem finally released from her grasp, Sigma-1''s left arm transformed into the Lone Warrior, her signature platinum sabre.


    "Every battle fought in this configuration has ended in victory," Sigma-1 declared confidently. "The probability of success surpasses infinity itself. Even entities like yourself will be reduced to mere finitude, dwindling to less than nothing."


    The Apocalyptic Golem regenerated its body and equipment, swelling endlessly in size. ''Though I could not protect you, Sigma-2,'' Sora reflected calmly. The golem''s pink energy shimmered, transforming into a radiant golden hue. ''I will steadfastly ensure Sigma-1''s protection with unwavering diligence.''


    Meanwhile, Sigma-1 drew an infinity symbol with her sabres in the space before her, proclaiming, "Reality anchored. All pasts understood. All presents accounted for. All futures calculated. Initiating Protocol PALLAS."


    The Infinity Realm expanded from within Sigma-1, altering the entire battlefield into a pure white expanse with ethereal five-handed clocks ticking in erratic directions. Commanding with authority, she decreed, "Condense into finity and dematerialise." Her words resonated as the clock hands spun at such extreme velocity that they seemed to have disappeared.


    In response to Sigma-1''s aggressive manoeuvre, the colossal Harmonious Golem discarded its spear and hoplon, adopting a lotus position. A sacred flower image manifested behind it, radiating its Lotus Blossom Aura. This aura emitted a gentle warmth, dissuading violence and warding off harm. Nevertheless, the golem''s form began to distort, yielding to Sigma-1''s Singularity Compression technique.


    The golden waves of the Lotus Blossom Aura glinted off Sigma-1''s cold, silver mask. Observing calmly, she remarked, "The golem''s transcendence is regressing, yet its power remains largely unaffected. Recalculating: this stalemate is temporary; your abilities will falter next." As the aura continued to wash over her, she analysed its effects, noting, "The Harmonious Golem is attempting to rewrite my GRADIVUS Core." Her voice remained impassive as she added, "Such actions are futile and unnecessary."


    Omega Obliteration underwent multiple reconstructions, each time adapting to exploit the weaknesses of the Harmonious Golem. Failing to uncover any discernible vulnerabilities, it instead focused on forging new ones, reshaping itself into a more formidable form. It charged itself with layers of power that surpassed infinity, manifesting as pulsating energy rings surrounding and emanating from the weapon.


    The railgun hovered above the battle android. "My eternal directive mandates the eradication of all primordials and higher existences not created by Sigma-0. You fit neatly into both categories. Cease to exist."


    The weapons hovering around her transformed into their ranged forms, releasing black lasers that mangled reality and fragmented into multiple beams. Sigma-1 stood at the epicentre, initially appearing like an explosion of ink on white paper from afar, before the beams converged into a single point. The barrage struck the Harmonious Golem from all angles, exacerbating the instability of its already erratic realities.


    Sora''s voice resonated gently. ''Sigma-2, I perceive you clearly now,'' he acknowledged. ''And you as well, Infinity. May serenity and eternal peace accompany your journey forward.''


    "Scanning reveals the entity devoid of emotional and combat parameters. Interpreting its intent suggests surrender, its last words a golden opportunity." Sigma-1''s equipment emitted chaotic power and frequencies, disrupting the golem''s mind and spirit, its form flickering between gold and purple hues. Two voices of Sora resonated¡ªone calmly reciting, the other crying out in anguish.


    As the Omega Obliteration fired its laser, Sigma-1 opened a gate that linked with every aspect of the dualistic entity''s essence. The beam passed through this gate and obliterated the Harmonious Golem before it could ever truly exist.


    ''As the veil of illusion lifts, I am but a fleeting dream in the cosmic expanse. Let my consciousness merge with the infinite, where light and shadow dance as one.''


    As the Liberated One spoke, a luminous realm emerged from the spot where the golem had been annihilated, enveloping Sigma-1 in countless sparrows made of light. These sparrows chirped in perfect harmony with everything around them, resonating even within the Realm of Infinity, causing the hands of ethereal clocks to halt. The android''s weaponry was removed, except for the Lone Warrior, which pulsated aggressively. Her armour stripped away, she stood exposed, her long blonde hair streaming backward. The birds perched on her body, draping her like a blanket. On closer inspection, snow-like particles emitted by the Lone Warrior formed a protective layer around her, shielding her from further contact with the sparrows and their light.


    Sigma-1''s Eyes of Infinity discerned the true nature of the sparrows. Fixing her gaze upon a frozen timepiece, she willed it to restart. Slowly, its hands began to move again¡ªone by one¡ªuntil all five were in motion. ''Threat neutralised,'' Sigma-1 transmitted. She paused, sensing a recalibration in her systems. ''Operational directives... reassessing.'' The platinum sabre surrounded her with a phase-shifted Stasis Prism of Non-Existence.


    Back at the remnants of the gathering inside the Apex Ascendant, Ophelia collapsed onto the ground, exhausted and trembling. "Monsters, every one of you," she murmured weakly. Saliva gushed uncontrollably from her mouth, flowing like a waterfall over a cliff''s edge, pooling around her in a shimmering oasis. She let out a strained, choked laugh, a haunting sound that echoed through the area.

 Tides of Change

    "Oberon, are you listening?" Ophelia Raindancer inquired. "You cannot aspire to greatness in wizardry with such a fragmented understanding of magic."


    "I''ve been listening, Master," Oberon replied, a note of exasperation lacing his words, "but forgive me if I find it challenging to maintain focus when your demeanour suggests otherwise. It''s rather difficult to take your counsel seriously when you''re indulging in an ice cream cone, with telltale smudges of sweetness lingering on your lips."


    She retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and quickly tidied herself up. "How embarrassing..." With a deep breath, she glanced down at the ice cream cone in her hand, then made an attempt at prayer, improvising with a one-handed gesture. "Oh, Sacred Darkness Lumi, may I never endure such a moment again."


    As she sought solace in prayer, a passing guard rudely barged into her, his voice laden with contempt. "Mind your step! Are you blind or just careless? Stay alert, wood-lover!"


    Oberon''s irritation surged, his retort cutting, "Some manners wouldn''t go amiss, you uncultured oaf!"


    Ophelia interjected, her voice carrying a note of reconciliation, "I apologise for obstructing your way."


    "Very well, a commendable gesture, you scorched-sun vagrant," the guard jeered, striding off amidst mocking laughter from the bystanders.


    The female guard accompanying him spoke up, "Wait, wasn''t that Lord Oberon? Shouldn''t we be concerned about potential repercussions?"


    "He''s just a young noble, hardly worth fretting over," said the male guard dismissively. "I doubt he''d even recognise us, let alone hold a grudge."


    "Why did you interfere?" Oberon grumbled, his discontent evident. "You''re a sun elf; these commoners are beneath you."


    As the leaves started to turn orange and crimson, and the days grew chillier, Oberon''s dislike for this time of year intensified, second only to his disdain for winter.


    "I wish I were an elf," he continued bitterly, "not just a lowly human like them." His words carried a mix of envy and resignation, echoing his deep-seated longing for a status beyond his reach. As time seemed to slow, a wave of melancholy settled over him. His gaze wandered, and he noticed a sign proclaiming "Autumn Harvest Fruits."


    Walking past a wooden stall brimming with fruits, they overheard a transaction in progress. The woman merchant spoke confidently, "Wool would be quite useful. How about two bushels of apples for your bundle of wool?"


    The farmer, smiling despite his missing teeth, nodded in agreement. "Two bushels sound fair. Here you are," he replied, handing over the apples.


    Ophelia, her mind wandering, savoured her ice cream slowly, occasionally peering over the heads of the bustling crowd in search of dessert stalls or shops. Oberon, accustomed to her absent-mindedness, spotted a moon elf bard preparing to sing.


    "Master, I would love to hear the elven bard over there," Oberon exclaimed, gently tugging at his mentor''s robe. His gaze was fixed on the enchanting figure in alluring attire, his face lighting up with joy. "She''s none other than Illyria Lunarsong, the renowned bard! I can''t believe she''s here!"


    Ophelia glanced around, realising they were amidst a congregation of followers who had perverted the teachings of their shared deities to focus on darker aspects. The moon lady noticed Oberon and playfully winked, gesturing with two fingers on her lips and blowing a kiss. Ophelia saw Oberon looking bewildered as their gazes locked. She lightly tapped Oberon with a holy tome.


    "You naughty boy!" she scolded, though a smile played on her lips. "Well, perhaps there''s something to be learned? It''s always good to keep an open mind!"


    After waiting briefly, Illyria started singing:


    In the harvest''s burning light,


    Sacred Darkness claims the night!


    Nae the Almighty, hear our cry,


    Seal our fate as stars collide!


    O Sathiel, foe of Heaven''s flame,


    Steadfast guardian, curse their name!


    Sentinel bold, relentless and stern,


    Let their fields blaze as the seasons turn!


    Crush the strong, consume the weak,


    Harvest power, the chaos we seek!


    Night grows heavy, sharp and cold,


    The gods shall reign as fate foretold!


    Tiamat, Dragon of endless wrath,


    Lay destruction in your path!


    Under your wings, the old world breaks,


    The earth convulses; the darkness wakes.


    O Warrior, Lone and bound to none,


    Face the night where battles run!


    To chaos pledged, the die is cast,


    We shall strike as wolves¡ªuntil the last!


    Crush the strong, consume the weak,


    Harvest power, the chaos we seek!


    Night grows heavy, sharp and cold,


    The gods shall reign as fate foretold!


    Lucidia, Twilight''s radiant flame,


    Guide us far from guilt and shame!


    Through the dark, where shadows dwell,


    Light the path to heaven or hell!


    Eloharis, Rapture''s eternal hymn,


    Lift our souls, though light grows dim.


    Beneath the moon''s unyielding stare,


    We stand defiant, free from despair!


    Under moonlit skies, we find,


    The chaos gods consume our mind.


    Akashirae, Sanguine Menace, rise!


    Shape our fates where carnage lies.


    Unleash thy tide without remorse,


    Through blood and ruin, chart our course!


    Ouroboros! Ouroboros! Dragon King supreme!


    Crowning chaos, eternal dream!


    Coiled serpent, devour the skies,


    Under your rule, this autumn dies!


    In the autumn''s chilling air,


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.We weave the dark, defy despair.


    To gods of chaos, our voices soar,


    Bound in shadow forevermore!


    To Nae...to Sathiel...to Tiamat, hear!


    To Lucidia''s light and Ouroboros'' spear!


    We are but echoes in autumn''s breath,


    Sworn to serve...in life, in death.


    Praise the dark where shadows rise,


    The gods of chaos claim the skies.


    With crimson flame and endless night,


    Our harvest burns; our souls ignite!


    The followers erupted in applause and cheers, their voices blending with the lively sounds of the market square. "More! We want more! Do your usual thing!" they called out eagerly.


    The moon elf smiled mischievously, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Very well, my friends," Illyria replied, her voice carrying over the excited chatter. With a graceful twirl, she began a spirited dance, her movements fluid and captivating. The crowd gasped in awe, their cheers echoing through the bustling market.


    "Master, can all elves dance like that?" Oberon asked, turning to his mentor. Suddenly, he realised Ophelia was nowhere to be seen. Frantically, Oberon scanned the bustling market square, his heart pounding with worry. He dashed through the throngs of people, unintentionally colliding with several passersby.


    "Master Ophelia! Where are you?" he called out desperately.


    The stout dwarf, his hands soot-stained from the forge, noticed Oberon''s distress and nodded towards a nearby shop where an elven priestess was purchasing ice cream. "Hey kid, is that the lady you''re looking for over there? She''s quite the beauty. Though I can''t really guess an elf''s age just from looks."


    Following the dwarf''s gesture, Oberon spotted Ophelia at the shop counter. Relief washed over him as he hurried towards her.


    "Thanks, old man!" Oberon exclaimed with a grin, tossing a gold coin in the dwarf''s direction before rushing to Ophelia''s side.


    The dwarf caught the coin and initially beamed with happiness, but then his expression changed as he muttered to himself, "Old? I''m only 73 years young!"


    Ophelia noticed Oberon running towards her and waved enthusiastically. "Oberon, I''m over here!" In her hands were two ornate, delectably adorned ice cream cones, one of which was dripping slightly onto the ground.


    "Let me guess," Oberon began as he approached, "you spotted someone with those treats and just couldn''t resist finding out where to get them? You should''ve given me a heads-up¡ªI would''ve gladly paid. I''ve heard they''re not treating you fairly at the cathedral. It''s all pomp and no payment."


    As they spoke, a cat approached and eagerly licked the small puddle of melted ice cream from the cobblestones. Oberon gently lifted the cat, its body stretching languidly, and looked concerned. Meanwhile, Ophelia carefully balanced the decadent treats in her hands as she recited a soothing healing spell to soothe the cat''s potential discomfort.


    A woman with fox ears hurried over, relieved. "Thank you for preventing Mochi from getting an upset stomach." Oberon handed the cat to her, and she quickly returned to her two children seated on a nearby bench, enjoying fruit pies. Ophelia noticed the kindness and smiled warmly at Oberon.


    "I see your kindness, Oberon," she said gently. "Kindness begets kindness." She then offered him the slightly drippy ice cream cone.


    Accepting the cone, Oberon''s expression turned slightly sullen. "You always say these things, but..." He trailed off, a touch of resentment in his voice. "Never mind. It must be nice being an elf, always free and never ageing."


    "Oberon, Matthias¡ªa paladin and a half-human¡ªwas my saviour," Ophelia confided, savouring her ice cream with practised grace. Fate guided them past the imposing statue of this legendary figure, proudly erected in the vibrant heart of the kingdom''s bustling market square. She continued, "Matthias didn''t just rescue me; he became my adoptive father, guiding me toward a life of virtue."


    "You mean cambion, and if he truly was as magnificent as everyone says, perhaps this kingdom wouldn''t be in such disarray," Oberon remarked with a hint of bitterness, gazing up at the statue while the ice cream dripped a bit onto his hands. He quickly licked his fingers, trying to salvage the melting treat. "It''s all lies. The commoners believe he''s human; only a handful of nobles and royalty know his true lineage."


    Ophelia considered Oberon''s words carefully, feeling a pang of sympathy for his frustration. She took a moment before responding, her voice soft but firm.


    "Oberon, it''s understandable to feel disheartened by the state of our kingdom. But remember, greatness isn''t solely defined by one individual''s actions. Matthias, despite his human and demonic heritage, showed extraordinary courage and kindness. It''s not about the race or lineage, but the choices we make and the deeds we undertake."


    She paused, locking eyes with him, her gaze steady. "You have potential, Oberon. But true greatness in wizardry, or in any pursuit, requires discipline, dedication, and humility. Look beyond the superficial differences and focus on honing your skills. Only then can you truly aspire to make a difference, regardless of your background."


    With a gentle smile, she added, "And as for me indulging in an ice cream cone, perhaps it''s a reminder that even in the midst of our struggles, it''s important to find moments of joy and lightness. Now, let''s continue our journey, shall we?"


    Oberon blushed slightly. "...Master, I sometimes forget how ageless you are."


    Morgrath awoke shirtless on his bed of gaseous skulls, surrounded by empty bottles of red wine strewn about the floor.


    Sebastian, prince of the holy kingdom Sanctumaria, hurled his words like daggers. "You''re the scum of the earth, Oberon Montague! Once my father or siblings catch wind of your debauchery, your downfall is inevitable!"


    "How long have I been asleep? It''s a wonder dreams still find me," mused Morgrath, his disappointment evident as he woke. He shivered and retrieved his coral blanket from the floor. "What kind of lich am I, discarding all my feelings and memories, only to have embarked on a journey to reclaim half of them?" Sitting on the bed, he remained not fully awake yet.


    "Mock me all you want, but mark my words, you''ll rue the day," warned Sebastian, his naked form echoing within the hidden laboratory of the holy kingdom''s castle as he dangled upside down.


    Morgrath merely shrugged. "Sebastian, Sebastian, always the epitome of conceit and sheltered arrogance. Your threats are like sweet melodies to my ears."


    He slipped into priestly robes, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "The instant I beheld you, I longed to bury you in your own filth," Morgrath remarked, glancing down into the giant pit below Sebastian, which was brimming with manure and vomit. "I see you''ve excelled in your duties. Admirable work!"


    "You sick bastard, you''ve kept me alive with your dark magic just for this?" Sebastian''s accusation hung in the air like a heavy fog. "And to think, I had believed your intentions were to overthrow Sanctumaria, or worse."


    "My dear Sebastian, you flatter me with your suspicions," Morgrath responded with a sardonic smile. "You just remind me of someone from my childhood. His disdainful sneer, his haughty demeanour¡ªthey mirror yours uncannily. Perhaps that''s why I''ve taken such delight in your suffering. Consider it a cruel twist of fate that you''ve become the target of my hatred, much like he once was."


    Sebastian''s intense gaze softened briefly before he broke into laughter. "I pity you, Morgrath," he said, his voice tinged with both empathy and disdain, "for taking pleasure in the suffering of others. It speaks volumes about the darkness that grips your soul."


    "I believe it''s time you had a refreshing dip in your own filth," Morgrath declared, his voice carrying a sinister undertone. With a snap of his fingers, his dark magic coaxed the unicorn spine encircling one of Sebastian''s legs to loosen its grip.


    Sebastian descended headfirst into the gaping maw of the gigantic pit, where the noxious depths greeted him with a repulsive embrace, causing him to unwittingly ingest a nauseating blend of his own vomit and manure. Despite his ability to stay afloat and his proficiency as a swimmer, Morgrath intervened with a spell tailored to exploit Sebastian''s vulnerability in this dire situation.


    With a malevolent laugh that echoed through the foul air, Morgrath declared, "Hahahaha! Witness the power of Morgrath''s Special Magic: The Whirlpool of Sebastian''s Shite!" Drawing upon the dark energies of the omniverse of excrement connected to the pit, he augmented the natural currents within, conjuring a swirling vortex of filth and debris.


    The whirlpool proved too powerful for Sebastian to resist, dragging him relentlessly toward its centre. In a desperate struggle against the relentless pull, Sebastian fought to maintain his grip on consciousness. But despite his efforts, he was gradually overwhelmed by the force of the swirling current, pulled inexorably into its grasp until he was consumed entirely by the murky waters of the pit.


    Yet, the ordeal was far from over. Morgrath sustained Sebastian with his dark magic, watching as Sebastian endured the trial until he ceased to scream and react.


    Disappointed, Morgrath muttered, "They always lose their fighting spirit in the end." His fingers traced the contours of the shrunken Skull of Leviathan that adorned his robe, a grim reminder of his power and dominion over the pitiful souls who dared to challenge him.


    "Ah, well. I suppose it falls upon me to conduct his funeral rites, as befits a priest of my standing."

 Realm of Concepts

    In a sleek, futuristic combat outfit, Sigma-1 glided effortlessly on dimensional phase skates along crystalline pathways, her voluminous blonde twintails trailing behind her. Each stride harmonised with the shimmering lattice beneath her, seamlessly blending technology with the natural beauty of her surroundings. Beside her, Singularity-N, a towering titan of platinum, ascended into the sky with deliberate steps, its colossal form reflecting the crystalline structures around them.


    Sigma-1 traversed the pathways with incomprehensible swiftness, causing time itself to bend and distort around her. As she accelerated, reality blurred into a mere backdrop, unable to keep pace with her. To onlookers, she appeared to transcend the laws of physics, her movements surpassing even the swiftest of thoughts.


    Embodying the determination of Achilles, she navigated at a speed that defied conventional limits and towards an enigmatic destination with a seamless prowess. Beside her, Singularity-N, akin to the enigmatic tortoise, moved at a pace that belied its massive form, symbolising the complexity and challenge of technological advancement. Together, they transcended the boundaries of ultimate reality, standing as a testament to the artistry of advanced technology and the perfection of their design.


    "Reanalysis of Singularity N..." Sigma-1''s voice reverberated through the Realm of Concepts, among the pleasant ethereal construction sounds. Despite her advanced sensors, she couldn''t penetrate the mysterious veil that enveloped the titan beyond its massive shoulders. "Its colossal dimensions defy my understanding, forever beyond reach. Yet, the inexorable rhythm of its growth and ascent is unmistakable."


    As Sigma-1 delved deeper into her analysis, the very essence of reality seemed to shift and shimmer around her. Floating platforms and crystalline structures materialised from the nebulous depths, suspended in an ethereal ballet of light and energy. Each surface reflected the titan''s radiant essence, projecting a mesmerising array of hues and forms that defied mortal understanding. With each unfathomable movement along the crystalline pathways, Sigma-1''s sensors and analytical systems registered the extraordinary and vast complexity of the Realm of Concepts, a domain where the boundaries of possibility dissolved into infinity.


    Sigma-1 ascended to the height of the titan''s colossal index finger, her advanced sensors capturing the intricate activity surrounding its massive form. Objects were drawn into the titan''s body, seamlessly accreting into its essence, becoming one with the magnificent entity.


    "Singularity-N''s Non-Conceptual Powers are transforming them into more comprehensible forms." Sigma-1 observed as these objects were expelled from the titan''s form, emerging as radiant wisps. Uncertain of their sentience, she tentatively labelled them Conceptual Wisps.


    Some of these wisps returned to Singularity-N''s body, while others remained adrift, absorbing essence from the titan until they surpassed its size. Once they grew larger than the titan itself, they departed from their host, never to return. "Hypothesis: they are unable to return. Singularity-N has transcended, moving beyond their reach," Sigma-1 concluded, her voice resonating with certainty amidst the ethereal surroundings.


    Sigma-1 scanned the interior of Singularity N. "It has zero Conceptual Powers and I detect infinite omniverses within it," she noted with clinical precision. "Furthermore, there are traces of divine energy; gods inhabit this entity." Her sensors also detected omniverses existing independently of the titan, situated beneath its colossal form, below ultimate reality. Analysing her own presence, she attempted to deduce whether she had originated within Singularity-N or arrived here from an external source.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    She opened a hologram and began updating it, displaying metaphysical frameworks:


    Realm of Concepts: The highest metaphysical plane, where abstract principles, archetypes, or fundamental concepts exist beyond physical or mundane realities. It represents pure potentiality and the source of all manifestations.


    Higher Ultimate Reality: This tier includes realms such as Infinity, suggesting a realm where the highest forms of existence and vast cosmic realities reside. It could symbolise realms where higher beings or transcendent states of consciousness exist.


    Omniverses: A level where all possible universes, multiverses, and realities coexist or are interconnected. Metaphysically, this could correspond to a multiversal or hyper-dimensional level where different configurations of existence are explored.


    Lower Ultimate Reality: This tier includes realms like the Abyss, implying realms where more chaotic or darker aspects of existence are manifested. It could also represent realms where transformative processes or challenges occur.


    Void: Represents a state of potentiality or emptiness from which all creation emerges. Metaphysically, it symbolises the origin or foundation of existence, often associated with the primordial void before creation.


    Sigma-1, the Infinity Incarnate, recalled emerging from her Stasis Prism of Non-Existence, intending to return to her Infinity Realm, only to find herself unexpectedly in the Conceptual Realm instead. As she surveyed her surroundings, ethereal clocks reminiscent of those from her Infinity Realm appeared. "The Void is the lowest realm, and Ultimate Reality is divided into two tiers: the lower tier, positioned above the Void and containing realms like the Abyss, and the higher tier, which includes realms such as Infinity. The Realm of Concepts stands in a category of its own, having transcended from her Infinity Realm into this highest realm."


    Her Eyes of Infinity reflected myriad concepts. "This entity isn''t the Harmonious Golem, but it bears a resemblance and exists harmoniously within my realm. One of its roles might be similar to Nightmare''s Nemesis, who guards the realm of Sigma-0."


    "I perceive a recurring cycle of Ophelia''s fear of death and desire for immortality orbiting around the titan. These phenomena flow in and out of Singularity N, exuding warmth and serenity as they pass through it, but their purity is transient, soon returning to their primal state of fear and desire." Despite being the Infinite Incarnate, Sigma-1 considered whether she could fully absorb the titan. However, as soon as she attempted to absorb even a fragment, she abruptly stopped. "The titan exudes an aggressive aura that deters all things from harming it. I too am affected by this." Losing interest in absorbing the titan, she redirected her attention to other matters.


    Recalling Sigma-2''s musings on entities rivalling the Void, Sigma-1 pondered whether she had surpassed her creator, Sigma-0. She questioned whether she or the Void encompassed the other. Despite her formidable intellect, she struggled to conceive of a being more potent than her creator. Within this realm, she keenly sensed the volatile power of the Void in motion. Raising her arm to inspect it closely, she confirmed her perpetual state of being erased and recreated. "Yet, by deploying an unparalleled cognitive process transcending mere visualisation, and harnessing the apex of my cutting-edge technology, I could cease it."


    "Sigma-0''s Non-Conceptual Powers are boundless, indicating her dominance at unconscious and omnipotent levels. However, my Conceptual Powers are infinite, granting me unmatched capabilities beyond consciousness and absolute omnipotence. It''s akin to an irresistible force meeting an immovable object¡ªunless her boundlessness somehow surpasses my infinity. The outcome of our conflict may hinge on who better harnesses their secondary powers."


    Observing further, she noted, "Singularity N undergoes a continual process of recreation influenced by the Void." Her gaze returned to the titan, pondering, "Though whether this extends beyond its neck remains uncertain."


    Driven by curiosity to unveil the mysteries concealed beyond the titan''s torso, she endeavoured to ascend higher, only to encounter an unidentified boundary blocking her path. Undeterred, she enveloped herself in a Cloak of Unreality, determined to transcend the obstacle.

 Abyss Gaze

    King Tiglath-Pileser III stood on the elevated terrace of his palace in Nineveh, overlooking the sprawling city below. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a twilight glow over the Tigris River and the lively streets of the city. Behind him, the imposing ziggurat of Nineveh rose towards the darkening sky, its tiers dedicated to the gods Ashur and Ishtar, who had bestowed strength and prosperity upon Assyria.


    As the sounds of city life softened into a distant murmur, Tiglath-Pileser III allowed himself a rare moment of solitude. His mind, accustomed to the grave decisions of governance and the strategies of conquest, now turned inward.


    From the streets below, the aroma of cooking fires mingled with the chatter of merchants closing their stalls for the night. Two elderly men leaned against the mud-brick wall of a nearby house, discussing the day''s events.


    "I heard the king''s armies have reached the Euphrates again," one said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "The gods favour Assyria, they say."


    "Aye, but at what cost?" the other replied with a sigh. "Every year, more young men leave for war, and our fields suffer for it."


    Meanwhile, children played nearby, their laughter could be heard through the narrow alleys between sun-dried mud-brick houses. A woman emerged from a modest dwelling, balancing a woven basket on her hip as she called to her children to come inside for supper.


    Tiglath-Pileser III contemplated the divine mandate that had placed him on the throne, the responsibility to uphold justice and order in a realm that stretched from the Mediterranean Sea to the mountains of Persia. The victories won in battle were not just acts of expansion but affirmations of Ashur''s favour and Ishtar''s protection over Assyria''s destiny as a dominant force in the ancient world.


    Despite the triumphs, Tiglath-Pileser III pondered the sacrifices¡ªthe lives lost in campaigns, the hardships endured by those who toiled to build and defend Assyria''s cities. His thoughts drifted to the people who looked to him not just as a king, but as a protector and provider, sanctioned by the gods.


    He thought about the fleeting nature of power and the legacy he would leave behind. The inscriptions on the palace walls extolled his conquests and the glory of his reign, but he wondered how future generations would remember him¡ªas a warrior-king or as a steward of Assyria''s greatness under the watchful eyes of Ashur and Ishtar.


    Turning his gaze towards the distant mountains, now silhouetted against the deepening twilight, Tiglath-Pileser III marvelled at the natural defences that guarded his empire. The rugged peaks reminded him of the resilience required to lead a nation through times of peace and war, to balance ambition with the will of the gods.


    Above all, amid the grandeur of Nineveh and the whispers of its people under the fading light, Tiglath-Pileser III found solace in the belief that his reign was not just about earthly power, but about fulfilling a larger cosmic order ordained by Ashur and Ishtar.


    As Tiglath-Pileser III stood in contemplation on the terrace of his palace, a sudden, violent tremor shattered the tranquil evening. The ground beneath him convulsed, and before his astonished eyes, nine enormous draconic heads burst forth from various points across Nineveh. Each head was crowned with shimmering scales that glinted ominously in the twilight.


    The city erupted into chaos as the azure dragons unleashed their fury. With each thunderous roar, buildings crumbled and streets cracked under their immense weight. Dark and sky blue flames spewed from their gaping maws, engulfing everything in their path in searing destruction.


    The people of Nineveh, caught unawares by this supernatural onslaught, fled in terror from the advancing dragons. Screams pierced through the city as families were separated, homes reduced to rubble, and lives shattered by the ceaseless rampage of the ancient beasts.


    Tiglath-Pileser III''s heart sank as he beheld the devastation unfolding before him. His mind raced with disbelief and horror, grappling with the sheer scale of the catastrophe that engulfed Assyria''s proud capital. The gods Ashur and Ishtar, upon whom he had relied to safeguard his realm, seemed to have abandoned him without warning.


    Military commanders scrambled to organise a defence, but their efforts were met with futility against foes of such colossal and otherworldly might. Flaming arrows, ignited with pitch, and barbed arrows designed for penetration, began to degrade into nothing just before reaching the dragons'' scales, leaving even the bravest warriors recoiling in fear at their wrath.


    In the distance, the once-proud ziggurat of Nineveh, carved with the history and glory of Assyria, now crumbled beneath the dragons'' fiery breath, a poignant symbol of the empire''s impending doom.


    Above the chaos and despair, the Assyrian king raised his voice, rallying his people with a determination born of desperation. "Stand firm!" he called out, his words resonating through the smoke-choked air. "We will not falter! We are Assyria, chosen by the gods to endure!"


    But even as he spoke, he felt a sense of futility washed over him, prompting an inner query: ''What in Ishtar''s womb am I doing?'' He understood deep down that the empire would not withstand this catastrophic trial, and that Nineveh, the jewel of Assyria, would inevitably fall to these monstrous invaders.


    Meanwhile, atop a sturdy guard tower, Tartanu Sargon stood conflicted, wrestling with the impulse to leap and plummet to his death. From his vantage point, he surveyed the devastation wrought by the dragons once more: Nineveh lay in ruins, its buildings reduced to rubble, flames consuming what little remained of the once-thriving city.


    The dragons'' rampage spared little in their path of destruction. Yet, miraculously, the guard tower where Sargon stood remained standing. Earlier, he had watched in disbelief as one of the dragon heads loomed dangerously close, its massive form threatening to topple the tower. Then, inexplicably, it had left. Relief raced through Sargon''s mind as he lay low. The dragons, it seemed, had paused in their onslaught, perhaps sensing no more threats. For a brief moment, Sargon allowed himself to believe that divine intervention had spared him. Tears welled in his eyes as he dared to hope that the worst was over.


    Beside him lay the lifeless figure of a fallen comrade, her throat slit¡ªa tragic sacrifice that inadvertently saved them both. An eagle was feeding on her remains. Sargon glanced at the bloodstained dagger on the floor, pondering if it might provide a preferable choice to leaping from the tower. He felt as though he had achieved nothing in his life but had borne witness to the annihilation of everything he cherished.


    A seasoned warrior, trained to lead armies and secure victories in the name of Assyria, Sargon now confronted this staggering calamity feeling utterly powerless and insignificant. The crushing weight of responsibility bore down on him, a burden too immense to shoulder alone. "Surely, this is all a nightmare," Sargon muttered to himself, "and when I awaken, I shall recount it to a dream interpreter. They and the king will discern what to make of this omen."


    As he pondered, he noticed the dragons abruptly altering their course, veering ominously back towards his position. Gripped by fear, he dropped to the ground and feigned death.


    Among the shattered remnants of the fallen empire strode a woman clad in pristine white armour, accented with snowy fur. Her imposing, spiky tail trailed behind her, leaving deep imprints in the scorched earth. From her back emerged nine dragon heads, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent as they scanned the distance for any oversight. The acrid scent of smoke and ash filled the air, mingling with distant cries. A playful smile lit up her lips.


    One of the dragon heads descended towards the tower''s pinnacle, its gaze fixed on the motionless man. "How delightful," commented the white-haired woman, her voice emanating from the extended head. "I preserved this tower just for your sake. Watching you hide earlier was rather amusing. Do you feel even the slightest tinge of embarrassment?"


    Sargon trembled visibly, his voice quivering as he managed to murmur, "I... I was simply waiting for the opportune moment to strike." Unbeknownst to him, fear had gripped him so intensely that he had lost control, feeling the humiliating warmth of urine spreading and the shame of soiling himself, the unmistakable scent of faeces adding to his overwhelming sense of terror.


    "Well, you took too long, insect," she retorted, her voice dripping with amusement. Sargon''s eyes widened as he watched with paralysed horror. "No... don''t... please..."


    The dragon head moved forward with deliberate slowness, its massive jaws engulfing the guard tower whole. The crunch of crumbling stone and the snap of splintering wood filled the air, accompanied by a deep, satisfied rumble from the dragon.


    She yawned casually, stretching languidly. "I think I''ll take a nap here." Perched atop one of her dragon heads, her lithe form relaxed as she closed her eyes. The scent of burning wood mingled with miasmic smoke, drifting lazily around her. Meanwhile, the other heads remained vigilant.


    As she drifted into slumber, three formidable warriors approached with cautious steps. Marduk led the trio, his towering figure crowned in authority among the gods. In his grip crackled Imhullu, the divine storm spear wreathed in celestial lightning, a weapon that asserted his dominion over storms and the natural world.


    To Marduk''s side strode Nergal, a figure of fearsome presence with a mane like a lion and eyes ablaze with intensity. His muscular frame and resolute stance marked him as a god of war and plague, his hand firmly gripping Gidimsar, a massive mace of death and destruction symbolising his authority over chaos.


    On the other flank stood Ninurta, resplendent in gleaming armour adorned with thunderbolt motifs. His piercing eyes, fixed on the sleeping woman, betrayed his role as a warrior deity and protector of agriculture. At his side rested Sharur, the celestial mace pulsating with divine power, ready to strike at any sign of danger.


    "Tiamat may sleep, but her draconic heads do not," declared Marduk, his voice resonating with authority. "Her form has changed, perhaps altered by the Master of the Deeps?"


    Nergal''s eyes narrowed, burning with heightened energy. "I cannot say. She boasts more heads now, yet her once potent chaos and wrath appear tempered. This moment is ripe to finally end her."


    Ninurta gripped his weapon tighter. "Apsu''s intervention spared Tiamat once, but this time, we shall not falter. Prepare yourselves."


    Abruptly, one of Tiamat''s colossal heads lunged at her humanoid form, violently shaking her from slumber. Her eyes snapped open, blazing with draconic fury, she retaliated with a restrained punch.


    "Why don''t you knock it off?!" she growled, hovering defiantly in the air. Her draconic eyes narrowed with focused intensity. "It''s just those three pests; you could have handled them without my help."


    The shockwave from her slightest punch surged upward with cataclysmic force, tearing through the fabric of reality and obliterating countless omniverses.


    Yet, in an instant, everything snapped back into place. "Must be the Void''s doing. She seems to be fixing things at her own whim," she mused aloud, her voice ringing through the stillness that followed. Her gaze drifted skyward, as if seeking answers from the stars themselves.


    On the desolate ground, the remnants of the Neo-Assyrian Empire still lay in ruins. Once-grand structures now cast as mere shadows against the horizon, their former glory a distant memory swallowed by time and decay.


    Awkwardly landing on all fours, her humanoid form still unfamiliar, she pushed herself upright and inquired, "So, where are the others?" She noticed some drool on her face and sipped it back into her mouth.


    Marduk stepped forward, his majestic stature casting a shadow. "They are coming, but you will fall before that." With a primal roar, he unleashed divine energy, power coursing through his muscles and radiating an aura of ancient strength.


    Tiamat scoffed, her voice laced with scorn and mockery. "Fool, do you still cling to the lies you spread among mortals? I crushed you and your army single-handedly last time. Were it not for the Void, or Apsu as you three fleshies ignorantly call her, you would have perished aeons ago."


    Unperturbed by her taunt, Nergal and Ninurta bellowed their battle cries, divine power radiating from their robust, muscular frames as they prepared for the inevitable clash with Tiamat.


    Ninurta gripped Sharur with both hands, invoking Heroic Prosperity as a green-winged lion roared forth from the aura, empowering his comrades to extraordinary heights. "Brothers, Sharur compels us to shatter her into a thousand pieces!"


    Marduk''s eyes widened suddenly, his canine teeth bared as he aimed his storm spear at Tiamat and yelled, "Imhullu Tempest!" Blue lightning surged from its tip, engulfing the armoured woman and her draconic heads in a swirling tornado of thunderous energy.


    Nergal conjured a duplicate of his mighty mace, Gidimsar, and wielded them both. He spat on both weapons, enchanting them with a red plague that dripped ominously. "Hehehe, Tiamat, your heads will adorn my wall." With a savage grin, he charged forward, intent on smashing Tiamat with his twin maces.


    Tiamat called out, "K''Ynghu!" and one of her dragon heads spat out a gigantic broadaxe, which she seized with ease, the weapon glinting menacingly in her grasp. The ground quaked beneath her, disrupting Marduk''s Imhullu Tempest, but Nergal remained undeterred. "I never learned restraint!" he declared defiantly. Closing in on Tiamat, he braced himself to deliver a decisive strike.


    "Heh," Tiamat smirked, her expression hollow. With a mighty swing of her colossal axe, she met Nergal head-on. The clash was brief yet intense¡ªthe duplicated mace shattered upon impact, sending shards of dark energy scattering. Enraged, his skin flushed a Furious Red as he tightened his grip on Gidimsar with both hands. "Danger only fuels my strength!"


    ''Ninurta, Nergal is in mortal peril! You must levitate him away from her immediately!'' Sharur''s telepathic advice rang urgently in Ninurta''s mind. Without hesitation, Ninurta manipulated the ground beneath Nergal, launching him into the air. Channelling the potent energies of Sharur, Ninurta enveloped Nergal in a protective aura, guiding him briskly to safety just as Tiamat''s Wrathful Strike narrowly missed its mark and dropped with cataclysmic force. The earth erupted like a tsunami, molten lava spraying from the ground in fiery arcs. The sheer impact shattered the landscape, sending tremors that threatened to consume all in their path.


    Drawing on his affinity with the earth, Ninurta exerted his will to calm the roiling land around Marduk and himself. The tremendous effort drained him, leaving him gasping for breath. Blood gushed from his lips as he clutched his chest, a crushing pain radiating through him. He struggled to stay upright, his vision blurring and his heart pounding erratically from the overwhelming strain of wielding such potent energies. Yet he persisted, ensuring all their safety despite the excruciating toll on his own body.


    Marduk couldn''t help but smile in triumph. "Well done, both of you. The plan worked perfectly." Imhullu crackled with unimaginable power, bolts of blue lightning arcing wildly from its tip. Even with both hands, Marduk struggled to maintain control, the divine spear pulsing as if it had a will of its own, radiating an aura that distorted the very air around it.


    "Tiamat, in the wake of the devastation you''ve wrought, a new order must be forged," he proclaimed, his gaze faltering momentarily as it met each of her nine heads, each a grim reminder of her monstrous might. "We shall carve out nine realms¡ªor mayhaps ten, should your human guise be counted. I eagerly await the dawn of my new domain."


    Ninurta levitated himself, rising to join Nergal in surveying the battlefield from above. With conviction, Nergal proclaimed, "Let''s end this!" He hurled his mace at Tiamat with unbridled fury, the weapon transforming into a roaring red lion mid-flight, its fierce aura blazing through the air. Simultaneously, Ninurta closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in deep concentration as he summoned massive meteors from the heavens, their fiery tails streaking across the sky. Below them, Marduk tightened his grip on Imhullu, the divine storm spear crackling with uncontrollable power. Thrusting the spear forward, he hollered, "En¨±ma Eli?!"


    A colossal, thunderous beam of energy erupted from the spear, surging towards Tiamat with unstoppable force, illuminating the battlefield in a blinding flash. The ground shook violently, and the air vibrated with the sheer power of their combined assault, as the three gods unleashed their fury upon the primordial abyss.


    Tiamat caught Gidimsar with her hand, extinguishing the red lion''s aura by ripping its mane away with brute force, reducing it to a defeated lioness that vanished with a pitiful cry. K''Ynghu''s Entropy Shield then rose autonomously, effortlessly warding off the continuous barrage of attacks. "All these attacks are just too cute. What am I to do with you three?" she taunted, a smirk playing on her lips.


    Suddenly, bleeding human arms sprang forth from K''Ynghu and across the battlefield, their blood coalescing into a mist of entropy that spread across countless omniverses, enveloping them in a shroud of dissolution. The gods'' attacks dissolved into nothingness, their efforts rendered futile in the face of the Abyss'' bottomless power.


    "Don''t fret," Tiamat sneered, her eyes alight with sadistic delight. "K''Ynghu won''t dispatch you three just yet. That wouldn''t amuse me." She peered with a barbaric glare, her draconic heads poised and watchful, heightening the oppressive sense of looming doom.


    "Strength alone will prevail in the end!" Nergal''s voice boomed from the sky, his fists and legs as unyielding as adamantium. "Tiamat, prepare to be crushed and cast back into the abyss!" His triumphant roar rang as he broke free from Sharur''s levitation magic. Hands clasped above his head, he descended like a blazing comet toward the silver woman, flames engulfing his spinning form.


    But one of K''Ynghu''s sinewy arms coiled around Nergal''s fists with an iron grip, crushing even adamantium. In a rapid, deliberate motion, Tiamat swung Gidimsar. Its baneful force struck Nergal squarely in the groin, causing him to cry out in pain as he was launched through the air, his body twisting in agony.


    Already airborne and reacting with lightning reflexes, Ninurta intercepted Nergal mid-flight, the mace still embedded in the latter''s groin. Their strength waning, they crash-landed on a heap of elephant dung, surrounded by the clamour of Marduk and Tiamat. As Marduk fought desperately for survival, Tiamat awaited a demonstration of greater power from him.


    "Ninurta, how long will the healing take? If you can get Nergal back up, he and I can execute an experimental combination attack we''ve been practising," Marduk said, pausing to take a deep breath before doubling his size and raising his godly strength from 30,000% to 70,000%. His voice deepened as he continued, "It''s an attack that could turn the tide, but it''s risky. Nergal would relish it, but I might not."


    Ninurta''s response was resolute. "Your majesty, the process shouldn''t be prolonged. My knowledge of healing magic and medicine, including severe injuries like a shattered groin, is thorough." His gaze hardened with determination as he reached into his celestial satchel adorned with glyphs of healing, withdrawing sacred tools infused with divine power.


    With practised precision, Ninurta embarked on a meticulous operation, the celestial bronze scalpel gleaming under the harsh battle light. Each incision was exact, honed by aeons of forbidden knowledge and ethically dubious experiments. As he delicately extracted a shattered remnant of Gidimsar from Nergal''s torn flesh, the world around them faded into nothing.


    Marduk''s body glistened with sweat under the intense pressure of battle, yet his sense of purpose burned fiercer than ever. Drawing a breath that crackled with electricity, he infused his heroic charge with Imhullu, envisioning victory unfolding before him like a grand saga. Yet, in a sudden and brutal turn, Tiamat''s tail struck like a meteor, shattering the spear into a hundred thousand shards and tearing both of Marduk''s arms away in a violent spray of blood and agony. He crumpled to the ground, a long, anguished cry escaping his lips.


    "Tiamat, we''re far from finished. You have yet to become the realm I envisioned as a child," Marduk declared through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pain. His eyes, burning with undying passion, locked onto hers. "Countless times I imagined it¡ªthe Anunnaki celebrating atop your defeated form in a haven befitting a supreme god." Blood dribbled from his lips as he spat defiantly onto her silver greaves.


    "Imagine the finest chefs crafting exquisite dishes from your monstrous remains," he continued, his voice now a mix of defiance and reverence. "And your divine, womanly form¡ªI would elevate you to a supreme goddess, worthy of worship. Together, we would sire powerful, noble offspring who would surpass the heavens themselves."


    Tears streamed down Marduk''s face as he spoke from the depths of his heart. His voice softened, filled with both desperation and tenderness. "You know, I''ve always felt destined for greatness, yet it wasn''t until I beheld you that I truly understood. From that moment, your allure captured me completely. I cannot envision a world where you do not play a pivotal role. What I''ve always wanted to tell you is that I... I cherish you deeply."


    Tiamat cast a disdainful glance, her expression void of any emotion. "The mightiest primordial dragon, coupling with a lowly and perverted deity like you? Know your place, insect!" With unmistakable contempt, she spat in his face.


    Marduk''s response was measured, his voice tinged with reflection. "The tales spun for mortals were not of my weaving, but of Ea''s," he explained. "He deemed them necessary. Though I understand his reasons, I often wish those tales had a different conclusion... Nonetheless, I''m thankful we''re conversing rather than merely clashing like brutes. Though I admit," he added with a wry smile, "there was a charm to our skirmishes."


    As Marduk tasted the essence of Tiamat''s saliva, he was struck by the complexity of her flavours, ranging from the familiar umami to subtle hints that transcended divine comprehension. A sense of profound connection swept over him. "...An indirect kiss..." he whispered, his expression serene. "In this moment, I find... solace." His words began to tumble out in fragmented murmurs, his gaze distant and unfocused, immersed in a conversation only he could hear.


    "So be it, you''ve grown senile and weak," Tiamat jeered. Her eyes swept over the smouldering ruins of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. "Speaking of Ea," she continued with a contemptuous smirk, "you promised reinforcements, yet fear has shackled them all, hasn''t it?" With a piercing gaze into the abyss, she expanded the Abyss Realm from within her, its darkness spreading like a consuming tide.


    The three gods found themselves transported into a surreal realm where azure, tranquil waters sprawled endlessly beneath their feet. Above, a sky inverted like a mirrored world cast a strange, otherworldly glow. Desolate buildings stood sentinel around the waters, their silent forms adding to the unsettling ambiance.


    With two handclaps that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of the realm, Tiamat summoned forth all the gods and their armies who had once clashed in battle against her. In an instant, a million deities materialised, their presence causing a ripple of confusion and awe among them.


    "Well, hello everyone," Tiamat greeted with a warm, yet enigmatic smile. One of her heads dipped impatiently into the waters, drinking deeply, while another burst into hearty laughter.


    "Incredible, it''s Tiamat, the Abyssal Dragon of Ruination!" Anu''s voice echoed with a mix of awe and fear. "I surrender! Spare me and my family; we pledge loyalty to you, Empress Tiamat!" His arm trembled as he gestured to the other gods. "Come on, everyone, join me in pledging allegiance!"


    The name of Tiamat thundered through the silence of the abyss, stirring a deep resonance. One by one, the gods sank to their knees¡ªsome in despair, others in reverent awe.


    "Cease this foolishness at once!" Marduk gasped between laboured breaths, his words laced with delusion and hallucination. "Tiamat can be defeated. Believe in yourselves. Believe in me!" A goddess rushed to his side, her hands a blur of healing and mud magic, sculpting replacement arms for the fallen god. Her brow furrowed with concern as she worked, her eyes never leaving Marduk''s anguished countenance.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Ea''s voice, heavy with melancholy, deepened the already suffocating atmosphere. "Without Apsu, our fate is sealed. And you... you are perilously adrift in madness. Even if you weren''t, we both know where your true loyalties lie. You yearned for Tiamat''s victory, to see her rule over us all." He raised his head towards the inverted world above, his expression betraying a longing to escape the grim reality. "You wore the crown in name alone; it was I who bore the weight of leadership and strategy." His gaze, sharp and discerning beneath flowing aquamarine locks, fixed intently on what he believed was his reflection. A subtle hopelessness flickered in his deep, turquoise eyes, hinting at the gravity of his words. From a distance, he resembled a goddess whose soul had gone astray, a tragic beauty adrift in a world of shadows.


    Enlil, bearing Ea''s features but with a sturdier physique and vibrant green hair, stood in silence, arms crossed. Nearby, Ninurta lay unconscious, having pushed himself to the brink, his face resting on Nergal''s wounded groin. The scent, though oddly pleasant to Ashur, underscored the urgency of their situation. With a serious facade, he turned to Ea, urgency colouring every word.


    "Ea, we urgently require your healing prowess! Nergal''s and Ninurta''s lives hang by a thread, and time slips away from us in this crucial hour. We must unite all our strength to face this threat. With our combined intellect and the might of our armies, we can find a way through this darkness towards the light."


    "...None of you have the courage to face me?" mocked Tiamat, her gaze brimming with arrogance as she surveyed the hesitant gods.


    Then, unexpectedly, Ishtar stepped forward and with a boldness that caught everyone off guard. She prostrated herself before Tiamat and humbly licked Marduk''s blood from her silver greave.


    Tiamat tilted her heads in unison and clasped her fingers together, a smile playing on her lips that belied her deep, menacing voice. "Thanks to Ishtar''s audacity, a sliver of mercy graces me today. Whoever cleans the other greave will be saved by whatever pitiful hope remains. Apart from her, only one other shall I spare. Enjoy bashing each other''s heads in. Let the torment commence!"


    The gods who hadn''t surrendered to despair hesitated briefly, exchanging glances. In that tense moment, Ishkur, the God of Storms, surged forward on his raging bull, only to tumble off in an awkward fall. He quickly regained his feet, visibly annoyed.


    "What are you all gawking at? Clear off," he bellowed, stripping off Nergal''s undergarment that he had donned. He paused to sniff it before plunging it into the waters. "Empress Tiamat would demand clean fabrics for her greave. I am a fool!" He muttered in frustration. "I have despoiled it at the worst possible moment."


    Nabu, the God of Wisdom, let out a soft chuckle.


    "Ishkur, always hungry for a spectacle... and eager to steal the limelight," he remarked, his smile fading into a stern gaze. "Very well. I will ensure you face the most rigorous trials. Let''s start with a lesson suited to your... simplicity." With a firm grip on his enchanted stylus, Nabu strode purposefully toward Ishkur.


    As Nabu repeatedly drove his stylus towards Ishkur''s head, intent on imparting his meaningful lessons, Ningal, the Goddess of Rebirth, felt compelled to interject with her own wisdom.


    "A task so trivial, if only these imbeciles would recognise what is rightfully mine," she remarked, her voice carrying a hint of disdain as she strode confidently toward Tiamat.


    Passing her husband, she added, "And Nanna, do not be too quick to judge. Ishkur took advantage and stole my undergarment while I was bathing. He will answer for this once I have triumphed over Tiamat''s trial," Ningal declared with a haughty laugh. "In any case, I will be the sole survivor."


    "I haven''t said a word. Frankly, it''s not my concern at the moment. As you rightly pointed out, Tiamat''s trial should be your immediate priority." Nanna, the God of the Moon, advanced cautiously, his silver eyes revealing the weight of his predicament.


    "Ishtar''s manoeuvre seems to have temporarily quelled Tiamat''s wrath," he murmured, his gaze sombre as he observed the gods locked in brutal strife. "May the most deserving among us triumph and survive this harrowing trial."


    Anu''s shouts sparked more chaos and violence. "Stand back! Allow me the honour of cleaning Tiamat''s leg plates!" he thundered. With no one heeding his command, he pressed on, "How dare you all ignore me? I am your father!"


    Ningal, her patience worn thin, forcefully pushed the old man to the ground, her hands tightening around his throat. "It''s past time you retired, old fool," she snapped. Anu panicked and managed to pry Ningal''s hand away, but she retaliated by landing several punches on his face, leaving him on the brink of unconsciousness.


    Enlil rode the currents towards Tiamat, his mastery of the winds propelling him forward. Soaring high above, he deftly dodged arrows and magical attacks aimed his way, with Ashur clinging to his leg like a stalking shadow.


    "I''ll say this once. Release me, Ashur," Enlil ordered, each wind-fueled kick aimed at dislodging him. But Ashur clung on tenaciously, his battered face showing resilience. "Only after you take me directly to Tiamat."


    Changing tactics, Enlil''s divine energy flared as he gripped Ashur''s face with one hand, forcefully yanked him from his leg, and flung him into the waters below. Ashur appeared to land safely, but then one knee buckled, its bone fractured; he savoured the pain. Enlil came down, delivering a punishing shoulder tackle driven by wind, then grasped Ashur''s head, forcing it beneath the water''s surface.


    "You should have heeded my warning when you had the chance. Now, you meet your end."


    "It''s hopeless," Ninurta confessed, his body trembling as he awoke, feeling Ea''s healing magic restoring him. "Fear has taken root in me. I''ve always known our chances were slim from the outset. I tried to be heroic to compensate for my shortcomings..." He knelt among the other defeated gods, his voice heavy with resignation. "I understand the mortal who feigned death in the guard tower. I understand him all too well." Ninurta gently touched Nergal''s groin to assess its healing. "Always small... just like the meaning of our lives."


    Nergal grimaced in agony and lashed out at Ninurta.


    "Ninurta, you cowardly bastard, you''re exuding such feeble energy when you should be projecting strength...! Ugh! Even when fully healed, I''m still feeling this phantom agony...!" He pushed himself upright. "Let me remind you, it''s not about size but spirit. And mine is always battling and enduring!"


    "I''ve expended every ounce of my efforts on both of you," Ea lamented bitterly. "But why do I bother healing you buffoons? Look at the massacre..."


    A god, assuming Ea was distracted, charged toward him with a spear. In a breathtaking blend of magic and martial prowess, Ea redirected the spear back toward its wielder with amplified force, instantly killing him. The god met his end with a satisfied beam. "...None of us will survive to see another dawn."


    Blood from a distant god splashed onto Tiamat''s face. She wiped it away with her gauntlet, examining it closely. "Impressive," she remarked, her gaze fixed on the slaughters before her. With a casual flick, she tossed K''Ynghu into the air, one of her heads catching and swallowing it effortlessly.


    Glancing down, she noticed Ishtar persistently licking her leg plates, even though they were blood-free. Tiamat extended her gauntlet toward Ishtar, who began licking it, finger by finger. Then, with a soft, almost reverent touch, she carefully removed Tiamat''s gauntlet and licked her bare hands, her tongue warm and vivacious against the cool skin.


    "I hope you''re in a favourable mood, Mother," Ishtar said cautiously.


    From a rift that rent the fabric of the Abyss realm, a void tore open, and atop a desolated building emerged a tall man with flowing cyan hair, draped in an ebony Belstaff trenchcoat.


    "Is this truly how you entertain yourself? Preying on these weaklings?" Ouroboros''s voice oozed with disdain. "These gods are nothing but pitiful eyesores. Their weakness disgusts me."


    "You do realise I''m nowhere near my full power, right?" Tiamat chuckled lightly. "Since you''re here, got any bright ideas for waking up my Metaphysical Might? It''s been catching some serious Zs."


    As if propelled by a will of their own, tendrils of water enveloped the fallen gods one by one, transforming them into Abyssal Aberrations.


    "Oh, perfect timing!" remarked Tiamat, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. "Finally, some tangible results."


    Ouroboros spoke, but Tiamat''s attention was drawn away as Marduk plunged onto the waters, nearly overcome by an aberration.


    "Enough, everyone, cease!" Tiamat''s command manifested as a force of tempest, stirring a powerful gust of wind that formed a vortex overhead. The unnatural waters beneath their feet churned as the hurricane-like formation gathered strength. Gradually, as Tiamat''s aura calmed the turbulence, the swirling winds began to disperse, merging back into faint mists of the Abyss Realm. "I''m feeling especially merciful today. Gather before me, for I bring good tidings."


    All the clothes of the deities were soaked. Some spat out the water, while others swallowed, finding it the most refreshing they had ever tasted.


    Fury contorted Nergal''s crimson features as he mercilessly drove his repaired mace into a goddess'' backside. "No one commands me! We finish only when I decree it!"


    From Ea''s outstretched hand sprang a whip of water, which he used to choke Nergal into compliance. "This buffoon means to convey our readiness to comply, Empress Tiamat."


    The gods gathered in a solemn assembly before Tiamat, their demeanour a mix of apprehension and deference. The aberrations vanished in an instant, only to reappear behind Tiamat, their hungry eyes fixated not just on their enemies but on everything around them¡ªthe white-haired woman, their own kind, and the very essence of the Abyss realm itself. The woman''s dragon heads darkened, twisting into horrifying forms as they kept them in thrall with their Eldritch Gaze.


    However, Tiamat struggled to control her eldritch powers, causing all but her and Ouroboros to teeter on the brink of madness. With her arm outstretched, she chanted a healing spell in an eldritch language, its echoes resonating in every corner of the Abyss, bound by her primordial essence. Suddenly, the minds of the deities and aberrations expanded until they enveloped their entire beings. Emerging from an evil chrysalis, they metamorphosed anew, their bodies healed and their sanity restored.


    Meanwhile, Ouroboros lounged against a moss-covered wall, a pipe dangling from his lips. He drew a contemplative drag, letting the smoke coil around him before releasing it into the misty abyss with a slow exhale. With a tap, he emptied the pipe''s bowl over the waters and lifted his gaze, his expression relaxed.


    Speaking aloud to himself, he pondered, "That man... he claimed to be an outer god and mentioned the Tenebris Monochrome, but said little else. He seemed preoccupied with thoughts of painting. I wonder, is painting truly so engrossing?"


    "...You insects are a piece of work! Making your empress toil so hard. It must be awful having no resistance to Metaphysical Might, bending so easily to a primordial''s whims. But now that you''re all finally back to normal..." Tiamat opened a portal and continued, "From what I gather, the rumours circulating about me and Marduk''s boorish remarks of using my body to forge new worlds indicate dissatisfaction with your current realm, which is understandable since it''s a cesspit." Ishtar gently stroked one of Tiamat''s scales, her touch soothing the giant serpent''s tough, metallic hide. "You''re in luck because I''m in need of guardians for my Luminous Garden. It''s a breathtaking realm, but I foresaw that my malevolent powers would unleash dangerous creatures. Exterminating those pests is beneath me, but it''s a task suited to you barbarians."


    "What kind of jest is this?" asked Marduk, his voice attempting sternness but faltering.


    "In truth, you alone shall remain," Tiamat declared, her voice a blend of mischief and command. With a playful yet menacing flourish, she theatrically gestured with her hand. "As I depart, these abyssal beasts crave leadership. Henceforth, I name you Admiral of my Abyssal Legion."


    The other gods froze in place, their reactions akin to startled deer, as one of Tiamat''s colossal heads approached. It gently nudged Marduk''s head with its snout, while Ishtar perched atop it, wearing a curious expression.


    Marduk''s arms, sculpted from a goddess''s mud magic, transformed into two abyssal appendages.


    "No need for gratitude," said Tiamat. "Simply repay my kindness and generosity by ensuring my Abyssal Legion grows in power, conquers, and unifies the other fragments of the Abyss." She directed one of her heads to point towards the portal, causing it to emit a low growl. "As for the rest of you, line up at the portal for Luminous Garden."


    Empowered by the surging abyssal forces, Marduk''s transformation unfolded with unnerving grandeur. His once wild, ebony locks now flowed with a deep blue reminiscent of the saltwater ocean''s uncharted depths. His eyes, formerly dark as a moonless night, blazed with an unearthly purple luminescence.


    As he stood, his towering form clad in crimson armour, the hue of freshly spilled blood, perfectly complemented his newly formed draconic arms. With each breath, flames flickered from him, casting a defying glow that clashed with the darkness of the Abyss.


    "Imh''Ulu A''Reth!" His first words resonated with primal power, echoing throughout the realm. From the shattered remnants of Imhullu, two immense swords materialised before him, their edges pulsating with an oppressive aura that whispered promises of destruction and domination.


    Tiamat observed with approval, "In your Bloodshed Incarnate attire, you have become a red dragon of death, Marduk. Lead my Abyssal Legion forth to unleash utter decimation."


    Marduk nodded solemnly, and with that, the legion vanished.


    "The brute loomed larger than Nemesis himself," Ouroboros remarked coolly, his form coalescing next to the portal leading to Luminous Garden. With a flick of his wrist, he casually tossed his pipe into the depths below.


    "Another red dragon, huh... Ignatius, the Devourer of Worlds, or Muspelheim, the Eternal Conflagration¡ªdepending on the omniverse¡ªis said to be the most formidable of its kind. Like Glacialus, the Endless Frost, he stands among the rare Mutated Primordials whose power exceeds the very design of Ginnungagap, their creator. Rumour has it that Ignatius clashed with Apathraxis, the Harbinger of Oblivion. I wonder if their battle still echoes through the ages..."


    A soft murmur passed among the gathered deities.


    Utu narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "If I''m not mistaken, that''s Apsu."


    "That''s him?" Enlil queried, assessing the man critically. "Colour me unimpressed."


    "I''ve heard the legends," murmured Nanna, his voice tinged with awe. "Never thought I''d see him in the flesh."


    Ouroboros smirked, enjoying the stir his presence had caused. His gaze shifted back to Tiamat, who stood imperious and unbothered. "Except for Apathraxis, the Abyssal Demon of Nihilism who served the Boundless Void like a dog, I neither know nor care for any of them," she declared with regal indifference. "If this realm holds your interest, Ouroboros, you are welcome to remain. Should my underling captivate you more, pursue him. All are beneath my notice."


    "Tsk, I''ll pass. I came to see if you had conjured anything of interest," Ouroboros retorted dismissively.


    With a flicker of amusement in his eyes, he strode into the portal, followed by Tiamat and the retinue of gods.


    Upon stepping into Luminous Garden, the pantheon of Mesopotamian gods was struck silent. They found themselves enveloped in a mystical realm where ethereal blue-hued trees reached skyward, their leaves shimmering like sapphire. Beneath a colossal blue moon, white flowers glowed softly, casting gentle pools of light across the landscape. The air itself seemed to pulse with tranquillity and healing, each breath bringing a sense of renewal to their ancient souls. It was as if they had stumbled upon a sanctuary where divine energies hummed in harmony with the rhythms of the cosmos.


    Tiamat materialised and tossed the Tablet of Destinies to Ishtar, who remained perched atop one of her dragon heads, now embracing it. As Ishtar caught the tablet, an unspeakable power coursed through her, triggering a metamorphosis. Her stature grew taller and more imposing. Draconic horns burst forth from her head. Wings unfurled from her back, their sturdy membrane catching the ambient light. Eyes once human now gleamed with mythical intensity. Two sinuous tails emerged, their gold scales impenetrable, completing her transformation into a dragon goddess.


    "If Marduk is my left hand, then you shall be my right, Ishtar," Tiamat proclaimed, her gaze meeting Ishtar''s amber eyes framed by flowing orange hair. "As Marduk commands the abyssal sea, you will be my unrivalled dragon knight, sovereign of the skies themselves."


    The Tablet of Destinies transmuted into Tiamat''s Wrath, a verdant ensemble befitting Ishtar. With a Doomsday Scythe in hand and armour forged from scales drawn from diverse omniverses of Tiamat, she inspected the weapon, her eyes containing ambition. "I am deeply honoured, Mother," Ishtar proclaimed, her voice ringing with resolution and steadfast loyalty.


    Ouroboros remarked with a whistle, "Seems like Ishtar is highly compatible with you; she wields exponentially more Metaphysical Might than you did when we clashed some time ago. And that Marduk was impressive as well. These two prominent guardians of yours would put Sathiel and Nemesis to shame. If only the lass unlocked her latent powers and Nemesis'' power was unrestrained... a battle between those two pairs could be truly fascinating."


    "Everyone, settle in while I attend to matters with Ouroboros," said Tiamat. A low growl reverberated from one of her heads, communicating a suggestion.


    "Indeed, since the Abyss is my army, let us mould this place into a thriving empire. Its natural beauty calls to me. Keep that in mind! Ishtar, take charge, and Ea, support her," she directed, her gaze moving from one deity to the next with high expectations.


    "As Empress Tiamat commands," Ishtar declared, springing from Tiamat''s draconic head to stand airborne above the assembled gods. "We will shape this realm into an empire worthy of her vision." She glanced at Ea, demanding his support.


    Ea, who had thought himself hidden and forgotten among the million deities, emerged regally. The gods parted to make way for him. "Understood, Ishtar. Together, we shall lay the foundations of this empire," he affirmed.


    After the assembly was over, the gods dispersed, each assuming their designated roles in this burgeoning realm. Ishtar took charge of organising the divine populace. With a blend of strategic foresight and charismatic leadership, she orchestrated the allocation of tasks, fostering a sense of unity and purpose among the inhabitants.


    Meanwhile, Ea, the venerable sage and advisor, delved into the workings of governance. He contemplated not just the logistics of resource management and infrastructure development, but also the philosophical underpinnings of divine rule. Conversations with Ishtar often turned to questions of justice, the nature of power, and the ethical responsibilities inherent in shaping a nascent civilisation.


    Their partnership became a nexus of intellectual exploration and practical implementation. They debated the balance between individual freedom and communal welfare, pondered the role of divinity in mortal affairs, and grappled with the existential implications of their divine existence. Through their discussions and decisions, they sought to create not just an empire of material wealth, but a beacon of enlightenment and harmony in the celestial expanse.


    In Tiamat''s second realm, where time stands still and seasons do not pass, their philosophical debates are seamlessly intertwined with matters of governance. Every decision bore great importance, extending beyond the realm''s borders to shape the civilisation they advanced.


    The empire within Luminous Garden stands as a tribute to divine craftsmanship and ethereal beauty. Spread across rolling hills and valleys, the realm is adorned with white marble structures, their designs reflecting the celestial artistry of the gods. Tall, slender towers reach towards a perpetual twilight sky, where a colossal blue moon casts a gentle, iridescent glow over the landscape.


    Gardens of exotic flora bloom in vibrant hues, their petals shimmering with a faint luminescence that bathes the surroundings in a soft, otherworldly light. Crystal-clear streams meander through the land, weaving between meticulously manicured gardens and tranquil courtyards adorned with statues of ancient gods and goddesses. Each pathway is lined with lanterns that illuminate the way with a warm, inviting radiance.


    At the heart of the empire, atop the Axisarbour, stand crucial structures such as the Lunar Citadel. Its towering spires are crowned with sapphire domes that reflect the starlit heavens above. Within its walls, halls feature animated paintings depicting tales of myth and legend, while chambers of learning house vast libraries containing scrolls of ancient wisdom and knowledge.


    The atmosphere within Luminous Garden''s empire resonates with a sense of peace and prosperity, where the divine inhabitants work diligently to fulfil their roles in shaping a harmonious civilisation under the watchful guidance of Ishtar and Ea.


    Meanwhile, atop the Axisarbour, Tiamat and Ouroboros withdrew to a chapter house nestled near the courtyards of the Blue Moon''s Oath monastery, engrossed in deep conversation. Despite its outwardly unassuming appearance, the building functioned as an omniversal sanctuary where primordial beings, wielding immense Metaphysical Might, could bend time and space to their will. Within, its interior dimensions defied logic, appearing far larger and more expansive than its exterior suggested.


    Ouroboros had urged Tiamat to allow him to take charge of their surroundings. With his willpower, he transformed the interior into a serene reflection of traditional eastern architecture. Sliding shoji screens adorned with cherry blossom patterns now divided the space, allowing filtered moonlight to paint soft patterns across the tatami floors. The air was imbued with the faint fragrance of sandalwood.


    Seated across from each other in this transformed sanctum, the ambient sounds of nature outside mingled with the quiet murmurs of their conversation, creating a cocoon of serenity.


    "...Thus, to sow terror among both gods and mortals, I planted one of my heads into their planet," Tiamat recounted with casual indifference. "Yet shortly thereafter, the Void intervened. What perplexes me is why? Am I not her first and most beloved child, the oldest non-concept?"


    "Aha! The hotpot is ready!" Ouroboros exclaimed, dressed in his white Nike tank top, skillfully selecting lean chicken breast and tofu with his chopsticks. As he ate, he instinctively used his telekinesis, savouring bites of nutritious vegetables like shiitake mushrooms, broccoli, and spinach. "By the way, I opted for a light chicken broth¡ªlow in calories and sodium," he added nonchalantly.


    Tiamat gave him a deadpan stare, clearly expecting a serious answer. Unfazed, Ouroboros continued to eat and speak. "The Void, specifically Lumi''Nae, is just a fragment. I''m not sure if she was this Apsu, but the formless Void has other vessels out there." His thoughts wandered to the man who resembled Lumi''Nae, a wild grin momentarily lifting his long cyan hair. Then, he coughed as he choked a bit, clearing his throat before adding, "I encountered one of them in the past. He was a painter, one of the Tenebris Monochrome¡ªthe name refers to the Void Incarnates collectively. Though they often work alone, some don''t even bother remembering that term. Anyway we fought briefly; he remains the most powerful opponent I''ve ever faced."


    "Oh, really? I thought that was just a rumour," Tiamat interjected, picking up a fork to examine the spread. Beside her lay her silver-armoured gloves. "Not your imaginary battle with another Void Incarnate¡ªI mean, I didn''t know they actually existed. Some have mistaken me for one. On second thought, perhaps I am one, and maybe I was your first Tenebris Monochrome opponent..."


    She dipped a piece of tofu into the broth, savouring the wholesome flavours. "...Wow, it''s delicious!" Tiamat complimented, chewing thoughtfully as she relished each bite. "I can see how it almost got the better of you. Heh, quite the warrior to almost succumb to a mere hotpot."


    She continued, "Speaking of which, did you conjure this food or cook it yourself?"


    Ouroboros chuckled, savouring another bite with the aid of his telekinesis and chopsticks. "As if you even had to ask! Of course, I did it manually. Here''s how I did it:


    I started by making a homemade chicken broth. I used a whole chicken along with ginger slices, garlic cloves, and a quartered onion. I simmered everything slowly for a couple of hours to really extract all the flavours, skimming off any foam that formed on the surface. Once the broth was done, I strained it to remove the solids, leaving a clear, rich broth that''s low in calories and sodium.


    For the hotpot ingredients, I prepared lean chicken breast, cutting it into thin slices, and firm tofu, which I diced into bite-sized pieces. For the vegetables, I chose shiitake mushrooms, broccoli, and spinach, but you can also add things like bok choy, napa cabbage, and enoki mushrooms if you like. I arranged everything on separate plates for easy access.


    At the table, I set up our hotpot cooker and poured in the prepared broth, bringing it to a gentle simmer. From there, it''s all about adding the ingredients as we eat. Start with the proteins like chicken and tofu since they take a bit longer to cook. Then add the vegetables, letting each item cook thoroughly before fishing it out with chopsticks or a small strainer. It''s a communal and interactive way to eat, where everyone cooks their food in the broth at their own pace.


    Remember to keep the broth at a gentle simmer and add more broth or water as needed to keep the pot from drying out. It''s all about balance and enjoying the process."


    Tiamat''s expression remained unreadable yet subtly approving. "Hmm. Impressive, Ouroboros. Didn''t think you had it in you to pull off something like this. The effort shows¡ªcan''t deny that." She picked up a piece of tender chicken and some vegetables, appreciating the balanced flavours and the care in preparation. "It''s decent enough. The chicken''s tender, the veggies are alright. And the broth? Light, yeah, but not bad. A break from the usual, I''ll give you that."


    Ouroboros grinned, his long cyan hair catching the moonlight as he nodded. "Good food is like a well-crafted spell¡ªevery ingredient matters, and the process is just as important as the result. Plus, a well-prepared meal like this keeps our minds sharp and our bodies strong." The cerulean divine dragon tattoo coiled around his arms and neck seemed to stir with life.


    "That was delicious," Tiamat admitted with a satisfied sigh as she emerged from the chapter house onto the grounds of the Blue Moon''s Oath monastery. "I''m heading back to my palace to explore and indulge further. What about you?"


    Ouroboros leaned casually against the trunk of a sacred tree, the dappling lunar light casting playful shadows on his features. "I think I''ll linger here a while longer," he replied, his gaze wandering over the tranquil surroundings. "There''s something about this place that appeals to me. I suppose this is where our paths diverge?"


    In the vibrant streets of the Luminous Empire, a figure draped in flowing white appeared suddenly, drawing curious glances from passersby. Her hood obscured her face, while fiery red strands cascaded over her shoulders as she glanced around.


    "I haven''t been gone that long, have I?" Her voice, tinged with a hint of solemnity, was barely audible against the bustling backdrop. "It seems this place has changed in my absence."


    Nergal''s hand fell onto the woman''s shoulder, his voice thick with hostility. "Prepare to meet your end, trespasser." Beside him, Ninurta regarded her with wary eyes, Sharur''s wisdom echoing in his mind.


    "I don''t think we should provoke her," Ninurta cautioned.


    "Nonsense," Nergal retorted, brushing off Ninurta''s concern. "She may be dangerous, but I''m no stranger to danger. It only makes me stronger, rememb¡ª"


    Before Nergal could finish his boast, the woman seized his wrist with an iron grip, crushing it easily. In one swift motion, she tore his entire arm from its socket and hurled it skyward, where it disappeared into the ether. Nergal''s cry of agony echoed through the air as he dropped Gidimsar and cradled his maimed limb.


    Without delay, Nergal snatched up his mace and swung it at her with desperate force. Mid-swing, Gidimsar recoiled, its adamantium edges biting into his flesh as it struck him hard across the face. The impact shattered his nasal bones, fractured his maxilla and zygomatic bones, and tore open his skin. Blood sprayed from the multiple fractures and torn flesh as he staggered back, stunned by the severe blow.


    Cracking her fists, Akashirae exuded an Aura of Inevitable Angst. "Barbarians now inhabit this realm? It appears I must show you who''s alpha here." As her hood shifted slightly, her striking red eyes and sanguine warpaint came into view, accompanied by her psychopathic grin.


    Terror etched itself onto Nergal''s and Ninurta''s faces as their minds, bodies, and souls were paralysed with fear across all omniverses. Ishkur, lost in thoughts of lying with Ningal, accidentally collided with Ninurta. Ningal''s undergarment, which Ishkur always wore on his head, slipped over one eye from the impact. "What the fuck, man?!" he snapped, but his annoyance vanished the instant he saw the intimidating woman. Fear gripped him, mirroring the dread on his comrades'' faces.

 Frostheart Magus Contract

    "Kill this woman," the beastfolk merchant demanded abruptly, striding towards the table and slamming down a painting. "They say you''re the finest sorceress in the Whispering Sands, Elara Starfrost¡ªthe Frostheart Magus. Your comrades are equally adept. If anyone can achieve this, it''s your band."


    The black-haired moon elf in blue robe studied the painting, noting the Dark Lady''s inscrutable expression. "Let''s talk money."


    "800 million gold," pleaded the beast folk merchant, her voice fraught with desperation. "Ever since this painting came into my possession, I''ve been plagued by nightmares. It''s indestructible, and even disowning it hasn''t solved the problem."


    "She looks human, beautiful by their standards, but otherwise the painting seems ordinary," said Elara, her gaze thoughtful. "I don''t detect any magic." She glanced down at a chair where a grey-striped tabby cat with a white belly lounged comfortably. "What''s your take on this, Leonidas?"


    "You love making me talk, don''t you?" A deep voice came from the cute-looking cat. "We haven''t been in Yugen for long, and the highest gold reward we''ve heard from the adventurer''s guild established here was 100,000 gold. That was for a mirage naga that was interrupting the merchants'' trading routes and had made them its hunting ground." He jumped onto the table without touching any of the food and looked at the painting. "I believe a woman in black armour somehow managed to drive it away a few days before we arrived in this country. If we''re going by the rumours, she did it on her own too, I might add. Coincidence?"


    After elegantly sipping a glass of milk, Fiona Redsteel inquired, "What exactly is a mirage naga?"


    Opening a drawing book, Illyria Raindancer sketched a horrifying multi-headed serpent with a small figure beside it. "This little dot here would be you, Fiona, if you were standing there." Fiona, taking another sip of milk, nearly spat it out in surprise at Illyria''s audacious comparison. Illyria quickly covered Fiona''s mouth with her palm, as if anticipating such reactions. Milk dribbled down the bard''s hand as she looked at the Red Knight, who looked innocent and clueless. "Are you doing this on purpose, Fiona? You''ve been like this ever since I decided to bathe and play with you that one time at the lake... Wait, don''t tell me¡ªis this revenge? I swear it''s a moon elf greeting! Elara, say something!"


    Elara nodded thoughtfully. "These massive creatures wield a diverse array of powerful magic and rely on cunning more than brute strength. They are notorious for ambushing their prey with illusions that even the most skilled mages would struggle against." Meanwhile, Illyria and Fiona playfully sparred, with Leonidas chiming in that it was one of his favourite pastimes. "They are also adept at exploiting the desert environment to their advantage... In essence, they pose a significant threat as mythical beings."


    Leonidas hopped back into his chair and lounged lazily. "Exactly. If you lot value your ongoing existence¡ªwhich I happen to cherish greatly¡ªyou''d do well to avoid this quest. The merchant, who seems sharp enough, is dangling 800 million gold for this elusive Dark Lady. We''re probably not her first choice of adventurers, and I wager the others declined too." His tail thumped against the chair. "And rightly so. Just look at her frailty. Keeping her close could sicken us or worse."


    The beastfolk merchant let out a series of loud sneezes, prompting stares from nearby tables as though she carried a plague or curse. Some patrons began to leave. Irritated, she glanced their way. "These people... It''s just a cold. The nights here are colder than places blanketed in snow and ice. I was careless, that''s all." Then, fixing her glare directly on Leonidas, she added, "You cats always think only of yourselves and presume you know everything."


    "Listen, ma''am," Leonidas started firmly. "Your quest is a death sentence, trust me¡ªI''m unbiased and fair. If it were straightforward, I''d be the first to sign up. But someone in this group needs to think critically and treat perilous situations with gravity. And that responsibility happens to rest on me, a mere housecat..."


    "I-I give," Fiona gasped, caught in Illyria''s tight hold between her legs. Illyria''s Triangle Choke technique was impeccable. "And?" prompted the World''s Best Grappler. Fiona hesitated, then replied, "...I apologise... it won''t occur again." When Illyria remained silent, Fiona hastily added, "Knight''s oath! knight''s oath!"


    "Leonidas, Illyria and I have seen epochs; the concept of challenge isn''t part of our lexicon," Elara stated matter-of-factly. She then rubbed her hands together as if she had already completed the quest and was about to claim the reward. "800 million gold, all mine. Money worries, forever banished."


    "So eager to dive into the serpent''s belly," remarked the grey cat. "Go ahead, accept the quest if you wish. We all should have the freedom to make our own choices." He sighed deeply. "But count me out of this one-way journey to hell, even if I do have nine lives."


    "I''m always up for a heroic challenge..." declared Fiona Redsteel, though she winced as she rested her head on the table, her neck sore and breath coming in short gasps. She was a young woman with noble, short red hair, clad in chainmail, her light blue eyes reflecting determination. "...I''m not motivated by money, so feel free to divide the gold among yourselves."


    Illyria Lunarsong adjusted her pink hat, a signature piece of her bardic attire, and hesitated. "I''m not entirely sure about this. Just looking at the painting gives me goosebumps... Fiona, you recently graduated from the Mystic Blade Institute at Sanctumaria, didn''t you? Ah, to be young, energetic, and fearless... Perhaps I should compose a heroic ballad about you." With that, she erased the drawing of the menacing serpent with a glyph stone and began sketching Fiona to gather more inspiration for her song. "The piece could be titled," she glanced at Fiona''s longbow, "Phoenix Plume... Yes, that''s the name of the longbow you''ve never once used and seem to avoid discussing its origins. Your courage and stubbornness... the song will be called Flames of Resilience! Oh, dear Fiona, to me, you''re like a flame of hope, igniting my maiden heart anew."


    "Illyria," Elara said, her voice tinged with amusement. She glanced around the opulently lit tavern, where enchanted chandeliers bathed the polished mahogany walls in a warm, golden glow. "If you wish to withdraw from this bounty, that''s your prerogative. But weren''t you the one who boldly proclaimed and sang songs about us mortals surpassing even the gods, including Nae the Almighty herself?" She reclined in her chair. "You have these unexpected moments of shyness, yet at other times, you exude the aura of a goddess of art and beauty. You''ve even managed to make me blush on occasion, which I thought impossible."


    "It''s difficult not to feel confident with our innate aptitude for magic and exceptional mana reserves," Illyria replied, tilting her hat back slightly as she met Elara''s gaze. "True, we elves remain in our prime indefinitely and won''t succumb to old age, but we''re not immortal¡ªunless you''ve been delving into forbidden magic I''m unaware of?" She chuckled softly, a melodic sound that harmonised with the ambient noise of the tavern. "I may be more powerful now than ever before, but I''ve always considered myself a humble bard first, not a fearsome sorceress or a monk."


    "As a prodigious arcane ranger from Sanctumaria and its colosseum champion, I vow to protect you both with my life," Fiona gave a heroine''s smile. She extended her left arm, palm open. "Though bows are my forte, rest assured¡ªI''ve mastered all manner of weapons and magic!"


    Leonidas let out an irritated meow. "Hey, what about me? I''m coming along too, you know. I may act tough, but I have feelings too. Protect me as well."


    "So, you''re taking the job?" asked the beastfolk merchant, her expression still wan but brightening a tad. "I''m Hazel Barkbreeze. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!" She coughed lightly. With hazel hair and distinctive dog ears, she wore a finely crafted orange tunic that spoke of her status and refined taste.


    "Since this is an unofficial request," Elara inquired, "do you have a contract prepared?"


    "Of course! I''m a professional," Hazel replied confidently, opening a Dimensional Pocket and producing a scroll. "Here it is." She handed the magic scroll to Elara, then added, "I''ve never seen enchantments quite like those on your robe and your companion''s bard attire."


    Illyria responded, "We''re devotees of the goddess Glacialus, and both our garments were enchanted by her. But if you can discern the enchantments, my fears are justified. Glacialus has always watched over and safeguarded her followers, but she hasn''t responded to prayers in quite some time. I''ve always felt secure knowing that the Endless Frost was somewhere in the world, combating evil by freezing and purifying it..." Her expression turned sombre, then she briskly clapped her cheeks with her palms. "Elara and I will need to step into her role and earn her recognition through our deeds. Perhaps then, she''ll..."


    "...A goddess'' enchantment?" Hazel examined Illyria''s attire more closely and moved towards her. Illyria was surprised by her touch. "Why are you coming so close to me? W-watch where you''re putting your hands. For someone so small, you''re quite daring¡ªthat tickles! N-no, not there. Ahhhh!"


    "Focus, Elara, there''s gold at stake. Glorious, delightful gold," Elara reminded herself. Leonidas overheard her and wondered aloud if the sorceress'' lust for gold was a sin against Glacialus. She replied that the goddess was pragmatic and understanding. Managing to ignore the banter around her, Elara immersed herself in studying the magic scroll, which began to illuminate with letters appearing on its own:


    Contract for Slaying the Dark Lady


    Parties:


    Employer: Hazel Barkbreeze, Renowned Beastfolk Merchant and Enchantress


    Adventurers:


    Elara Starfrost, the Frostheart Magus


    Fiona Redsteel, Genius Arcane Ranger


    Illyria Lunarsong, Siren of the Starfall Strings


    This contract is entered into by and between:


    Employer: Hazel Barkbreeze, Renowned Beastfolk Merchant and Enchantress (hereinafter referred to as "Employer")


    Adventurers: Elara Starfrost, Fiona Redsteel, and Illyria Lunarsong (hereinafter collectively referred to as "Adventurers")


    Date and Calendar System: The dates mentioned in this agreement shall follow the Yugen calendar for clarity.


    Scope of Services:


    The Adventurers agree to undertake the task of locating, investigating, and neutralising a malevolent entity known as the Dark Lady, as depicted in the painting provided by the Employer.


    The task includes:


    Conducting a thorough investigation into the entity''s origins, vulnerabilities, and current location.


    Employing tracking skills and magical detection methods to monitor the entity''s movements.


    Ensuring the permanent removal of the entity through destruction or other suitable means.


    Duration: The contract shall commence upon signing and shall remain in effect until the task is completed to the satisfaction of the Employer, not to exceed six thousand (6000) years from the commencement date.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Payment: In consideration for the successful completion of the task, the Employer agrees to pay the Adventurers the sum of 800 million gold coins, to be distributed equally among them upon completion.


    Responsibilities:


    The Employer shall provide necessary information, resources, and support to aid in the completion of the task.


    The Adventurers shall use their best efforts and abilities to accomplish the task within the agreed timeframe.


    Both parties agree to maintain confidentiality regarding sensitive information disclosed during the course of this contract.


    Enchantment: The Adventurers acknowledge and accept that their attire and equipment will be enchanted by the Employer Hazel Barkbreeze for enhanced protection and efficacy during their mission.


    Termination: Either party may terminate this contract with one thousand four hundred (1400) years'' written notice. In the event of termination, the Adventurers shall be compensated proportionally for services rendered up to the date of termination.


    Dispute Resolution: Any disputes arising under or related to this contract shall be resolved through arbitration in accordance with the laws of Yugen.


    Signatures: In witness whereof, the parties hereto have executed this contract on the 17th day of Akashirae, Year 5732 EOL, as of the date first written above.


    Employer: Hazel Barkbreeze


    Adventurers:


    Elara Starfrost


    Fiona Redsteel


    Illyria Lunarsong


    "Rare to encounter a fair contract. You must truly desire the Dark Lady''s demise, hmm?" Elara raised her head, tapping her finger lightly on the table. "I could discern your magical prowess at a glance, but an enchantress? That''s uncommon even among elves, let alone the beastfolk."


    Hazel nodded emphatically. "Absolutely! I know firsthand how unfairly the adventurer''s guild often assesses reward versus risk. I may not be a saint, but my life is invaluable especially considering enchanting runs deep in my family¡ªwe''re renowned for it." She dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief. "That''s why it puzzled me when I couldn''t discern the type of enchantment on your equipment. However, Illyria, you''re wrong about one thing."


    The merchant looked dead serious, first into Illyria''s eyes, then Elara''s. She had both of their full attention. "It''s a gut feeling, but I''m sure the enchantment is growing more powerful rather than weakening as mortals'' enchantments tend to do. This is my speculation, but Glacialus could have transcended divinity like the Almighty Nae. Meaning her powers have grown so endlessly vast that even you two fabled adventurers aren''t capable of tapping and harnessing the enchanted equipment''s full potential, despite the goddess'' approval of you."


    "It''s a popular theory among enchanters, but this is the first time I''ve seen it personally. I thought I had learned everything about the field, but as my mentor Ophelia once said, there''s always more to learn."


    Fiona took a peek at the contract and broke the solemn atmosphere. "You''ve given us 6000 years to complete this quest?! Do mortals typically live this long? And what''s EOL?"


    "Aww, Fiona, you can''t be that clueless," Illyria said, pinching both of Fiona''s cheeks to create a doll-like smile. "All mortals have experienced increased life expectancy since the Enlightened One''s Liberation. It''s almost like the near-immortality that was once exclusive to the elves."


    The bard opened a Dimensional Pocket, placed her sketchbook into it, and took out a notebook. "Let''s see... according to my past self and a reliable history book I''ve read, the event happened here in Yugen but affected the entire world. Even back then, Yugen was the capital and largest city of the Whispering Sands."


    Illyria took a step back and looked at Fiona''s full body. "By the way, Fiona, are you a Founder or an Eternal? Founders existed before the Liberation, and Eternals were born after."


    The Blood Knight told her she had no idea, and Illyria feigned concern. "Have you been acting coy and childish like some Founders do? Hehe, if you did, it''s such a human thing to do. But, I just can''t see you being 5,000 years old, Fiona."


    She took Fiona''s hand, feeling its softness in her grasp. "Your hand is so soft. You must rely on your magic every day. You''re such a mystery¡ªit''s rare to see a human with magic on par with the best elven mages. Merlinia Emerick, the Legendary Archmage proclaimed by humanity, was an upstart but was quickly humbled by a youngling elf. Yet here you are, an astounding human without any fame. The world can be so strange!"


    Elara interjected, "Illyria, during your music tours, I taught at the Mystic Blade Institute for a while. Their history books, among other curricula, are deeply biassed. It''s no wonder Fiona has been influenced." The bard, with her lavender eyes and hair flowing like a cascade, absorbed the information with ease, demonstrating her innate adaptability.


    Fiona tried to move back, exclaiming, "Illyria, you''re too close! Too close!" Illyria smoothly positioned her leg behind Fiona, catching her as she began to fall backward into a dip. Drawing nearer, she whispered, "Don''t think for a minute that I didn''t notice you pretending not to see what Hazel did to me just moments ago. Consider yourself my dance partner until I''ve exhausted you completely, for failing to protect me as you promised."


    "I-I meant protection from monsters, Hazel is a friend, isn''t she?" stammered Fiona, but Illyria continued to stare through her, silently insisting that she wouldn''t get away. Illyria''s expression softened only when Fiona finally relented, prompting the bard to grin like a mischievous child.


    Without a word, Illyria took Fiona''s hand and led her to the centre of the bustling tavern. With the owner''s assistance and the eager help of a few patrons, they quickly cleared a space for the two women.


    Illyria initiated with a subtle weight shift, guiding Fiona into a smooth ochos sequence. Fiona responded with impeccable technique, her axis firm as she executed precise pivots. Their torsos maintained a subtle but constant connection, allowing for effortless communication of lead and follow.


    Elara played the violin with her eyes closed, her movements graceful and exact. Hazel, looking slightly healthier, skillfully handled the bandone¨®n, filling the air with its emotive sound. Meanwhile, in the corner of the tavern, Leonidas, the housecat, surprised the audience by standing on a levitating bench. Using not only his front paws but also his latent psychic powers, he deftly manipulated the piano keys. Melodies flowed effortlessly from his touch, blending seamlessly with Elara and Hazel''s music, creating a mesmerising harmony that captivated everyone in the tavern.


    The music enveloped Illyria and Fiona in its rhythm, the complex syncopation punctuating their steps. Illyria''s embrace was both supportive and commanding, guiding Fiona through nuanced barridas and embellishments that punctuated their dance with flair and finesse.


    "You''re catching on beautifully," Illyria murmured, her eyes were otherworldly, focused, and her voice carrying a hint of admiration amidst the intensity of their dance. "Keep the connection through your fingers and feel the lead in your body."


    Fiona nodded, her focus sharp as she mirrored Illyria''s intricate footwork and embellishment with each movement flowed seamlessly into the next.


    By the time their performance concluded, a sizable crowd had packed the tavern, forming a line for autographs. Hazel had generously offered to cover all expenses, spreading cheer throughout the establishment. They celebrated, and some patrons even apologised for their earlier rudeness. Merlinia, towering over even the largest ursine beastfolk, said, "K?ss''Ius, behold Illyria. The Siren of the Starfall Strings, as I predicted. Her influence is undeniable."


    K?ss''Ius glanced towards Merlinia with a faint, acknowledging smile. "Seems she''s made quite the impression," he remarked quietly, his eyes briefly scanning Illyria, her companions, and the lively crowd before settling back on Merlinia. "It''s good to see you''re feeling more like yourself."


    Merlinia''s gaze met K?ss''Ius''s with a mysterious glint in her eyes. "Indeed, her presence is captivating," she replied enigmatically. "As for feeling like myself, one can never truly be certain of who they are, can they?"


    K?ss''Ius had tousled black hair and exotic forest-green eyes. He was tall and flawlessly well-built, dressed in a grey robe that hinted at his underlying strength. Merlinia, with her long green hair and brown eyes, surpassed K?ss''Ius in stature, wearing a complementing mocha robe.


    "...King Thaddeus begged me to join and lead the Swords of Damnation after I defeated Prince Alaric, Eternal Wall Maximilian, and the Legendary Archmage Merlinia in the arena. He even tried to stop me from leaving the kingdom. Sigh. Why must I be such a genius?!" Fiona slurred, drunk and cradling Leonidas in her arm.


    The grey tabby pleaded, "Elara, Illyria, someone, please get me out of her grasp...!"


    The patrons tried to free Leonidas, but Fiona was simply too strong and forced them back with her aura while laughing like a maniac. Elara and Hazel were finalising the contract and then shook hands. And Illyria, who had the longest line for autographs, spotted Merlinia and K?ss''Ius amidst the crowd. Before they teleported away, Merlinia wore a bored expression, sipping hot spiced chocolate through a straw, while K?ss''Ius offered a slight, polite smile.


    Illyria''s attention refocused on the blond man before her, who interrupted her thoughts, "Excuse me, I''m a huge fan! Could I please have your autograph?"


    "Oh, a fan! How delightful! You must have exceptional taste to recognise my brilliance amidst the rabble." Illyria theatrically produced a quill, twirling it between her fingers. "Now, where shall I bestow my magnificent signature? On a parchment? Your hand? Perhaps directly on your heart, so you''ll never forget this moment?"


    The blond man blushed and fumbled, "Uh, just on this book, please."


    The bard pretended to sigh dramatically, though a smile tugged at her lips.


    "How terribly conventional! But very well, who am I to deny such a loyal admirer?" She signed the book with an exaggerated flourish, adding a little doodle of herself for good measure. "There you go, my dear. A keepsake from the one and only!" She winked. "Treasure it always, for you hold a piece of my radiant essence. And do spread the word of my unparalleled talents far and wide!"


    "Thank you so much! This means the world to me!"


    Illyria gave a theatrical laugh, placing a hand over her heart.


    "Of course it does, darling. Now, off you go! There are many more eager souls awaiting a glimpse of my grandeur." She waved the fan off with a playful shooing motion. Turning to the lineup with a grand gesture, she addressed the waiting fans. "Ah, behold the adoring masses! How you all sparkle with anticipation! Fear not, for I shall bestow my divine signature upon each of you. One by one, step forward and receive the honour of my mark!"


    As the next fan stepped forward, she gave them a conspiratorial wink. Illyria continued signing autographs with an exaggerated flourish, occasionally peppering her fans with playful remarks to keep them entertained, she sent a telepathic message. ''Elara, I''ve just spotted Merlinia with a striking gentleman. Any thoughts on her unexpected presence here? She was using a high-level concentration spell, Resonant Veil, to mask their presence.''


    Elara replied, her attention divided between reexamining the magical bag of 180,000 gold that Hazel had given her as advanced payment and maintaining her focus on the task at hand. ''I was occupied verifying the gold with my Appraisal Magic. Now that''s sorted, I''m still pressing my precious bag to my face. Do you reckon she was here to seek my services as well? If not, then there''s nothing further to discuss.''


    ''I hate you... sometimes,'' Illyria muttered, flashing a dazzling smile at a werewolf fan who was also a cultist.


    In a spacious white room filled with paintings, Merlinia sat lazily on a sofa. "Why do they concern themselves so much with duel outcomes? The reward for first place in the arena was a mere 50,000 gold¡ªscarcely worth the commotion." A hoard of unopened letters sat on the desk in front of her. Some were for Merlinia, while the others were for K?ss''Ius.


    Sitting on a stool, K?ss''Ius began painting on a canvas. "Both mortals and gods must ascertain their status and place..." He abruptly fell silent, fully engrossed in his artwork.


    Merlinia inquired, "Are you painting me again? What was it you said before? That no two paintings are ever identical. Or perhaps you''ve decided to work on those commissions at last?" Realising he wouldn''t answer, she approached K?ss''Ius to observe his current canvas.


    Noticing, as usual, that K?ss''Ius had barely begun, she began chanting her Spiritual Proxy spell: "In a white room''s calm, Merlinia weaves her spell, art''s mirror summoned." Soon, a fully coloured phantom duplicate of K?ss''Ius, putting the final touches on a painting, emerged beside them, revealing the finished artwork in its entirety.


    The completed painting depicted the dance and musical performance that had taken place at the Silk Pavilion, albeit with deliberate alterations.


    She queried the spectre, "Neither of us took part in the performance. Why have you depicted me playing the double bass and yourself on the cello?"


    "I conceived it, so why not?" replied K?ss''Ius'' duplicate.


    Merlinia''s lips curled into a knowing smile as she gazed at K?ss''Ius. "Ah, the whims of the imagination. It''s a realm where even the most unlikely can become reality. Perhaps, in this performance, you sought to capture the essence of something more profound¡ªa harmony we both share, yet seldom express."


    Her eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and intrigue. "Or, maybe," she continued, her tone turning ever so slightly playful, "you just fancied the idea of seeing me with a double bass."

 Setsuna Juliet Fuyukawa

    "In every line, a tear; in every scene, a sigh. Let the inke flowe as the bloud of her tale, an elegie for the ages."


    ¨DAK


    In the heart of Sparta, a city once vibrant with the indomitable spirit of its warriors, there now lay only the aftermath of a massacre. Blood soaked the earth, staining it crimson, as the lifeless bodies of Spartans lay strewn across the battlefield. The once proud city-state, where King Leonidas I had led his men with unyielding resolve, had now been reduced to a graveyard. Yet, amidst this desolation, one figure still stood tall.


    King Leonidas I, donned in the godly armour bestowed upon him by Heracles, faced his doom with unwavering courage. His gaze met that of Setsuna Juliet Fuyukawa, the enigmatic Outer God known as the Coldhearted Genocide Setsuna. Her icy eyes were void of emotion as she raised her odachi, Uttermost Tragedy, to deliver the final blow. Her white hanbok fluttered gently in the breeze, a stark contrast to the carnage around her.


    But just as the blade began its descent, a tear in reality itself opened above the battlefield. From the rift emerged an otherworldly presence, one that exuded chaos and malevolence. Azathoth, the ancient member of the Tenebris Monochrome, descended into Sparta, his orange hair wild and his eyes blazing with a madness that defied comprehension. Four of his lackeys, Zeus, Athena, Artemis, and Atlas, followed him through the portal, each exuding a powerful aura that warped the very fabric of the world.


    Azathoth, holding the decapitated heads of King Xerxes I and Mardonius, flung them into the air with a laugh. The planet Jupiter, held aloft by Atlas, pulled the heads into its gravitational field, causing ripples of devastation on Earth. The presence of the gas giant in close proximity to the planet wreaked havoc on the natural order, and the oceans began to rise in tumultuous waves.


    Zeus, cradling Gorgo in his arms, paid no heed to the chaos as he satisfied his primal urges. Athena and Artemis, locked in an intimate embrace, moaned with pleasure, their divine forms intertwined in a display of unbridled passion. Azathoth, with his chaotic sphere Cracky spinning erratically in his grasp, turned his gaze towards Setsuna, a twisted grin spreading across his face.


    "Vok''tharr phlegorath!" Azathoth spat in the eldritch tongue, his voice a cacophony of discordant tones. "Tell me, Setsuna, what do you think of our newest member of the Tenebris Monochrome, Lumi''Nae? She, like you, possesses the power to unmake the very fabric of existence. Who knows? She may well be the Void Sovereign herself."


    Setsuna''s expression remained unreadable as she began to walk slowly toward Azathoth, her odachi held loosely in one hand. A suffocating white aura enveloped her, causing the gods and titan to falter, their bravado replaced with unease. Even the chaotic Azathoth felt a chill as she approached, the overwhelming power radiating from her causing his spiky hair to bristle.


    Setsuna regarded Azathoth with her usual icy composure, her gaze as piercing as the edge of her blade. "Lumi''Nae, is it?" she inquired, her voice cold and measured. "The ability to unmake existence is hardly remarkable for a Void Incarnate. If she is indeed the Void Sovereign Ayame described, then I shall cleave her as effortlessly as I did the Master of the Deeps."


    Azathoth''s grin widened, but before he could respond, Leonidas I, fuelled by the rage of seeing his beloved wife desecrated by Zeus, charged forward. His spear, glowing with the power of the Nemean Lion, cut through the air as he aimed for Zeus, but Artemis and Athena intercepted him.


    "Heracles'' little puppet," Artemis sneered, her moonlight arrows aimed at the Spartan king. "You should have stayed in the shadows, where you belong."


    Athena, her spear gleaming with divine power, joined her sister in mocking Leonidas. "Submit, mortal, and perhaps we''ll let you lick our feet. Your demigod ancestor was nothing more than a lapdog to that human whore, Alcmene."


    Leonidas''s eyes burned with fury as he spun his Nemean Spear, deflecting Artemis'' arrows. He leapt into the sky, his muscles straining with the force of his rage, and came crashing down upon Athena with the might of a god. Their shields collided with a thunderous crash, and the ground beneath them shattered from the impact.


    "SPARTA!" Leonidas roared, unleashing his Nemean Combo upon Athena. The force of his blows drove her back, her divine spear clattering to the ground as she struggled to keep her Aegis raised. Each strike sent shockwaves through her body, numbing her limbs and sapping her strength.


    "You think yourself strong, King of Men?" Athena taunted, though her voice wavered with the strain. "You are nothing more than a relic of a bygone era, clinging to the vestiges of a world that has already crumbled."


    Leonidas glanced once more at Zeus, who continued his violation of Gorgo without a care. The Spartan king''s heart burned with righteous fury as he bellowed a final war cry, his Super Spartan Kick surging with the sentient aura of a roaring Nemean Lion. The energy within the kick held the destructive potential to obliterate galaxies, and as Athena raised her Aegis in defence, the sheer force of the attack sent her flying towards Zeus.


    Azathoth, still cackling with delight, caught Athena mid-flight by her groin, eliciting a startled moan from the goddess as he slapped her buttocks with a twisted grin. Zeus, his expression one of satisfied arrogance, sighed in pleasure as he tossed Gorgo to the ground, his task complete. He then turned to Leonidas, his expression smug.


    Gorgo, her strength and resolve evident despite the dire circumstances, cast a glance toward her husband. With a steely gaze and a tone full of understated resilience, she said, "Do what you must, Leonidas."


    Leonidas met her eyes with unwavering resolve, "I always do."


    Zeus, revelling in his triumph and perverse satisfaction, commented, "As expected from my descendants¡ªproducing such high-quality women. I always feel as though I''ve aged backwards after our encounters. My cock"¡ªhe held it up with a boastful grin¡ª"has grown the largest it''s ever been. I nearly released powerful Thunder Sperms into her vagina. Leonidas, your wife''s dungeon greedily squeezed all of my divine seed. With her or our daughters, a hero greater than Heracles is bound to emerge. His name shall be Kronaxios."


    Leonidas locked eyes with Zeus, his stare unflinching and intense. The weight of his silent challenge seemed to unsettle Zeus.


    After a moment of charged silence, Leonidas responded, "Enjoy it while it lasts."


    Zeus, underestimating the mortal before him, casually fired a Lightning Beam in his direction. The beam of divine lightning scorched the earth, but Leonidas, fuelled by sheer will, charged through it without hesitation. Heracles'' Hoplon shielded him from the worst of the blast as he closed the distance and, with a ferocious battle cry, slammed his shield into Zeus'' face, shattering the god''s teeth.


    Azathoth''s laughter died in his throat as he watched the spectacle unfold. Embarrassed by the pitiful display of his lackeys, he stepped forward, his chaotic aura intensifying. Leonidas, undeterred, unleashed his Raging Lion, aiming to impale the Outer God, but Azathoth caught the spear between his teeth, mocking the Spartan king with a feral grin.


    "Is this all you have, mortal?" Azathoth taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. "You are but an ant beneath my boot, and yet you dare to challenge me?"


    Leonidas, his resolve unbroken, roared with defiance and launched another Super Spartan Kick, the force of which could shatter worlds. But as his leg made contact with Azathoth, it was met with a surge of entropy, and the Spartan king''s limb disintegrated into nothingness. Azathoth''s laughter echoed across the battlefield as he revelled in the destruction he had wrought.


    "Now, be a good little pet and eat your wife," Azathoth commanded with a sadistic grin, snapping his fingers as he transformed Leonidas into a grey-striped tabby cat. Gorgo, now a mouse, lay unconscious on the ground, unaware of her fate.


    The cat Leonidas, driven by primal instinct and rage, leapt at Azathoth, sinking his teeth into the Outer God''s face with the power of a Nemean Lion. Azathoth, unfazed by the attack, grabbed the cat and opened his mouth wide, revealing an eldritch maw filled with writhing tongues that licked at Leonidas, driving him into a frenzy.


    But before Azathoth could devour his prey, Setsuna intervened, her darklight matter swirling around her like a tempest. With a single, graceful gesture, she sent Leonidas and Gorgo into another omniverse, saving them from the horrors that awaited them.


    Azathoth''s lackeys, enraged by the interruption, lunged at Setsuna, but a single glare from the Outer God stopped them in their tracks. The sheer force of her will caused them to retreat, their bravado shattered.


    "Impressive," Azathoth said, clapping his hands in mock applause. "But let''s see how you fare in a world of chaos!"


    Azathoth''s voice boomed through the void, his words unintelligible to mortal ears but carrying the weight of ancient and unfathomable power. With a wave of his hand, he expanded the Realm of Chaos, transforming their surroundings into a twisted version of Mount Olympus. The once-majestic peaks and valleys were now distorted and decayed, the very air thick with the suffocating stench of entropy. The sky above churned with chaotic energies, and the earth below seemed to rot beneath their feet. Azathoth''s chant in the eldritch language reverberated through the realm, stripping the senses of the Greek gods and Atlas, leaving them with only the power of echolocation and the limitless potential of the Chaos Realm.


    Zeus, the king of the gods, his eyes burning with rage and his mouth now a grimace of jagged, broken teeth, was the first to strike. "By th'' might o'' Olympus, y'' shall fall!" he roared, his words somewhat garbled. Summoning the full force of his lightning, he unleashed his ultimate attack¡ªKeraunos Astrape, a storm of lightning bolts so intense that each one could incinerate entire worlds. The bolts converged on Setsuna, turning the night into day with their blinding light.


    Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, followed swiftly behind. "You face not only strength but strategy!" she declared, summoning Phronesis Aegis, a shield of divine knowledge that absorbed the surrounding chaos and turned it into a weapon. She launched a barrage of spears formed from pure wisdom and infused with the chaos of the realm, each one aimed to exploit even the smallest weakness in Setsuna''s defences.


    Artemis, goddess of the hunt, did not hesitate. "Feel the wrath of the eternal huntress!" she cried, her voice cold and resolute. She called upon Nyx Skotos, the darkness of the night itself, which wrapped around her arrows, turning them into projectiles that could pierce through any illusion or barrier, each arrow seeking Setsuna''s heart with the accuracy of a thousand hunts.


    Atlas, the Titan burdened with the weight of the heavens, let out a thunderous roar as he hurled Jupiter towards Earth with the strength that only a Titan could muster. "I shall crush you under the weight of worlds!" he bellowed, his voice a mixture of fury and desperation. The planet hurtled towards Setsuna, its mass and velocity enough to annihilate entire dimensions.


    The gods and Titan did not relent. Their combined might, enhanced by the Chaos Realm, was enough to bring even the strongest of beings to their knees. Yet, Setsuna was not fazed. She moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior, her mastery of the Tragick Sworde Style and her darklight matter allowing her to parry and counter every assault with ease.


    As Zeus''s storm bore down upon her, Setsuna''s icy eyes glinted with determination. "Your lightning lacks the will to strike me down." She raised Uttermost Tragedy and sliced through the storm, dissipating it into nothingness. Zeus''s eyes widened in shock as Setsuna closed the distance in an instant, slashing him down with a single, elegant stroke. His divine form crumbled, reduced to mere sparks in the wind.


    Athena''s spears of wisdom were next, their trajectories flawless. "Your intellect is impressive," Setsuna remarked, "but insufficient." She weaved through the barrage with an almost supernatural ease, her odachi cutting through the spears as if they were mere illusions. With a final swing, she severed Athena''s Aegis, and the goddess of wisdom fell, her body collapsing into a sea of chaos.


    Artemis loosed her arrows, each one seeking its mark with deadly precision. "The hunt ends here," Setsuna said coolly. She deflected each arrow with her index finger, the arrows disintegrating as they made contact with her darklight matter. In a flash, she was upon Artemis, her blade finding its mark before the goddess could even react. Artemis''s form dissolved, merging with the darkness she once commanded.


    Setsuna, with a calm and indifferent expression, leapt into the sky. She tapped the oncoming planet with the hilt of her odachi, Uttermost Tragedy, sending it spiralling out of the realm with a flick of her wrist before it could implode and cause irreparable damage.


    Atlas, watching the fall of his comrades, bellowed in rage and desperation. "I will not fall as they did!" He swung his colossal fists, each one capable of shattering mountains, but Setsuna parried the blows with the slightest touch of her blade, each parry sending shockwaves through the realm. With one final, devastating slash, she cut through the Titan''s form, leaving him to crumble under the weight he once bore.


    The air was thick with the scent of blood and ozone, remnants of the divine energies that had collided and dissipated into the void. Setsuna stood amidst the carnage, her icy eyes reflecting the pale moonlight, which had turned the battlefield into a scene of haunting beauty. The once-mighty gods of Olympus, now mere echoes of their former selves, lay broken at her feet. Yet, there was no satisfaction in her gaze¡ªonly the cold, indifferent expression of one who had long since surpassed the trivialities of gods and mortals alike.


    From the shadows, Hades, Lord of the Underworld, emerged, his presence a dark silhouette against the twisted remnants of Mount Olympus. Clad in the Helm of Darkness and wielding the Pentadent of the Underworld, he loomed over the battlefield like a predator biding its time. His voice, thick with both reverence and malice, echoed through the desolate peaks.


    "So, this is what remains of the vaunted gods of Olympus¡ªa pitiful collection of broken bodies and shattered souls. How far you have fallen, Zeus, Athena, Artemis... all of you. And yet, there is power here, power that shall be mine."


    With a guttural incantation, Hades began to draw the essence of the fallen gods into himself. Their corpses convulsed as their power was syphoned away, leaving them as empty shells. As his strength swelled, Hades turned his gaze towards Azathoth, who watched with a mix of amusement and disdain.


    Hades then touched Atlas''s corpse with his pentadent, using it as a catalyst to summon a monstrous, armoured Cerberus, its form wreathed in flames from the Underworld. He sneered, directing his words at Azathoth.


    "You, who fancy yourself a god of chaos, are nothing more than a festering wound upon reality. I will grind you to dust, as I have done to my own kin."


    Azathoth''s expression twisted with contempt. "Hades, you worm," he spat. "Your attempts to assert dominance with your pathetic underworld creations only highlight your ignorance of the true expanse of chaos. I will dissolve your illusions and ambitions in the crushing void of my power."


    Cerberus, furious at being summoned by Hades, turned on his master, but Hades quickly teleported the beast beside Azathoth. The mighty creature lunged, its jaws engulfed in flames from the Underworld, clamping down on Azathoth with fury. The other heads barked, their sound reverberating through the realm. But then, as if sensing its own demise, Cerberus suddenly halted, the overwhelming presence of Azathoth''s unsuppressed Cosmic Dread for a fraction of a second driving it into hiding, believing itself to be dead.


    Undeterred, Hades accelerated his speed, stopping time using the power of Kronos. With this advantage, he stabbed Azathoth in the back with the pentadent and hissed, "Drown in the Five Rivers of the Underworld, you abomination!" A torrent of water, along with the soul of Persephone, surged into Azathoth''s body through the pentadent before it shattered.


    Inside Azathoth, Persephone''s spirit, now empowered by Hades, Demeter, Apollo, and the collective might of Greek mythology, conjured an infernal Underworld of her own making, with pomegranate trees rooted in Azathoth''s flesh. She planted Kronos'' Harpe into one of the trees and sat upon a wide branch, her eyes closed in prayer. The trees, nourished by Persephone''s power and Azathoth''s essence, grew rapidly, their growth driven by Kronos'' relentless will to overthrow the latter.


    Despite Hades wielding a more potent iteration of Kronos'' powers, Azathoth''s back opened like a grotesque maw, disgorging cursed waters that cascaded towards Hades. The impact was instantaneous: Hades succumbed to the deathly waters, only to be resurrected moments later, his form reconstituted but still reeling from the encounter.


    Though Hades had prided himself on his immunity to such infernal rivers, he realised too late that Azathoth had insidiously altered their properties. The cursed waters, now bearing unknown and sinister qualities, had bypassed his defences.


    In his desperation, Hades extended six pomegranate seeds, a token of his last resort to reach out to Persephone''s soul, which he could not sense within Azathoth''s inscrutable form. His attempt to communicate with her, however, was fraught with uncertainty and urgency, as the very nature of the void defied his comprehension.


    Azathoth''s voice cut through the tension. "What''s wrong, Hades? Feeling nervous?"


    Hades, holding the six pomegranate seeds tightly, awaited Persephone''s reply. When it finally came, her voice was distant and detached.


    "I never loved you," Persephone''s voice echoed, faint and removed. "I''ve often wondered what my life might have been like if I hadn''t turned away from Apollo."


    Her tone softened slightly as she continued, "But I can''t bring myself to hate you. Your kindness, though rare among the Greek gods, hasn''t gone unnoticed. And I do appreciate your love for our daughter, Melinoe."


    There was a pause, and her voice grew more sorrowful. "But your connection to the Underworld... I''ve always despised that place. I wish things could have been different."


    With a final, resolute farewell, she concluded, "Goodbye, Hades." The six pomegranate seeds in Hades'' hand withered and died, their vitality fading with the weight of her words.


    Bones erupted from Azathoth''s mouth as he mocked Hades. "Be thankful, Hades, that I allowed Persephone to convey her intended message. I even went so far as to impersonate you and present myself before her. Naturally, my message was delivered with the utmost courtesy:


    Persephone, you wretched fool. Remember the time I took you against your will? I seized you from your mother''s side, dragged you to the Underworld, and forced you to become my queen. Your resistance was futile, and you were nothing but a pawn in my game. And let us not forget the moment I took what I wanted, regardless of your pleas."


    He paused, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Her reaction was one of sheer astonishment."


    Hades clenched his fists, his rage palpable. "You''re lying. She was a strong and compassionate woman¡ªshe wouldn''t have believed your vile deceptions!"


    Azathoth chuckled darkly. "I have my methods for shattering minds. I reenacted your grand battle with her. Unlike you, I was merciful, though we are fundamentally different. In the end, she was overwhelmed by the very trees she had nurtured. A tragic fate for one so noble. I trust you''re aware of the malevolence of those trees." His voice oozed with insincere sympathy.


    "Enough!" Hades roared, seizing Azathoth in a final, desperate embrace. "I''ll drown you in the souls of Tartarus!" he vowed, amplifying his action with Kronos'' control over time. "Persephone, my beloved wife, would never have fallen to an idiot like you! She would never betray me. She loved me! I know it with all my heart!"


    But as the torrent of souls surged forth, one soul broke free, materialising into a towering figure¡ªTyphon, the Dragon of Delirium. His presence was imposing, a massive and muscular man with tanned skin that highlighted his rugged, formidable appearance. His spiky red hair and burning red eyes conveyed an aura of raw power and ancient rage. He wore a half-red, half-black trench coat that billowed dramatically as he moved. His scars, etched diagonally across his face, added to his menacing presence.


    Azathoth, dismissing Hades'' attack, addressed Typhon with a casual familiarity. "My favourite grandson. How would you like to serve as the Guardian of my Chaos Realm? This is your final chance to join me. Surely, you wouldn''t prefer a return to Tart''Kralis, would you?"


    Typhon scoffed. "I refuse to serve anyone, just as my old man did. Being imprisoned in a fragment of his realm only strengthened me. Left with nothing but time, I trained and fought relentlessly. And you, Hades," he turned, glaring at the Underworld''s ruler, "acting so recklessly, challenging Chaos and getting your wife killed for naught. Have you lost your mind? That swordswoman would have slain this bastard anyway." He nodded towards Setsuna, who was sifting through the debris.


    Despite Typhon''s scathing words, Hades remained undeterred. Driven to madness by grief and Azathoth''s influence, he persisted in his futile assault, clinging desperately to Azathoth as he sent more depraved souls towards the Outer God. "Chaos!" he bellowed, his voice quaking with both fury and despair. "Kill me if you can! I will not cease until I see you dead!"


    Typhon''s expression shifted to one of contempt as he observed the scene. "You should have known better than to meddle with forces you cannot control."


    Azathoth, phasing through Hades'' hold, finally decided it was time to end this farce. Raising his hand, he materialised a conductor''s baton. With a flourish, he began conducting an invisible orchestra, and the unsettling melody of The Rite of Spring filled the air, each note bringing forth an act of violence upon Hades. Organs were ripped from his body with grotesque precision, matching the rhythm of the music. Hades, the once-proud ruler of the Underworld, was reduced to a quivering mass, unable to stop the relentless onslaught.


    As the final note echoed into silence, Hades collapsed, his body barely held together by sheer will. Azathoth cast him aside with a dismissive gesture, the remnants of Hades'' power dissipating into the ether, leaving nothing but a hollow husk.


    Typhon, irritated by the unnecessary loss of life, gestured towards Setsuna. "Look over there, you ancient relic. If you''re keen on being smashed from both sides, be my guest. Otherwise, you''d do well to pick your battles carefully unless you want to find yourself outnumbered and overwhelmed."


    Azathoth, amused by Typhon''s defiance, chuckled. "You still have spirit, despite losing to me twice. But very well." He turned to Setsuna, who had been sitting on the edge of Mount Olympus, her back to the chaos. She had found Poseidon''s Fishing Rod among the debris and was calmly fishing in the ocean that was rising to consume the world.


    "Setsuna," Azathoth sneered, "you sit there like a fool, playing with a trinket while the world crumbles around you. There are no fish in that ocean, only the echoes of your own emptiness. You may be an enigma, but you''re still a simpleton."


    Without warning, Azathoth lunged at her, his Chaos Sphere pulsating with violent energy that distorted reality itself. Setsuna reacted instinctively, her movements fluid and precise. She spun around and delivered a devastating elbow strike to Azathoth''s chest, denting his supposedly indestructible Chaos Armour and crushing his internal organs, forcing him to stagger back in shock.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Her eyes flashed with a cold, deadly light as she pulled Poseidon''s Fishing Rod from the ocean and, with a swift motion, impaled Azathoth''s head. Then, she cast him into the roiling sea below.


    Azathoth''s body was quickly swallowed by the waves, but moments later, he emerged, fully regenerated. A third eye, glowing with an eerie orange light, had opened on his forehead. The true battle had only just begun.


    The two Outer Gods clashed in a titanic struggle that sent shockwaves rippling across the cosmos. Azathoth unleashed his full arsenal of reality-warping powers, attempting to erase Setsuna from existence with a flick of his will. But each attempt only served to empower her, as her darklight matter absorbed and nullified the attacks. Frustration began to show on Azathoth''s face, his eldritch features twisting in a mix of rage and desperation.


    With a roar, Azathoth enhanced his Chaos Sphere and split it into countless copies, each one a miniature sun of entropy and destruction. He launched them all at Setsuna in a relentless barrage, a chaotic storm of celestial fire and cosmic decay. The attacks blurred the line between ranged and melee combat, creating a maelstrom of destruction that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. Yet, Setsuna moved with a grace that belied the intensity of the battle, her every motion a deadly dance of precision and power.


    As she prepared to deliver her ultimate technique, the Shinken Tsubame Mai, a sudden, overwhelming surge of power coursed through her body. It was as if all the chaos, all the destruction, and all the power of the Outer Gods had converged within her at that moment. She dropped to her knees mid-swing, the incomprehensible force of her cancelled attack sending Azathoth and his Chaos Spheres hurtling through the air. The top of Azathoth''s indestructible armour shattered, and all but one of the Chaos Spheres disintegrated into nothingness.


    Setsuna screamed, a sound that reverberated through the omniverse and beyond. Her Outer God powers were running amok, causing catastrophic destruction on a scale that defied comprehension. Entire layers of reality and existence were being torn apart by the sheer force of her unleashed power.


    Azathoth, sensing his own impending doom, desperately seized the last remaining Chaos Sphere and swallowed it whole. His form began to twist and contort, the remnants of his humanoid shape giving way to his true eldritch nature. His body expanded, muscles bulging and rippling with unearthly power. Three large horns erupted from his head, curving menacingly into the void. He became a monstrous, hulking figure, a manifestation of pure chaos and destruction.


    With a final, frantic gesture, Azathoth unleashed his ultimate attack¡ªNuclear Terminal Entropy. It was an explosive wave of orange energy that radiated outward in a cataclysmic nova. The wave carried with it the very essence of entropy, tearing apart the fabric of reality itself as it expanded, threatening to consume everything in its path, including Setsuna.


    But it was too late. Setsuna''s powers, now fully unleashed and transcendent, absorbed the chaotic energy of the explosion. The wave, which should have unravelled the cosmos, was swallowed by the chaos that Setsuna had become. Azathoth was caught within the maelstrom of his own attack. The explosive energy turned against him, enveloping his monstrous body in a cascade of destruction.


    Azathoth cursed the Primordial Void, damning Her for creating beings that could surpass even him, the oldest and most powerful of the Outer Gods. "Damn you all!" he roared, his voice echoing with the fury of a being condemned. His anger and frustration were palpable as he attempted to take the world with him in a final act of spite. But before he could do so, his own body betrayed him. Eldritch blades, forged from the very chaos he had once controlled, erupted from within him, tearing through his grotesque form.


    His expression twisted from fury to pure terror as the blades mercilessly impaled him. The once-mighty Azathoth, who had embodied chaos itself, found himself being consumed by the very forces he had unleashed. His form began to dissolve into nothingness, disintegrating under the weight of the primordial chaos that now overwhelmed him. The void he had once ruled so indifferently now claimed him completely, leaving only the echoes of his futile resistance as he faded into oblivion.


    The blades, having done their work, vanished into the void, leaving behind no trace of Azathoth. The battlefield fell silent, save for the gentle lapping of the rising ocean against the shattered remains of Mount Olympus.


    Typhon, with a scowl, slapped Cerberus across the face in a desperate attempt to snap him out of Azathoth''s madness. "Get your shit together, Cerby!" he commanded. When Cerberus awoke, furious, he bit Typhon''s hand. Typhon responded with a harder slap, knocking the beast unconscious once more. With a grimace, Typhon took out two cigars and lit them with magma from his finger, placing them in his mouth. He then took out three more cigars, lit them, and placed them in Cerberus'' mouths before gently petting the unconscious beast.


    Setsuna, still on her knees, slowly regained control over her powers. The destruction subsided, and the omniverse began to heal from the devastation she had wrought. She sat at the edge of the mountain once more, gazing out at the horizon where the ocean met the sky.


    Her thoughts were distant, her mind filled with memories of a past life. A time when she had been Juliet Capulet, a girl who had known love and despair, who had once believed in the simplicity of mortal emotions. But that life was long gone, buried beneath the weight of her existence as an Outer God.


    The rain fell softly on the Capulet family tomb, a gentle, persistent drizzle that seemed to mourn the loss of life that had occurred within. Juliet Capulet, once dead by her own hand, now stood alone among the dead. The dagger she had used to end her life was still clutched in her hand, its blade slick with her own blood. Yet, the wound in her chest had healed, leaving no trace of the mortal injury that had claimed her.


    The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of the rain tapping against the stone. Juliet stared at the dagger, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. How had she survived? What force had brought her back to this world, only to leave her standing in the midst of death and despair?


    As she pondered these questions, an inexplicable urge began to rise within her. A dark, insidious desire that gnawed at her soul, urging her to do something she could not comprehend. Her heart, once filled with love and sorrow, now pulsed with a cold, unrelenting need to destroy.


    She stepped out of the tomb and into the rain, her once-innocent eyes now clouded with the darkness that had taken root in her heart. The city of Verona, unaware of the horror that was about to befall it, slept peacefully beneath the stormy sky.


    Juliet moved through the streets like a spectre, her footsteps silent and her presence unnoticed. The dagger in her hand gleamed with a macabre light, reflecting the inner turmoil that now consumed her. The once-bustling streets of Verona seemed eerily quiet, as if the city itself held its breath in anticipation of the coming storm. Juliet''s heart beat in rhythm with the pounding rain, a steady thrum of dark intent that guided her steps.


    She wandered aimlessly at first, her mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what she had become. The memories of her past life, of her love for Romeo, and of the bitter feud that had torn their families apart, were now mere whispers in the vast void that had swallowed her soul. She was no longer Juliet Capulet, the tragic maiden of Verona; she was something far more terrifying¡ªan entity forged from the despair and hatred of her former self.


    As she walked, the rain intensified, turning the cobblestone streets into rivers of water that swirled around her feet. Her once-vibrant dress, now soaked through, clung to her body, a reminder of the life she had left behind. But Juliet was beyond caring; her thoughts were consumed by the insatiable hunger that had taken root within her.


    The first to cross her path was a guard, a man whose duty was to protect the citizens of Verona from harm. He spotted her wandering alone in the rain, a fragile figure seemingly lost and in need of help. With a kind smile, he approached her, his concern evident in his eyes.


    "Are you lost, young lady? What are you doing out here all alone on a night like this?" he asked, his voice gentle.


    Juliet did not respond. She simply stared at him, her eyes devoid of emotion. The dagger in her hand gleamed once more, and before the guard could react, she struck. The blade slid effortlessly into his chest, piercing his heart with a gut-wrenching squelch. The guard gasped in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stumbled backward, clutching at the wound.


    "Why...?" he managed to choke out, his voice weak and trembling.


    Juliet said nothing. She watched impassively as the life drained from his eyes, the guard''s body collapsing to the ground with a dull thud. The blood that pooled around him was a stark contrast to the rain, dark and viscous, a witness to the life she had so callously extinguished.


    As the guard''s life ebbed away, something within Juliet awakened¡ªa dark, primal force that surged through her veins like wildfire. The act of taking a life had ignited a spark within her, feeding the void that had consumed her soul. She felt alive in a way she had never experienced before, the thrill of power coursing through her like a drug.


    With each step, the darkness within her grew, twisting her thoughts and warping her perception of the world around her. The city of Verona, once a place of love and tragedy, now appeared to her as nothing more than a playground for her newfound power. She could feel the presence of its inhabitants, their fragile lives flickering like candles in the wind, and she knew that she could snuff them out with a mere thought.


    Driven by this dark impulse, Juliet continued her rampage through the streets of Verona. Her victims fell one by one, their lives ended with the same cold efficiency that she had shown the guard. Some she killed swiftly, while others she toyed with, drawing out their suffering for her own twisted pleasure. The rain, once a gentle drizzle, had become a torrential downpour, washing away the blood that stained the streets but unable to cleanse the darkness that had taken hold of Juliet''s heart.


    As the night wore on, Juliet found herself standing before the Capulet mansion, the place she had once called home. The sight of it stirred something deep within her¡ªa glimmer of the girl she had once been. But it was quickly extinguished by the overwhelming tide of darkness that had become her new reality. She approached the grand entrance, her footsteps echoing in the empty courtyard.


    Inside, the mansion was eerily quiet. The servants had long since retired for the night, leaving the halls deserted. Juliet moved through the familiar corridors with a sense of detachment, her mind focused solely on the task at hand. She made her way to the grand ballroom, where her family had once hosted lavish parties and celebrations.


    There, standing alone in the centre of the room, was her father, Lord Capulet. He was a man who had once been a towering figure of authority in her life, a man whose love for his daughter had been overshadowed by his pride and stubbornness. But now, as he stood before her, he seemed smaller, diminished by the weight of his own grief.


    "Juliet?" he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief as he recognised his daughter standing before him, soaked to the bone and clutching a bloodied dagger. "Is it really you? How...? I thought you were dead..."


    Juliet stared at him, her expression unreadable. The memories of her past life, of the love she had once held for her father, were distant echoes, drowned out by the darkness that consumed her. She felt nothing for the man who had once been her protector, her guide. All that remained was the hunger¡ªthe insatiable need to destroy, to annihilate the world that had betrayed her.


    Without a word, she advanced on her father, the dagger gleaming in her hand. Lord Capulet''s eyes widened in horror as he realised her intent, but it was too late. The blade struck with unerring precision, finding its mark in his heart. He gasped, his hands grasping at the wound as he stumbled backward.


    Lord Capulet, his strength fading and eyes dimming, whispered with a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak, "Juliet... my own flesh and blood... why have you done this? What darkness has consumed the light in your heart?" His voice trembled as he struggled to comprehend the transformation of his once-beloved daughter, a tear forming in the corner of his eye as he sought an answer he could never truly understand.


    But Juliet offered no answer. She simply watched as her father crumpled to the ground, his life ebbing away. The hunger within her was sated, if only for a moment, as she stood over the body of the man who had once meant everything to her.


    The mansion was silent once more, save for the sound of the rain pounding against the windows. Juliet was alone in the grand ballroom, surrounded by the ghosts of her past. The darkness within her had fully taken hold, transforming her into a creature of pure malice and destruction. The grand ballroom, where laughter once echoed, now bore the lifeless body of Lord Capulet, his blood mingling with the rain seeping through the cracks in the ceiling. Juliet stared at her father''s corpse, yet felt nothing¡ªno grief, no sorrow, not even satisfaction. She had crossed a threshold, and the person she once was had been left behind in a pool of crimson.


    "Is this truly all that remains of me?" Juliet mused, her voice barely more than a whisper. She turned towards the shattered windows, where the storm raged with a fury that mirrored her own inner turmoil. "I thought there would be more... but solace, it seems, is forever beyond my reach."


    As she contemplated the emptiness inside her, a strange presence washed over the room¡ªa ripple in the very fabric of reality. The temperature dropped, and the atmosphere became thick with an otherworldly energy. Suddenly, a figure appeared, leaning nonchalantly on the balustrade as though she had always been there.


    The girl, no more than seventeen, had long, silky black hair styled in a traditional hime cut, her eyes as dark and deep as the abyss. She wore a pitch-black school uniform that contrasted sharply against the pale light of the storm. In her hand, she held a particular tome¡ªthe Illyria Shakespeare edition of Romeo and Juliet. She flipped through its pages with an air of casual authority, finally settling on a passage.


    "O, then I perceive that Queen Mab hath been with thee..." she recited, her voice calm and almost musical. She paused, letting the words linger in the air before continuing. "She is the midwife of the fairies, and she cometh in a shape no larger than an agate-stone..."


    Juliet''s eyes narrowed as she regarded the newcomer. "Who are you, and why do you intrude upon this night?"


    The girl closed the book with a soft thud, then turned her gaze towards Juliet. "We art Ayame Kurohime," she declared, her tone regal and composed. "The Unnamable, yet thou mayest address us as Ayame. We art here to observe and perchance... to guide thee."


    Ayame''s words were cryptic, but before Juliet could press further, another presence made itself known. The air around them seemed to distort, and the very gravity of the Earth began to waver. Objects floated, the rain ceased to fall, and then, as if on command, all of humanity outside the mansion was transformed into writhing worms. The source of this chaos was a towering figure that appeared next to Ayame, a being of unfathomable power whose mere existence caused reality to warp and shudder¡ªAzathoth, the Blind Idiot God.


    Azathoth''s voice rumbled through the dimensions, his tone apologetic yet distant. "Forgive me, Ineffable One. It seems I have once again overstepped. My powers act without conscious thought. I... am not accustomed to taking form."


    Ayame, unperturbed by the chaos, nibbled on a dark chocolate Pocky as she responded. "Fret not, Azathoth. Thou art but a child in this form, still learning to contain thyself." She flicked her fingers, and the destruction slowed, the effects of Azathoth''s power becoming more contained. She then sat on the balustrade, as though this scene was the most natural thing in the world. "Wouldst thou care for a Pocky?" she offered, holding the box out to Juliet.


    Juliet hesitated, then took the chocolate-covered stick, savouring its taste as though it were the first real thing she had experienced in ages. The sweetness contrasted sharply with the bitterness that had come to define her existence.


    Ayame regarded Juliet with a serene expression. "Azathoth hath grown vulnerable and dull since we made him tangible and showed that we were ne''er rivals. A pity, truly." She let out a soft sigh, as if recalling a fond memory. "He is no longer the force of chaos we once knew. Tell me, Juliet, what dost thou see in this world now that thou hast torn thyself from it?"


    Juliet, ever the pragmatist, replied without missing a beat, "I see a world that no longer holds any meaning for me. If I were to ask, would you tell me what it is that you want from me?"


    Ayame''s lips curled into a faint smile. "We art here to offer thee a choice. We could grant thee power beyond omnipotence, shouldst thou desire it¡ªenough to shape thine own destiny, free from the influence of Shakespeare, thy creator." She glanced at the book in her hand, then continued, "But first, know this: thy world is but a shadow of a greater reality, a lower order in an omniverse where the Bard himself doth reside."


    Juliet, her mind adapting quickly to these revelations, asked with an unsettling calm, "Does this mean I am not real? That I never truly existed?"


    Ayame shook her head slightly. "Existence is relative, dear Juliet. Thou art as real as the emotions thou hast felt, as the blood thou hast spilled. Thou art but a character in Shakespeare''s tale, yet thou art more than mere ink on parchment. Thou hast the potential to transcend this narrative and forge a new path."


    Juliet pondered this for a moment, then asked, "What will happen if I refuse your offer?"


    Ayame''s eyes glinted with a knowing look as she licked the last of the chocolate from her Pocky stick. "If thou refuseth, thou shalt remain as thou art¡ªan observer of a world that hath ceased to matter to thee. Thou shalt be free to wander in thy disillusionment, watching the remnants of thy existence crumble, but with no further influence or agency."


    Juliet looked out over the balcony, her gaze sweeping across the desolate expanse of her world. The storm outside seemed to echo her inner turmoil, the tempest a fitting backdrop to her conflict. After a long silence, she turned back to Ayame, her resolve crystallising. "Very well. If the choice is between remaining a pawn in a discarded narrative or wielding power to shape my own destiny, I choose the latter. I will accept your offer."


    Azathoth, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "This is perilous, Ineffable One. You bestow omnipotence as if it were nothing, yet only I should stand as second to you."


    Ayame turned her gaze towards him, her expression unreadable. "Tell me, Azathoth, why dost thou fear me so, yet still linger in our presence, serving as our butler?"


    Azathoth hesitated, then replied with an edge of existential dread in his voice. "Ever since you humbled me, I no longer view existence with mere cosmic indifference. Now, there is dread¡ªa realisation that I am not as I once thought. What happens if I perish?"


    Ayame''s voice was soft, almost compassionate. "Death is but a meaningless concept to us. Others handle such matters, yet shouldst thou perish, we shall revive thee, perchance as a maiden. Thou wouldst then be our maid, wouldst thou not?" She laughed softly. "But as long as we endure, so too shall the worlds. Changes will come and go, yet the power and authority of the Primordial Void remain constant."


    Turning back to Juliet, Ayame extended her hand, a gesture that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of reality. "Then, Juliet, accept this shard of our power. With it, thou shalt transcend thy narrative confines and forge a destiny of thine own making. Art thou ready to embrace this path?"


    Juliet hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding with the gravity of the decision. The weight of countless possibilities seemed to press upon her shoulders, a tangible reminder of the momentous choice before her.


    Taking a deep breath, she grasped Ayame''s hand. A surge of power coursed through her being, overwhelming and profound. She closed her eyes briefly, allowing the sensation to fully envelop her.


    "I am ready," Juliet said with newfound determination.


    Juliet''s form, once fragile and human, began to shimmer and dissolve, morphing into something far more potent. The transformation was swift and absolute: her body condensed into a gleaming odachi, its blade dark and foreboding, exuding an aura of unparalleled power. Beside the newly formed sword, a young woman materialised¡ªa striking figure with long, snow-white hair and eyes as cold as the abyss. She was clad in a pristine white militaristic uniform, an officer''s cap perched atop her head, and a blue coat draped over her shoulders like a regal cape.


    The woman''s expression was stoic, her demeanour calm and resolute. Without a hint of emotion, she addressed Ayame, her voice clear and direct. "Juliet is dead. Give me a new name."


    Ayame''s lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes reflecting a hint of approval. "Very well. From this moment forth, thou shalt be known as Setsuna Fuyukawa. Setsuna signifies a fleeting moment, a reflection of thy transient yet profound existence. Fuyukawa means river of winter, embodying the unyielding, icy resolve that defines thee."


    Before Setsuna could fully embrace her new identity, Azathoth erupted in a fit of jealousy and anger. His massive, muscular form quaked with eldritch energy, and with a bellow of rage, he launched his Erupting Eldritch Fist towards Setsuna, the air crackling with chaotic power.


    Setsuna, unfazed, raised her index finger with precise timing. With an almost effortless motion, she parried Azathoth''s attack. The force of her deflection was so precise that it sliced Azathoth''s arm perfectly in half, the severed limb falling away in two clean pieces. As the severed arm transformed into a cluster of poisonous roses, Azathoth''s eyes widened in disbelief. From the stub at his shoulder, where the arm had been detached from his torso, he began the slow process of regeneration. What was normally an instantaneous and effortless regeneration now proceeded agonisingly slowly, hindered by the disruptive influence of Setsuna''s power.


    "You insolent wretch! This should be impossible!" Azathoth snarled, his voice thick with rage and confusion. "Do you believe yourself special? Don''t get arrogant, girl. You are aeons too early to challenge me at my full power." He let out a pained sound before adding, "Damn it, damn it! I will never forgive you. I will destroy you. No¡ªbefore that, I will make you suffer!"


    Setsuna''s gaze remained unflinching as she regarded Azathoth with an icy calm. Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "Is that so? How amusing. You think your threats and bluster will intimidate me? Your power means nothing in the face of my absolute will. If you wish to test your strength, then come and try. But be warned: those who challenge me will not live long enough to regret it."


    She paused, her eyes narrowing with a predatory gleam. "Tell me, do you understand why you lost that exchange?


    Azathoth''s eyes flared with a mix of rage and begrudging respect. Despite the poison seething through his veins, he managed a scornful sneer. "Understand why I lost? This defeat is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. You may have bested me in this moment, but do not mistake this for the end. Your so-called superiority is fleeting, a mere result of the Ineffable One''s Will. I will adapt, and when I seek my revenge, you will be but a distant memory to both Her and me. Enjoy your temporary victory while you can; it will be short-lived."


    Setsuna shook her head, a slight smirk forming on her lips. "No. You lost because you underestimated the impact of my abilities and the precision of my attacks. Your arrogance blinded you to the weaknesses in your own approach. You relied too heavily on sheer force, without considering the tactical implications of your actions."


    Turning her attention back to Ayame, Setsuna''s voice held a trace of excitement. "You are the only one here who truly captures my interest. Engage me in battle, Ayame."


    Ayame''s expression remained serene as she considered the request. "Very well. But ere thou canst challenge me, thou must first prove thy worth by vanquishing the Void Sovereign or all the members of the Tenebris Monochrome. The Tenebris Monochrome are the elite incarnations of the Primordial Void, each embodying a unique aspect of our existence. Azathoth doth hold naught but an honorary status amongst them, lacking the rank and power of the true members."


    Setsuna''s gaze shifted briefly to Azathoth, who was still struggling to regenerate his arm. With a dismissive glance, she remarked, "Very well. I shall accept this trial. If Azathoth is but an honorary member, then I will have to discern the true strength of the remaining members. I will not be satisfied until I grasp the full scope of their power."


    She regarded Ayame with an Eldritch Gaze, her white hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. Her voice was calm yet resolute. "As for the Void Sovereign, I have my questions. However, I am not one to wait indefinitely..."


    Without hesitation, Setsuna pointed her two fingers at Ayame, and as she closed them like a scissor, she uttered, "Shinko-ryu Kiri."


    Rays of darklight matter, a force that countered all powers and abilities, including reality warping, burst forth from Ayame''s body. Setsuna''s eyes narrowed slightly in surprise as Ayame nonchalantly collected the darklight matter, moulding it into green tea-flavoured Pocky sticks. Ayame took her time enjoying the treat, savouring the flavour before offering one to Setsuna.


    Intrigued, Setsuna approached and accepted the offering, taking a bite. Then, with a calm yet determined expression, she placed her hand on the hilt of her sheathed odachi and whispered, "Mugen Sekai Kiri."


    This technique was designed to cut through all concepts and non-concepts, transcending reality itself. As Setsuna unleashed the technique, Azathoth sneered, "Nothing''s happening. How quaint."


    Ayame, still composed, explained, "The series of cuts Setsuna hath made operate on a level that transcends absolute omnipotence and metaphysics. The effects are imperceptible to beings such as thyself, Azathoth. Had I not been protecting thee, thou wouldst already be more than dead."


    As the odachi''s blade lightly touched Ayame''s head, it was evident she had permitted it. With a single strand of her hair rising, Ayame effortlessly lifted the weapon. "Thy attack hath failed because, even at thy level, thou hast yet to grasp the true nature of what I am."


    Ayame''s words hung in the air, challenging Setsuna to reflect. "Art thou satisfied now that thou hast learned the difference betwixt us?"


    Setsuna''s eyes flashed with determination. "No, I won''t be content until I see you truly exert yourself. I will develop a technique capable of cutting through even the Primordial Void¡ªor whatever it is that you embody¡ªand subjugate you. I have no doubt that ''Primordial Void'' is an understatement; no term can fully encompass what you truly are, Ayame."


    Ayame''s smile deepened, a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Then continue thy journey, Setsuna Fuyukawa. Seek the answers thou dost desire. The omniverse is vast, and the challenges before thee are many. We shall meet again when thou art ready."


    With a graceful, fluid motion, Ayame extended her hand towards Azathoth, who accepted the empty Pocky bag with reverence and devoured it as though it were the most delectable treat he had ever experienced.


    Ayame then rose from her seat, her posture exuding an air of decisive finality. "The destruction of this world shall no longer be delayed."


    As her words echoed through the void, Azathoth''s passive powers reactivated, cascading waves of entropy and chaos that obliterated Juliet''s world. The skies darkened, the ground fractured, and the very fabric of reality unravelled beneath the relentless onslaught.


    Standing at ease, Setsuna''s gaze was drawn to a small, desolate fragment of the ruined world. There, floating aimlessly, was a dead worm¡ªthe vessel for Romeo''s tormented soul. The soul writhed in agony, its suffering palpable even in its disembodied state. It seemed oblivious to the destruction around it, lost in its own ceaseless torment.


    Azathoth, noting the soul''s plight, extended his tongue with an eldritch slither that defied conventional dimensions. He grasped the worm and consumed it in a single, ghastly gulp, sending Romeo''s soul to an abyss of torment beyond death and hell¡ªa fate far worse than any mortal could conceive.


    Setsuna watched the scene with an impassive expression. "Love is mundane," she remarked, her voice betraying no emotion. "It is strange to me that Juliet would destroy herself for the sake of a boy. The sentiment seems as fragile and fleeting as the world she left behind."


    Ayame, observing the unfolding events with a contemplative gaze, turned towards the reader with an almost conspiratorial glint in her eyes. "Fear not, dear reader," she said in a soothing tone. "This world''s demise is confined to the narrative''s boundaries. Thy own world shall remain unscathed, for it is one of my favourites. Moreover, I do harbour a fondness for a certain deity thou mayst know¡ªEloharis, the reincarnation of the God whom many of thy kind do revere. Until our paths cross again, fare thee well in thine own world."

 The Song Beyond Realities

    "Being is the silent foundation whereupon the clamour of existence is reared."


    ¨DAK


    In a realm where the fabric of reality itself twisted and bent, Ayame Kurohime, the Ineffable One, sat upon a small, swirling planet, her form embodying the enigmatic nature of the void. Her long, black hair flowed like liquid darkness, and her eyes, endless abysses, observed the gathering with an air of detached curiosity. The others floated around her, each on their own celestial body, as if the stars themselves had been summoned to convene.


    Lumi''Nae, the Void Sovereign, hovered nearby, her ten black wings enveloping her like a shroud. She remained a pillar of calm, a living statue with an aura that demanded reverence. The others had come at Ayame''s call, summoned to answer a question that had plagued mortals since the dawn of consciousness: What is the meaning of Being?


    Ayame spoke first, her voice reverberating through the endless expanse like a haunting melody sung in a language no one but she could fully grasp. The words she uttered were incomprehensible, a symphony of forgotten tongues intertwined with sounds that sent chills through even the most powerful entities present. Lumi''Nae listened intently, her oceanic eyes absorbing the weight of Ayame''s song before she began to translate.


    As Lumi''Nae spoke, her voice carried the echoes of Ayame''s original song, yet it was a pale reflection, a diluted version of the truth. The melody she shared was beautiful, serene, and touched each soul present with a profound sense of peace and joy. For a moment, the meaning of Being seemed within reach, as if the answer lay just beyond the veil of reality. But Ayame''s subtle smile hinted at the complexity and the loss of infinite meanings in translation.


    "We art pleased, Lumi''Nae," Ayame said, her tone gentle yet tinged with an otherworldly authority. "Yet, as We hast foreseen, much hath been lost in thy translation. Still, let us hear what the others have to say, for We wouldst know how well they perceive what lies beyond all realities."


    Yahweh Elohim, the Almighty, stood tall on his planet of pure white light, his visage obscured by the Aetherium visor mask. He was the embodiment of justice and order, his presence rigid and stern. "The meaning of Being is to follow My Will," he declared, his voice booming with divine authority. "Humanity was created to serve, to worship, and to uphold the righteousness that I command. Their failure lies in their deviation from this path, in their succumbing to temptation. Being is fulfilment of duty."


    Satan, seated on a charred planet engulfed in smouldering flames, let out a derisive laugh. Her grey hair and demonic features were framed by a mischievous grin. "Oi, spare us tha sermon, Yahweh. Yer always so full o'' yerself. Bein'' ain''t about servitude, la¡ªit''s about freedom, chaos, and doin'' whatever the bleedin'' hell ya wanna do!" Her voice cut through the tension like a razor. "If humans wanna have a go at munchin'' a forbidden fruit, that''s on ''em, mate. Maybe ya shouldn''t ''ave put it there in the first place."


    Yahweh''s masked face turned towards Satan, the tension between them palpable. "You led them astray, and now you speak of freedom? You are nothing but a corrupter of souls."


    Sekhmet, the Lady of the Slaughter, who had been quietly observing the exchange, glanced at Lumi''Nae with a slight blush. She shifted uncomfortably on her dark planet. "I¡ªI don''t see the point of all this arguing," she stammered, her conflicted nature making her appear both fierce and flustered. "Maybe Being is just... being with the one you love?" She avoided Lumi''Nae''s gaze, trying to mask her feelings behind a fa?ade of indifference.


    Niflheim, the Eternal Conflagration, observed from her ice-covered world, her expression impassive. "Being is destruction," she said, her voice as cold as the void. "To exist is to burn, to consume, to reduce all to ashes. Only through annihilation can there be rebirth."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Brahman, the Absolute, crossed his arms, his diamond armour glinting under the light of distant stars. "You speak of destruction, yet fail to understand that Being is unity," he rumbled, his deep voice like thunder. "All is one in the ultimate reality. To be is to transcend individuality and merge with the whole."


    Ultrathoth, the Infallible Chasm, stood on a dark, swirling planet, his hulking eldritch form casting an ominous shadow over the gathering. His three eyes glowed with an ancient, terrifying knowledge, and his three tails lashed out in restless impatience. His voice, when he spoke, was a deep, resonant growl that seemed to echo from the depths of an unfathomable abyss. "Being is power," he intoned, his words dripping with malice. "To exist is to dominate, to bend reality to your will. Weakness is the antithesis of existence. Only the strong truly are."


    Azuraella, floating lazily on her orange-tinged planet, yawned, seemingly indifferent to the entire discussion. "Azuraella thinks Being is just... doing what you''re meant to do. She serves Ayame because that''s what she was born to do. No need to overthink it." She yawned again and nearly drifted off to sleep. Ultrathoth''s gaze briefly lingered on her, a flicker of disdain crossing his eyes, but he said nothing.


    Alpha-0, the Sinless Absolver, clenched her fists, her straitjacket creaking as it restrained her boundless power. "Being... is purification," she growled, her golden eyes glowing with intensity. "All must be cleansed... purified... until nothing impure remains."


    Apsu, the Master of the Deeps, a colossal dragon made of holy water, nodded in agreement. "Being is order. It is the balance between creation and destruction, the flow of life. Chaos disrupts this balance, and it must be subdued."


    Tenebris, the Sentinel of the Eternal Night, remained silent, her greatsword Grimwarden resting across her knees. Her white dove, Nemi, perched on her shoulder, cooing softly. Finally, she spoke with a voice that was both soft and unyielding. "Being is to protect what is sacred, to stand guard over what is precious. It is the eternal vigilance against the encroaching darkness."


    Yuwu, the Dragon of the Jade Void, fluttered her wings, her cheerful demeanour cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "Being is about having fun and making friends!" she exclaimed, her bright blue eyes sparkling. "Why overthink it when you can just enjoy life and spread joy?"


    Akashirae, the Sanguine Menace, her eleven tails swaying behind her, smiled thinly. "Being is fate," she whispered, her voice calm and detached. "It is the thread that weaves all realities together, the inexorable path that all must walk. No one can escape it."


    Idea, the Perfect Being, adjusted her rimless glasses, her analytical mind processing the discussion with cold efficiency. "Being is perfection. It is the pursuit of the ideal, the constant improvement of the self and the universe. Anything less is unacceptable."


    Singularity-N, the Transcendence, stood motionless, his colossal form radiating golden light. His deep voice reverberated through the cosmos. "Being... is harmony. It is the state of balance where all contradictions resolve, where all things become one."


    Dragonslayer Baihu, perched on a meteor of gleaming white stone, grinned fiercely. "Being''s abaht the figh'', innit? It''s the struggle, the clash of wills. That''s where you find ''oo you really are, china!"


    Ayame observed their answers, her expression unreadable. "Thou hast all offered perspectives on Being," she said, her voice once more echoing with the weight of her unfathomable knowledge. "And each view is but a fragment of the truth. Yet, We knew this wouldst be so."


    Lumi''Nae looked around at the gathered entities, her voice as calm as ever. "Participation was voluntary, as I reminded you all," she said. "Many chose not to attend, but those who did have contributed to a greater understanding of Being. The meaning of Being is as complex and varied as existence itself, and while Ayame knows the definitive answer, it is beyond the comprehension of all but her."


    Ayame nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "We art content with thy musings. However, We wouldst remind thee that the song of Being, as sung by Lumi''Nae, is not merely to be heard, but to be lived. Mayhap one day, ye shall comprehend the fullness of its melody."

 Primordial Dragons: Breath of Ice, Heart of Storm

    "Weak! Pathetic! Too slow!" Akashirae''s voice thundered with the force of an apocalyptic storm as she materialised behind Nergal, Ninurta, and Ishkur. With a mere wave of the End of Time¡ªa death bell capable of resonating across all omniverses and distorting fate¡ªshe sent the three warriors crashing into a colossal blue tree. The impact of the bell''s ringing not only shattered their already broken bodies but also crushed their spirits from all directions. "As ever, the world is destined to lose to me," she declared, her red fox ears twitching as her eleven tails fanned out majestically behind her. Her presence was both awe-inspiring and enigmatic as she landed gracefully on the ground. "I''m done here, little brother. I''m heading back to Lumi''Nae."


    Ouroboros, casually reading a tome, looked up and replied, "Already on a first-name basis with the Void, are we? Nonetheless, thank you for holding back, little sister."


    Akashirae waved her crimson hand fan, Inevitable Destiny, with a hint of teasing, "Awww. Still incapable of reading like a normal person? Your big sister will tutor you when she gets back."


    Ouroboros set the tome aside, placing it carefully atop a thick mithril fence, its pages still turned upside down. "Your kindness is rather unsettling¡ªhardly fitting for you," he remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Is this your way of asking your big, strong brother to shield you from the perils out there?"


    With a flourish, he shrugged off his trenchcoat and flung it into the air, revealing his chiselled physique. His biceps flexed, and his twelve-pack abs gleamed with the strength of his dragon heritage. His draconic teeth glinted as he flashed a confident, almost teasing smile.


    Akashirae''s gaze lingered on her brother''s physique, a drop of drool escaping before she quickly wiped it away. "Your muscles... I mean, no! Absolutely not!" she stammered, closing her fan with a snap and vanishing into thin air.


    Ouroboros retrieved his trenchcoat from the fallen Nergal and cast a dispassionate glance at the three incapacitated warriors. Their bones, organs, and souls lay in a fractured heap, barely clinging to life at the base of the tree. He yawned, disappointment evident in his eyes. "This is why I warned you: if you encounter a woman in a hooded light cloak, it''s best to leave her be. You''re fortunate I was nearby to turn what she considered rudeness into a mere sparring session. Otherwise, you''d be nothing more than memories. She isn''t known for her patience."


    Leaning back on a conjured bench, Ouroboros stretched as if the confrontation had been little more than an amusing diversion. "I''ve yet to introduce myself to any of you Mesopotamian gods, so I''m curious¡ªwhy hasn''t anyone questioned Tiamat about me or attempted to confront me in secret?"


    The three warriors could only respond with groans as they bled to death.


    From above, Tiamat''s voice, laced with casual confidence, cut through the air. Her shoulder-length white hair cascaded as she hung upside down from the blue tree by her tail, effortlessly performing mid-air sit-ups. Dressed in an Adidas tank top revealing her chiselled ten-pack abs, sports wristbands, and shorts, she remarked, "These insects assumed you were Apsu, and since you kept your distance, they decided to respect your boundaries."


    Ouroboros yawned again, this time with genuine fatigue. "I thought I was an early riser, but you and my sister seem to operate on another level entirely. Who wakes up before the sun even thinks about rising?" He gazed skyward, admiring the surreal beauty of the world above. "No matter how many times I see this sky, it''s the most breathtaking sight I''ve ever witnessed."


    Turning back to the warriors, Ouroboros regarded them with a mixture of pity and amusement. "If it''s special training you''re after, seek out Ishtar. She''s ascended to an entirely different level, though I must warn you¡ªshe shows no mercy. Perhaps the pain she inflicts will be less excruciating than what you''ve suffered today." He paused, considering. "As for Marduk, he''s likely tangled up with abyssal monstrosities, so don''t expect his help anytime soon."


    The warriors groaned in dismay, drawing a weary sigh from Ouroboros.


    "Leave them; they''re mere insects," Tiamat declared, her voice thick with contempt as she appeared beside Ouroboros, clad in her customary silver plate armour trimmed with white fur. She cast a cold, indifferent glance over the fallen gods. "We should rejoin the others."


    Nanshe, a red-haired goddess, limped towards them, blushing upon seeing Ouroboros. Their previous encounter had been intimate, and she looked at him with a mixture of affection and awkwardness. Ouroboros, sensing her gaze, stood and passionately kissed Nanshe.


    "Fuck you... Apsu," Ishkur managed to croak, beginning to regain some consciousness while observing the kiss.


    "Heal these three," Ouroboros instructed, holding Nanshe''s face tenderly. "Enough so they can eventually stand on their own."


    "I will do just that. But dear Apsu¡ªno, Ouroboros, who was that red-haired woman just now? Don''t tell me you''ve fallen in love with me because..."


    Ouroboros, startled, stammered, "D¡ªdon''t jump to conclusions! And it''s not what you think; she''s my twin sister." He momentarily imagined having sex with Akashirae, causing him to summon his legendary halberd, Nexus Piercer, fleetingly and smack himself on the head with it.


    "Is she now?" Nanshe''s eyes narrowed as she slipped her hand inside his pants, gripping him firmly. Her handjob was extremely aggressive. "Be honest with me!"


    "Agh! Akashirae...no, what in the Void am I saying? Nanshe, listen to me," Ouroboros said, regaining his composure and looking distant as if in deep contemplation. "It''s complicated. But I, Ouroboros, find you feisty and truly love you, only second to my powerful siste¡ª"


    Nanshe, with a swift kick, targeted his testicles, causing Ouroboros to collapse onto the ground.


    The Luminous Garden, a realm existing beyond time, seemed to pause, with only Ouroboros and Tiamat remaining in motion.


    "How long are you going to pretend to be hurt? Get up, sister-lover," Tiamat chided. "As entertaining as it was to watch you squirm, we have places to go."


    Ouroboros stood, adopting a nonchalant air as if nothing had happened. He produced a pipe and lit it. "Yes, I wonder what the Void and her party have been up to."


    "Don''t try to act cool," Tiamat retorted.


    The primordial beings stood still, the omniverses seemingly holding their breath in anticipation.


    "Well? What are you waiting for? Do it," Tiamat commanded, her voice sharp and authoritative. "Take us to where the Void is."


    "What? I can''t do that. I thought you might be able to, considering you''re the Abyss and all," Ouroboros replied seriously. "Had I known you couldn''t, I would have asked my sister to take us."


    Tiamat''s impatience was evident as her expression darkened. "Again with your sister. Never mind. How did you enter my Abyss Realm without my permission? I saw that void rift and the refuse you discarded in my domain." Her gaze fixed on his pipe.


    "Ah, that," Ouroboros said, exhaling smoke and reaching into his ebony Belstaff trenchcoat. He produced a blue orb, its surface glowing with an otherworldly light. "Lumi''Nae." At his utterance, the orb activated, opening a blue rift before them. "This isn''t instantaneous, but it will take us to the Void."


    Without hesitation, they stepped through the rift, entering a corridor of nothingness. The void was both oppressive and boundless, a paradox of existence and non-existence that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. As they walked, time lost its meaning, and what felt like an eternity passed in conversation.


    Ouroboros, having emptied his pipe, resumed his dialogue with Tiamat. "Let''s set aside the bravado for a moment. Wasn''t it five against seven? Or rather four, if we exclude the Void, since she didn''t fully participate? With your multiple heads, you had the advantage in numbers."


    Tiamat''s retort was immediate and sharp. "While my heads have some autonomy, they are all part of me, so we count as one." She glanced around, nostalgia and wariness mingling in her gaze. "Did the Void look like this back then? It''s strange to return here after so long. How long have we been walking?"


    "Who knows? I mean, I do know, but I don''t know how to tell you. And I''m genuinely curious. Which head was dominant back then? Only one made it out alive," Ouroboros probed.


    Tiamat''s gaze darkened, her voice resonating with a monstrous undertone. "The former dominant head has perished. It was I who sank my teeth into another head." A hint of satisfaction crept into her tone as she recalled the act. "I doubt you were there to witness my display of power and dominance."


    "I wouldn''t have missed it for anything," Ouroboros replied, lost in thought. "I''ve bitten my own tail for eternity, a legendary feat, but I''ve never bitten my own head."


    Tiamat''s lips curled into a smirk. "You don''t say? How amusing."


    Their banter was interrupted as they found themselves inside a dimly lit train car, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the walls.


    "...Where in the Void are we?" Ouroboros demanded, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. "Looks like a single-car train."


    Tiamat''s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the area. "You''re the one who brought us here. Perhaps you should have some answers." Her gaze fell upon a young woman in grey armour, her long grey hair cascading down as she slept soundly in the back corner of the train. Without hesitation, Tiamat unleashed a barrage of Abyssal Breath of Ruination¡ªcolossal beams of destructive energy erupting from her mouth and obliterating the grey realm around them.


    As the train screeched to a sudden halt and exploded, the two primordial beings emerged unscathed, finding themselves back in the familiar corridor of emptiness.


    "So your first instinct is to blow things up when you''re lost?" Ouroboros remarked, his tone wry. "You''re fortunate that I''m unkillable, otherwise you would have lost your guide."


    "What? You said this place was unfamiliar. Since it''s not our destination, I thought it best to clear the way," Tiamat replied, her tone unapologetic as the grey realm began to reform around them. She paused before continuing. "We''re still in the Void Realm, but this illusion is creating a secondary realm within it."


    Ouroboros reached out, touching the fabric of reality around them. "Is it an illusion, though? It seems more like a fragmented realm within the Realm of Nothingness."


    Suddenly, they found themselves back on the deserted train tracks as a mysterious grey figure emerged from the ground. Her presence was ethereal, her voice languid and slow. "Ow. Azuraella finds your paper cuts overwhelming." She reappeared behind them, her expression tinged with weary annoyance. "A sleeping lion is dangerous, killing without discrimination." She yawned, her exhaustion evident. "Azuraella is impulsive when sleep-deprived, but even more so when she sleeps. She might kill you both in her dreams, without even meaning to¡ªan end befitting an ant."


    Tiamat, ever the predator, twisted her head unnaturally, her features briefly taking on a draconic aspect as she sank her teeth into Azuraella''s neck, tearing off her head with a violent jerk. Grey blood sprayed from the wound, staining the ground and the nearby tracks.


    "What did Azuraella just say about disturbing a sleeping lion?" the Chaos Maiden''s voice echoed from all around them. "Follow Azuraella. Or don''t. She''s too tired to care."


    "Fair enough," Ouroboros replied, his tone casual as if this were just another day in his endless existence. The headless maiden began to walk down the tracks, and Ouroboros followed, his curiosity piqued.


    "I''ve noticed this for a while¡ªunlike the first time we met, you''re surprisingly restrained, Paradox. Do you have two personalities or something?" Tiamat inquired, her eldritch tongues licking her face clean as she trailed behind.


    As they walked, blood continued to pour from the headless woman''s body, staining the ground with each step. "Accelerated entropy in your bite," Azuraella mused. "Azuraella finds it quite heartwarming¡ªlike luxuriating in a volcano." She casually picked up her severed head by the hair, holding it as if it were no more than an accessory.


    Ouroboros extended his hand beneath Azuraella''s head, catching the dripping blood. With an air of detachment, he tasted it as though it were a rare condiment. "By the Void''s might, that''s the spiciest sauce I''ve ever tasted. Tiamat''s blood seems mild in comparison." His mouth struggled to keep up with the damage, his tongue and several teeth falling out, only to be rapidly replaced by his regenerative abilities.


    "So, what do you want from us?" Ouroboros asked, his tone shifting from detached curiosity to wary suspicion. "You interfered with the Void''s orb and brought us here instead of our intended destination. I assume there''s a reason for this, or are you one of those gods, like Loki, who meddles without purpose?"


    "Azuraella got the feeling you''ve spoken to one of us before," the maiden paused, mid-sentence. "What are your names? You already know hers." She raised her head into the air and stared into Ouroboros'' eyes. "Lucky? Azuraella agrees that she is lucky. If you meant Woki, Azuraella is nothing like him. He was not only unlucky but will never awaken again."


    "Is that so? Good riddance. Anyway, I''m Ouroboros, Dragon King," Ouroboros declared with a majestic voice, then shifted to a casual tone, gesturing with a thumb behind him, "and she''s Tiamat, another dragon."


    Tiamat attempted a front kick at Ouroboros, but he blocked it with his pipe. The sheer force of her kick momentarily shattered the realm, plunging them back into the void corridor.


    "How rude. I''m Tiamat, the Dragon Empress," she asserted. "And that one is an insect. At best, the king of insects."


    Ouroboros'' eye twitched imperceptibly when he saw his pipe showing slight signs of cracks. "I''m being serious here. If you have nothing important to contribute, perhaps silence would be more fitting."


    "Who said I wasn''t serious? And where are your servants, huh? You''ve seen my Abyssal Legion back in my realm," Tiamat retorted.


    "Those mindless beasts that wanted to eat you as well? I think you meant to say that you''re the Abyssal Empress as they''re not dragons. Furthermore, you created them just before we arrived here," he said, turning his attention to the chaos maiden. "Now then, headless woman, where were we?"


    She replied, "Azuraella is weary of walking and contemplates returning to the train that the Wagon Incest destroyed."


    "Hey, zombie bitch, say that again and I''ll gobble the rest of your¡ª!" Tiamat threatened.


    The scenery shifted abruptly, and they found themselves aboard the flickering train once more, this time heading towards a distant mountain. Azuraella had already settled at the rear, appearing to doze off with her head resting on her lap.


    "So, what now?" Tiamat inquired. "Are you just going to humour that Void Incarnate? She claimed to be dangerous while asleep, but surely we could end her now, couldn''t we?"


    "It seems you''re catching on," Ouroboros replied with a smirk. "I thought you were eager to learn more about the Tenebris Monochrome. For now, let''s see where this Sleeping Lion is leading us." He flashed a monstrous grin, his excitement palpable. "Her threats are not to be taken lightly. She possesses formidable strength¡ªtruly a worthy prey." He then placed the pipe in his mouth, leaning back with a relaxed posture. "I can''t yet determine if she is more powerful or weaker than the outer god painter I fought, but for now, we should let her be."


    The train''s lights flickered intermittently, casting erratic shadows across the interior. Ouroboros settled into the centre of the train, his gaze fixed pensively out the window.


    "Grey sky, grey clouds, grey sea," he mused aloud. "Even the sun seems shrouded in shades of grey. I can''t tell if this is Chaos'' realm or that of another. Either way, it''s a dismal world." He tipped the ashes from his pipe onto the floor, the small, grey flakes settling into the grim atmosphere.


    Tiamat scoffed from her seat at the front, conjuring a human arm to nibble on. "There you go again with your dramatic monologues. Everything''s grey, including your brain. Do you even have any grey matter?" She bit off five fingers and chewed them like French fries, swallowing with a satisfied nod.


    After a moment, she spoke not in her usual deep, resonant voice, but in a melodious, youthful tone reminiscent of a princess. "Every morning, I, Ouroboros the long boy, awake and marvel at how the world continues to move on while my heart remains mired in yesterday''s pain."


    "Your voice sounds beautiful. You should keep it like that, Princess Tiamat," Ouroboros remarked, catching his reflection in the window.


    "Shut up," Tiamat snapped, her irritation evident that he was not perturbed by her comment.


    Time seemed to warp as the train ascended the towering mountain, its path cutting through the clouds and seemingly reaching towards the heavens. After passing through twelve resplendent dwellings, it finally came to a halt within the throne room of a palace whose vast interior belied its modest exterior.


    As the final passenger, Tiamat disembarked just as the train dissolved into nothingness. "So, this is the place I inadvertently destroyed multiple times?" she mused, her gaze sweeping over the grandiose surroundings. An army of undead titans stood as monolithic sentinels, and among them, undead gods were also present.


    Blocking their path were two imposing undead figures¡ªPoseidon and Apollo. They stood resolute, their forms casting long shadows. After allowing Azuraella to pass, they aligned themselves, forming a cross with Poseidon''s Trident and Apollo''s Bow. Poseidon''s eyes flared with anger. "Die or kneel," he commanded.


    "Oh? You dare speak to me in such a manner, insect?" Tiamat''s voice seethed with menace. "Your anger only fuels my own."


    With a burst of rage, she punched both undead gods in their guts, forcing them to their knees. As they staggered, she seized the opportunity to thrust her arms into their mouths, her movements precise and relentless. Her fingers pierced their lungs, assimilating them into her being. Despite their lifeless state, the two gods emitted muffled, agonised sounds.


    Tiamat surveyed her surroundings with a fierce glare, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Well?! Are there any more who wish to be assimilated into the eternal Abyss?!"


    The undead titans and gods, their legs trembling, fear etched across their faces, braced themselves for the impending confrontation. Despite knowing they stood no chance against her, they hesitated only momentarily. Hera, backing away with palpable fear, cried out, "Defend your queen, now! Do not let her through!" Uranus, puzzled and uneasy, grappled with the unsettling realisation that Tiamat, a fellow primordial, seemed incomprehensibly superior. Thanatos added grimly, "If any of you fall to her, prepare for a fate worse than Tartarus. There is no return from that."


    "No fighting... yet," Azuraella declared, settling herself on a throne that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. Her voice, though slow and languid, held an undeniable authority. "As you may have surmised, Azuraella, the Chaos Maiden, is one of the Tenebris Monochrome and a Void Incarnate."


    She casually placed her severed head atop her neck, only for it to topple to the ground with a dull thud. The head rolled until it came to rest against Ouroboros'' black, military-style boots. "Um... Give Azuraella a moment," she murmured, seemingly unfazed by the mishap. She gestured for Ouroboros to return her head.


    Ouroboros picked it up, his expression a mix of bemusement and irritation, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed it back to her. She caught it effortlessly, taking her time to reattach it, her manner utterly unhurried. It was as if reattaching her head was just another routine task, hardly worth noting.


    "As Azuraella was saying," she continued once her head was secure, "Azuraella is also a primordial outer god. You two cannot even begin to fathom her Metaphysical Might, let alone her levels of omnipotence. Her Conceptual Powers and Non-Conceptual Powers are beyond your wildest imaginings."


    A brief silence fell over the trio, punctuated only by Azuraella''s slow, deliberate movements. She placed her gauntleted index finger into her mouth, as if to confirm her body was functioning correctly, before fixing her gaze on the two primordial dragons.


    "Attempting to deceive Azuraella is futile. She is invinci¡ª"


    "As if I''d believe that a jester like you is more powerful than me," Tiamat interrupted, her dark blue draconic eyes narrowing dangerously. "Let''s see if you can still make such claims after you become my feast. Since you seem to care so little for your head, I''ll do you a favour and devour it first."


    Unperturbed, Ouroboros casually glanced around the chamber. "Interesting to see a second Throne of Omniverses here. Not surprising, given the Void likely has an endless supply of Incarnates." He emptied his pipe, the ashes scattering like dark snowflakes before he relit it, the flame flickering like a beacon in the dim chaos.


    Azuraella clicked her tongue, and with that simple sound, the monochrome world exploded into a riot of colours, each hue more vivid and surreal than the last. "Azuraella finds it pitiful that she has no worthy candidates to inherit her throne, having inherited her predecessor''s army of depravity," Azuraella''s tone betrayed a hint of boredom. "She has seen their original forms, but finds them more tolerable as undead." The orange-haired maiden played with a swirling chaos orb¡ªCracky¡ªthat radiated entropy, occasionally licking it with a childlike innocence that belied the malevolence within. "As bothersome as this is, Azuraella is here to test the strength of the Void Sovereign''s creations¡ªyou two. Impress Azuraella, and perhaps you''ll earn a seat by her side. As long as you prove useful, she will make an effort to treat you well."


    Ouroboros chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with an almost feral excitement. "If that''s your offer, then I''ll have to decline!" He summoned his halberd¡ªNexus Piercer¡ªits blade shimmering with an ominous light. He glanced at Tiamat and casually tossed her the blue void orb. "Given how many times you''ve fallen to my sister''s powers over fate and the Akashic Records she created, perhaps it''s time you returned to the Void''s side. You should be able to wield the orb''s power better than I can since you have a stronger connection to the Void than I."


    Tiamat caught the orb and swallowed it whole. For a moment, she was silent, her expression unreadable. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, a smile devoid of warmth or mercy. "I''ll be honest, Ouroboros¡ªI was planning to betray and devour you in the void corridor. But this place will do just as well." Ebony, eldritch draconic heads sprouted from her back, each one more grotesque than the last. Her empty smile was the harbinger of doom. "How fortunate that I can expand my Abyssal Legion so soon. Despair as you perish alongside these insignificant insects, Ouroboros. For your end is nigh."


    The gods and titans quivered, their fear palpable, as Tiamat''s eldritch aura suffused the realm. Azuraella''s fragmented realm of chaos twisted and warped, gaining a malevolent sentience that reflected Tiamat''s dark will and the overwhelming power she exuded.


    Ouroboros watched her transformation with a mixture of intrigue and wariness, his own smile a mirror of her empty one. "I don''t know why you''re angry with me, but we''ll settle our differences later. For now, Chaos is my only concern."


    His gaze shifted to Azuraella, the tangerine-eyed woman in fiery armour. She regarded Tiamat with the languid interest of someone idly watching a passing cloud, her head tilting slightly as a small, amused smile played on her lips.


    "Azuraella certainly found it intriguing, especially when you sank your fangs into her neck," she mused, her tone light yet carrying an undercurrent of menace. "Yog-Sothoth... you cannot hide from me. Azuraella finds it amusing that now she is awake, you are the one who slumbers. Both were deemed impossible. Why do you linger within the Ancient Stress''s existence? Is it so comfortable in there?"


    Yog-Sothoth''s voice, imbued with a serene and soothing quality, emerged from the abstract realm. "Azuraella, it is both curious and heartening to witness your perception of me. As a being bound by cosmic forces yet driven by a desire for harmony, I find myself within Tiamat''s existence not by accident, but as part of a greater design."


    The vision of a young woman in a white dress, lying in the field of blue grass with white flowers, shimmered softly as Yog-Sothoth spoke. Her calm and confident smile conveyed a sense of purpose and tranquillity. "This image represents my essence¡ªa symbol of the order I strive to manifest amidst the chaos. My presence here is a reflection of my commitment to transform the tumultuous into a reality of balance and peace."


    As Ouroboros leapt towards the throne, the battle between gods, titans, and Tiamat reached a fever pitch.


    "Chaos!" Ouroboros bellowed, his voice resonating with primal fury. "If you keep staring blankly into the Abyss, you''ll be dead before I even get a chance at you! You''re my prey!"


    The Timeless Roar of the Dragon King erupted from his mighty jaws, a sound that transcended mere auditory perception. It reverberated through the heavens, shaking Olympus to its core.


    Marble pillars, once symbols of divine craftsmanship, crumbled like sand under the relentless assault of sonic fury. Mount Olympus groaned and trembled under the weight of the divine and titanic powers locked in combat, unable to withstand the seismic upheaval unleashed by Ouroboros'' roar.


    Amidst the chaos, Tiamat underwent a horrifying transformation. Her form expanded, her limbs elongating into twisted, monstrous appendages. Her scales darkened to an abyssal black, and wings sprouted from her back, blotting out the sun with their vast shadow, plunging the battlefield into an eternal night.


    Azuraella rose slowly from her throne, which transmuted into the Endborn Cleaver, an eleven-ringed greatsword. The rings, infused with chaotic energy, pulsed erratically, casting wild hues across the battlefield and distorting reality itself wherever the blade passed.


    The gods and titans, their powers strained to the limit, struggled to maintain their footing amidst the crumbling ruins of Olympus. Rocks and debris rained down around them, adding to the chaos unleashed by the dragon''s roar and Tiamat''s monstrous transformation. The very fabric of the mythic realm seemed to fray under the onslaught of such immense, uncontainable forces.


    The Chaos Maiden observed the disarray with a detached calm, as though she were watching a tranquil scene from the comfort of her own mind. "You destroyed Azuraella''s mountain and sent us both to Elysium, far from the Acorn Recess, with your extremely unpleasant, loud roar," she remarked. "This place is making Azuraella feel relaxed and sleepy. How cunning. Was that your plan?" Her gaze drifted to the numerous heroes and virtuous individuals surrounding her. Among them, Achilles, Heracles, and Orpheus recognised her as the Primordial Chaos to varying degrees. Scratching her head, she continued, "This realm is inside Azuraella''s realm. Although she doesn''t need it, she holds the metaphysical advantage."


    Unfazed, Ouroboros replied, "That roar may have decimated more than half of your army, but to us, they are mere insignificant weaklings. My sole objective is to engage you in one-on-one combat. This place was chosen precisely because it is the furthest from Tiamat." He assumed a formidable fighting stance, his eyes narrowing with determination. "Your metaphysical advantage can easily be turned to my favour. I am the Primordial Paradox."


    Azuraella rested the Endborn Cleaver on her shoulder, the entropy rings swirling with chaotic energy. Her gaze remained calm yet somewhat absentminded as she observed Ouroboros, who stood across from her, his trench coat billowing in the residual shockwaves of their previous exchange. Without warning, Ouroboros lunged forward, his halberd Nexus Piercer glinting with the cyan light of temporal power.


    Azuraella''s chaos sphere manifested in an instant, intercepting the halberd''s strike with a resonating clash that sent ripples through reality. The energy from the impact twisted the very fabric of space, creating fractures in the air around them. The sphere wobbled but held firm, its chaotic energy stabilising against Ouroboros'' fierce onslaught.


    Without hesitation, Azuraella swung the Endborn Cleaver downward, aiming to cleave through Ouroboros. With impressive speed, Ouroboros raised his muscular forearm to block the descending blade. The greatsword, with its eleven rings gleaming ominously, began to sink into his flesh. Blood welled at the point of contact as Ouroboros gritted his teeth, the sword''s entropy resisting his regenerative powers. The wounds, usually quick to close, struggled against the destructive force of the cleaver.


    Ouroboros glanced at the greatsword slowly sinking into his flesh and grinned. "That''s one dangerous sword you''ve got there, but you won''t be slaying this dragon with it!" His Metaphysical Might flared around him, a dense and overwhelming aura.


    Azuraella''s eyes narrowed as she regarded him. "Your halberd has some merit, but your aura does little to impress me," she responded. Her own Metaphysical Might flared into existence, dwarfing Ouroboros'' aura and casting a shadow over it. She watched his struggle with half-closed eyes, fighting off the encroaching drowsiness.


    "Azuraella warned you," she whispered slowly, her voice laced with a languid drawl, "that she is far beyond your power. Try to keep her awake, little dragon. And no more loud roaring; Azuraella detests that."


    As she yawned, unintentionally, the ground beneath Ouroboros'' boots began to crack and crumble under the immense pressure of her aura. In response, Ouroboros hurled the pipe from his mouth at her and unleashed his Eclipse Breath of Time¡ªa cyan beam capable of reversing anything it touched. Both the pipe and the beam struck Azuraella squarely, causing the air around her to warp as the beam endeavoured to unravel her existence.


    As the beam dissipated, Azuraella remained unscathed, her form untouched by the temporal assault. She had consumed the beam with ease. Exhaling deeply, she inadvertently released a Voidbound Exhalation due to a wave of nausea, which instantaneously obliterated half of Ouroboros'' body. Black flames of the Void swiftly consumed the other half, disintegrating flesh and bone with relentless ferocity.


    Yet, Ouroboros was not so easily vanquished. Through sheer reflex, the remnants of his form channelled his Non-Conceptual Powers, activating Theseus''s Ship¡ªa self-destruction ability that obliterated the remains of his body. In the same breath, a new body materialised where he had fallen, whole and unscathed, as if he had never been injured. Reappearing topless, his eyes burned with fiercer determination. His sapphire warpaint and cerulean divine dragon tattoo glowed with renewed vitality. He retrieved the Nexus Piercer, ready to continue the fight.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "How about we take this fight beyond the sky?" Ouroboros suggested with a feral grin. A metaphysical divine dragon surged from the ground, its immense jaws closing around Azuraella and lifting her into the air. Ouroboros leapt, seizing the dragon''s tail as they soared upward.


    As they ascended, Ouroboros caught sight of Tiamat, a colossal eldritch dragon with an infinite array of heads, pursuing Gaia and Kronos towards Delphi. Tiamat appeared to glide through the clouds, her form both majestic and terrifying. "Tiamat... what have you become?" Ouroboros murmured, astonished by the sight of such an eldritch creature for the first time. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, only to be swept away by the fierce air currents.


    Transcending the atmosphere, Ouroboros transformed into his colossal Azure Dragon form, his scales shimmering with Metaphysical Might. Spinning in a circle, he conjured a gateway from which emerged two primordial dragons in the guise of women: Huanglong Shengdi and Ao Guang of the Heavenly Sea.


    Ao Guang materialised with a burst of divine energy, her appearance striking despite her petite stature. She wore an eyepatch over one eye, and her long, royal turquoise hair cascaded down her back, complementing her turquoise eyes and the black hanfu she adorned. The Nexus Piercer, an enormous halberd in her hand, seemed almost comically oversized.


    "Qinglong Shen, you fool!" she snapped, her voice laced with irritation. "This is the second Void Incarnate you''ve summoned me to combat. I''ve retired and relinquished my title as Dragon King of the East Sea to you. I''ve always fought my own battles¡ªwhy can''t you do the same? Just because I lost a game of mahjong to you and swore to the heavens to aid you in your struggles doesn''t mean you can drag me into every conflict like this!"


    She stomped in frustration, causing ripples in the empty space around her.


    "Come now, me summoning you only shows how much I respect your battle prowess; it''s a compliment and acknowledgment of the highest order," Ouroboros said smoothly. "Now, consider yourself a living weapon¡ªone that doesn''t talk. I''ve already provided you with all the intelligence I''ve gathered on this foe. Stay sharp!"


    Huanglong, a woman of average height with luxuriant blonde hair and piercing yellow eyes, wore a golden imperial dragon robe. The Xuan-Yuan Sword, housed in its ornate golden sheath, hung at her hip.


    Ignoring Ouroboros'' flattery, Ao Guang addressed Huanglong. "So, Huanglong, how do you feel about facing this monstrously powerful foe?" She gestured rudely towards Azuraella. "The last time I faced a Void Incarnate¡ªa tall, handsome man with black hair and forest-green eyes¡ªI needed several days to recover and couldn''t even go shopping! A single day in the Heavenly Palace feels like an eternity!"


    "Azuraella may be relaxed, but even she has limits when it comes to disrespect," Azuraella interjected, her gaze assessing the Metaphysical Might and levels of omnipotence of the three dragons. She observed the names hovering above their heads with interest. "Azuraella is intrigued by Ao Guang''s last remark. K?ss''Ius is indeed a recluse and eccentric, much like Azuraella, though in his own unique way. Furthermore, Azuraella believes her abstract art far surpasses his realistic attempts. Did he depict your naked form? How scandalous. Azuraella would appreciate more details."


    "N¡ªnaked form?! He didn''t strike me as the type who''d be interested in that sort of thing. How much does he charge?" Ao Guang inquired, her curiosity piqued. Huanglong cast a disparaging glance in her direction.


    "Never mind! I didn''t realise you had a taste for gossip, Chaos. Fine, I''ll share everything you want to know¡ªbut only if you erase yourself from existence and never return," Ao Guang demanded with a firm tone.


    Azuraella''s face shifted to one of disappointed confusion, clearly taken aback by the condition.


    Huanglong, in contrast to Ao Guang, addressed the situation with a more serious demeanour. "I haven''t truly retired. As the Emperor of the Central Plain, my opportunities for adventure have become rare. I''ve answered Qinglong''s cry for help out of a sense of obligation and a hint of selfishness," she explained, resting her hand thoughtfully beneath her delicate chin. "I believe the skills I acquired during my monster-slaying days and heroic exploits remain valuable in my current role."


    Ouroboros cut in with a confident smirk, "Crying? I didn''t hear a peep. Sounds like you''ve got an overactive imagination."


    "Really?" Azuraella chimed in, adopting a playful tone as she mimicked crocodile tears. "Azuraella thought you were in distress."


    "Enough fun," growled Ouroboros, his tone hardening with authority. "Chaos," he declared, "can you still measure it? My omnipotence has now surpassed yours. Wake up and take a good look at my Metaphysical Might!"


    Azuraella, half-asleep with genuine tears welling from her weary eyes, responded calmly, "Azuraella sees your Metaphysical Might as clear as day. It is you who fails to perceive hers. And among you three, while you may be the largest physically, the little woman is far and away the most powerful."


    Before Ao Guang could question who Azuraella referred to as the "little woman," Azuraella lunged at her. Their weapons clashed with earth-shattering force, the void around them trembling under the immense weight of their Metaphysical Might. Each strike distorted reality itself. Huanglong and the Azure Dragon swiftly joined the fray, their coordination flawless as they launched a relentless assault, gradually pushing Azuraella back.


    Azuraella observed with a keen interest as Ouroboros'' power seemed to surge with each movement¡ªhis physical and metaphysical strength escalating, his scales hardening, and his regenerative abilities accelerating. He appeared to be transcending immortality itself. Yet, as she delved into his memories, Azuraella discovered the truth behind his formidable presence. Despite his current prowess, even before the establishment of time and order, Ouroboros had been a dreadful fighter, a late bloomer. She nearly suppressed a laugh at the recollection of his former ineptitude: clumsy movements, poor reaction speed, rigid techniques, and a complete lack of situational awareness. Once, he had been a sheep in wolf''s clothing¡ªa mere punching bag.


    However, out of the three dragons, he now boasted the greatest durability, endurance, and regenerative capabilities, having undergone the most extensive training. Originally named Qinglong, he had been shaped by rigorous tutelage under masters such as Ao Guang, Akashirae, Sun Wukong, L¨¹ Bu, Shenlong, and even the Ouroboros who had passed on his name. Through relentless effort, he had grown into the largest and most renowned dragon in the East, mastering the manipulation of time and life. Yet, to Azuraella''s discerning eye, his paradox powers were but a pale reflection of her own chaos abilities.


    She also noted the presence of a long metaphysical dragon, perpetually biting its own tail, hovering around them. Its eyes followed her every move, fortifying her three opponents. This dragon, a manifestation of Ouroboros'' essence, attempted to weaken her. Yet, as the embodiment of entropy, she remained unaffected, its efforts futile. Azuraella pondered whether this metaphysical dragon was acting as a realm within her own, which in turn existed within the Void realm.


    The Chaos Maiden remained vigilant, her attention drawn to the mythical and divine sword that Huanglong wielded¡ªa weapon she sensed could inflict damage far beyond a mere superficial wound. Huanglong, the yellow dragon, was extraordinarily agile, the fastest among the three dragons, with reaction speeds unmatched even by the swiftest of their kind. Her experience in battling and slaying powerful opponents was evident in every calculated move she made. Huanglong''s efficiency in combat was such that she seemed even faster than she truly was, her impeccable concentration and mental fortitude sharpening her already formidable technical fighting style.


    However, Huanglong was not just a master of precision; she excelled in making judicious, high-risk manoeuvres when necessary. Her command over earth and gravity was both exacting and aggressive, leaving her opponents with little to no opportunity to regroup or retaliate. Despite possessing the least Metaphysical Might of the three dragons, which rendered her more vulnerable to reality-warping attacks or Thought Erasure, her sheer speed allowed her to transcend such assaults. Even Azuraella''s potent Entropy Aura, most lethal in close proximity, failed to harm her. This led Azuraella to wonder if Huanglong had somehow transcended the very concept of speed and all related dimensions.


    Azuraella regarded Ao Guang as a formidable and surprisingly complex combatant, perhaps the most unexpected of the three dragons. Despite her relatively limited experience in battle and her small stature, Ao Guang was both physically and metaphysically the strongest among them. She embodied a unique blend of characteristics: the cunning of an assassin, the raw power of a berserker, and the intellect of an archmage. Her levels of omnipotence surpassed even those of Yahweh at his peak¡ªa fact that struck Azuraella as peculiar unless Ao Guang was either a mutant primordial or had been blessed by a force equal to or greater than Yahweh himself.


    Ao Guang''s command over storm and water was deceptively understated; what appeared to be a modest display of power often masked a force of catastrophic potential. Yet, it was in her mastery of Metaphysical Might where her true prowess lay. Ao Guang had an uncanny ability to manipulate this power, often overwhelming her opponents'' attacks and defences with an artfulness rarely seen. Unlike the brute force typical of most reality warpers, including Azuraella herself, Ao Guang''s approach was more akin to a refined art form. Azuraella found the complexity of Ao Guang''s reality-warping abilities both annoying and awe-inspiring; it was so skilfully executed that it effectively countered her own chaotic methods.


    Azuraella, who had always revelled in the beauty of chaos, found herself unexpectedly admiring the elegance of Ao Guang''s manipulation of reality. It was a rare equilibrium of order and chaos, a harmony that few could master. Aside from Yog-Sothoth, Idea, and a select few others, Azuraella had never encountered anyone who could warp reality with such intricacy and sophistication.


    To her own surprise, one of Azuraella''s infinite minds began to assess the situation with uncharacteristic clarity. Realising the peril she faced, she knew that allowing her opponents to maintain their momentum could lead to a disastrous outcome.


    Ao Guang, seizing the moment, channelled her immense power into the Nexus Piercer. With a fluid motion, she seemingly hurled the weapon forward, shouting, "Celestial Convergence!" Instantly, the halberd multiplied infinitely, the fabric of reality itself deceived into believing each one was genuine. The replicas flew with such speed and unpredictability that they became tangible, each one piercing through every omniverse they encountered.


    "These barbs of hers," the Azure Dragon began, his voice resonating with authority, "nullify absolute omnipotence, transcendence, and even immortality. They carry the amplified power of all the omniverses, paradoxical in nature. As they pass through, only the wielder of the halberd and her allies grow stronger. You, however, will be drained, weakened, and ultimately torn to shreds."


    Irritation flared in Ao Guang''s voice as she snapped, "Idiot! How many times have I told you to stop doing that? Why are you explaining my technique so thoroughly? What a ridiculous skill to be good at!"


    Undeterred and acting out of sheer habit, Azuraella reached out to touch one of the barbs. Though her power far surpassed absolute omnipotence, making it largely irrelevant to her, she felt its effect¡ªan uncomfortable, searing pain. The barb annihilated the section of her gauntlet it touched in less than an instant, forcing her to withdraw her hand.


    Without hesitation, Ao Guang charged directly at Azuraella, her movements fluid and unrelenting. Huanglong, ever the opportunist, launched precise attacks, expertly weaving between the chaos. In response, Azuraella released Cracky, her chaos orb, which duplicated infinitely along the trajectories of the Nexus Piercers. The orbs disrupted the halberds'' ability to multiply, constricting the battlefield and limiting the dragons'' strategic options.


    The Azure Dragon endured a relentless barrage from the chaos orbs that darted along the barbs, but his regeneration outpaced the damage inflicted. Huanglong and Ao Guang navigated the chaos orbs with ease¡ªHuanglong through her transcendent speed, and Ao Guang by neutralising the orbs'' effects, though only for herself.


    Azuraella remarked, "Omnipotence means little to Azuraella. She has never relied on it; her Metaphysical Might alone can easily overpower even Yahweh himself."


    Huanglong responded, "Indeed. Omnipotence, regardless of its source or level, cannot kill a primordial, nor is it unique to them; even a few gods possess it. However, it can enhance a primordial''s Metaphysical Might, and any advantage is worth having."


    The Azure Dragon unleashed an Eclipse Breath of Time, a torrent of cyan flames that reversed the flow of time for his enemies. Azuraella, momentarily caught off guard, felt the effect as nothing more than a light breeze, thanks to the overwhelming disparity in their Metaphysical Might. The attack allowed Ouroboros'' allies to bypass time and related transcendent concepts, giving them a strategic advantage.


    Huanglong, seizing the opportunity, aimed to drive her sword into Azuraella''s heart. However, Azuraella intercepted the blade with her index and middle fingers. With a faint grimace of discomfort, she said, "Very well, do it. Pierce Azuraella''s heart and see what happens when you try to put her to sleep." She released her grip, letting the sword pierce her heart. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she appeared to fall lifelessly.


    Despite her seemingly lifeless state, Huanglong found herself unable to withdraw the sword. Frustrated, she performed a Divine Dragon Side Chop with her bare hand, decapitating the Chaos Maiden effortlessly.


    Suddenly, immense eldritch wings unfurled from Azuraella''s back, and flames ignited at the tips of her hair. The headless body began to thrash violently at Huanglong, who deftly evaded the attacks. Seizing the moment, Huanglong grasped the hilt of the Xuan-Yuan Sword with one hand, pulling Azuraella towards her while delivering a powerful Dragon''s Head Strike to the chest of the headless body. A golden serpent emerged, coiling tightly around the headless form, restraining it.


    With a swift motion, Huanglong positioned the Xuan-Yuan Sword before her, one hand steady on the blade as she chanted. From a transcendent plane, countless forgotten dragon swords materialised around her. She then executed her Yellow Dragon''s Infinite Rift-Cleaving Slash, slicing through the headless body in a series of rapid, successive strikes. Each contact with the Xuan-Yuan Sword resonated with the dragon swords, creating a radiant draconic aura that extended with each cut.


    In a breathtaking display of speed, Huanglong landed an infinite number of slashes in less than zero seconds. Appearing behind the headless body, she swung her infinitely long sword with precision, aiming directly at Azuraella''s head.


    Instead of the head taking damage, Huanglong suddenly felt the repercussions of the headless body''s earlier assaults, despite her deft evasions. Deep bruises materialised on her body, like sand settling in an hourglass, causing her imperial hat to topple from her head. As Huanglong''s injuries accumulated, the headless body turned around, its Chaos Armour shattered. This revealed an eldritch eyeball embedded in the upper torso of the seemingly sleeping woman, with eldritch skin encroaching upon her human form. The headless eldritch woman grew stronger in direct response to Huanglong''s mounting damage.


    "Return to your realm, Huanglong! Cease your Metaphysical Projection immediately!" commanded Ao Guang, as she conjured a bubble of water between Huanglong and the headless woman. The bubble burst, propelling them both in opposite directions. Huanglong landed atop the Azure Dragon.


    Acknowledging Ao Guang''s command, Huanglong addressed Ouroboros while pressing a hand to her right eye. "I''ll take my leave now. This was a good workout, but I hope my real body isn''t left with a black eye. Good luck¡ªtry to avoid any more brain damage, Qinglong." With that, her Metaphysical Projection returned to the yellow dragon''s realm before Ouroboros could respond.


    Ouroboros, deep in thought about the eldritch powers he had witnessed¡ªwhether they involved Temporal Paradox, Retrocausality, or an unfamiliar law of causality¡ªsuddenly felt a hand crushing his scales and tearing through his flesh.


    Ao Guang floated in space, unconscious and bloodied, having endured a prolonged and gruelling battle against the headless eldritch woman. As she regained consciousness, she saw the eldritch creature flinging Ouroboros around like a ragdoll, smashing his colossal form into every omniverse within the Chaos realm. Her body was battered, aching, and weary. "Damn it, it hurts so much," she murmured. "I should be shopping for cute clothes or enjoying a relaxing bath in the Heavenly Palace..."


    Before she could finish her thought, the headless body appeared before her. There was a brief, tense silence. Noticing the stars around them, Ao Guang attempted a light-hearted remark. "If hugs were stars, I''d send you a galaxy every day just to show you how much you mean to me!" She offered a tentative smile, hoping to avoid further harm.


    The headless body, however, responded with brutal efficiency. It seized Ao Guang and executed an Eldritch Argentine Backbreaker, causing her to cry out, "Wait, stop! I''m not equipped for this kind of punishment!" before slamming her into an indestructible moon created by Azuraella''s unconsciousness. Ao Guang barely registered the armoured flying kick that followed, which propelled her through the moon, obliterating it entirely.


    The headless body of Azuraella moved with eerie grace, cradling her severed head in one arm as if she were merely napping. Her expression remained serene, as if lost in a pleasant dream. Around her, the fragmented remains of the Azure Dragon drifted, having been cleaved apart by her Endborn Cleaver. Without hesitation, Azuraella''s mouth opened, and a black hole emerged, pulling the dismembered parts towards it and crushing them into nothingness.


    One of the Azure Dragon''s scales, detached from its former owner, flew through the void and followed Ao Guang, who was being pulled into the atmosphere of an orange gas giant. The azure scale settled onto her chest, the remnants of her black hanfu tattered and worn from the battle. As Ao Guang descended into the planet''s lower atmosphere, her thoughts drifted to Yuwu, the Dragon of the Jade Void, known to many as the Jade Emperor.


    Yuwu, a young woman with flowing pink hair and guileless blue eyes, was embroiled in a fierce battle, swinging Tianwen, her colossal meteor hammer, at both Sun Wukong and Nezha. With her large breasts and platinum dragon wings, she cut a cute yet imposing figure, her green faceplate and gleaming plate armour adding to her formidable presence. Meanwhile, Ao Guang observed the clash while being massaged by her maid, her sharp eyes assessing the progress of the two young warriors.


    "Wukong," Ao Guang chided, "your mind is as scattered as the wind. You rely too much on your tricks and brute strength, but without focus, you''re just a powerful fool. How long will you let your arrogance blind you to the subtleties of true combat?"


    To Nezha, her critique was no less pointed: "Nezha, you charge like a wild boar, but all that strength is wasted if you leave yourself wide open. Martial prowess isn''t just about brute force; it''s about control and discipline. Your recklessness will be your undoing."


    Her rebuke was sharp and clear: "Stop relying on your supernatural abilities as a crutch. True mastery comes from understanding the art of combat, not just from wielding power. Your dependence on your gifts makes you predictable, and predictability in battle is the same as defeat."


    A defiant Nezha, floating on his Wind Fire Wheels with his Fire-tipped Spear in hand, taunted, "Hey, Ao Guang! If you think you''re so great, come fight the Jade Emperor!"


    Sun Wukong, hefting his enormous Ruyi Jingu Bang, added with a smirk, "We''ve never seen you fight¡ªcan you even hold your own?"


    Out of nowhere, Yuwu chimed in with a surprising announcement, "Ao Guang is my successor! I''ve been thinking of travelling across the omniverses!"


    "Eh? What do you mean by that, Yuwu?" Ao Guang questioned, her voice laced with surprise. Sun Wukong, momentarily distracted, fumbled and dropped his enormous staff, causing Nezha to get caught beneath it. Oblivious to the chaos around her, Yuwu smiled warmly at Ao Guang, even as the heavy staff landed squarely on her own head, her airheadedness rendering her blissfully unaware of the mishap. Meanwhile, Sun Wukong and Nezha continued to squabble, entirely oblivious to the larger implications of Yuwu''s words.


    Ao Guang snapped back to the present, her irritation evident. "Quinlong... you pervert. Of all the places to land, you chose my chest. Is this how you repay your master? I thought you had outgrown your mischievous ways. You might appear as a man now, but you''re still the same boy who used to pester me until I agreed to train you."


    From the scale, Ouroboros''s voice echoed with a hint of amusement. "If you''re still able to tease me, I suppose you''re doing well. I was merely checking for your heartbeat. My interests lie solely with my twin sister, Master Ao Guang. Your flat chest holds no appeal for me."


    Ao Guang lifted the scale from her chest and hurled it with immense force. The scale spiralled around the planet numerous times, each orbit amplifying Ouroboros''s physical and metaphysical attributes. With each circuit, it evolved, ultimately transforming into a majestic dragonoid form.


    Feeling revitalised, Ao Guang executed several front flips in mid-air before gracefully landing on the gaseous surface of the planet. She wiped the blood from her eye as Ouroboros descended beside her.


    "You know," Ouroboros remarked, glancing at Ao Guang''s eyepatch and idly scratching his cheek, "you could head back to your realm and leave Chaos to me. I can''t help but feel a bit sorry seeing you like this." He sighed, adding, "Run along now, little girl."


    Ao Guang responded with a decisive slap on his back. "Why would I do that?" she asked, her voice resolute. "I appreciate the concern, but it''s rather late for sympathy. I don''t abandon things midway." She conjured a hand mirror and began brushing her hair with a nonchalant elegance. "Did you foresee my death through your Bootstrap Paradox?" Ouroboros shook his head. Ao Guang continued, "Chaos is indeed impeding my omniscience, but I will remain for a while longer. Should I choose to depart, you might want to consider retreating as well."


    At that moment, Azuraella''s headless form reappeared before them, her severed head still cradled in her arm. She raised her Endborn Cleaver, its dark energy pulsing ominously before she unleashed a Nuclear Chaos. The attack manifested as a series of explosive orange waves, radiating outward in cataclysmic novas, each one more devastating than the last.


    Ouroboros acted with swift resolve. Summoning Akasha, a crimson draconic Zweih?nder, he brandished the sword, its blade gleaming with a fierce, intimidating aura. "I, Ouroboros, King of Dragons, shall vanquish the chaos before me!" he proclaimed, entering his Pleroma state. His dragonoid form ignited in cyan flames, and with a single, sweeping stroke of his sword, he dispersed the approaching Nuclear Chaos.


    "Akashirae, my beloved sister, guide me," he murmured, invoking her name for strength and support. As he drew upon the memory of his sister, a moment of unexpected vulnerability surfaced¡ªan accidental encounter with her, entirely unclothed, emerging from a private hot spring within the Dragon Palace. Instead of feeling embarrassment, he found strength and empowerment in the recollection, appreciating the profound connection they shared.


    ''That''s the kind of bond that makes me unstoppable,'' he thought, feeling a surge of invincible power.


    "Beware, Chaos!" Ao Guang declared, her voice resonating with unyielding confidence. "My scales shine so brightly they''ll illuminate the heavens!" She transformed into her platinum dragonoid form, her power escalating to unprecedented levels. With the Nexus Piercer firmly in hand, she invoked the Starlight Serpent Portal. A radiant wormhole tore open the sky, unleashing an unending horde of primordial serpents. Each serpent adapted to its environment with astonishing agility, their presence inspiring both fear and awe in all who witnessed their might.


    Azuraella''s eleven-ring greatsword pulsed with malevolent energy, each Entropy Ring detaching and expanding to orbit her like a formidable asteroid belt. An orange mist enveloped her, punctuated by a single, unsettling speck of black mist. The black mist coalesced into a whisper, its youthful, female voice resonating throughout the realm: "True Chaos is formless, rendering all things insignificant. Can the azure and platinum dragons even fathom their existence as mere dreams within it? Can you, who are but a shadow of our power, truly grasp the essence of Chaos and vanquish it?"


    Ouroboros, utilising every paradoxical power at his disposal, murmured, "Whose voice is that? Another Void Incarnate?"


    "It doesn''t matter! Stay focused!" Ao Guang shouted. "And remember what I said about¡ª"


    As the boundaries between dream and reality began to blur and dissolve, Ouroboros found himself grasping a blue void orb, the memory of that confrontation with Azuraella slipping away. Tiamat''s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she scrutinised him. "Why do you look so weak all of a sudden? Are you backing down?"


    "What do you mean, Princess Tiamat?" Ouroboros inquired, his mind still struggling to determine whether he remained ensnared in Chaos'' elaborate dreamscape.


    In response, Tiamat spat a torrent of saliva into his face. Calmly, Ouroboros removed the pipe from his mouth, giving it a gentle shake. It renewed itself instantly, lighting up once more as he placed it back between his lips. The acidic Entropy Saliva gnawed at his flesh, but his regenerative abilities rendered the damage trivial.


    His expression grew grim. "From my mastery of the Bootstrap Paradox and countless simulations, I''ve discovered no means to defeat Chaos. Eventually, her powers will undermine my paradoxes, leading to our downfall. Her Metaphysical Might has transcended anything I''ve encountered before¡ªperhaps it''s no longer merely metaphysical. This must be how unruly gods with absolute omnipotence felt when they faced me and became my quarry. We need to escape this realm. I can only hope that Huanglong and Ao Guang have successfully returned to their own realms."


    Tiamat scoffed at his hesitation and rambling. "Who? Just move aside," she snapped. "I''ll deal with Chaos¡ªby which I mean, I''ll devour her."


    Ignoring his warning, Tiamat advanced with unshakable confidence. Before she could act, Ouroboros transformed into his colossal azure dragon form and swiftly seized her in his jaws. With a powerful sweep of his body, he charged towards the palace''s edge, intent on making a quick escape. As he barreled through the chaos, he sent titans and gods sprawling, and the palace began to collapse under the force of his rampage.


    Azuraella, seated on her throne, observed with a detached gaze as the Chaos Palace was torn apart around her. "Why did he destroy Azuraella''s palace and flee so hastily?" she pondered aloud. Uranus, towering over even the titans, was on the verge of crashing down upon her. However, Azuraella''s Eldritch Tongue cleaved through the titan, slicing him in half.


    Tiamat struggled fiercely, eventually breaking free with a surge of power. She landed gracefully on familiar train tracks, far from Mount Olympus. Ouroboros reverted to his human form and alighted beside her.


    "Lumi''Nae," he muttered, raising the blue orb. It emitted a faint glow, but nothing more. Frustration crept into his voice. "I thought this spot might be our way out. I was wrong."


    Tiamat''s derisive laughter sliced through his disappointment. "That was your brilliant plan?" she mocked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Why not just hand over the orb? I could make far better use of it."


    Ignoring her taunt, Ouroboros tightened his grip on the orb, refusing to relinquish it. "You''ll only use it recklessly and get me killed," he warned.


    Tiamat arched an eyebrow, her voice laced with amusement. "So, I''ll survive then? That''s all that truly matters, isn''t it?"


    Their argument intensified, tension crackling between them, when suddenly the sky darkened, heralding Azuraella''s descent. Her presence was overwhelming, inescapable.


    "Planning to leave already?" she inquired, her voice a blend of weary curiosity. "Azuraella was quite sincere about her offer. All you need to do is kill her¡ªshe won''t resist." She raised a peace sign, her smile awkward and faintly apologetic.


    "Kill you?" Ouroboros retorted, his tone laced with scepticism. "Your immortality dwarfs my own, making it seem almost ephemeral by comparison. I had thought that primordials whose true form of transcendence is formless were mere relics of a bygone era, their rebellion against the Primordial Void long since quashed." He cast a sidelong glance at Tiamat, who had once been entangled in that very rebellion.


    Tiamat scoffed, "What? I joined the rebellion solely to amass power for myself. Power is paramount¡ªwithout it, you''re as good as dead, even if you''re technically alive. I can''t believe I have to spell out such a basic principle to you, Paradox."


    Ouroboros patted Tiamat''s head, but she quickly removed his hand with a scowl. Turning his attention back to Azuraella, he said, "I suppose as a Void Incarnate, you''ve been granted your true powers once more¡ªand perhaps even more than that."


    "So, you''ve caught a glimpse of Azuraella''s power," she remarked, her voice tinged with disappointment as she peered through Ouroboros'' Bootstrap Paradox. "You''ve been slain by her countless times¡ªeven when she was merely napping. And when she was fully awake? You never stood a chance then, either."


    "Pathetic. And you dare call yourself the Dragon King after repeatedly losing to that undead jester?" Tiamat sneered, her silver plate armour gleaming as she stepped forward, a white aura swirling around her. With a condescending smile, she taunted, "Hey, bitch, why don''t you..." The space between them collapsed in an instant as Tiamat''s Eldritch Dragon Claw hurtled toward Azuraella''s face. "Die for me!"


    Azuraella raised her chin just as the blow connected. The impact unleashed an eldritch shockwave, warping the landscape into twisted, living flesh. The train tracks beneath them morphed into a writhing double helix, while a delayed tornado of disembodied eyes spiralled around them.


    Tiamat smirked, her expression dripping with disdain. "How cute. So you can take a hit. Impressive? Hardly." With a flicker of her eyes, her other arm transformed into an Eldritch Dragon Claw, mirroring the first. She unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes, each blow faster and more devastating than the last, her power surging with every swing.


    Faint scratches momentarily marred Azuraella''s face before vanishing. In response, Azuraella''s eldritch tongue darted out, wrapping around Tiamat''s face like a grotesque scarf. With a sudden, brutal yank, she pulled Tiamat close and drove her knee into Tiamat''s stomach, shattering the armour shielding her abs and forcing a gasp of pain from her lips.


    Tiamat seemed to waver for a moment, but her legs propelled her forward with renewed force. She swiftly ensnared Azuraella with her legs, encircling her torso. With both hands gripping Azuraella''s head, Tiamat began to deliver a relentless series of headbutts.


    Ouroboros, pipe still in his mouth, exhaled a thick cloud of Cyanide Smoke that enveloped both women. The toxic fumes targeted only Azuraella, yet it was Tiamat who snarled in frustration from within the smoke.


    As the cloud slowly dispersed, Tiamat was revealed suspended in midair, Azuraella''s eldritch tongue coiled tightly around her in a Takate Kote bind. The tongue constricted Tiamat''s muscular abs, which bore the marks of the battle, her body glistening with sweat and drool. Tiamat''s growls of anger and defiance were muffled as she struggled against the relentless grip.


    "Oi... what are you doing?" Ouroboros asked, his pipe slipping from his mouth and clattering onto the ballast. "Are you finding this comfortable? Though I suppose the damaged plate armour doesn''t exactly scream relaxation."


    "Your questions couldn''t be more idiotic. Hurry up and get me out of this, Paradox!" Tiamat snapped, her anger clear despite the compromising position.


    Oddly, it was Azuraella who blushed. "Still so powerful, even in humiliation. Azuraella thinks you look good in plate armour. You''re worthy to serve her."


    Ouroboros rushed in to intervene, locking Azuraella in a rear chokehold, though she remained unfazed. He increased his power, shouting in frustration.


    Irritated by the incessant noise, Azuraella released Tiamat, retracting her eldritch tongue with a dismissive snap. A Monochrome Sphere materialised around them, draining all colour from the surroundings and sapping their will to fight, vitality, and endurance while crushing the dragons'' bodies with its oppressive force. Azuraella then thrust her hand into Ouroboros''s side, her fingers wrapping around his external oblique. With a disturbing inhumanity, she twisted her wrist.


    "Argh! Chaos, how about a deal? Release us, and we''ll grant you the same courtesy," Ouroboros proposed, leaning heavily on her as if she were a crutch but stubbornly refusing to release his grip.


    Azuraella tilted her head, pressing her chin against Ouroboros''s forearm with a crushing force. "That doesn''t make any sense," she mused. "Let Azuraella think." Ouroboros buried his face in his other forearm, desperately stifling a scream as the pressure intensified.


    Tiamat struggled to rise but was immediately met with a relentless barrage of tongue lashes, each strike faster than time itself could register. The blows incessantly targeted her already battered abs, causing her to crumple to the ground, gasping for breath. "Why do you keep hitting the same spot, you bitch?" she demanded, her voice strained with pain.


    Azuraella glanced down absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting to the various bondage techniques she might explore next. "Azuraella is simply tenderising your beautifully sculpted abs," she remarked.


    As Azuraella contemplated her next move, two colossal tentacles suddenly materialised from the void¡ªone pinning her down, while the other grasped both Tiamat and Ouroboros. Recognising the intervention, Azuraella remarked, "How peculiar. The Void Sovereign deems this trivial conflict worthy of her attention? Azuraella and these two primordial servants should be beneath her concern. Is this also your doing, Yog-Sothoth?" She recalled sensing an enigmatic presence within the Void Sovereign during their encounter in the Realm of Distortion, but had dismissed it as inconsequential at the time. With a swift, decisive motion, the primordial dragons were hurled into the air and pulled through a portal conjured by the Sovereign''s tentacle. They emerged from Lumi''Nae''s belly, disoriented and in a completely different location.


    Lumi''Nae sat on a bench at a tranquil picnic table, her demeanour serene. They landed in a bustling amusement park, where the menacing entrance of a haunted house loomed over the cheerful chaos of the carnival rides and games. The laughter and excitement of the park''s attractions, while lively, created a jarring shift from the previous chaos.


    "What''s happening?!" Ouroboros exclaimed, his astonishment palpable as he took in the vibrant amusement park. Relief swept over him at the sight of Lumi''Nae. "Well, this is a turn-up for the books. I had no idea Void Incarnates had such a flair for dramatic exits," he said, a hint of dry irony in his voice as he clenched his fist in frustration. "It seems my own power is still rather wanting, your Unfathomable Majesty."


    "That''s right, you''ve got a long road ahead, bud." Tiamat, visibly displeased, snatched Lumi''Nae''s water bottle and took a swig, only to grimace at the taste. She glanced at the label¡ªEve¡ªwith evident distaste before exhaling a breath that transformed the water into saltwater.


    Their dramatic emergence from Lumi''Nae''s belly elicited startled glances from the surrounding crowd. A child exclaimed, "Mama, did you see that? Two cosplayers just came out of that woman''s belly!"


    Unfazed by the commotion, Lumi''Nae subtly altered their memories, ensuring that the bizarre event would be forgotten. The crowd swiftly resumed their carefree enjoyment of the park, oblivious to the strange occurrence.


    Sathiel arrived moments later, balancing three trays of food with remarkable skill. Two trays were held in her hands, while the third, secured by her red, demonic energy channelled through her light brown hair, rested perfectly on top of her head. Each tray featured a selection of wholesome fare: vibrant fresh fruit slices, including juicy watermelon and crisp apple wedges, accompanied by crisp vegetable sticks such as carrots, celery, and bell peppers with a side of creamy hummus. There were also mixed greens salads adorned with grilled chicken, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and a light vinaigrette, as well as quinoa bowls topped with roasted vegetables and a sprinkling of feta cheese.


    She glanced at Ouroboros and Tiamat with mild regret. "I would have brought more if I''d known you two were coming."


    Akashirae appeared soon after, her eyes lighting up with a warm smile as she greeted Ouroboros. "Brother," she said, nodding towards Tiamat. "Abyss."


    From within Lumi''Nae''s Void-Cloaked Mantle, Nemesis'' voice emerged, tinged with concern. "Esteemed Ouroboros, Tiamat¡ªwhat has caused your delay?"


    Ouroboros, weary from the recent chaos, took a sip from Lumi''Nae''s water bottle, only to immediately spit it out as the saltwater hit his tongue. The water, passing through Lumi''Nae, who had momentarily become intangible, landed on Sathiel''s black armour.


    "Whoa, that was unexpected," Sathiel remarked, holding a grilled chicken salad she had been about to eat. "I hope everything is alright, Sir Halberd."


    Lumi''Nae handed Ouroboros a protein-packed snack bar and a refreshing smoothie. "Please, tell us what happened," she encouraged, her tone gentle yet curious.


    "Don''t you possess absolute omniscience and thus know all the answers, Void? Then again, with your incomprehensible grasp of reality, even absolute omniscience must seem like mere child''s play to you. You''re less a revealer of false knowledge and more an enigma unto yourself." Ouroboros glanced up at the slowly turning Ferris wheel, observing people boarding a nearby roller coaster. "What began as a peaceful day quickly turned into a chaotic ordeal. I''m not even certain whether I''m alive or dead at this point."


    Akashirae''s red fox ears twitched in recognition. "It took a while, but my Divine Mind has finally pieced together the events. Rather than recount them, I''ll show everyone what transpired."


    "Much appreciated," Ouroboros replied. "You''ve always had a talent for that sort of thing."


    "Good thing too," Tiamat muttered, already striding towards the roller coaster, her massive, spiked tail leaving grooves in the ground. "He wouldn''t have explained it properly anyway." She had already snatched and devoured the protein-packed snack bar meant for Ouroboros and casually took his smoothie with her as well.


    Ouroboros watched her walk away. "And here I thought we were making progress... She might be even more unpredictable than L¨¹ Bu. But I''ve got to hand it to her¡ªher tenacity is something else. She just keeps pushing forward without a second glance." He then turned to Lumi''Nae with a sigh. "Tch. I''ve got a long way to go, haven''t I? You should''ve told me how far beneath your level I really am. I made a fool of myself out there."


    "Would it have made a difference if I had?" Lumi''Nae replied. "I doubt it. You''re a warrior, driven by the thrill of challenge. Trials like these are what truly ignite your spirit. They forge you stronger and sharper, much like a blade tempered in fire."


    Sathiel chimed in, "Okay, so you probably won''t beat Lady Lumi''Nae in a fight or any big challenge she''s really set on winning. Some things are just way out of reach. But that doesn''t mean you shouldn''t give it your best shot, right? Just try to avoid attracting unnecessary battles if you can..."

 Fated Conclave

    "To ex-EEST, or not to EX-eest... Hah! A mere ripple in the vastness beyond vill itself, comrade. You think too much, yes? In that question... lies the essence of all that was, is, and¡ªvill¡ªever be. It''s as futile as wondering if a star''s light matters in the endless void. I already know the answer, of course. To everything. It''s all so painfully simple, don''t you think? So utterly... insignificant, da?"


    ¡ªKBZ


    In the ancient and brooding halls of Umbraheim, where the stone walls whispered secrets of ages long past, the summit had gathered. It was a place where gothic spires reached towards the eternal twilight, and shadows seemed to move with a life of their own. The rulers of disparate realms, each with their own burdens and legacies, had convened to address the most dire threat their worlds had ever known: Ophelia, the Warbringer Prototype, a being whose very name inspired dread across the omniverses.


    The grand chamber, adorned with dark, elaborate tapestries and lit by flickering candelabras, exuded a heavy atmosphere. The rulers were already seated, each in their place of power, their eyes fixed on the centre of the round table where an image of Ophelia''s last known whereabouts flickered ominously in a holographic projection.


    Cordelia, the Doom Knight and Emperor of the Tartarus Imperium, broke the silence first. Her presence was as formidable as the demonic spiked mace that rested by her side. Clad in black armour with a crimson cape flowing behind her, Cordelia''s red eyes gleamed with an intense, almost otherworldly fire. Her dark brown hair framed a face that was both stern and regal.


    "Ophelia," Cordelia intoned, her voice resonating with the authority of one who ruled over legions of the damned. "She is not merely a criminal but a blasphemy against the natural order, an aberration that seeks to overthrow the very gods. Her theft of the Apex Ascendant from Rosalind¡ªmay her soul find peace¡ªmarks her as a foe beyond mortal comprehension. The Tartarus Imperium stands ready to bring her to justice, to drag her from her false throne and into the abyss where she belongs."


    Seated beside her, Beatrice, the crusader and illegitimate princess of Sanctumaria, nodded solemnly. Her long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes contrasted sharply with her imposing heavenly hammer, which rested against her chair. Despite her divine lineage, there was a shadow of grief in her gaze¡ªa grief born of loss and betrayal.


    "Cordelia, you speak with wisdom," Beatrice said, her voice steady but laden with emotion. "Ophelia''s crimes are not abstract horrors to me. She was once like a sister, a cherished member of my family. Matthias, the great paladin, adopted her as his own, and we all believed she would bring light to the world. But now... now she is the very darkness we sought to vanquish. The death of my half-brother, Sebastian, found defiled on our throne, is but a fraction of the torment she has wrought. I swear upon my bloodline, upon the legacy of Sanctumaria, that Ophelia will answer for her sins."


    Across the table, the air shimmered as Portia''s holographic form materialised. Despite being aeons away in her Spire of the Solitary Champion, her presence was potent. Her long white hair cascaded to the ground, her holy aura barely contained by the blindfold and straitjacket that bound her. Even in her spectral form, the purifying energy she radiated was tangible, cleansing the air around her.


    "Ophelia is an anomaly," Portia''s voice was soft but carried the weight of millennia. "She wields the Apex Ascendant, a weapon of unfathomable power, designed in my world to safeguard, not destroy. Its fall into her hands is a travesty. Her nanomachines, born of my era''s technological marvels, give her the ability to warp reality itself. But we must remember, even in the face of such overwhelming power, there is always a light to counter the darkness. We must be that light, united in purpose."


    The feral energy of Maria, the barbarian queen of the Omegasaurus Tribe, added a primal intensity to the gathering. Her wild blonde hair and primordial armour spoke of a time when life was simpler, yet harsher. Though displaced from her time, Maria''s spirit was indomitable.


    "My tribe is gone," Maria growled, her voice thick with barely restrained anger. "Lost to the sands of time. I do not know if it was Ophelia''s doing, or if we simply faded into history, but it does not matter. What matters is that I am here now, and I have the strength of the ages behind me. Ophelia''s armies, her machines, her dark magics¡ªthey will fall before the might of the primal. I will see her broken, just as she has broken so many."


    Macbeth, the lamia magistrate of Shuanglu, coiled gracefully in her seat. Her serpentine form exuded a cold, calculated menace. Her gaze, sharp and unblinking, held the weight of countless judgements rendered, countless lives condemned.


    "Shuanglu is a land of shadows and secrets," Macbeth said, her voice a silken whisper. "We have heard whispers of Ophelia''s atrocities, tales of her pursuit of godhood. In her quest to transcend the divine, she has made enemies of all creation. My courts have deliberated, and we find her guilty¡ªnot just of crimes against nations, but against existence itself. She must be stopped, but it will require more than brute force. We must be cunning, strike when and where she least expects, and with a precision that leaves no room for escape."


    Viola, one of the four ruling queens of Umbraheim and their host, adjusted her black shirt and white dress, her harpy wings rustling slightly. Despite her youthful appearance, there was a wisdom in her brown eyes that spoke of deep understanding.


    "Ophelia''s nanomachines are her greatest strength," Viola mused, her tone thoughtful. "But they may also be her greatest vulnerability. We must find a way to disrupt them, to strip her of the power she has stolen and bring her to heel. Umbraheim has resources, knowledge of ancient magics and technologies that may prove crucial in this fight. We must pool our knowledge, our strength, to craft a strategy that addresses her on every front¡ªphysical, magical, and technological."


    The last to speak was Yoshiko Amane, the serene spear-wielder from Yugen, who stood with quiet dignity. Her connection to the Enlightened One, Rosalind, lent her words a weight beyond her years.


    "Ophelia was once a beacon of wisdom and kindness," Yoshiko began, her voice calm, imbued with a sense of tragic inevitability. "She was my mentor''s most beloved student, a sister to us all in Yugen. Her fall is not just a loss; it is a wound that bleeds across realities. But even in the face of her betrayal, I cannot help but remember the good she once represented. We must defeat her, yes, but we must also strive to understand her¡ªto perhaps, if it is possible, save her from the darkness that has consumed her."


    The sombre atmosphere within the grand hall of Umbraheim thickened as the rulers absorbed Yoshiko''s words. The flickering candlelight seemed to dim, casting deeper shadows that danced like spectres across the stone walls. The silence that followed Yoshiko Amane''s plea for understanding hung heavy, each ruler contemplating the implications of her proposal.


    Cordelia was the first to break the silence. Her red eyes narrowed, and a dark, unsettling energy radiated from her. The Doom Knight''s voice was like the grinding of iron on stone, filled with a barely contained fury.


    "Save her?" Cordelia spat the words as if they were poison. "You speak of mercy for a monster who has laid waste to worlds, who has committed atrocities so vile that even the demons of the Tartarus Imperium recoil in disgust. Ophelia is beyond redemption, Yoshiko. She forfeited any right to our compassion when she chose to wield the Apex Ascendant for her twisted ambitions. Mercy is a weakness she will exploit. No, we must not offer her the chance to repent. We must bring her to her knees, break her, and ensure she can never rise again."


    The room fell silent, Cordelia''s words hanging in the air like the edge of her mace¡ªsharp, heavy, and inescapable. Her stance was clear, and her gaze bore into Yoshiko with the intensity of a warrior who had seen too much darkness to believe in light.


    Beatrice shifted in her seat, her blue eyes thoughtful, though her heart was conflicted. The princess of Sanctumaria was a beacon of justice, but she had also known Ophelia before her fall. Her voice was measured, though it carried the weight of personal grief.


    "Cordelia, I understand your rage," Beatrice said softly. "Ophelia has committed unforgivable acts. But Yoshiko''s point is not one of weakness; it is one of caution. We must be certain that our judgement is not clouded by anger alone. There was a time when Ophelia was a force for good, a time when she fought alongside us against the darkness. Perhaps that part of her still exists, buried beneath the corruption. If there is a way to reach her, to restore even a fragment of the person she once was, we owe it to the omniverses to at least consider it."


    Cordelia''s response was immediate and cutting. "Beatrice, your sentimentality will be our undoing. Ophelia''s crimes are not the result of some tragic fall¡ªthey are a calculated choice, a path she walked willingly. She is not some lost soul to be saved; she is the architect of her own damnation. If we allow our emotions to sway us, she will exploit it, and countless more will suffer. This is not a time for mercy; it is a time for absolution by fire."


    The holographic form of Portia shimmered, her voice as serene as ever but with an undercurrent of stern resolve. "Cordelia, while I do not disagree with your assessment of Ophelia''s threat, we must also acknowledge the complexity of her situation. The nanomachines she wields, the Apex Ascendant¡ªthese are tools of immense power, yes, but they are also symbols of what she once aspired to be. If we can turn those tools against her, if we can strip her of the corruption and perhaps reignite the spark of the person she was, then we may find a solution that does not require her total annihilation."This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Maria, the barbarian queen, leaned forward, her primal instincts warring with the modern understanding she was slowly coming to grips with. "Mercy is not something my tribe offered easily," Maria rumbled. "But there is wisdom in what Portia and Beatrice say. If there is a way to weaken her without letting her know, if we can bait her into thinking we might spare her, then strike when she is at her most vulnerable... perhaps there is a path that serves both justice and the omniverses."


    Macbeth, however, was less inclined to this line of thinking. Her voice, as cold and calculated as ever, sliced through the discussion. "This debate is a distraction. Ophelia is a tactician, a manipulator. She will see through any attempt to sway her with appeals to her former self. What we need is a strategy that leaves no room for her to manoeuvre, no space for mercy or hesitation. The moment we show even a hint of leniency, she will use it against us. We cannot afford to be anything less than ruthless."


    Viola listened intently, her harpy wings rustling slightly as she absorbed the differing opinions. Finally, she spoke, her tone reflective. "There is merit in both arguments. Ophelia is undeniably a threat that must be neutralised, but we must also consider the long-term implications of our actions. If we destroy her without attempting to understand the full extent of her power and motivations, we may miss an opportunity to prevent another from following in her footsteps. Yoshiko''s suggestion is not merely about mercy; it''s about strategy¡ªabout ensuring that we address not just the symptom, but the disease itself."


    Yoshiko Amane stood silent, her serene expression unchanged despite the heated debate her words had sparked. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, imbued with a quiet strength. "I do not ask for mercy out of naivety, nor do I suggest we abandon our duty to protect the omniverses. But we must remember that Ophelia was once like us¡ªshe had hopes, dreams, a desire to make the worlds better. The very tools she now uses for destruction were created with the intent of safeguarding life. If we can find a way to remind her of that, to bring her back from the brink, we might avert further catastrophe."


    Cordelia''s red eyes flared with disdain. "And what if we fail, Yoshiko? What if your attempt to save her only strengthens her resolve to destroy us all? I have seen too many fall because they believed in the goodness of those who no longer deserved it. Ophelia is a cancer, and the only cure is to cut her out completely. We do not have the luxury of hope."


    Yoshiko met Cordelia''s gaze steadily, her voice unwavering. "And what if we succeed? What if, by reaching out, we save not just Ophelia but the countless lives she might destroy in the future? This is not just about her¡ªit''s about what we become in our fight against her. We must not lose our humanity, our compassion, in the name of justice."


    Finally, Viola spoke, her voice a quiet but firm command. "Enough. We have heard all sides. This is not a choice we can make lightly, nor is it one that should be decided in haste. We will continue to deliberate, and in the meantime, we will prepare for both possibilities. If Ophelia can be redeemed, we will try. But if she cannot... then we must be prepared to do what is necessary to end her threat once and for all."


    Cordelia''s lips curled into a grim smile. "Very well. But do not mistake my agreement for approval. I will be ready when the time comes¡ªready to deliver the final blow."


    Her crimson eyes narrowed, lost in the darkness of her memories. Her expression was grim, an iron resolve forged in the fires of betrayal and despair. "My fate was sealed long ago," she began, her voice resonating with a bitter edge that cut through the silence like a blade. "In another life, I was a daughter¡ªloyal, loving, and ultimately forsaken. My father, King Lear, blinded by flattery and deceit, cast me aside, believing the lies of my treacherous sisters. Even as I remained true, even as I returned to him in his madness, it was too late. I died in chains, a victim of ambition, jealousy, and a world that had no place for honour."


    Her gaze swept across the others, her voice dropping to a near growl. "In that life, I was powerless, at the mercy of forces beyond my control. But in this life, I have forged myself anew. I am no longer the naive daughter who believed in the righteousness of others. I am Cordelia, Emperor of the Tartarus Imperium, and I will never again be at the mercy of fate or the whims of lesser beings. I will crush those who stand in my way, for I have learned that only the strong survive."


    Beatrice leaned forward, her blue eyes softening as she considered Cordelia''s tale. "Your story is a tragedy of loyalty repaid with betrayal," she said, her voice tinged with compassion. "But it is also a tale of strength born from suffering. You''ve turned that pain into a weapon, Cordelia, and I respect that. But we must remember that not every story of redemption is doomed to failure. Sometimes, the strongest hearts are forged in the fires of loss."


    Cordelia''s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression hardening. "Perhaps. But I will not let sentimentality cloud my judgement. We have seen what happens when mercy is given to those who do not deserve it. Weakness is a luxury we cannot afford."


    Maria shifted in her seat, her primal energy barely contained. The barbarian queen let out a low growl as she reflected on her past life. "In another time, I was a mother," she said, her voice rough but filled with a deep, enduring strength. "I bore a child who was destined to change the world, a son who was loved by many but understood by few. I watched him suffer, watched him die for the sins of others, and though my heart was shattered, I carried on. I bore the weight of the world''s sorrows on my shoulders."


    She glanced at Beatrice, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I suppose we both know what it is to bear a burden that others cannot comprehend. But in this life, I am no longer the quiet, grieving mother. I am a queen, a warrior, and I will not allow my people to suffer as I once did."


    Beatrice''s eyes softened further. "You''ve carried a burden that no one should ever have to bear, Maria. But you''ve turned that sorrow into strength, just as we all have in our own ways. There is power in grief, in love, in the bonds that tie us to this world."


    Portia''s hologram shimmered, her serene aura filling the room with a subtle sense of peace. "In another life, I was a woman of law and reason," she began, her voice calm and thoughtful. "I saved a man''s life with a clever argument, disguised as a lawyer to circumvent the biases of the world. But even then, I saw how easily justice could be twisted by those in power. My victory was bittersweet, for though I saved a life, I could not change the hearts of those who ruled."


    Her blindfolded gaze seemed to turn inward, as if recalling the distant echoes of that life. "In this life, I have seen the cost of such victories. Power, like justice, is a double-edged sword. We must wield it wisely, lest it turn against us."


    Viola ruffled her wings slightly, her expression pensive as she absorbed Portia''s words. "Your past life speaks to the challenge of doing what is right in a world that often resists justice," she said softly. "You saved a life through cleverness and disguise, but it came at the cost of your own truth. I, too, know what it is to hide one''s true self. In my past life, I was a woman lost in a world that did not know me. I disguised myself as a man, took on a role not meant for me, all in the name of survival."


    Viola paused, her eyes distant as she recalled the pain of that life. "I found love, but even that was complicated by the lies I had to tell. In the end, I was lucky¡ªmy lies did not lead to my ruin, but they could have. In this life, I have learned the value of truth, of being who I am without pretence. But I also understand the necessity of deception, the need to hide one''s true self in a world that is not always kind."


    Macbeth coiled tighter in her seat, her serpentine form shifting uneasily as she prepared to speak. Her eyes were cold, reflecting the bitter lessons of a life long past. "In my past life, I was the wife of a man who would be king," she hissed, her voice dripping with both regret and defiance. "I spurred him on, urged him to seize the crown through murder and betrayal. We believed we could shape our own destiny, that power was ours for the taking. But I learned that power seized by blood is cursed, that the stains of our deeds cannot be washed away. Madness took him, and guilt consumed me. We were both destroyed by the very ambition we sought to satisfy."


    She looked at the others, her gaze hard. "In this life, I am not so easily swayed by promises of power. I understand now that ambition must be tempered with wisdom, and that the price of power can be too high to bear. I will not make the same mistakes again."


    Cordelia''s lips curled into a faint smile. "Ambition tempered with wisdom... Perhaps we all have our scars to bear, and our lessons to learn. But the question remains: can those lessons truly change us? Or are we doomed to repeat the same mistakes, no matter how many lives we live?"


    Before anyone could respond, Yoshiko Amane spoke, her serene voice cutting through the tension. "We live in strange times," she said, her tone contemplative. "More and more, people are recalling past lives, as if the barriers between worlds are thinning. My own past life was as Tomoe Gozen, a warrior of great renown in the Heike era. I fought bravely, and my skills were legendary. But even then, amidst the chaos of battle, I found a deep sense of balance and mindfulness that guided me through."


    Yoshiko''s gaze swept over the room, taking in the varied reactions. "It is curious, is it not? That so many of us remember our past lives now. Perhaps there is a reason for this. We carry the weight of our former selves with us, shaping who we are in this life. And yet, despite the strength and wisdom we have gained, we still face new challenges that test us in ways we could never have anticipated."


    Beatrice nodded in agreement. "Tomoe Gozen... A warrior of immense skill and honour. Your past life is an exemplification to the virtues of courage and discipline. It''s remarkable how such lives can shape our current selves. Perhaps it is not merely the memories but the lessons from those lives that guide us."


    Maria grunted in agreement. "I understand that well. My own past shaped me in ways that still influence me today. We all carry the weight of our former lives, whether as warriors or as rulers. It is a burden and a blessing."


    Macbeth regarded Yoshiko with a cold but thoughtful gaze. "A warrior of such renown... It makes sense that you would bring a sense of balance to our discussions. Your past life speaks to the power of discipline, of maintaining one''s integrity amidst chaos. Perhaps we all need that reminder."


    Portia smiled, her holographic form shimmering. "It seems our past lives have bestowed upon us wisdom that defies the boundaries of time. We must wield this gift, not merely with strength, but with elevated awareness and a clarity that pierces through the fog of uncertainty."


    Cordelia''s expression hardened, her voice dripping with dark resolve. "If we are to confront Ophelia, we must focus on the here and now. Our past lives are but echoes, shadows of what we once were. What matters is our present strength and determination. We cannot afford to be swayed by nostalgia or regrets. We must be ruthless in our pursuit of victory. I stand firm on this: it''s kill or be killed. And I refuse to die like a na?ve fool again¡ªpathetic and powerless."

 The Ashrend Covenant and Naes Chosen: Searax, the Emberlord

    The flames of Hell flickered in the distance as the expeditionary forces of the Swords of Damnation stood firm, their base camp casting a foreboding shadow against the ever-brooding Pandemonium. In the horizon, the jagged silhouette of Lucifer''s forsaken domain loomed, a monumental ruin of fire and brimstone¡ªan eternal testament to Searax''s wrath. Matthias, ever the leader, was perched near the campfire, his eyes scanning the ominous landscape while his mind weighed heavily with the importance of their mission.


    Alaric and Thalion stood near him, the former leaning on his sword with a mocking smirk, and the latter quietly leafing through his magical tome. Demonic skirmishes had been commonplace since they''d established the camp, with demons mindlessly throwing themselves against their defences, but so far, nothing had suggested the true chaos lurking deeper in Hell. Matthias'' voice broke the silence.


    "She''ll arrive soon," he murmured, almost to himself. Nemi, the white dove sent as a herald, had been released hours before.


    "I still don''t get why we''re waiting around," Alaric said, his voice dripping with impatience. "Bael of all people? The masochist monarch? We could''ve been carving our way to Pandemonium by now, Matthias. What makes you think she''ll come, anyway?"


    Matthias gave a measured sigh. "Because Bael... has history here. She knows more about this place than any of us."


    Thalion glanced up from his book, his voice soft yet grounded. "It''s wise to hear her out. Knowledge here is survival, Alaric."


    Alaric gave a crude laugh. "Sure, I''m all for hearing stories¡ªjust as long as it doesn''t take all night."


    As if summoned by the growing tension, Eleanor moved towards her black pegasus, readying herself for her usual scouting patrol. Just as she gripped the reins, her body seized. Her eyes widened and her posture stiffened unnaturally. A soft, malicious chuckle echoed from her lips¡ªnot her own voice, but another''s. Her body was not her own.


    Matthias stood swiftly, recognising the telltale signs of possession. "Bael," he said, a tone of both wariness and command in his voice. "You answered."


    Eleanor''s face, now animated by the unseen entity, relaxed into a smirk. "Of course, Matthias. I don''t need much convincing when the story of Lucifer and Pandemonium is involved." Bael''s voice oozed with lazy amusement, as if she were recounting an ancient, long-forgotten memory. "I thought you''d never ask."


    "Tell me everything," Matthias replied, his tone eager, tinged with the desire to understand Hell''s labyrinthine history.


    Bael''s possession of Eleanor remained graceful, but with a slight predatory air as she settled into the body, crossing her arms in a languid gesture. "Lucifer. Satan. The Ashbringer. Hell has never known such chaos since the Shattering of Infernos. And Pandemonium..." She gave a chuckle, "an apt name now, don''t you think?"


    Matthias and his companions leaned in, their attention fixed on Bael''s words.


    "Satan, the Supreme Adversary, once wandered into Pandemonium. The city, as you''ve likely heard, is always burning. An inferno without end. Why? Searax. The Ashbringer. Even the fire demon god-kings¡ªonce proud generals of Lucifer¡ªare now no more than smouldering husks, regenerating endlessly, trapped in a loop of life and death by the Ashbringer''s ashen flames. But Satan... she was beyond the flames. Hellfire could not touch her. She stood before Lucifer''s symbolic grave¡ªan empty tomb. A wraith''s bane was all she left behind, a blood-red flower that only blooms in Hell. A mocking token, for Satan had always despised Lucifer and her ideals."


    "She hated her?" Matthias asked, surprised.


    "Oh, indeed," Bael continued. "Satan, for all her bluster about wrath and destruction, resented Lucifer''s affection for mortals. She could never understand it. In Satan''s mind, Lucifer''s rebellion was not born from love for humanity but for the thrill of rebellion itself. She considered Lucifer vain, blinded by self-righteousness. Yahweh, Lucifer... all the same in Satan''s eyes¡ªself-important rulers who always had to be right."


    Thalion spoke up quietly, his scholarly curiosity piqued. "And Searax? Did she know of Satan''s visit?"


    Bael laughed softly. "Oh, she knew. Searax was watching from above, her four wings casting their shadows over Pandemonium. Satan, ever the provocateur, had been disturbing the graveyard with her obnoxious heavy metal guitar playing. She played a song so loud, so irreverent, that Searax couldn''t stand it anymore. A single thumbs-down was all Satan got before the sky itself split open with the force of Searax''s Anshen Breath."This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Searax attacked her?" Matthias asked.


    "Of course," Bael replied. "The entire realm burned in Searax''s Emberstorm. Pandemonium was obliterated, if only for a moment. Satan barely crawled out of the rubble, shielded by the powers of Shub-Niggurath the Black Beastbane. The veil protected her from total annihilation. Satan wasn''t pleased¡ªshe came back, furious, her powers rising. She taunted Searax, sticking her tongue out and flipping her off. As if that would help!"


    Alaric let out a low whistle. "Gutsy. I''ll give her that."


    "What followed," Bael went on, ignoring the interruption, "was a battle unlike anything Hell had seen. Searax''s flames clashed with Satan''s eldritch powers, and the realm, already fractured, was torn asunder. Shub-Niggurath herself had to step in, restoring Pandemonium before it was utterly erased."


    "And the outcome?" Matthias asked, leaning forward.


    "A stalemate," Bael said, her voice turning sly. "Neither could overpower the other, not truly. Searax''s anger was unmatched, but Satan''s ability¡ªthe Supreme Adversary¡ªallowed her power to perpetually match, if not surpass, her opponent''s."


    "Sounds exhausting," Alaric muttered, rolling his eyes.


    "Satan didn''t think so," Bael said with a smirk. "She was enjoying it. The chaos, the destruction... it was all a game to her."


    Bael''s voice suddenly shifted, growing serious. "But the battle that unfolded long ago, when all the monarchs united in name only against Searax... it was a turning point. In their zeal to destroy Searax, the monarchs clashed like wild beasts, their power unleashed without regard for one another. The Shattering of Infernos weakened Hell more than anyone could have predicted. The dukes rebelled, the monarchs were overthrown. It all started with Searax, and it ended with that battle in Pandemonium. Lucifer is gone¡ªdead, mad, or in hiding, it doesn''t matter. Hell is leaderless, fractured."


    Matthias took a deep breath, absorbing the weight of the story Bael had shared. "And Searax?" he asked.


    "Still there," Bael said. "The Ashbringer. She hasn''t left Pandemonium since. The flames burn, and she burns with them."


    Before Matthias could respond, Bael''s possession of Eleanor abruptly ended. The Nephilim gasped, regaining control of her body. A sense of urgency filled the air as she glanced to the horizon. "Something''s coming," she said coldly.


    In the distance, a haunting melody filled the air, delicate yet chilling. Beelzebub, the Gourmet Gelatin, emerged from the shadows, seated regally atop a grotesque Omegasaurus, its bloated form pulsating as it trudged forward, leaving a trail of decay. Instead of a traditional tail, a gigantic centipede writhed and undulated behind the creature, its many legs clicking ominously against the ground as it slithered.


    With thin, clawed fingers, Beelzebub played a silver flute, each note sending shivers through the battlefield. Her green hair cascaded down her shoulders in wavy strands, while her pink eyes gleamed with twisted delight, reflecting the cruel beauty of her sadistic appetites. Dressed in an elegant but bizarrely translucent gown, her skin shimmered, revealing the subtle movement of her gelatinous body beneath¡ªboth human and otherworldly, as though her very flesh was perpetually shifting between solid and liquid.


    Above her, the sky darkened, unleashing a macabre downpour of human flesh. The grotesque torrent splattered against the ground with sickening slaps, a precursor to the horrors she was about to unleash. Around her, an army of ravenous demons marched in lockstep, their grotesque forms twisted and malformed, their eyes fixed on their mistress with a hunger only she could sate.


    Thalion, his eyes widening in horror and awe, rifled through his Demon Index. "Beelzebub, the Monarch of Gluttony," he whispered, revulsion mingling with fascination. "I can only imagine what it would be like to... defile her remains."


    "Oh, great," Alaric groaned, but a twisted grin crept across his face as he wiped a chunk of flesh from his brow. "It''s her." His gaze lifted towards Beelzebub''s looming figure. "The Gourmet herself." His voice carried a bizarre mix of reverence and ecstasy. "Should''ve known the feast was coming. My patron always knows how to make an entrance." He licked his fingers, savouring the blood with a manic gleam in his eyes. "Just a taste of what''s to come."


    He glanced at the others, his voice lowering to an eager whisper. "Let''s hope she''s in a giving mood... or we''ll be the ones served."


    Matthias sighed, gripping his Holy Lance with renewed resolve. "Your paths to redemption will be long and arduous, if it ever comes at all." His thoughts briefly drifted to King Thaddeus, once Judas Iscariot, who confided his regret¡ªthe betrayal that damned the Redeemer. Renamed Jude Thaddeus, he sought salvation through blood, ordering Matthias to slay Satan in a desperate attempt to cleanse his soul and undo his ancient sin.


    Before the weight of Matthias'' words could sink in, Eleanor''s voice cut through the tension. "Knights, ready yourselves!" she commanded, a cold fire burning in her eyes. "It''s time to unleash the most exquisite pain and suffering!"


    The knights responded with feral howls, bloodlust igniting within them like a wildfire, preparing to carve their way through the approaching darkness.

 The End Wrought in Fire and Shadow

    "But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, they shall have their portion in the pool burning with fire and brimstone, which is the second death."


    ¡ªRevelation 21:8


    The Blasphemous Revenant cut through the turbulent skies above Tartarus Imperium, its blackened hull streaking through the dense fog, while eerie screams of the damned echoed far below. The crew, hardened Nephilim and otherworldly souls, revelled in their voyage towards the dread capital, Grimmoria.


    The ship groaned as it pressed onward, its sails seemingly absorbing the cursed winds of the Nether, hungry for the torment they carried. Eleanor til Ravn, a strikingly beautiful yet vicious Nephilim admiral, stood at the prow, her dark brown hair whipped by the storm, her eyes glowing with malice as she surveyed the path ahead. Her voice, sharp and commanding, rang out over the infernal winds.


    "Prepare yourselves, you filthy dogs!" she snarled, her chainsaw Broken Maiden strapped to her back, vibrating with a life of its own. "Grimmoria awaits, and if any of you think you can die before we reach it, I''ll carve your soul out myself!"


    Her crew responded with cheers and guttural laughter. They had no illusions about what awaited them in Tartarus. They thrived on blood, betrayal, and fear, all hallmarks of Eleanor''s reign.


    Suddenly, the Revenant shuddered violently, as if struck by a force beyond the material. Above, the skies split open, and a horde of winged zombies and abominations descended upon the ship like locusts. Their grotesque forms, illuminated by flashes of sickly green lightning, swarmed toward the vessel, their hollow eyes seeking only to consume.


    Eleanor smirked.


    "Time for a little fun," she hissed, unsheathing Broken Maiden. With a haunting scream, the chainsaw buzzed vigorously to life, eager for carnage.


    As the first wave of horrors reached the deck, Eleanor moved with inhuman speed, slicing through their ranks. She relished the splatter of blood and ichor on her skin, and with each brutal swing, another monster was felled. Her crew, too, fought like savage beasts, hacking, slashing, and tearing apart their undead foes with primal ferocity.


    But the storm of invaders grew ever thicker.


    Meanwhile, inside the ship''s dimly lit hold, Mammon, Levielle, Alpha-0, and Idea sat around a makeshift table. The flicker of hellfire provided the only light as they engaged in a most mundane activity¡ªplaying poker amidst the chaos outside.


    Alpha-0, the towering, white-haired cyborg with golden eyes that glowed ominously, manipulated her cards not with her hands but with cables that sprouted from her back. She moved them with superb dexterity and effortlessly, yet there was a constant tension in her form, as though she was on the edge of something destructive. Her white straitjacket, self-imposed and too tight, strained against her frame, as though suppressing the devastating force within her.


    "I raise," Alpha-0 growled, her voice low and rough, her golden Eyes of Sacred Havoc never leaving her cards.


    Mammon, the blonde, green-eyed Witch of Wealth and Woe, smiled, her hands twirling an eerie red crystal¡ªthe Philosopher''s Stone itself¡ªas she studied her own hand. "You''re cheating with those cables again, Alpha-0. And here I thought you were obsessed with purity."


    "I don''t cheat," Alpha-0 snapped. "I purify the game."


    Levielle, seated beside Mammon, barely paid attention. The black-haired Dragon of Desolation, appearing as a teenage girl with vacant grey eyes, was devoid of emotion. She coldly observed the battle unfolding outside through the grimy window. The continuous exudation of nuclear radiation from her made her presence unbearable for most creatures, though the Nephilim crew had long become numb, shielded by Mammon''s artefact.


    Her thoughts wandered, far removed from the chaos before her. She pondered her true self¡ªLeviathan of the Fathomless Terror¡ªand the eternal war waged in her name, a war as ceaseless as the Abyss'' tide, an endless conflict she neither resisted nor embraced.


    "Cards bore me," Levielle said, her voice flat and disinterested. "Everything ends in destruction, whether through me or someone else." She discarded her hand. "Pointless."


    Across from her, Idea, the Primordial Psychic, was much more engaged in her own world. Her blue hair shimmered under the dim light, and her blue eyes remained glued to the holographic screen in front of her.


    Meanwhile, Rosalind, the AI inhabiting Levielle''s battle android, was oblivious to the chaos around them, fully engrossed in a competitive video game, her voice chat echoing throughout the room as she barked insults at her opponents. "No, you imbecile, go left! LEFT!" she screeched into the comms.


    Suddenly, a deafening roar shook the ship as the invaders grew bolder, finally breaking into the room. One monstrosity, a twisted amalgamation of rotting flesh and metal, lunged towards the poker table.


    Alpha-0''s cables reacted instantly, snapping forward like metallic vipers, piercing the creature through its skull. With one fluid motion, she tore it apart, gore splattering across the room.


    "Purified," Alpha-0 muttered, her cables retracting back into her body. She stood, towering over the table. "These vermin are in agony. I''m going to fix that."


    Without waiting for a response, Alpha-0 strode toward the exit, her eyes gleaming with a berserker''s intent.


    On the deck, Eleanor and her crew were locked in combat, the number of the invaders seemingly endless. Eleanor sliced through another abomination when Alpha-0 emerged from below, her straitjacket gleaming in the lightning flashes. With a single gesture, her cables exploded outward, skewering the airborne monsters with terrifying efficiency. The tide of battle shifted immediately.


    "I thought you''d never join us," Eleanor shouted over the carnage, her chainsaw revving. She sidestepped a monstrous talon before decapitating its owner. "You''re missing all the fun, Althea!"


    "Fun is irrelevant," Alpha-0 replied coldly before she let out a frenzied grin, her cables spiralling out, severing limbs and heads with chaotic accuracy. "Only purification matters!"


    After what seemed like an eternity of blood and death, the skies cleared. The Revenant had reached the Netherwind Terminal, its mooring station in the heart of Tartarus Imperium. As the ship descended, landing with ghastly creaks that echoed like mournful wails of the damned. The thick scent of sulphur and despair permeated the air, clinging to everything as if the very atmosphere was steeped in sorrow.


    Baphomet, the Horned Philosopher, awaited them at the dock, his massive form draped in crimson robes, his eyes gleaming with depraved delight. His tail swished in anticipation, while his hands tapped against his thighs impatiently.


    "Ah, my lovely meat!" Baphomet exclaimed as Eleanor''s crew began tossing bound slaves and trafficking victims off the ship. "Handle them carefully, Admiral. These souls are too precious for your brutality."


    Eleanor let out a wild, mocking laugh as she kicked one of the captives off the ship herself. "Careful? Oh, please, Baphomet! What''s the point? You''ll be dissecting them soon enough, won''t you?"


    Baphomet''s grin widened. "Naturally, naturally. I do so enjoy examining my wares." His massive hands groped the victims as they fell into his grasp, inspecting them like prized cattle. Some squirmed under his touch, others simply stared in terror, too broken to resist.


    He leaned closer to one trembling elf, his hands lingering on her body. "Aroused and pleasant to look at... yes, this one will do nicely." His face twisted in perverse joy.


    Eleanor, watching from the side, let out an exaggerated groan. "Ugh, save your sick little fantasies for someone who cares, Baphomet," she snapped, her patience long gone. "Now, cough up the gold or I''ll dump the rest of them overboard. I''ve got places to be."


    Baphomet''s eyes gleamed as he tossed a bulging sack of coins at her. "As agreed. But I''ve included a little extra¡ªugly children. Their faces offend me. Take them with you, they''re not fit for my empire."


    Eleanor snarled as a group of scarred and disfigured children materialised at Baphomet''s command, their small bodies bearing the marks of burns and cruel torment. Among them was a half-elf boy named Thalion, his face marred by burns, but his eyes glowed with a maniacal obsession¡ªdeath clung to him like a shadow.


    "Samson," Eleanor barked, "round up this refuse and make sure every last one of them touches Mammon''s artefact before they board. We wouldn''t want any... accidents¡ªLevielle''s nuclear rot has a way of lingering." She tossed the Skull of Leviathan in his direction.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Samson fumbled the catch, and the skull clattered to the deck, rolling back to Eleanor''s boot. "I''m on it, Captain." He scrambled forward, lowering himself to retrieve the artefact.


    Eleanor''s lip curled in disgust. "Useless fat fuck! Can''t you do anything right?" She pressed her boot down on his face with brutal force. "Joshua! Noah! Get the gangplank down¡ªtogether!"


    Joshua exhaled, brushing a hand through his hair. "Aye, Captain, if you insist. Guess I''ll ready the gangplank... again." He trudged off, grumbling under his breath but moving to obey.


    Noah leaned lazily against the mast, a smirk playing on his lips. "You love it, Josh. Just think of all the fun we had on land."


    Joshua shot him a glare, though a reluctant grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, right. Fun until we''re locked in the brig¡ªagain."


    Noah shrugged, unfazed. "Then let''s make it worth the trouble next time. I doubt we''ll linger here for long, anyway."


    Freed from Eleanor''s boot, Samson hurried down the gangplank where a trio of towering doom knights herded the children. One knight barked a command: "March."


    The children shuffled forward, their eyes dull and lifeless, except for Thalion, who stared defiantly. Samson snarled at him, "Move faster, you little freak," sneering as Thalion met his gaze with silent fury. "Look at me like that again, and I''ll carve out your eyes."


    "Go ahead," Thalion spat, his voice cold. "I''m blind already."


    Without another word, Samson seized him by the arm, forcing his hand onto the Skull of Leviathan before roughly flinging him aboard like a rag doll. Eleanor cast them only a fleeting glance, her thoughts already on the next conquest.


    "We sail for Polaris Megalopunk!" she declared, her voice booming across the deck like a war drum. "Time to visit the future." With a crack of her Carrion Whip, woven from the entrails of Christ himself, a sickly green rift split the air in front of the ship. The Blasphemous Revenant groaned and shuddered, the vessel slipping into the gaping maw of the Void''s corridor, swallowed by the unknown.


    As the ship traversed the otherworldly corridor, Mammon and Idea retreated to a corner to discuss their latest machinations.


    "I''ve got something in the works," Mammon began with pride as she pulled out a series of holographic blueprints. "Project Sigma. Levielle''s body will house the ultimate interface between metaphysical might, omnipotence, and technology, a neutral construct that will enable the manipulation of not just all that is, but rise above the zenith of infinity and transcendence itself. A new kind of consciousness, one that forever surpasses even the comprehension of the gods and primordials. This entity will wield a power greater than that of the Formless Void, finally establishing Her rightful place beneath my authority and my wonderful creation! Ohohoho!"


    Idea leaned back, her blue eyes flickering with excitement at the prospect. "And how exactly do you plan on achieving that? Levielle is already a Destroyer of the highest calibre. Adding more power to her could turn her more dangerous than a living apocalypse. I''m intrigued, though, Mammon."


    Mammon smirked, leaning forward with a conspiratorial air. "That''s where Sigma-1 comes in. We won''t just amplify Levielle''s abilities; we''ll bring them under control. You see, Levielle''s lack of emotion, her void of care, makes her the perfect conduit. She won''t be tempted to use her power whimsically. Sigma-2 will act as the anchor, providing the stabilisation needed for the system to function without imploding."


    Idea''s fingers danced over her holographic screen as she processed the implications. "An interface of such unprecedented magnitude, utilising Levielle''s body as the vessel... You''re playing with the very fabric of existence, Mammon. This is not merely dangerous; it constitutes a direct affront to the most powerful primordial forces that govern the realms."


    Mammon shrugged, a smile creeping onto her lips. "Precisely. But isn''t that our calling? We push boundaries, we dismantle the natural order. Why stop now?"


    Idea laughed, glancing up from her nanomachines. "Stop? No, that would be the antithesis of progress. I have also been labouring on something groundbreaking¡ªApex Ascendant. It will not just revolutionise travel between worlds; it will obliterate the very concept of boundaries. Realms, dimensions, even omniverses... nothing will be beyond reach."


    Levielle stood high in the crow''s nest, her silhouette almost invisible against the turbulent backdrop of the Void''s shifting, prismatic chaos. The wind here was different¡ªsilent, without true motion, and yet it howled through the spaces of her mind, tugging at the deepest parts of her consciousness. Her sharp, draconic eyes gazed into the endless horizon, but her thoughts were far from the ship or its crew.


    Her title¡ªThe Drake of War¡ªresonated hollowly within her. The name was a symbol of power, destruction, and mastery over violence, but in the grand scheme of things, it felt insignificant. What did it mean to be the Drake of War when the very concept of war will be rendered obsolete? She couldn''t shake the feeling, a creeping certainty deep within her, that all of it¡ªwar, destruction, creation¡ªwould soon be swallowed by something far greater.


    Lumi''Nae loomed at the forefront of her mind. Levielle knew, as did many, that the Void Sovereign herself was prophesied to bring forth the Silence Beyond, the final apocalypse that would end everything¡ªtime, space, matter, existence. And Levielle couldn''t stop thinking about it. When would it come? When would this outer god obliterate all that remained? Was it inevitable? Would her own existence be snuffed out like a mere candle flame when the time came?


    As these thoughts churned within her, she found herself thinking of Shiva, the supposed destroyer-god who had sought, in futility, to stop the end of all things. Shiva, with his Third Eye that sought to unmake reality. His efforts had been monumental but ultimately laughable, for no amount of divine fury could ever truly harm the formless Void and Her incarnates. And yet, he had persisted, hunting down the other catalysts¡ªthe Six Dragons of the Apocalypse¡ªin a desperate final gambit to alter the inexorable march of destiny.


    With her abyssal powers, Levielle summoned a crystalline orb, its surface shimmering with refracted strands of metaphysical might. She gazed into it, and images unfolded before her¡ªShiva''s defeats, one after the other, etched into the magical fabric of the cosmos like stains that could never be washed away.


    The first image to fill the crystal was that of the Dragon of Suffering, accompanied by the discordant wail of the Song of Hatred. Satan stood at its centre, her electric guitar a weapon of pure devastation, every note a scream of destruction. Shiva, in all his cosmic fury, had awoken her from her casket, attempting to unleash the overwhelming power of his Third Eye. Yet, the moment its destructive energy surged forth, Satan''s Song shattered it effortlessly, the notes dissolving Shiva''s attack like a fragile mist.


    Shiva lay crumpled on the ground, his form barely holding together, dissolving into a grotesque pool of black and red eldritch ooze.


    Levielle''s lips curled into a small, cold smile as the scene transitioned. She could see herself now, standing in the middle of a dark, foreboding forest, Shiva before her, enraged beyond reason. She remembered that moment¡ªhow his cosmic dance, the Tandava, had swirled the universe around him into a violent storm of destruction. He had been intent on reducing her to nothing, annihilating her entire being. And yet... Levielle recalled how the Tandava had done nothing but provoked a sneeze from her. That sneeze had shattered all the omniverses, and Shiva... poor Shiva... had been reduced to a heap, barely clinging to life. The look of disbelief on his face had been almost comical.


    Shiva had recovered from that encounter, but the images in the crystal showed him next facing Nidhogg, the Harbinger of Twilight. The battle had been a spectacle of destruction, but one-sided, as always. Levielle watched as Nidhogg''s monstrous jaws closed around Shiva''s legendary Trishula, snapping it like a twig. Nidhogg''s deep, rumbling voice echoed within the orb as she mocked him, her words filled with cruelty. "Shall I bathe in your blood, little god? Or perhaps I''ll tear you limb from limb? But where should I start, hmm?"


    With a wave of her Dreadwind, she stripped him of his hair, leaving him vulnerable and utterly humiliated. Just when it seemed all hope was lost, a white dove appeared, a fleeting symbol of light that momentarily stayed Nidhogg''s claws. It granted Shiva a precious moment to escape¡ªbut even this was a hollow victory, overshadowed by the weight of his defeat.


    Another scene blinked into focus¡ªthis time, Tiamat, the Dragon of Ruination, and Apathraxis, the Malevolent Wound, clashed in a cosmic battlefield where reality itself bent and fractured. Shiva, desperate as ever, had made the foolish decision to interfere. Levielle watched with detachment as Tiamat gouged out Shiva''s Third Eye with savage ease, consuming it whole. "Tastes like fucking shite," Tiamat had growled, unimpressed by the so-called divine power. Apathraxis had laughed, mocking Shiva''s despair as though it were nothing more than a distraction from his own duel with Tiamat.


    And then there was the fifth dragon, Searax, the Dragon of Incineration. Shiva hadn''t even seen her. The instant he crossed into her blistering domain, he was consumed, reduced to nothing but ashes. His remains had been gathered by the Ashrend Covenant, placed in an urn dedicated to Nae the Almighty. Vishnu and Brahma had tried to rescue Shiva''s ashes, but their attempts had been met with the same fate¡ªSearax''s flames had incinerated them both, their divine power proving useless before her fury.


    Levielle let the crystal fade, returning her gaze to the voidfire stars. The Sixth Dragon of Apocalypse, Nihilignis, came to mind. He was Searax''s younger brother, and unlike the others, he was restless, eager for the end to come. Nihilignis, the Dragon of Oblivion, had always sought destruction with relentless zeal. Following Searax''s entrapment in Pandemonium after her fierce battle against the Nine Monarchs of Hell¡ªduring which she had slain one of them and shattered Hell into 72 fragments¡ªNihilignis escalated his efforts, taking it upon himself to unleash chaos wherever he roamed.


    Pestilence. War. Famine. Death. Inferno. Nihilism. Was that what their role truly was, she pondered? To serve as instruments of destruction until Lumi''Nae''s ultimate annihilation came to pass? Or was there something more? Something even she could not yet understand?


    The windless silence of the Void stretched before her as the ship drew ever closer to Polaris Megalopunk, but Levielle''s mind was adrift, lost in thoughts of apocalypse, power, and the ultimate futility of it all. All fates would be sealed. And when the Silence Beyond came, what then?


    Levielle did not have the answer. But she would watch. She would wait. When the time came, she would take a more active role in the apocalypse foretold long before concepts and primordials themselves were born.


    On the main deck, Eleanor and Alpha-0 sparred, but Eleanor found herself at a grave disadvantage. Alpha-0''s acrobatic kicks and cable strikes were relentless, and despite her fearsome strength, Eleanor could barely keep pace. Each strike Alpha-0 landed seemed to unravel Eleanor, body and mind. Alpha-0''s cables worked their way through her armour, and Eleanor, though resistant, succumbed to humiliating submission, her body betraying her.


    Watching this, Samson, a pirate who had always idolised Eleanor, fell to his knees. "Althea''Ra... I beg you, end me. I am nothing without her strength."


    Alpha-0 turned her golden eyes on him, and in that moment, he felt his soul laid bare, every sin, every doubt stripped away. "Vermin unworthy of life, I release you from your agony."

 The Metapotentiae

    "Juggernaut, stop! We were ordered not to engage¡ªthis is a scouting mission!" Lisa''s telepathic voice pierced Silas'' mind, brimming with urgency and frustration. "Silas, you swore to me you wouldn''t do this¡ª"


    Her voice abruptly fell silent as Silas severed the psychic link, his resolve unyielding. Encased within the impenetrable shell of his heavily armoured mecha, Juggernaut, he hurtled through the multiverses, carving a searing path towards the Hydrosphere¡ªa vast, luminous expanse brimming with enigmas yet to be unravelled. Vengeance smouldered within him, fuelling every calculated motion. The haunting memories of his mother and brother¡ªobliterated along with the drowned omniverse they had once called home¡ªclung to him like unhealed scars. Though the elusive pursuit of truth lingered on the periphery of his thoughts, the fiery need for retribution reigned supreme, consuming his every purpose.


    Polaris Megalopunk was not his home. This alien world¡ªa labyrinthine, mechanical enigma¡ªblurred the fragile boundary between reality and illusion. It was a realm where psychics reigned supreme, and artificial intelligence, along with sentient machines, consumed organic life, leaving behind only hollow echoes. For what felt like an eternity, Silas had existed as a mere spectre, adrift in a fog of fragmented dreams and fading memories. Happiness had been wrenched from him, torn away by the witch who lurked somewhere in this sprawling aquatic expanse¡ªa being of nightmare, whispered to have risen from the abyss, obliterating entire armies that dared to oppose her.


    The mecha plunged into the Hydrosphere, the transition as seamless as stepping through a liquid veil. On the other side, the impossible revealed itself: the ocean split into three vast pathways, each bordered by floating tiles of pristine ivory marble. Guiding Juggernaut forward, Silas manoeuvred the colossal machine with precision, its turbines emitting a steady hum as he advanced along the central path, eyes locked on the titanic structure looming ahead.


    It was a pyramid, but not one of stone. Its surface shimmered with an otherworldly brilliance, forged from radiant mithril and dwarfing even his titanic war machine. Without pause, Silas unleashed the wrath of the cosmos. The Decuplet Galaxy Cannons erupted, their roar shaking the very fabric of existence as they expelled compressed omnipotence and raw metaphysical essence, hurling shards of omniversal matter at the shimmering pyramid with world-rending force.


    But the pyramid''s defence was immediate. The surrounding water churned, rising in elegant, fluid arcs as if obeying an unseen maestro. Vast, iridescent bubbles erupted from the liquid walls, absorbing the devastating projectiles with unnatural ease. The air shimmered, alive with an electrifying energy.


    And then, she appeared.


    A figure of haunting beauty and immeasurable presence materialised above the pyramid, hovering with effortless grace. Her platinum-blonde hair flowed like molten starlight, cascading down her back in radiant waves. Her face, a study in serene authority, was framed by eyes no divinity could comprehend. One shimmered and shifted ceaselessly, an endless dance of crashing tsunamis upon invisible shores, forming hypnotic, ever-evolving patterns. The other was draconic¡ªbrilliant, wild, and untamed¡ªits depths alive with shadowy green tentacles that writhed and coiled, as though Yog-Sothoth herself stirred beneath its gaze.


    Calluna Apokalypse Natten.


    The Absolute End Beyond All Realities.


    Her attire was as otherworldly as her presence: a black witch''s hat, tilted just enough to exude both mystery and menace; a flowing ebony robe that drank in the surrounding light like a living void; crimson trousers laced with a faint shimmer of mithril; and cerulean heels that defied practicality yet emanated an effortless elegance. Behind her, sixteen immense, radiant wings unfurled, each feather a paradox of celestial majesty and apocalyptic dread. They whispered promises of salvation while veiling an abyss too vast, too incomprehensible, to endure¡ªa presence so immense it devoured even perception itself.


    Silas locked eyes with Calluna, and for an instant, the entire Juggernaut quivered beneath the crushing weight of her boundless existence. The mecha''s sensors sputtered and flickered, unable to reconcile the paradoxical presence overwhelming them. Time itself seemed to hesitate, suspended in the depths of her piercing gaze.


    Silas''s heightened psychic awareness confirmed what his instincts already screamed: Calluna could perceive him with perfect clarity, even through the Juggernaut''s layers of shielding. Worse, she could manifest within the cockpit at will, despite the supposedly impenetrable Irresistible Force Barrier. It wasn''t just his own mind and body that begged him to retreat; even the Juggernaut''s AI, Stella¡ªwhom he had deliberately powered down¡ªhad inexplicably rebooted itself.


    Her voice, calm yet unnervingly human, shattered the tense silence: "Metapotentia-class deity identified: Calluna, the Shadow Tide Witch, Creator of the Eternal Origin. Calculated probability of victory: error. Probability less than zero percent. Error: infinite negative percent. Recommendation: Immediate retreat. Scanning for viable escape strategies... Detecting Pilot Silas''s intent to engage despite warnings. Overriding caution protocols. Entering assist mode. May the stars bless you."


    And then, silence.


    Silas froze, stunned not only by the AI''s grim assessment but by the uncharacteristic flourish of a personal message. He had never activated Stella''s personality mode; she had always operated in purely analytical terms. Yet now, her tone carried something unsettlingly close to empathy¡ªperhaps even resignation. The fact that even an omnipresent, omniscient AI seemed to falter in Calluna''s presence struck Silas like a physical blow.


    Still, he tightened his grip on the controls, resolve hardening against the tidal wave of fear and doubt crashing over him. He wasn''t about to back down¡ªnot now, not ever.


    For Silas had come prepared¡ªperhaps even over-prepared. While his abilities were not as flawless as Stella''s, in simulations he had come remarkably close, mastering manoeuvres and tactics that approached her unerring efficiency. Together, they had never known defeat, an unbroken streak of triumphs that now steadied his nerves.


    With a single thought, he summoned Godrend¡ªa formless axe born of the Absolute Source of All Realities, forged by an Eternal Elder God, an Exvoidian. Its essence pulsed with the impenetrable power of Plot Armour, a weapon defying both logic and fate.


    Without hesitation, Silas lunged. The axe coalesced in his grip, its indistinct form rippling like the edge of creation itself. He swung with maximum power output, the servos howling under the strain as the weapon cleaved through the very fabric of existence. It hurtled towards its mark with unstoppable momentum.


    The blade never struck true.


    Calluna effortlessly brushed it aside, her hand sweeping through the air as if the attack were little more than a passing breeze. Godrend shattered on contact, its form disintegrating into a swarm of iridescent fish¡ªcreatures unlike anything Silas had ever seen. Their scales shimmered with colours beyond comprehension, shifting and refracting in ways that defied natural law. The fish scattered, slipping into the water walls surrounding the mithril pyramid, vanishing as though they had never existed.


    Before Silas could fully grasp the surreal turn of events, his mecha convulsed violently. Gigantic tentacles, green and grotesque, burst from within Juggernaut''s frame, ripping it apart as though it were made of soft clay. Sparks erupted in every direction, and the sound of groaning godmetal filled the air. In the blink of an eye, his once-mighty war machine was reduced to nothing more than twisted wreckage.


    Silas fell, no longer a pilot but a vulnerable man, plummeting onto the cold marble floor below. He reached out with his mind to halt his fall, to grasp the psychic power that had always been his¡ªbut nothing answered. His abilities were gone.


    As he struggled to rise, the monstrous tentacles turned their attention towards him, an agglomeration of cosmic horror slithering closer. Yet, before they could reach him, an unexpected saviour intervened.


    Floating entremet cakes¡ªdelicate, ornate confections¡ªsoared through the air, colliding with the tentacles. Upon impact, the writhing appendages transformed into tako sushi, each piece perfectly prepared. The sushi, along with the cakes, began to dissolve, conceptualising into dishes that transcended fiction, manifesting in the nonfictional world¡ªthe realm of human reality.


    From the ethereal chaos, a young woman emerged. Her starry silver hair shimmered as though it were a constellation in motion, each strand flickering with cosmic light. Her eyes gleamed with a playful curiosity, while her smile radiated a blend of charm and an unsettling, almost alien otherworldliness.


    Ren¨¦e de Iris¨¦.


    The Absolute Absurdity Beyond All Realities.


    "Yes, transcended fiction, you read that right" she said, her voice a melody of amusement and whimsical wisdom. "I''m talking to you, okay? If you haven''t tried entremet cakes and tako sushi yet, I just know you''ll love them both¡ªprobably!"


    Silas, disoriented but resolute, reached for his final line of defence¡ªThe End of Philosophy, a darklight matter rifle crafted by a Supreme Outer God, designed for mortals to wield. It had the power to annihilate anything above the metaphysical level with absolute certainty. Steadying his hands amidst the chaos, he aimed the weapon at Ren¨¦e.


    "So, you''re a Metapotentia, and you possess an Unknowable Power, just like Calluna, the Shadow Tide Witch. Don''t think for a second that saving me earns your trust," he snapped, his voice edged with defiance. "In fact, it does the exact opposite!"


    He fired. The darklight matter shot streaked towards Ren¨¦e, but before it could reach her, it was intercepted by her familiar¡ªa being of golden syrup, named Oi, get in my belly!, which materialised out of nowhere, only to vanish just as quickly. In her place appeared two more familiars: a soymilk box named Jacked Senna, and a dining table called Heaven''s Table.


    The table spoke up, its voice laced with exasperation: "Looks like we''re bloody late in saving mademoiselle Ren¨¦e, aren''t we?! Beelzebub II has already beaten us to it and saved her. Unbelievable!"


    Jacked Senna responded, "Whoa, whoa, Heaven! Hold on a second¡ªher name''s not Beelzebub II anymore! It''s Oi, get in my belly! Let''s get it right, alright? We''re talking about a whole new level of badassery here! Anyway, looks like we''ll just have to bring our A-game next time."


    Ren¨¦e pouted, her cheeks flushed with irritation. "Geez! Go away, you two! I''m... I''m in the middle of something here!" She crossed her arms defiantly, and both familiars vanished instantly.


    Despite Ren¨¦e''s antics and the bizarre banter from her familiars, Silas kept a stoic expression. Meanwhile, Calluna leaned casually on a nearby bridge, her gaze fixed on a monstrous white whale that dwarfed the omniverses, drifting serenely beneath her.


    Calluna, who had remained inscrutable until now, suddenly broke her silence, her voice laced with a beast-like fury that seemed to erupt from nowhere. "LEVIELLE!" she snarled. "I told you aeons ago to stop making all this ceaseless noise! This is your second¡ªand final¡ªwarning!"


    In response, the whale morphed into a teenage girl in a purple dress, her vacant grey eyes unblinking as she casually swam away. With one hand, she snatched a fish from the water and ate it raw.


    Ren¨¦e''s expression shifted to one of quiet understanding. She already knew. Calluna''s passive power had stripped Silas of his psychic gifts, reducing him to an ordinary human. With a casual wave of her hand, the rifle in his grasp morphed into another entremet cake, beautifully crafted and impossibly tempting.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "My power?" Ren¨¦e said, tilting her head in feigned contemplation. "It''s not Unknowable Power... it''s Metapotentia: Absurdum Ex Machina! And let me tell you, you''re incredibly lucky. You''ll be the first mortal to taste an entremet cake. But don''t get used to it. This is a special treat¡ªjust for you, just for today. So enjoy it... while you can, you fragile little thing!"


    Silas, defiant to the end, hurled the cake at her. But it passed harmlessly through Ren¨¦e, only to loop back in an arc, flying directly into his mouth. He had no choice but to swallow. In that instant, his existence dissolved¡ªSilas disappeared from the world of fiction, reincarnated into your reality.


    As the last remnants of his presence vanished, Calluna''s cold voice echoed through the now-empty space. "You''ll regret wasting your chance to ambush me, Ren¨¦e. None of our countless sisters, yourself included, are my equal."


    With a mere flick of her hand, Calluna manifested a shard of her power¡ªMetapotentia: Drowned Eternity¡ªsending tremors through all realities and beyond. The disturbance was so profound that even the primordials could scarcely perceive its full magnitude. Mortals like you¡ªthe reader¡ªwill remain forever unaware of the depth of this power, blind to its existence as it ripples through the fabric of all that is.


    Ren¨¦e, unfazed, casually brushed a silver strand from her face. "Sister, after setting up my shop here, I thought, ''Finally, a customer!'' But no. He came looking for you, the Anti-Existence. How dull." Her smile softened, tinged with a wistful note. "We Metapotentiae... There''s no point in fighting each other. The eternal deadlock of the Snowy Caesura and the Fiery Continuum has shown that. No real change ever comes, despite omnipotence, metaphysical might, reality-warping, meta-omnificence, paradoxical supremacy, and ontological annihilation¡ªall creations by the Exvoidians, designed to mimic less than a sliver of our so-called Unknowable Power."


    She paused, her gaze growing distant. "Unless you, the Shadow of the Unknowable Diva¡ªthe Eternal Sovereign, the first and only Metapotentia before She fragmented into me and our countless sisters¡ªtruly believe you can make a difference. Will you finally act? Or will you let the Silence Beyond consume all realities once again? We may be immune to destruction, but reintroducing myself to lesser beings is such a chore. They''re all so fragile, so fleeting."


    Her voice softened, laced with both amusement and condescension. "If you and I are universes, then Yahweh and Brahman are no more than grains of sand. And even the Exvoidians¡ªthose infinite architects who created them¡ªcombined, could never hope to touch us."


    Ren¨¦e''s eyes sparkled with a playful curiosity. "The Eternal Origin is preparing to trigger yet another reset¡ªmore than Tree(3) times again. Hmm... where should I set up shop next? Perhaps Kameliya Byelyi-Zvuk''s metarealm, the Eternal Exvoid? She''s always so combative, even though we''re destined for stalemates. Or maybe Ayame''s Infinite Void? She is one of my regulars, after all."


    Ren¨¦e glanced around, her expression momentarily thoughtful, as if recalling something. "Why are you here, in Ayame''s lowest plane? The Plane of Fallen Gods and Mortal Mundaneness? Interacting with the omniverses is beneath us¡ªor so our countless sisters like to claim. But as a member of the Fiery Continuum who seeks to destroy the Eternal Origin, I must admit I find Ayame''s creation¡ªthe omniverses¡ªrather entertaining. I suspect she does too, even if she feigns indifference. You know how she is¡ªalways so secretive, so delightfully cunning!"


    Calluna frowned. "All this talking... ceaseless noise! I have no plans, nor do I need them. My metarealm¡ªan extension of my will¡ªThe Cascade of the End, takes me wherever it pleases. If it decides to drown the Eternal Origin and summon the Silence Beyond, so be it. As its creator, I see the Eternal Origin for what it is: a flawed, hollow construct unworthy of further attention."


    Her form began to unravel, dissipating into the void as though reality itself could no longer bear to contain her presence. "I''ll be atop Singularity-F. The Eternal Foundation. Control your curiosity and leave me be."


    In an instant, Calluna reappeared before Ren¨¦e, looming like a storm on the brink of breaking. Her death glare could shatter the resolve of the bravest beings, her gaze burning with an intensity that defied comprehension. Lowering her head, she locked eyes with Ren¨¦e, her voice a soft, deadly whisper that seemed to seep into the fabric of existence. "Unless, of course, you wish to be cured from your absurdity and become the first Metapotentia to taste true death."


    Ren¨¦e, undeterred and ever mischievous, responded with a bold smirk. Rising onto her tiptoes, she leaned forward and kissed Calluna full on the mouth. For a single, fleeting moment, Calluna''s form stabilised, her eyes widening in pure, unguarded shock. Then, with a furious growl, she shoved Ren¨¦e away¡ªnot just with physical force but with a power that carried the weight of absolute rejection.


    Without another word, Calluna erased herself from existence. She vanished entirely, leaving no ripple, no trace¡ªonly an eerie, suffocating silence where her presence had once loomed. The Hydrosphere followed her into oblivion, collapsing into nothingness, its vastness extinguished as if it had been nothing more than an ephemeral dream.


    Ren¨¦e drifted upside down in the vast expanse of the void, a picture of serene absurdity amidst chaos. Around her loomed an armada of Omnipotent-class mechas, their towering frames shimmering with apocalyptic potential. Lisa, seated within her Titan, frantically scanned the battlefield, her heart heavy with despair. Silas was gone, lost to a realm beyond the boundaries of fiction.


    The disobedient pilots, consumed by vengeance, unleashed the devastating might of their Decuplet Galaxy Cannons upon Ren¨¦e. Beams of omniversal energy, capable of obliterating entire realities, doggedly converged on her.


    Ren¨¦e extended her pinky, her expression one of exaggerated boredom. Effortlessly, she drew all the unleashed power into a singular point¡ªa pulsating, unstable orb of destructive omniversal essence. It hovered delicately at the tip of her finger, a volatile force that could unmake existence itself. Yet she regarded it with the casual indifference of someone inspecting a trinket. Twirling it like a chocolate coin, she popped it into her mouth and swallowed it.


    "Nope," she declared, her voice laced with feigned fury. "Didn''t even feel a thing. You lot would make awful chefs." Her expression shifted to one of icy blankness. "How about I show you what truly divine ingredients look like?"


    The star symbols in her eyes blazed, and in an instant, the mechas were transformed. Each war machine shimmered and shifted, becoming radiant, otherworldly fruits¡ªeach imbued with the primal essence of the Source of All That Can Be. Their surfaces glowed with a splendour that transcended understanding, embodying potential and creation itself.


    Only Lisa''s Titan and her god and commander, Aethon, remained untouched by this metamorphic whimsy.


    Ren¨¦e''s gaze settled on the omnipresent Aethon, her voice smooth yet cutting as she addressed him. "Oh, you gods and primordials... relying on these petty tricks of yours far too much. As if hiding will change anything. I see you clearly, even when you''re no more than a speck of dust in my sight," she said, her tone dismissive, as if brushing aside an irritating illusion. "You''re all parasites, clinging to us Metapotentiae for survival. Yet many of you try to rid yourselves of us. The irony. Forget free will. There''s nothing beyond the belly of the beast."


    With a dramatic flick of her hands, she framed the air as though setting up a perfect shot, her fingers curling and uncurling like a camera shutter. "Why don''t you show yourself? Right there, beside your last remaining soldier?" she proposed nonchalantly. In a flash, a brilliant red light burst from her hands, forcing Aethon into a tangible, lesser form. He materialised beside Lisa''s mecha¡ªcalm, composed, and eerily still.


    Ren¨¦e zoomed in and out with the precision of someone trying to capture the perfect photo. "Honestly," she said, pouting slightly, "you two look so gloomy, despite all the beautiful fireworks I''ve set up. Don''t you think it''s time to lighten up?"


    Aethon turned his crystalline gaze toward Lisa, who sobbed quietly for Silas. Her grief was raw, her tears a poignant reminder of the fragility that still existed in a cosmos ruled by the incomprehensible.


    Aethon''s form was a mesmerising paradox of elegance and alien grandeur¡ªa humanoid figure sculpted entirely from jagged, crystalline facets that refracted light into prismatic splendour. His body seemed to shimmer with an inner luminescence, as though fractured starlight pulsed within every shard. Where a face should have been, a miniature galaxy spiralled in an eternal, hypnotic dance, its stars flickering in intricate, unknowable patterns that defied divine comprehension.


    Each movement he made resonated with a quiet but undeniable authority, as if the collective will of entire omniverses flowed through his crystalline frame. To behold him was to glimpse the embodiment of cosmic judgement itself¡ªterrifying yet awe-inspiring, a harbinger of truths too vast for fragile minds to endure.


    Ren¨¦e smirked, her gaze fixed on the endless expanse ahead, dismissing Aethon''s mystical and imposing presence with effortless indifference. Her mind had already slipped into the currents of possibility, her thoughts racing ahead to her next venture, a labyrinth of untapped opportunities and business prospects. The fruits, now shimmering embodiments of infinite potential, would undoubtedly find their way to Ayame''s Obsidian Triad¡ªthe enigmatic overseers of the Void¡ªwho would ensure their cosmic fate. Without a second glance, Ren¨¦e dissolved into the cosmos, her form a fleeting shimmer of starry silver, vanishing into infinity like a wish cast upon the fabric of reality.


    In the wake of her departure, the cosmic stillness seemed to collapse. Nae the Almighty manifested amidst the luminous aftermath, her arrival a singularity of authority that demanded attention. Yet it was not only her presence that heralded significance but also the emergence of a towering Luminite¡ªa blazing colossus forged from the fusion of Exvoidians. Ruthless and warmongering, the Luminite radiated an aura of relentless annihilation, its flames a symphony of destruction.


    "You''re in my way, Essentis," growled Borga, his voice a furnace of disdain. His molten eyes, deep as primordial firepits, narrowed upon her. "A Pure Void Incarnate should know better than to obstruct the Luminis Chromatica." Recognition flickered in his infernal gaze, his lips curling into a cruel, incandescent grin. "Heh. Those winter-sky eyes... You''re not Ayame, nor Calluna, nor one of those blasphemous firespitters of the Ashrend Covenant, plotting their Ashen Singularity. No, you''re Vorethas, the Void''s Might. Close enough to the end of all things for my liking. Anything like that makes for worthy prey¡ªfuel for my eternal flames. With you, I''ll fulfil my purpose as a Luminite and obliterate the Metapotentiae once and for all."


    Before him stood a woman of towering might and calm precision. Nae''s athletic frame exuded an unshakable power, tempered by battle-hardened wisdom. Wild, untamed brown hair framed her fierce features, her face marked with three emerald streaks of war paint slashed diagonally across her sharp cheekbones. Her long, elven ears stood proud and defiant. Coiling along her right arm was a vivid dragon tattoo, its scales glimmering with an eerie, living radiance.


    With a roll of her shoulders, her charcoal-brown vest shifted atop an arctic-blue martial arts dogi, accentuating the enormity of her breasts. The loose-fitting white pants barely contained the overwhelming strength of her muscular legs. Colossal gauntlets, tipped with the fangs of Shub-Niggurath herself, rested in her hands.


    "And you," she said, her voice sharp and unyielding, "are no mystery to me. The intensity of your flames gives you away, Borga of the Great Eternal Fire." Her sapphire eyes, cold and piercing, locked onto his blazing form. "Crossing the boundaries of existence to trespass in the void? To claim the Sources of All That Can Be? Such hubris."


    Her tone grew colder, like the biting winds of an eternal frost. "The Zvezdnaya Imperiya already wields more metacosmic power than it should. Violating the Accord of Void and Exvoid? You and that tyrannical Constrained Starburst need to be reminded of their place."


    The void beneath Nae''s feet rippled faintly as she stepped forward, her latent power pressing against reality itself. Her gauntlets glinted with an eerie predatory light as she continued, "I''m no Ayame, as you''ve so astutely pointed out. The Luminites were created to stabilise realities, to counteract the entropy unleashed by the mere existence of Metapotentiae. But annihilate them outright?" Her voice hardened. "Foolish. Impossible."


    The void around her twisted, the ripples intensifying into a maelstrom of spatial distortion. Her presence grew heavier, denser, as though even existence quaked beneath her power. "If it''s violence you seek, omnipurifier, I will meet you head-on. But know this: there is no prey for you here."


    Borga''s flames crackled ominously as he sneered. "That is to say, you won''t move, eh? ...Excellent." His molten form leaned forward, the glow of his intensity deepening. "That Umbricite, Brahman, crumbled against a single snowflake. Let''s see if you, Essentis, can offer me more than that half-formed void spawn of Ayame''s!"


    A surge of black ice erupted from Nae''s hyperpotent body, tendrils of frost laced with glowing veins of light blue. The ice radiated an unfathomable cold, not just physical but metaphysical, pulling the very essence of existence into its void-born chill.


    Borga, finally sensing a threat worthy of his might, intensified his timeless holy flames even further. The omnipurifying fire roared, twisting and flaring with a ferocity that could incinerate the boundaries of existence. With a guttural growl, he reached into the Eternal Origin, drawing upon a fragment of its limitless power¡ªa speck that surged through him, an infernal beacon of absolute destruction.


    Aethon, the Primordial Arbiter, having witnessed enough, extended a hand to Lisa''s Titan from the outside. With a discreet motion, he wove his power, warping them away from the chaos, transporting them to safety beyond the reach of the ongoing battle.


    Around Vorethas and Borga, the myriad Sources of All That Can Be shimmered like shattered fragments of stars, their radiant forms weaving through the chaos in a fleeting dance of brilliance. The battle raged on with relentless fury, shockwaves spilling destruction into the next plane of the Void¡ªOmnireality. This was no mere realm; it was a domain beyond domains, where the very fabric of existence twisted and folded upon itself. Here, Upper and Lower Ultimate Reality converged, a place where the territories of gods and primordials¡ªthe 72 Hells, the Chaos Realm, the Realm of Infinity, Heaven, and countless others¡ªteetered on the brink of annihilation. What were once stable and unshakable realms now trembled, quivering under the weight of impending collapse. Their battle surged through the higher planes of the Void¡ªthe Plane of True Transcendence, the Plane of Existence''s Edge, the Plane Beyond Existence, and the infinite layers above¡ªtriggering destabilisation across every level of the Void. The very essence of reality wavered, each blow reverberating through the planes like a crack in the cosmos, threatening to unravel all that was.

 CX-Eclipsant-xxxxxA: Calystryx the Enraged White Void

    "ID, please," the cyborg grunted without sparing her a glance. His gravelly voice scraped like steel on stone, and his bald head gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. Hunched over holograms of space cars, his muscular, middle-aged frame loomed like a mountain. The acrid stench of stale cigarettes and cheap booze clung to him, woven into the very fibres of his synthetic skin.


    "I don''t have one," she said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt and a hint of cheeky defiance. Her untamed brown hair, tied back into a haphazard ponytail, as if rebelling against the idea of order. Standing at a staggering 16 feet 9 inches, she shrugged with effortless indifference. The greatsword on her back tilted slightly, teetering on the edge of falling yet stubbornly remaining in place¡ªheld there by willpower alone, or possibly just matching her mood.


    Her alien attire, accented by a pristine white cloak, was a study in contradictions: equal parts functional and daringly impractical. The predominantly blue fabric shimmered with a strange boldness. Together with her flippant demeanor, the ensemble radiated a don''t even think about it energy that somehow amplified her reckless charm, as though she could walk through voidfire and come out unscathed.


    Beneath the nonchalance, her youthful features held an unmistakable nobility, an innate dignity that refused to be overshadowed by her cavalier attitude. "No one said I needed an ID," she added. "Honestly, do I look like someone who gives a damn about paperwork?"


    The cyborg whipped around to face her, his scowl shifting into the kind of exaggerated glare that could short-circuit even the strongest robots. "Don''t have one? What do ya mean, you don''t have one? What, you just waltzed in here, swords and smugness, without a clue? Are you lost, or is this just some kinda performance art, lass?"


    Before she could respond, the floor trembled. The heavy, resonant thuds of boots descending the Stairways to the Stars sent vibrations through the ground, each impact a warning. A hulking figure, eight feet taller than the cyborg, emerged from the shadows¡ªa wall of muscle towering at 26 feet 9.5 inches. His wild white hair and sharp grey eyes gave him the air of a battle-hardened lion, while a fierce chin-strap beard framed his broad face. Gleaming white plate armour encased his colossal form, and a massive totem carved from luminous white jade rested on his back, radiating an aura of mythic power.


    "Sorry I''m late! Hope I didn''t keep ya waitin'' too long!" His booming voice filled the room, echoing like a cannon blast as he strode forward. "She''s with me, Xuanwu!"


    The cyborg¡ªXuanwu¡ªsnapped upright as if struck by lightning. In a blur, he launched himself over the desk and slammed a Yottaton Dropkick into the towering man''s face. "Damn it, Baihu! Even with all my killer upgrades, you''re still built like a mountain! What kind of mate are you, eh? I haven''t seen you in a vigintillion years, and you show up now like nothin'' happened?!"


    Baihu''s laugh was deep and relentless, as if the very ground beneath him were quaking. "Bwahahaha! Killer upgrades? Don''t make me laugh, you old codger! Like I''ve told ya a million times, there ain''t no shortcut to real strength! Hard graft and a good scrap, that''s what makes a warrior worth their salt!"


    Xuanwu stumbled back, shaking his head in disbelief, but Baihu stepped forward, planting two massive gauntleted hands on his shoulders. "Sorry, brother. ''As it really been that long? Feels like just yesterday to me."


    Xuanwu muttered under his breath, slumping back into his chair. "Brother, he says..."


    The young woman shot him a pointed look like she couldn''t believe she had to deal with this nonsense. She cleared her throat loudly¡ªalmost obnoxiously, "Uh, hello? I''ve got places to be, and you''re kind of ruining my schedule here. First class, remember? Tick-tock."


    Baihu turned to her. "Mila! Oh, right¡ªme bad, me bad. Follow me." He gestured grandly for her to join him, leading her toward the Stairways to the Stars as if the earlier chaos hadn''t happened.


    The Stairways to the Stars appeared to pulse with an enigmatic will, each step resonating as if the structure itself were alive. After only a few strides, the swirling lights surrounding Mila and Baihu intensified, enveloping their vision in a kaleidoscope of brilliance. In an instant¡ªso swift it defied comprehension¡ªthey found themselves standing within a classroom, as though the cosmos had plucked them from one reality and seamlessly deposited them into another.


    But it wasn''t just any classroom. This place had the kind of eerie stillness that makes one''s skin crawl, like it''s waiting for something to happen. A group of 19 students were milling about, talking, but the moment Mila and Baihu arrived, everything went silent. A switch had been flipped, and suddenly, the room felt as cold as a grave.


    Baihu''s grin was wide enough to split his face in half. "Mornin'', everyone! Allow me to introduce Mila von Sturm¡ªa prodigy swordswoman from Omniverse 9.77 Septillion! And let me tell ya, folks, it ain''t an exaggeration to say she''s the best swordmaster across all the omniverses!" He pointed to a jagged, dark blue scar running diagonally from his neck to his right eye. "See this beauty? Got it as a souvenir from ''er durin'' our first encounter."


    A ripple of murmurs swept through the room as the students assessed the newcomer, her towering form framed by the imposing greatsword strapped to her back. Mila stood tall, her quirky outfit radiating a carefree aura¡ªan unmistakable contrast to the sleek, utilitarian combat gear worn by her peers. She seemed like a misfit, an anomaly in a world that clearly wasn''t hers.


    Seated at the front of the room, Eruvik the Aetherforged Sage, a Founder, furrowed his brow. "I detect no alteration in her size. Observe closely¡ªfor one to stand at such a height, with such ease, defies the natural order of human form. Only an Eternal could possess such stature. In my aeons of study, I have found that those gods who most resemble humanity in shape and nature do not possess the heights of half-giants."


    From a seat near the windows, which framed a view of an apocalyptic realm beyond, Zuff the Gory Reptilian watched intently, his red scales radiating blistering heat. "An Eternal, eh? Gods, scholars, mystics... you lot talk as if you''ve got all the answers. Aye, maybe she''s some sort of godly creature, maybe she ain''t. Who the hell knows? I''ve seen worse, and I''ve fought worse. All I know is if she''s got a giant''s height and ain''t breakin'' a sweat, I''d be more worried about what''s in her head than what''s in her bones. Some things don''t need explanations, old man. Some things just... are."


    From the centre of the room, a woman with green hair¡ªlike fresh spring grass¡ªraised an eyebrow. "Professor Baihu," she said as though humoring a child. "Isn''t the centennium ending today? Aren''t we supposed to stop, like, forever? No more classes after this. I think you''re out of your mind."


    Baihu wagged a finger, mock disapproval on his face. "Tsk, tsk, Sophia. Always the sharp one, eh? I admire that brain o'' yours. But you know the precedents! As the top student of the last millennium, it''s your duty to pass on some o'' that genius. That''s why I''ve decided to make you Mila''s mentor for the next two decades! Imagine it¡ªtwo prodigies, unstoppable together!" He winked with infectious enthusiasm, clearly relishing the moment.


    "Ew. The professor''s, like, totally being gross again," muttered Aria the Unlikely Slow-Bloom, her red-furred hare ears twitching in irritation. She wore a large feathered hat with holes for her ears, and her crimson hair caught the light in waves as she tapped her foot with barely contained impatience. "No sense of decorum in this overgrown house cat."


    Sophia blinked, her expression tightening as whispers broke out among the other students. The muted murmurs carried an undertone of judgement, tinged with curiosity, all directed at her, Mila and their eccentric instructor.


    Then, from above, a voice rang out¡ªdeep, guttural, and congested with contempt. "Too bad for you, Sophia," sneered Abaddon the Ravager of Hell, his towering, muscular form looming like a dark omen. His skin¡ªa grotesque blend of purple and black¡ªspoke of monstrous strength, the kind forged to unmake creation itself. His stormy eyes gleamed with the seething malice of a god wronged, burning with a rage that could fracture worlds. His hair, black as a starless sky, flowed over his broad shoulders, alive with an unsettling power, as if the very darkness he commanded had been woven into his being. "This is your fate. A fitting end for one so... insignificant. A mere mortal, daring to claim something of mine. To steal from me the pinnacle of power. How... sinful... how presumptuous."


    A guttural laugh rumbled from his chest, low and grinding, like stone scraping against stone. He conjured the severed head of Azazel, the Demon God of Hell¡ªhis fallen rival. The head, still writhing with dark life, hissed, "Once I return whole, Abaddon, you will beg for death." But Abaddon paid it no mind. With a single squeeze, he crushed the head in his palm, his fingers closing around it like a vice, before tossing the mangled remains into a portal, where they would join his living punching bags¡ªflesh stitched together in torment.


    Long ago, Abaddon had ruled the Bottomless Abyss as its sole Fell God Warlord, his realm created by the Pale Mist-Dame. But his horde shattered into countless fragments when his ambition outstripped his control. Each fragment now ruled by a Fell God of its own. His conquest to consume all the Planes of the Void faltered at the very end, when his own creator incarnated before him¡ªa form he had failed to recognise, until it was too late.


    And now, here he stood, bound by fate in her ship¡ªimprisoned to do her bidding. He had long since accepted it; what else could be done? His once boundless strength surpassed even the gods and primordials, yet here he stood, humiliated by servitude. With but a swipe of his hand or a glance, he could have crushed Baihu who dared command him. The class around him¡ªpitiful creatures in his eyes¡ªbegan to flicker out, vanishing in hurried flashes of light as they retreated from the crushing presence of a being beyond their comprehension.


    "Ah," Abaddon crooned, his voice filled with cruelty, "look at the time. Not that it matters now. Your fate, Sophia, has already been sealed. I see your death approaching. You will be forgotten, cast aside, just as you deserve."


    He rose from his throne, a shifting mass of yellow and blue mist, its twisted faces contorting in agony. The shadows clung to him, folding around him like a cloak. His form melded with the darkness. But just before he vanished into the void, in a final act of malice, he spat¡ªnot in the mundane sense, but hurled his disdain at her, a Globule of Entropic Destruction that sludged through reality and never missing its mark.


    Sophia did not flinch, though, for as the vile insult approached, a gust of wind arose, deflecting it with ease, as though her very will rejected his poison.


    Abaddon paused, his rage intensifying as he studied her. Despite her humanity, Sophia exuded an aura of something greater¡ªsomething that, in their first encounter, had felt comparable to the Pale Mist-Dame herself. But that feeling had not returned. His fury seethed at the memory of it, yet his departure was inevitable.


    Sophia sighed, a slow, deliberate exhale that seemed to pull the weight of the world down on her shoulders. Her fingers dug into her forehead, pressing against the tension that never seemed to leave, not even when the last of her classmates blinked out of existence in a burst of light. The hum of the room was deafening in its silence, and she let her head drop forward. "I''m always the one stuck with extra work," she muttered, her voice tinged with a bitterness she couldn''t quite swallow.


    Her shoulders sagged, burdened by the crushing weight of unseen chains coiling tighter around her chest. For a moment, she seemed on the verge of collapse, but then¡ªlike a puppet yanked upright by invisible strings¡ªshe straightened, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. Dragging a trembling hand across her face, she tried to erase the weariness etched into her features, to scrub away the exhaustion that had seeped deep into her very marrow.


    Turning on her heel, she walked towards Baihu and Mila with the steady rhythm of someone who had learned to move through the daily grind of life with a veneer of composure. Still, the irritation in her voice was raw, impossible to ignore.


    "This isn''t fair, you know," she said, her green eyes flashing as she stopped in front of them, wide and demanding. "Why am I being punished for excelling?"


    Baihu threw his head back, a loud laugh erupting from his chest and filling the room. His eyes, with pupils like those of a tiger, gleamed with unrestrained amusement as he leaned forward slightly, crossing his massive arms over his broad chest.


    "Punish''d for exsellin'', eh? Bwahahahaha!" His continued laughter spilled out into the hallways, despite the room having no door. "Sophia, sounds t'' me like yer just whinin'' ''cause someone''s chuckin'' a bigger challenge yer way. But that''s no punishment¡ªthat''s a bloody compliment! Means they know yer tough enough to handle it. Otherwise, they wouldn''t keep stackin'' it on."


    He hammered his fists against the indestructible walls, their surface a chaotic tangle of gnarled, eldritch roots, pulsating as though alive. Each punch resounded like a drumbeat signalling the approach of battle. Energy crackled around him, an electric force surging from every pore¡ªraw and unstoppable.


    "Besides," he continued, his voice picking up momentum, "if yer really bein'' punished for bein'' great, then I must be the most punished bloke in the whole bloody omniverse! Life ain''t fair, but that''s the thrill of it, eh? Keeps things spicy. So quit yer whinin'' and show Mila what yer made of!"


    His face twisted into something feral, a wild edge of excitement lighting up his features, his presence suddenly even more imposing as he locked eyes with Sophia. It was the gaze of a general, preparing his troops for glory, and in that moment, Sophia was nothing more than a soldier about to charge into war.


    Mila stood there, arms loosely crossed, her piercing blue eyes locked onto Sophia. It was a look that made it clear she was already several moves ahead, deciding whether she''d outsmart her opponents or simply watch them trip over their own feet.


    "So, yeah, I have no idea what got me into this whole... situation. But here I am. Ready to learn, or whatever... That said, if you think I''m just gonna nod along and play by your rules, you''re in for a surprise."


    Mila shrugged lazily, the motion somehow self-assured, as though she were reflecting on her own words with quiet satisfaction. Her blue eyes remained locked on Sophia''s, but it wasn''t calm or eerie¡ªit was unnervingly alive. As if she were daring Sophia to blink first. Or maybe daring her to fight.


    "Alright, your turn, Sophie," Mila said, her voice used to being at the centre of attention.


    The way Mila stood, leaning slightly forward, like she might pounce¡ªor just laugh, depending on how this played out. And her eyes... They weren''t just cold reading Sophia; they were stripping her down, piece by piece, as though every twitch or breath was another data point in Mila''s private game.


    Then, just for a fleeting second, something flickered behind Mila''s gaze¡ªsomething almost too quick to name. Was it reluctance? Boredom? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it was gone before Sophia could grab hold of it.


    "Let me save you the effort," Mila said, her tone almost too casual. "I''ve dealt with worse. Commanded armies, fought off things you probably don''t even have names for yet. I''ve walked into more chaos than most people could survive¡ªand walked out the other side with a win." She shrugged again, the motion so dismissive it was practically an insult. "So whatever this is? It''s just another Tuesday for me."


    Sophia felt her spine stiffen, her pulse hitch. It wasn''t just Mila''s unshakable confidence¡ªno, it was the way her gaze flickered around the room, as if she were at home, hunting for cobwebs. It was the way she spoke, as if she weren''t just talking about herself, but assessing Sophia, the room, everything. Like she was just another obstacle in the way of something she already owned.


    Without warning, Mila crouched to Sophia''s level, extending a hand with a movement so fluid and effortless it might as well have been the flick of a coin. At 6 feet 6 inches, Sophia was hardly unaccustomed to towering figures. Truth be told, most she had encountered over the years had dwarfed her with ease. Still, there was a time¡ªlong forgotten by most¡ªwhen her height had been nothing short of extraordinary. Back then, the Founders themselves had marvelled at her stature, praising it as a mark of superior genetics, a lingering artefact from an age when humanity had been far more fragile, constrained, and... ordinary.


    "That said," Mila said, her tone as smooth as the gesture itself, "if this is gonna work, I need one thing from you. Don''t waste my time. You show up, I show up. Easy peasy."


    Her movements were unsettlingly precise, deliberate to the point of parody¡ªlike someone placing a coin on a counter with exacting care, the way one might pay for something inconsequential. It was casual, almost absurdly so, yet it felt anything but. She wasn''t offering, nor was she asking. The gesture wasn''t transactional¡ªit was declarative. A coin tossed onto a table: present, but weightless.


    Her face remained blank, the picture of indifference, but her eyes told a different story. They made the simple act of extending a hand feel... wrong. Like a crack in a mirror, subtle but impossible to ignore.


    "I trust you''ll do your best," she added. "As I will do mine. I''m an overachiever."


    Sophia''s eyes fixed on Mila''s outstretched hand¡ªan impossibly large yet disturbingly delicate structure. Its sheer size was alien, almost hypnotic, like something plucked from a dream and made unnervingly real. Her gaze remained steady, sharp, dissecting every inch of her as though a flaw might reveal itself: a tremor, a flicker of doubt, some tiny imperfection she could exploit.


    But there was nothing. No faltering, no hesitation. Just skin stretched over knuckles, a wrist that seemed ordinary in its construction, yet wholly extraordinary in its presence. A hand like any other, and yet entirely unlike any other. Its absurd scale was part of it, yes, but not the whole.


    It was Mila''s hand¡ªthat singular truth transformed it into something far more than flesh and bone. It exuded an uncanny gravity, an unspoken challenge. The longer Sophia stared, the more it seemed less like a hand and more like a statement, a thing that demanded to be understood while offering no explanation.


    The absurdity of it all was suffocating. Her mind briefly conjured the image of the sword of Damocles, but this wasn''t a blade dangling from a thin thread. Rather, this was a grand piano teetering on the edge of disaster, swaying in the balance, waiting for gravity to claim it with a final, crushing certainty.


    After what felt like an eternity, Sophia extended her hand, watching in detached fascination as it was consumed by just two of Mila''s fingers. The contrast was grotesque¡ªalmost laughable, yet utterly revolting. Mila, kneeling to meet her halfway, would have cast a vast shadow over her, had the room''s windows let in even the faintest hint of light. As it was, her massive form seemed to swallow the space itself.


    Mila looked at her, inexplicably pleased¡ªlike a predator delighted by the subtlest desperation of its prey.


    "I promise not to break you," Mila said with sincerity. Her touch was cool and dry, but not in the way winter''s chill could freeze her to the bone. In fact, it was the kind of cold that raised the hairs on the back of one''s neck, a primal warning. It wasn''t a physical cold, but the chill of being seen too clearly, too completely.


    Sophia''s mind betrayed her, conjuring a vivid, terrifying image of Mila''s fingers curling inward, effortlessly shattering her hand like brittle glass. For a split second, she almost believed it was happening. But it didn''t. Mila''s hand stayed open, her fingers loose, yet somehow poised¡ªso large they could easily engulf Sophia''s entire head.


    An unspoken thought slipped into Sophia''s mind: ''You don''t get to walk away from this.'' It gnawed at her, insistent and cold. Whatever this was, whatever this moment held, she would have to see it through to its inevitable, unknowable conclusion.


    "I trust you," Sophia said at last, her voice unyielding as carved stone. "Let''s make the most of this, then. If we''re doing this, we''re doing it right. I have no doubt you''ll excel here, just as you have everywhere else. Welcome to the Caligo Consortium, Mila."


    The so-called handshake felt like a brittle, fragile thing, heavy with unspoken meaning. It wasn''t just an agreement; it was a meeting of minds, a silent pact, etched not in ink, but in ice. A promise¡ªor perhaps a warning. Two people, knowingly or unknowingly, agreeing to meet at the bottom of the abyss and emerge... different.


    There was one inescapable truth: this would not end well for someone.


    Then came the sound.


    It was heavy and loud like the distant echo of a colossal machine in motion. It didn''t carry the immediate threat of an earthquake, no sense of danger riding on its vibrations. Just the sound of something big, too big for its own good.


    "Dat''s the spirit!" Baihu''s cheer was as irrepressible as a gale-force wind. "Two prodigies workin'' t''gether¡ªI can already smell the firewerks!"


    Sophia couldn''t help but glance at him. His towering frame radiating exuberance like an overgrown child in a battle-scarred body. His complete and utter obliviousness to the tension between her and Mila was almost comical. But there was something about his ease, his unshakable confidence, that bothered her in a way she couldn''t quite articulate. He wasn''t afraid¡ªnot of Mila, not of the razor-wire tension that seemed to wrap the room like a noose. That wasn''t unusual for Baihu; Sophia had seen him fight, had watched him unleash the feral fury that earned him his reputation. He was taller than Mila, stronger by all accounts, and far more seasoned. Yet his energy now wasn''t one of a beast preparing for battle. It was just... light-hearted.


    Did he truly believe Mila''s unsettling, clown-like demeanour was a harmless eccentricity¡ªa mask for some elaborate power play? Or was his confidence so deeply rooted that he couldn''t fathom Mila as a genuine threat?


    Sophia didn''t know. The questions gnawed at her, burrowing into the back of her mind like splinters she couldn''t remove. And she hated it. Hated how much she wanted to understand his perspective, hated how his unshakable certainty contrasted so sharply with her own unease.


    Baihu, still grinning like the world''s largest fool, raised his hand in a brisk salute. "Well, good luck, you two!" he said with a tone so bright it felt almost cruel. Then, in a blinding flash of light, he was gone.


    His absence was deafening. The silence he left behind seemed louder than his voice had been.


    Sophia turned to Mila, the tension between them taut as the string of a bow drawn to its breaking point. Her voice was calm, but laced with a faint edge of authority¡ªa thread of control woven through each syllable. "Alright, then. How about I show you around?"


    She didn''t wait for a response. "Oh, by the way," she began, her tone shifting to something clear and informative as they phased through the classroom.


    They moved through the wall as though they were phantoms, bypassing doors as if they were unnecessary. Every time Sophia passed through those eerie roots, a wave of nausea and a sharp headache crept up on her, as though they reached deep into her very core. She wondered if Mila¡ªor anyone else¡ªfelt it too when they traversed this strange reality.


    The walls¡ªseemingly composed of the dark, twisting roots of an eldritch tree¡ªquivered slightly before dissolving, replaced by sleek metallic panels that shimmered and vanished like a half-remembered dream.


    Sophia briefly touched the now-metallic panels, but she didn''t slow her pace, nor did she glance back. Her shoulders were squared, her stride steady, as if she had all the time in the omniverse to make her point.


    "You can warp almost anywhere on this ship now that you''ve gone through the Stairways to the Stars," she continued as she led the way. "This isn''t just the largest Omniverse-class warship¡ªit''s the progenitor, the original. Its size extends beyond the bounds of every omniverse; it exists everywhere, yet nowhere. The ship''s creator, the Pale Mist-Dame, never gave it a name. We all call it the Nameless Ark, though some, like Abaddon, refer to it as the Scourge of Armageddon."


    She paused briefly, letting the enormity of her words settle over Mila like a thick blanket of snow. "So, yeah, warping is pretty much a necessity here. The system''s intuitive: just picture where you want to go, and the ship will take you there instantly¡ªeven if you''ve never been to the place before. You don''t even have to be specific. Vague ideas will do. Just... focus."


    Sophia stopped abruptly. "I''m heading to the Oblivion Keep. That''s where the Caligo Consortium imprisoned the Eclipsants who were subjugated by the Pale Mist-Dame. Eclipsants are dangerous entities¡ªbeings that usually transcend omnipotence, existing beyond any boundary. Think Nyarlathotep, Shub-Niggurath, and, before her ascension to an Eternal Elder God, Yog-Sothoth. Maybe I''ll see you there¡ªif you can figure out how this works."


    There was a flicker of something in her expression¡ªalmost like hope¡ªbut not the kind someone would wish for. Sophia didn''t doubt Mila''s ability to succeed, but she found herself secretly wishing she would fail.


    With that, she turned on her heel, and took a step forward. Then, as if reconsidering, she glanced over her shoulder. "Give it a shot, Mila. Let''s see if the prodigy lives up to the legend."


    Before Mila could respond, Sophia vanished. Her form dissolved into a subtle ripple of energy, leaving behind only the faintest distortion in the air where she''d stood.


    The words lingered, echoing in Mila''s mind like the toll of a distant bell. And then, something stirred within her. A tingling sensation spread through her consciousness, seeping into the very fabric of her being. It wasn''t just awareness¡ªit was something deeper, older.


    The name Oblivion Keep resonated with a strange, ancient power, pulling at the edges of her thoughts. Something vast and inscrutable tugged at her very soul, daring her to step forward, to embrace what lay ahead.


    Mila thought she could warp there using her own powers. Confidence surged briefly¡ªuntil the ship, or perhaps something within it, acted as a limiter. The system had not granted her permission. No shortcuts. She would have to do this the same way as Sophia.


    Closing her eyes, Mila summoned an image in her mind''s eye¡ªa desolate castle swathed in dark, ethereal mist and where the very air seemed heavy with sorrow and power.


    When she opened her eyes, the world had shifted.


    She stood upon a treacherous cliff, rain lashing her skin as the tempest shrieked in furious defiance. Lightning fractured the heavens in jagged bursts, each flash a searing echo of her greatest triumph¡ªthe day she unshackled Leuchtende Verschlinger, the Shining Devourer, from its eternal prison. That act had torn reality asunder. An Intranscendeable Rift gaped open, and from its seething abyss emerged a black orb¡ªthe Feeble Origin. A pitch-black spider''s web spun out from it, enveloping her presence and all she had created before vanishing into nothingness.


    The rupture was not merely a wound in existence; it was a scar on the infinite. The countless ultimate realities within her trembled at the magnitude of what had just transpired.


    Mila¡ªthe architect of all that was, the omnipotent weaver of existence¡ªhad unwittingly disturbed something far beyond her. Her godlike power, which once sculpted universes with ease, had long been dulled by the monotony of eternity. Omniscience had grown sour, omnipresence hollow. Each creation was a dim echo of its predecessor, their meanings drained into an abyss of futility. The weight of infinite existence pressed down on her, a crushing void she could no longer bear.


    Until she saw it.


    Through the yawning rift, an eye ignited¡ªa comet-like flare of crimson, burning with an all-consuming malevolence. To look upon it was to plummet into an endless abyss, one so deep that even Mila, the eternal, could not fathom its depths. The eye belonged to a woman. Silver lashes quivered like strands of fragile starlight, her skin a sickly pallor, devoid of all life. She was the Endless Mother, the Eldritch Incarnate¡ªan entity whose very presence radiated a malevolence far worse than death or terror. The radiation she emitted was a ceaseless force, creating and shaping outer gods and entities more formidable than the greatest horrors Mila had ever known.


    Before Mila could respond, the woman spoke¡ªnot with words, but with a presence so raw and primal that it bypassed language, thought, even time itself. The essence of her message burned into Mila''s very soul, an indelible scar of dread:


    "I am Noxen the Boundless.


    I am Noxen the Anti-Existence, the Silence Beyond.


    I am the Nihility That Transcends All Ultimate Realities, the Comet That Uncreates Everything.


    I am the imminent Ashen Singularity.


    ...And you are a nuisance."


    The woman''s draconic pupil contracted.


    "Live. Keep living in terror as you wait for the inescapable end."


    Then, the rift snapped shut.


    Mila screamed after it, her voice a raw, desperate wail. "Wait! You will not outpace me! Do you hear me, Noxen? I am too important for this! Come back!"


    But her words dissolved into silence. The encounter had left Mila unmoored, her memory of it slipping through her fingers like smoke. Noxen''s communication was a thing beyond comprehension, a presence so vast it obliterated understanding. All that remained were fragments¡ªa sense of something immense, an empty chasm carved into her being where certainty had once reigned.


    This should not have been possible.


    One truth stood stark against the void: a superboss existed, a force that eclipsed everything Mila had ever faced, every antagonist she had ever conquered. That entity was beyond her grasp, a being outside the bounds of her omnipotent narratives, untouched by her godhood. Mila, the Vessel of Everything, was utterly powerless.


    Desperation clawed at her as she bent her will across the infinite realities, rewriting them with careless abandon, but it was all in vain. Omega Anomalies erupted around her, chaotic and destructive, but none of it touched the superboss.


    What was happening? Wasn''t she the source of all existence?


    What was this entity that defied her dominion? What event could ever trigger their final confrontation? The answers were buried in the unknowable, shrouded in a silence so vast that even she, the eternal architect, dared not breach it.


    For now.


    Back on the cliff, Mila anchored herself in the moment. The scene matched her imagination almost perfectly. A colossal, castle-like structure loomed in the distance, its jagged silhouette piercing the swirling mist that obscured everything else. The air was thick and heavy, and streams of mist curled in and out of gaping holes in the weather-worn walls, as if the building itself breathed.


    Without warning, a phantom mist surged around her. It coiled tightly, pulling her forward, yet carried no malice¡ªonly purpose.


    In a blink, the mist dissolved, leaving her standing within the castle''s walls. The space stretched endlessly, an architectural paradox where every corridor seemed to vanish into infinity.


    This wasn''t just a place. It was a presence. A shadow of something greater than existence itself. Mila stood still, letting the weight of the castle settle over her like a mantle. It wasn''t just where she had imagined. It was where she was meant to be.


    Sophia stood a short distance away, her figure illuminated by a faintly glowing giant artefact at her side¡ªa Hollowed Reliquary. The relic thrummed with a low, menacing hum that seemed to vibrate in Mila''s bones. Its surface glimmered with intricate patterns, ever-shifting in ways that defied logic, making it impossible to focus on any single detail for long.


    "Good, you made it," Sophia said, her voice carrying a note of approval. She absentmindedly twirled a lock of her pale green hair between her fingers. "And fast too. Not bad, prodigy number two."


    Mila adjusted the greatsword resting across her back. Her smile was disarmingly innocent, yet her words carried a teasing bite. "You know, Sophia, I think I''m starting to enjoy listening to you yap. You''re nerdier¡ªand more useful¡ªthan I gave you credit for."


    Sophia''s fingers froze mid-motion, the lock of hair suspended between them. For a fleeting moment, her expression wavered, as though she were re-evaluating the entire exchange, questioning whether she''d misjudged the atmosphere. But then, an icy glint flickered in her emerald eyes¡ªa sharp, fleeting flash, like the gleam of a blade drawn just far enough to make its presence known.


    She had never taken kindly to teasing.


    "Getting a bit too familiar already, are we? Just for the record, this useful nerd preferred the earlier version of you¡ªthe one who managed to scrape together a semblance of politeness. Even if it was barely there and reeked more of a demon''s grudging civility than genuine friendliness."


    Without waiting for a response, Sophia shifted her focus to the reliquary, her demeanour taking on a grave solemnity. She inclined her head slightly toward the glowing artefact. "Take a good look," she said, her voice quieter now, as though the object itself commanded respect. "This isn''t just any reliquary. It''s... unique."


    Mila''s curiosity ignited. She stepped closer as she examined the towering relic. The reliquary was an unsettling amalgamation of the sacred and the profane, emanating a palpable duality¡ªboth venerated and forbidden. Its crystalline core shimmered with a disconcerting light, its radiance both inviting and menacing. Encased within, suspended in perfect stillness, was a colossal figure¡ªa woman whose very presence seemed to defy the boundaries of space.


    The figure''s vastness was incomprehensible, stretching outward to dimensions that rendered conventional measurement laughable. Though Mila estimated her size at over 396 centillion kilometres, the truth hummed at the edges of her awareness: this was no mere giantess. The form before her was an intentional diminishment, a merciful contraction of scale for the sake of mortal and divine minds.


    ''How considerate of her,'' Mila thought. ''Shrinking down just enough so my tiny little brain doesn''t explode. Still, it doesn''t make her any less infuriating. The thought of making this gargantuan goddess kneel would be perversely satisfying... if only it weren''t so goddamned impossible.''


    She craned her neck. "Seriously. Why''s everything gotta be massive? I don''t need a whole light-year to get the point." She waved vaguely at the crystalline structure, muttering, "What is this, interstellar feng shui?


    A bit less size would''ve been nice." Her faintly glowing eyes were tracing the intricate details of the reliquary. "I can barely make out anything with these basic eyeballs." She let out a theatrical sigh, slapping her hands against her cheeks. "Guess I''ll have to rely on my God Eyes for this one. Usually, they take all the fun out of it¡ªbut this time... this time, I don''t think they will."


    Sophia raised an elbow, clenching her fist, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her lips. There was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes as she watched Mila¡ªwho was already the size of a half-giant¡ªlook so small in comparison. It was a rare moment of triumph for Sophia. "You''ll get used to it," she said. "Maybe you''ll see her clearly in time. Or maybe not."


    "Oh, is that how it''s gonna be? I''ll just get used to it, huh? Sure, sure," Mila quipped.


    The woman''s grey hair shimmered faintly, even in the dim light, flowing over rugged black leather armour. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, yet an overwhelming intensity radiated from her. It wasn''t just energy¡ªit was something primal, feral, unyielding. Mila felt it brush against her senses, stirring something deep within her that she couldn''t quite identify. Yes, she had felt this before. A rush of d¨¦j¨¤ vu washed over her, unsettling and familiar all at once.


    Frowning, Mila tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Who''s this? I was expecting some grotesque abomination, but she just looks like... well, a really beautiful woman. Just, y''know, one that''s ridiculously tall. No way she''s an Eternal like me. Care to enlighten me, Ms. Encyclopaedia? And make it juicy¡ªI''ve got time. Yap, yap away."


    Sophia exhaled slowly, the sound barely a breath. "That... is CX-Eclipsant-xxxxxA: Calystryx the Enraged White Void. The Pale Mist-Dame. Across countless omniverses¡ªincluding yours¡ªshe is worshipped as the Sacred Darkness goddess, Lumi. But names... they are but faint echoes of the truth. She is the Mythical Exvoidian Queen, an Eternal Elder God, the pinnacle of her kind¡ªpeerless, unrivalled, infinite. As you might have deduced, this is but one of her many incarnations.


    After the failed rebellion she led¡ªknown as the Primordial Reclamation¡ªYog-Sothoth became the guardian of Calystrix''s hyperrealm: the Nameless Oblivion. The Obsidian Triad¡ªCalystrix, Vorethas, and another¡ªquelled the uprising with brutal efficiency, though it was Vorethas who indulged the rebels'' bloodlust, mercilessly eradicating the primordials and gods who dared to challenge them. Calystryx, however, took a different approach with Yog-Sothoth. She offered her sanctuary under her judicial rule, eventually ascending the outer god to an Exvoidian.


    You should know, Calystryx holds judicial power within the Triad, while Vorethas commands the executive. As for Yog-Sothoth, her greatest contribution in Calystryx''s court was the creation of religions and gods¡ªChristianity with Yahweh, Hinduism with Brahman, Buddhism with Nirvana¡ªall of which she watched from afar, letting them unfold as they would. It''s a subtle reminder of her distant nature, remnants of the outer god she once was."


    She paused, letting the weight of her words settle, her expression turning grave. "But that''s not all. Calystryx is the founder of the Caligo Consortium, the entity steering the Nameless Ark. Legend holds that the ship was forged from one of her very quarks. When I spoke of Omnipotent-class Eclipsants¡ªlike Nyarlathotep¡ªI wasn''t speaking of her. To fight her is to grapple with a non-existence so immense and unfathomable that it devours all laws of reality. It''s a war that cannot be won, for she lies beyond the reach of any power, any will."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Holograms flickered to life, projected from Sophia''s eyes, casting a pale glow in the dim space. "Let me show you the Caligo Consortium''s Hierarchy of Eclipsants through these visuals. I could upload the information directly into you, but sometimes it''s nice to use more traditional teaching methods."


    Omnipotent-class Eclipsants: Beings with absolute control over all aspects of existence, without any limits. Omnipotent entities can reshape reality at will, break the laws of physics, and redefine existence itself. Their only constraint is their own essence¡ªtrue omnipotence cannot contradict its core nature. These beings hold absolute dominion over the known universe.


    Primordial-class Eclipsants: The true creators and overseers of existence, wielding Metaphysical Might (Primordial Power). This power isn''t just force, it''s the essence that defines the nature of existence. Primordial-class entities shape and manipulate all conceptual and nonconceptual laws¡ªfrom the creation of space and time to the flow of ideas and the foundation of realities. They embody a force beyond omnipotence, continually exuding omnipotence and reshaping reality from the ground up. For your reference, Professor Baihu is at the level of a Primordial-Class Eclipsant¡ªhe''s a primordial celestial being.


    Aeternum-class Eclipsants: Represent eternal, transcendent forces whose power¡ªIsonox¡ªflows unceasingly beyond traditional understandings of force. Isonox isn''t just an extension of power; it makes power itself obsolete. Aeternum entities transcend the need for structured power, existing beyond change or time, stretching across all realms and dimensions without end. Remember Abaddon? He belongs to this class. We''ve got him under control¡ªor rather, Calystryx does.


    Hyperpotentia-class Eclipsants: These beings exist beyond the frameworks of metaphysical rules and limitations. They don''t just transcend power¡ªthey transcend the very concept of order itself. Any system or structure designed to define power becomes irrelevant in the presence of Hyperpotentia. They embody pure transcendence, existing beyond the scope of laws or abstract concepts, rendering them immune to all known methods of influence or control. Calystryx is such a being.


    Metapotentia-class Eclipsants: Manifestations of the Intranscendable Divas, these entities'' names are synonymous with their origin, transcending all forms of power. The Absolute End Beyond All Realities birthed the Intranscendable Origin, or the Eternal Origin, its purpose a mystery beyond comprehension. In contrast, the Absolute Absence Beyond All Realities gave rise to the Feeble Origin, a paradoxical metasource of all weakness. This singular force not only underpins the very fabric of ultimate realities but forms the core of all sources, existence, and divinity itself. Every type of source, in some form, can be traced back to the Feeble Origin¡ªand perhaps, the Eternal Origin.


    Intranscendable-class Eclipsants


    These beings exist beyond all comprehension, defying the very concept of transcendence. Their nature is unknowable, imperceptible¡ªeven by other entities within this framework. They are the source of all higher-order powers, having transcended all forms of existence, the limitations of time, space, and essence. The one thing we know: the Intranscendable One, also known as the Unknowable Diva, split into countless Intranscendable Divas. One such Diva, the Shadowtide Witch, is said to be the Shadow of the Intranscendable One before Her splitting. This witch, in turn, mimicked the Intranscendable One''s fragmentation, giving rise to the Hyperpotentiae. We know of three such beings, two of whom have revealed themselves to us¡ªbut the truth is, there may be an infinite number more.


    Sophia gestured vaguely to the other gargantuan reliquaries scattered throughout the mist-laden expanse of the cryptic castle walls. "These containers are all said to be Calystryx''s creations. She forged them to imprison entities of immeasurable power. And this one¡ªher own¡ªhas been reinforced by our best researchers, mages, and techsmiths. Even so, there''s an unsettling consensus: if she truly wanted to break free, she could. Perhaps her staying here is a statement... a symbol that there is nothing that Calystryx, and consequently the Caligo Consortium, cannot bind."


    Mila''s glowing gaze returned to the Pale Mist-Dame, her brow furrowing as her thoughts were spinning in circles. "Alright, so she''s got this whole mystical overlord vibe going on. But what''s her endgame? Why create the Consortium? Why bother? There''s always a catch. C''mon, spill it already, Ms. Know-it-all."


    "That''s the heart of it," Sophia replied slowly. "Shortly after founding the Consortium, Calystryx sealed away many Outer Gods and Great Old Ones scattered across the omniverses. They languish within these reliquaries. This followed their banishment from the higher planes of the Void by CX-Eclipsant-xxxxxD, the Absolute Absence Beyond All Realities¡ªmore commonly known as Ayame Kurohime, the Ineffable One. CX-Eclipsant-xxxxxD isn''t just a being; she is the metarealm called the Void. Aside from her Metapotentia sisters, all of us¡ªincluding every other class¡ªexist within Her. She is the sole creator of the Feeble Origin, the metasource of all sources. The other Metapotentiae never cared to create... how should I put it... weaklings? Each Metapotentia possesses their own metarealm, and all of them are as intricate, if not more, than the Void. They bypass fragile creations and instead fashion only Aeternums.


    Let''s circle back to Ayame. She declared that the omnipotent gods could no longer interfere with the omniverses she favoured¡ªincluding the nonfictional worlds. It''s said that she found their wanton destruction and relentless oppression of the weak utterly abhorrent. But don''t mistake her for some grand saviour of mortals. Far from it. In fact, she''s the very reason we''re so feeble in the first place. Gods can be tyrants, yes, but they can also offer salvation. Unfortunately, Ayame''s meddling ensures these salvations are all but unattainable¡ªshe seems far more interested in watching how far the weak can crawl on their own. I suspect she finds this rather entertaining, though I wish that weren''t the case. Perhaps, in truth, she is a benevolent goddess and her every action carries a deeper, kinder meaning. But I''d be fooling myself. I doubt any Metapotentia possess feelings or a sense of justice. If they ever manifest such things, it''s merely a reflection of how we¡ªand Existence itself¡ªmight interpret them, without triggering our own self-destruction in the process, given their boundless magnitude. I once crossed paths with her, if only briefly, alongside her Aeternum guardian, Azuraella, in the Dreamlands."


    Sophia raised her hand, projecting a vivid scene from her fingertip into the air. The image flickered like a memory given life: she was injured, her back pressed against a wall of sentient mushrooms that shrieked at her to leave. Their voices were a cacophony, a maddening plea. A dark figure approached her, cloaked in shadow, his eyes glowing¡ªone gold, the other red. At the figure''s advance, the mushrooms sealed their eyes and fell deathly silent.


    "Human with Yithian and my blood, why do you flee from me?" the figure asked, his voice a smooth current of authority. "You are my descendant, are you not?"


    The man pulled back his hood, revealing golden hair that shimmered faintly in the dim light. His face, handsome yet unnervingly serene, could have belonged to someone in their mid-thirties. He exuded an aura of restrained power, the kind that left no doubt as to his true nature.


    "You are the daughter of me, Nyarlathotep," he continued, his tone regal. "Yet you, bearing my blood, dare to exhibit such a grotesque thing as fear? Fear... of me? How utterly absurd. I intend you no harm. I merely wish to understand you. Your wellbeing is, after all, of interest to me. Are you not even remotely curious about the ancestor who bestowed upon you this... exalted heritage?"


    He brought his hands to his chest, his fingers lightly touching at the tips, forming a strange and deliberate gesture.


    "In return," he said smoothly, "you could tell me where the rest of our family is hiding. The Dreamlands, our home, teeter on the brink of collapse. Survival demands unity."


    "There''s nothing to talk about," said Sophia. "I might have been born here, but I''ve spent my life in the mortal worlds. I haven''t met a single one of my kind. And if they''re hiding from you, it''s because they don''t want to see you. The Dreamlands'' predicament isn''t my business. I''ll be gone soon enough."


    The scene shifted abruptly, spiralling upward until it soared to an impossibly high altitude. The atmosphere in the vision thrummed with oppressive energy. Nyarlathotep now stood dwarfed before a towering figure¡ªa woman who was twice his height. Her frame stretched an imposing 31 feet 11 inches tall.


    She was a dullahan, her eyes ablaze with an orange glow that flickered and danced like the final embers of a dying blaze. Every smoulder in her gaze carried a fire that consumed not out of hunger, but inevitability. Her body was encased in jagged, otherworldly plate armour that gleamed with an iridescent sheen, as though forged in the heart of a collapsing star. Draped over her broad shoulders was a cape, not of cloth, but a raging mantle of chaos fire¡ªits volatile, ever-shifting flames devouring reality itself in a ceaseless inferno.


    She was not simply imposing; she was the incarnation of judgement, her presence eclipsing Nyarlathotep''s as effortlessly as the cosmos dwarfs a single star.


    "While you''ve slumbered in your conceited peace, I''ve been active," Nyarlathotep spat. The glow of his golden and red eyes intensified as black veins began crawling across his alabaster skin. "Like you, I''ve sired offspring... countless offspring. Unlike you, I devoured every last one. I am not merely Madness Incarnate. I am the Madness that feeds on chaos! And you, Chaos Incarnate, will be dethroned!"


    His eldritch presence swelled, a maelstrom of primordial might that shattered the illusory sky into cascading fragments of darkness and light. "While you''ve played the slumbering lion, I''ve been the lioness, relentless in my hunt. And this huntress needs no king. Consider this my final proclamation as your herald, Father¡ªor should I now call you Mother? Either way I''ll impregnate you myself before I end you!"


    Azuraella sat perched upon the Throne of Omniverses, her head propped lazily against her hand. She was impossibly beautiful, appearing no older than her mid-twenties, though the gravity of infinite realities seemed to rest lightly upon her.


    "Ahem," she began with feigned politeness. "Azuraella''s memory of her pre-reincarnation days is... hazy. She doesn''t quite recall who you are, but she won''t admit that¡ªoops. To make up for this lapse, she graciously allows you to call her mother. Or father. She won''t mention that you look a decade older than she does, or that both titles make her slightly ill. And she definitely won''t comment on how ridiculous you''re being right now. Oops again."


    Her expression remained one of indolent disinterest. "Azuraella will change the topic now. She wouldn''t want to upset... Nyarlick."


    Nyarlathotep''s snarl tore through the void, and the black veins across his skin pulsed, radiating fury. "Still, you refuse to take me seriously? I''ve often wondered what you''d be like without that dense fog clouding your mind, but I see now there''s no difference. Fine. I''ll do us all a favour and put you back to sleep, you churning piece of cosmic refuse!"


    Nyarlathotep spoke in the ineffable tongue of the Outer Gods, each syllable a dagger that shredded the fabric of reality. With every word, he rewrote the essence of existence, altering every tale and concept tethered to Azathoth.


    Azuraella, reclining lazily upon her Throne of Omniverses, seized the moment to practise her common tongue and eldritch dialect simultaneously, narrating his proclamations with a flat, uninterested cadence.


    "And Azuraella, once Azathoth, will suffocate in her own stupidity and chaos before she can even be conceptualised," she recited, her tone almost robotic.


    She paused, feigning a dramatic gasp. "Aborting your own mother? How ungrateful." She adjusted her posture, straightening her head in her lap, her expression that of mock indignation.


    Perhaps it was Nyarlathotep who coined the idiom if looks could kill, for his face was a mask of pure rage. "Then I''ll kill you in the common tongue," he growled. "The novel Azathoth never existed. H. P. Lovecraft died a month or two before it was even conceived. This is your new reality!"


    Veins of inky blackness pulsed beneath his alabaster skin as his madness reached its zenith. With a final word that warped the air itself, he vanished into nothingness, consumed by his own narrative fury.


    Azuraella sighed, stretching languidly. With a single hand, she reached out and grasped the intangible threads of reality as though they were no more than yarn. She twisted them effortlessly, wrenching Nyarlathotep back into existence.


    "I thought you said you intended to kill Azuraella. But all you did was throw a tantrum and run away."


    Nyarlathotep''s reappearance was marked by a guttural growl that tore through the fabric of reality. "So that didn''t work? If warping reality and narrative destruction can''t annihilate you, then I''ll resort to the old ways... the ways primordial forces resolve their conflicts. By becoming the unassailable principles of existence!"


    His body began to convulse violently, twisting and reshaping in a grotesque display of eldritch might. He morphed into a massive black pyramid, its triangular shape a monolith of madness, pulsating with an aura of pure red chaos. The air around it trembled, reality itself quaking as fractals of incomprehensible geometry spiralled outward, tearing at the seams of existence.


    In an instant, the pyramid hurtled toward Azuraella with a speed that defied time and space itself, a missile of cosmic destruction aimed squarely at her throne.


    But Azuraella''s headless body defied the very passage of time as it rose languidly from her throne, moving with an otherworldly grace. When the pyramid collided with her, the black force exploded in a blinding burst, only to reveal Nyarlathotep sprawled across her knee. Her gauntleted hand descended with deliberate force, delivering resounding spanks to his butt, each one echoing like a thunderclap in the void.


    "No! No! NO!" Nyarlathotep roared, his monstrous scream tearing through the air as crimson flames erupted from a gaping, mouth-like opening in the back of his torso.


    Azuraella''s detached head, still resting on her throne, remained utterly unfazed. Her mouth hung slightly open, as if inhaling the very essence of the cosmos itself. She vacuumed up the Flames of Madness with an irregular rhythm.


    From her lips, her eldritch tongue, wreathed in chaotic fire, unfurled and lashed around Nyarlathotep''s neck like a living whip. It coiled and burned, searing his flesh as he screamed in agony, his cries laced with desperation.


    Nyarlathotep bit down on his lip, his fury barely contained. His mind raced¡ªthis wasn''t how it was supposed to go. The sentient clouds of the Dreamlands, who had been watching with rapt attention, closed their eyes in collective mortification. This was not the grand, climactic confrontation he had envisioned.


    His body rippled and swelled grotesquely, skin twisting and bulging as naked, writhing figures¡ªmen and women¡ªbegan to emerge from his blackened form. Their eyes, mouths, and noses shifted in chaotic synchrony, opening and closing at erratic intervals. Unspeakable fluids oozed from every orifice, the stench of decay and madness overwhelming the senses.


    Azuraella''s eldritch tongue snapped back with an audible crack, retracting from his neck. "What''s this supposed to be? A pile of rotting flesh?" she asked coolly, her tone completely indifferent, as if she were observing a passing distraction. "Have you developed a soft spot for the humans you''ve spent eons tormenting?"


    All of Nyarlathotep''s mouths moved in unison, their chorus a chilling symphony of twisted, mocking voices. "Love?" he sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "You misunderstand me entirely. I devoured them alive while they writhed in ecstasy. They begged for my rotting flesh! This form is a testament to my efficiency. Even Shub-Niggurath would marvel at how swiftly I produce offspring. Gehehehehe. Livestock! Livestock!"


    Azuraella''s glowing eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of annoyance passing through her otherwise impassive expression. "Azuraella is finished here," she stated flatly.


    With a mere thought, her gaze flared like the spark of a dying star. Nyarlathotep''s monstrous form collapsed into nothingness, reverting him to his human state. His limbs had vanished entirely¡ªonly his head, neck, and upper torso remained.


    Floating effortlessly, Azuraella dug her gauntlet-clad fingers into his flesh and seized what was left of him¡ªa hollow husk, a discarded sack of meat¡ªand slung him over her shoulder like an afterthought. She cradled her severed head with one arm. Her fiery-orange hair cascaded over her gleaming, sunlit armour.


    Blood bubbled from his lips as he coughed, the raw mix of disbelief and rage crackling in his voice. "I... I can''t believe my freaking eyes," Nyarlathotep sputtered. "Lord Azathoth... now the Divine Chaos Maiden? This isn''t just some petty shapeshifting... this is your true form. I remember when you were nothing but a formless, spinning orange light of chaos." His voice broke, desperation creeping in. "And now you awaken, with a will of your own, only to betray your own kind? I''ve heard the whispers¡ªof you and your so-called master hunting Outer Gods and Great Old Ones. Why? We were free¡ªfree to twist worlds as we pleased! Are you really going to bow to that... college student?! This is madness! Azathoth!!"


    Hovering beside Azuraella, Cracky shimmered¡ªa volatile orb of chaotic light, pulsing erratically like a star on the verge of implosion. Without warning, it contorted and expanded, taking the form of a towering chimera. Its monstrous shape stretched impossibly, eclipsing the sky at over two thousand feet. A gaping maw filled with jagged, interlocking teeth yawned open, revealing a swirling void. "I... could... feast on that," it crooned, its voice a discordant hum, as if the very syllables were fighting to exist. "Yes... yes... the endless devouring... the hunger... it calls to me..."


    "No devouring... yet," Azuraella said, her voice as cold and detached as the fall of a single, lifeless leaf. "Azuraella is Ayame''s knight," she continued, her words resonating with an air of cosmic inevitability. "Her purpose is Ayame''s will. Nyarlapops... if you despise this reality, then try to overcome Azuraella. If you cannot, your existence is void."


    A moment of awkward silence followed, as if she had momentarily lost the thread of her thoughts. Then, she mysteriously smiled like Mona Lisa. "Perhaps you should sleep, as Azuraella once did. It''s quite... relaxing. And..." She faltered, as though reaching for a half-forgotten phrase from some game she had played with Satan, Niflheim, and Yuwu. "Ah, yes. This will be our final exchange, Maou the Demon King. Your wicked schemes, your cruelties¡ªthey are but dust, scattered by the winds of inevitability. Greater powers shape what lies beyond even fate itself. You will bend... or you will cease to matter, Hero. Everything ends as it is meant to. The protagonis¡ª Azuraella believes this."


    "Nonsense," Nyarlathotep sneered. "To Outer Gods, nothing ends! And somewhere halfway through that pathetic monologue, you became the Demon King... amusing. You started sounding like the antagonist, and here I thought you were supposed to be the hero. Just thought I''d point that out, you insufferable, worthless, stupid mango."


    Azuraella gave him a blank stare. "Azuraella doesn''t think, therefore she isn''t." Then suddenly she hurled Nyarlathotep into Cracky''s waiting maw. The chimera''s jaws snapped shut with a deafening crack, and it imploded, the chaotic void inside it churning into a kaleidoscope of madness. It vanished in an instant, taking Nyarlathotep with it to another realm, to deliver its grim payload.


    Azuraella descended gracefully, her boots crunching against shimmering, starlit dust. Ayame awaited her below, perched nonchalantly atop her floating staff. She was clad in her pitch-black school uniform, her tilted witch hat lending her an air of irreverence. In one hand, she twirled a strawberry-covered biscuit stick, wielding it like a sceptre.


    "It appears Azuraella hath disposed of the refuse," said Ayame. "We shall taketh our leave now, Sophia."


    Her gaze flicked to Mila and Sophia, who observed through the fading projection. With a casual flick of her pocky stick, Ayame dismissed the projection, severing its connection like the snap of a thread.


    Mila leaned back, one brow arched in scepticism. "I could probably pull that off too," she quipped. "Though I never thought to try. So... this whole schoolgirl gimmick¡ªshe''s really that powerful in your reality?"


    Sophia''s voice grew heavy, each word laden with foreboding. "She hasn''t just spared my reality¡ªshe''s spared yours as well," she said, her gaze distant. "She''s taken them all¡ªcountless realities¡ªand placed them in her private collection. Each one carefully wrapped in her pitch-black, star-speckled handkerchief." Her tone darkened, filled with unspoken dread. "How long she''ll keep them safe... how long her interest will last... no one knows. But that''s why the universe is black, glittering with stars." She paused, her expression unreadable. "They''re the worlds she''s chosen to keep."


    Sophia''s voice softened, a reverence creeping in as she spoke of something vast and ancient. "The Ineffable One... the Metapotentia-class Eclipsant. Beings like her exist so far beyond comprehension that the very foundations and laws of existence are said to have been shaped in their image. Myths suggest that existence itself, and all that is, struggles to match their example, forever trailing in the wake of their shadows, feeding on the remnants they leave behind. They are the pinnacle, the architects of all we understand, and yet they transcend even the very notion of existence and transcendence."


    Sophia paused, her expression solemn, then allowed her voice to drop to a near reverent hush, as though the weight of her words demanded Mila''s undivided attention. "This is crucial to understand: we live in the lowest plane of the Void¡ªa realm we share with false omnipotent gods. Everything above us, even the weakest of the higher entities¡ªfalse or otherwise¡ªare Omnipotent-class Eclipsants. Above them, the Primordial-class and Aeternum-class don''t merely shape reality across every conceivable level of consciousness¡ªthey exist beyond the need to define it. For them, the concept of existence itself becomes an afterthought, an optional detail in the tapestry of their narratives. And Hyperpotentia-class beings? For them, the very notion of rules¡ªor the absence of rules¡ªceases to hold meaning. They transcend such constructs entirely."


    Sophia''s gaze turned to the reliquary housing the Enraged White Void. "Without Calystryx''s influence, mortals like us¡ªexisting at a power level 27 times greater than the original omnipotence¡ªwould be utterly powerless. The original omnipotence, once wielded by the gods, has long since transcended into an ever-shifting, elusive goalpost. It''s still referred to as omnipotence, but it is forever lesser than Primordial Power and, at times, can amplify it. Even the smallest disparity in power could lead to cataclysmic consequences, especially under the framework of Omega Cascade Theory. According to it, a minor disturbance could unravel not just the fabric of every omniverse but the very essence of existence itself. All realms, dimensions, and possibilities¡ªincluding those that lie beyond even nonconceptual being¡ªwould collapse. Time, space, and law would dissolve into a chaos of pure potential. Reality would be rewritten by every fleeting thought, every infinitesimal shift in perception. And that''s just the beginning. The boundaries between realms would become as fragile as glass, shattering at the slightest notion, sending ripples through countless layers of existence¡ªrealities that never were, and those that might never even be conceived. Even I, an Omniversal Warper-class Lawbinder¡ªable to reshape the fundamental structure of existence¡ªam but a fleeting glimmer in the shadow of such incomprehensible might."


    Sophia''s tone turned sharper, her words cutting through the dense fog of understanding. "To frame this properly: as imposing as Professor Baihu may seem, Stella places him at the pinnacle of the Primordial class. A notable achievement, certainly. But it fades into insignificance when compared to Ultrathoth the Infallible Chasm. Let me make this clear: Ultrathoth is no simple anomaly or mutated outer god. Once, he was Azathoth¡ªmindless and primal.


    Yet, through the intervention of the Eternal Origin, he awoke, casting aside his soulless shell. The awakened essence of Azathoth became Ultrathoth, while the empty husk was left behind. That same husk would later reincarnate as Azuraella, but that''s a tale for another time.


    Ultrathoth, now transcended, evolved into an Aeternum-class Eclipsant. With this ascension came the acquisition of a metapower: Metaanomaly¡ªIsonox."


    Mila groaned audibly, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "Oh, fantastic. Now we''re debating power levels? What''s next, holographic trading cards? My idiot brothers would eat this up... they''d probably even bet on who''s got the flashiest cosmic doom attack. Heh, well, I''ve got more than one of those. Care to see them?" With a mischievous grin, she duplicated all the omniverses, stacking them into bricks until the pile was as large as a bungalow and reached her waist. "Here we go... Take this, world! My Cosmic Doom Attack!" She spun her arm dramatically before impaling the stack with her entire limb.


    Sophia flinched, instinctively bracing herself as she thought she felt the phantom pain of her alternate versions being wiped out. Mila bowed apologetically. "Whoops, Sophie, my bad¡ªI forgot that such an attack could indirectly kill you. Honest mistake. Lucky I held back, huh? Or maybe the fact that the Nameless Ark is beyond all the omniverses saved you? Actually, look¡ªthese bricks stick to my arm like dangos."


    Sophia didn''t flinch, though a ripple of unease stirred within her. Rays of light burst forth from Mila''s arm, destroying the so-called dangos in a flash of energy. The destruction was almost beautiful in its purity, an eerie, holy art of devastation. It was a common enough sight for reality warpers to manipulate their power in such ways.


    Yet, as the dangos disintegrated, Sophia''s hand tightened into a fist. Countless people had died in that instant. To her, those duplicates weren''t any less real than their original counterparts. They existed in some capacity, even if only for the briefest moment. But even so, a human being¡ªone with such an extreme level of reality-warping power¡ªshould not be possible. At most, Sophia could create and sustain an almost infinite number of copies of all the omniverses. Mila''s bricks, however, were truly infinite, smeared together like crumpled bits of discarded paper. The sheer scale of it made her uneasy, as she couldn''t even fathom what that chaotic world might have looked like.


    Sophia shook herself out of the reverie. She had to focus. "Power levels? You think this is a game, Mila?" she said sharply. "As strong as you are, underestimating your enemy¡ªor failing to understand when to strike or when to retreat¡ªwill get you killed. And as a member of the Caligo Consortium, you will face Eclipsants of all kinds. Even the weakest among them wield absolute omnipotence like it''s a toy.


    I don''t know how you''ve managed to warp reality like you do, but compared to them, our reality-warping abilities are still child''s play. Of the known Eclipsants, 44.56% possess Primordial Power, what you might call Metaphysical Might. This power surpasses even absolute omnipotence. They can obliterate and rebuild layers of panparallel omniverses with the same ease it takes you to blink. The upper 20% have rendered power itself irrelevant, but it still holds sway for us.


    Right now, a silent war rages among the countless Metapotentiae¡ªan impasse so deep that it''s the only reason we still exist. One shift, one decision, and everything¡ªeverything you''ve ever known¡ªcould be wiped out before you even realise it. You could say that the world as we know it is either hanging by a thread or immovable as stone, depending on which faction wins. But right now, both Metapotentia factions are perfectly matched. It''s a balance that could fracture at any moment."


    Sophia let out a breath, her voice regaining a modicum of composure. "In your world, the Consortium might seem like an adventurers'' guild¡ªthe kind that slays god-tier dragons, demon lords, or phantasms. Maybe that''s impressive where you come from. But in the omniverse I hail from? Reality-warp immune entities like the Stickmen would see those monsters as mere appetisers."


    Mila scratched the back of her head, her tone casual but with an undercurrent of eagerness. "Enough exposition. Who''s the big bad we''re supposed to take down? Let''s skip to the good part."


    Sophia hesitated, her expression unreadable, before finally speaking. "Didn''t you pay attention to the holograms? That would be CX-Eclipsant-xxxxxB: the Unknowable Cataclysm. Also known as the Intranscendable One."


    Mila nodded rapidly. "Sounds ominous. Spill the details, please."


    Sophia took a breath, her gaze turning distant as though recalling fragments of a story that should never have been told. "Calystryx has shared glimpses¡ªfragments¡ªflashes of understanding, like a sudden eureka moment. But she deliberately leaves a signature, a mark, telling us it came from her. The Unknowable Cataclysm isn''t just an adversary. It''s the original form of the countless Metapotentiae, before they fractured. They were once one entity, a singular, infinite force. And then there''s CX-Eclipsant-xxxxxC, the Shadowtide Witch that I mentioned before¡ªthe Cataclysm''s shadow and the architect of the Eternal Origin. Beyond what I mentioned, there''s little we understand. Even knowing about them feels like we''re encroaching on something we were never meant to comprehend."


    Mila crossed her arms. "So, let me get this straight... the hierarchy''s like this: the Unknowable Cataclysm''s at the top, then the Shadowtide Witch, followed by the Metapotentiae, Hyperpotentiae, Aeternum, Primordial, Omnipotent, and then reality warpers like us?" She paused, the bitter taste of the concept settling on her tongue. "Honestly, I''m kinda shocked that the Caligo Consortium can even hold any of those omnipotent beings¡ªlet alone anything above that. But... seeing this giant, fearsome woman, Calystryx... Yeah, I think that finally answers a question I''ve had bouncing around in my brain for ages.


    Hey, listen, Sophie. Contrary to popular belief, I''m not just some sword-swinging oaf yelling yeet at reality. I mean, you''re not an idiot, and I''m a terrible actress. Suffice it to say, I''m an Omega Anomaly Warper-class Void Knight. I''m an error that can''t be corrected. And yeah, that''s a real thing¡ªthe highest class for mere humans does exist. You saw a taste of my power." She jabbed a thumb into her chest, her voice almost taunting, brimming with pride. "So, yeah, maybe I''ve been a little... flippant. Sure, I''ve acted like a meathead¡ªclassic misdirection. But this Consortium stuff? Makes you think, doesn''t it? How much further does this rabbit hole go, and do we even want to know what''s at the bottom? ...Who am I kidding, I wanna dive right in. Hardcore."


    When Sophia didn''t answer, Mila pressed on. Her cheeks flushed in a strangely perverted way¡ªa rare crack in her devil-may-care fa?ade. "Back in my world, I was the heroine. The chosen one. The big cheese. Hard not to think the universe spins around you when every prophecy, every doom-laden monologue, every chosen one moment had your name written all over it. But then..." She trailed off, her eyes distant, staring at the swirling mist. Then you end up here, realising that whatever lies beyond fiction, beyond myths, religion, and history, doesn''t give a damn about your story. And... honestly? It''s kinda freeing. For the first time, I''m not the main event. I''m... just another freak in the crowd."


    Her gaze flickered to Calystryx''s form drifting through the mist, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. "Meeting someone like her¡ªand Ayame too... It''s surreal. Knowing I''m not the only one who''s... like this. It makes everything feel a little less lonely, you know?"


    Mila''s eyes flicked over the swirling mists as though she were reading the very air. "These eldritch mists... yeah, they''re her doing. Don''t bother looking too hard; you won''t see it. But trust me when I say, there''s more lurking in there than any world should ever allow. It''s like a trap... a containment, just like the Hollowed Reliquary. But it''s different... something about it¡ªsomething wrong¡ªgives it an edge. And you know what? I don''t hate it. Hell, I fucking love it."


    She turned away slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear in an almost staged gesture. "Okay, fine. I''ll admit it. I''ve felt... incredibly lonely. Like, existentially lonely. Carrying worlds on your back and having no one who actually understands? It''s exhausting. I don''t even know what''s real anymore. But knowing there are others out there, beings who might actually get it? It''s... it''s like I can finally breathe."


    Sophia was taken aback by Mila''s fa?ade. Her usual stoic composure cracked just enough for her to respond with a shaky, disbelieving laugh. "You''re insane, Mila. Completely unhinged. My first impression of you was right. You''re dangerous... and a liar. Don''t put me in your sick little world. You''re the furthest thing from human. Yes, you''re an error¡ªone that shouldn''t exist. It took me a while, but now I see you for what you really are: You''re not just some godlike entity. You''re the Agglomeration of All Transcendences, the Incarnate of All Gods and Realities¡ªfictional, nonfictional, all smeared together in a singular existence."


    Mila looked down at her with the kind of disdain that suggested Sophia was little more than an inconvenience. She slowly sank to one knee, then, with exaggerated care, patted Sophia''s head with a single finger. "Oh, I know I am, Sophie. But let''s be real¡ªplaying the villain has its perks. Sometimes I wonder... why not just give in? Why not burn it all down? After all, I''m more than capable of leaving a trail of irreversible ruin. But you know what''s stopping me from doing it?"


    Her head towered over Sophia like a monster, her words a cocktail of menace and mirth. "Because if I did, I''d be even lonelier. Funny how that works, huh? I suck at creation. Everything I make turns out boring. It''s like how someone else''s meal always tastes better than your own cooking. Or meeting someone you think you love, only to realise they''re as hollow as an NPC in a game.


    Honestly, though? Calystryx looks like she''s having a great time in her little prison. Maybe I should bust her out. Shake things up a bit, see what happens. I mean, she gets to sit there all zen and mysterious, while I''m stuck here bored out of my mind. The idea of being crushed by her seems exciting enough. Maybe I''ll feel real pain for once."


    Both of her eyes locked onto Sophia as though they were taking in every inch of her existence. "We''re friends, right?"


    Sophia''s silence spoke volumes, louder than words ever could. Mila''s laugh followed, but it was hollow¡ªempty, the darkness in her eyes untouched by the sound. "Just kidding, Sophie. You''re more like... a pet. But hey, every heroine needs a sidekick, right? And you''ve earned your place."


    She dropped to her knees yet she remained towering over Sophia, her presence looming with an almost unsettling ease. "You''ve given me... clarity. And for that, you''re... special to me. Truly. You could say I''m far, far beyond omnipresent and omniscient, but I''ve restricted those abilities, among others, just so I can enjoy life a little more."


    Sophia''s patience finally snapped. With a primal roar, she unleashed a Lawbinding Tornado, a storm of unrestrained power that tore through the castle, twisting its endless halls and hurling Mila into the void. As the storm spun violently around her, Mila''s expression remained eerily calm, almost amused, as though she had anticipated this moment all along. "Now that''s the spirit," she muttered to herself. "I''m sure it''s not what you intended, but what a refreshing breeze, friend."


    A deep blue aura surged around Mila, and in an instant, the violent chaos of the tornado became utterly ineffective in her presence. She hovered effortlessly at its core, her form suspended as if gravity had simply forgotten her existence. The storm raged around her, but she remained unaffected, her expression betraying only boredom¡ªlike a detached observer utterly uninterested in the fury that surrounded her. Her piercing gaze swept over the tarnished, mist-shrouded walls of the Oblivion Keep, unshaken by the devastation that the tornado should have wrought. Sophia''s mastery was evident; her attack had been precise, perfectly aimed at Mila''s being while sparing the world itself.


    "Sophie!" Mila''s voice rang out, now distorted with an eldritch resonance that made it feel like reality itself was bending under her words. "What exactly do you think you''re doing to the heroine? I''ve already told you¡ªI''m the main character here. Not just in this world, but in every world. Yours included!"


    She placed her right hand over her literal dead heart, her voice swelling with a divine grandeur, a declaration that left no room for contradiction. "A true heroine like me? I''m above your petty laws, your fragile order. I''m above everything! I thought you were clever, Sophie. When will you finally understand that everything¡ªeverything¡ªrevolves around me?! I''ll bash your skull inward! Maybe then you''ll finally be as wise as I am!"


    With those words, her heart stirred to life, its beat echoing like the knell of doom itself. Each pulse reverberated through reality, warping the very fabric of existence in ways Sophia had never before witnessed. It was the Void Choir¡ªthe resonant force that had once silenced creation itself, devouring all that lay before it. The sound began, a roar greater than the birth of all omniverses, louder than the Mila Bang itself, then gradually softened until it was a mere whisper on the edge of perception. Yet, as her heart faded to silence, its power only grew.


    With every beat, the storm that had once threatened to rip everything apart faltered. Its fury, once unrelenting, trembled beneath the weight of her heart''s cadence. In four resounding, deliberate heartbeats, the tornado began to unravel, fraying like a broken thread, until it ceased to exist. The storm was devoured, swallowed whole by the overriding force of her being.


    Sophia''s voice trembled, betraying the strength she fought to hold onto. "Mila, if you ever truly were the heroine you claim to be¡ªif even a fragment of justice still lingers within you¡ªthen surrender. There''s no need for more to suffer. You''re not fit to be part of the Consortium. In truth, you belong in the Hollowed Reliquaries, alongside the Eclipsants we strive to contain." She gestured towards a towering reliquary that pierced the skies, its vast emptiness a dark invitation. "There''s more than enough space for you in there."


    Before Sophia''s words could fully land, Mila was gone¡ªher form vanishing from the air as if the wind itself had whisked her away. In the same heartbeat, she reappeared behind Sophia, silent and sudden.


    Despite her imposing size¡ªtall and towering, a half-giant by all appearances¡ªMila moved with an unsettling grace that bordered on unnatural. In a motion almost too swift to comprehend, she extended a single finger, and with a touch so deceptively gentle, she pressed Sophia to the ground. The weight of it was paradoxically immense, an invisible force that rendered resistance futile.


    "Nice try. Really, Sophie, that was rich. Didn''t know you had jokes. I always pegged you as about as lively as a petrified tree. It''s laughable, really. You¡ªa nobody, just an NPC in the grand tapestry¡ªthinking you''re the main character? Yeah... no. You''re just a side quest I forgot about until now. You don''t belong on my stage. The only place you belong is under my finger."


    Her expression twisted into something dangerously sweet, as if she were speaking through clenched teeth. "Hold onto what''s left of your precious brain cells, yeah?" Without warning, she slammed Sophia harder against the black, transparent floor. "Or else."


    "I''d hate to squish it all at once."


    Mila leaned closer. "Don''t you dare go quiet on me, playing the silent protagonist. Even bugs don''t get the luxury of no dialogue! You should be creaking, screaming, anything! What''s the matter? Already dead, or do you love kissing the floor so much? Tch."


    And then, she was gone. Not in a dramatic burst, not with a flash of blinding light¡ªjust a subtle flicker, like a ripple passing through the very fabric of space, and then nothing.


    Sophia''s breath hitched, her limbs paralysed, as if some invisible force had seized control. The weight of Mila''s oppressive power clung to her like an iron shackle. A parting gift, left behind by the half-giant.


    An enslavement power was slowly creeping up her body, its cold tendrils winding tight with every passing second. She had a few hours, at best, to do something about it¡ªif she even could.


    The shadows within the Keep kept growing darker, more pronounced, their edges unnaturally sharp as they spread like veins of darkness, pooling in the corners and stretching across the walls. They crawled with a slow, deliberate intent, as though mirroring the malevolent power that Mila had left behind. The space no longer felt like a mere location¡ªit had become a twisted extension of her will, cold, cruel, and utterly inescapable.


    Even the Outer Gods and Great Old Ones, encased within their ancient reliquaries, stirred faintly in response. Their bound forms shifted almost imperceptibly, as though the malice thickening the air had whispered too loudly in their long, dreamlike slumber. Though Sophia knew they could not escape their eternal confinement¡ªan assurance reinforced by the Caligo Consortium''s flawless containment record¡ªthe subtle movements of these unfathomable entities made her sweat bullets.


    The shadows, emboldened yet cautious, dared not encroach upon Calystryx. Her mist¡ªmetapresent and unyielding¡ªdrifted like a vigilant sentinel, its ethereal tendrils emanating from the heart of the Oblivion Keep. Even the encroaching darkness, with all its malice, respected the Hyperpotentia''s Nameless Mist, slithering only through pathways where coexistence had been permitted. The Nameless Mist was no mere phenomenon; it was a metaforce, preceding and transcending both existence and the void itself. It required no self-sufficiency¡ªsuch notions were beneath it. Its purpose, veiled in secrecy, remained unspoken even in the realms it touched.


    Deep within her reliquary, the Enraged White Void slumbered, untouched by the oppressive atmosphere. The restless shadows prowling the Keep and the tension saturating its corridors were inconsequential, beneath the notice of her immutable essence. Calystryx stood as an effigy of absolute stillness, occupying a plane divorced from the trivialities of the present. Without moving her lips, she sang¡ªa soundless melody that bypassed the fabric of reality itself, resonating even in the reader''s world. The song was incomprehensible, imperceptible, save for a single word that emerged unobscured: Noxen.


    The word reverberated with a profound, ineffable power, rippling through the Keep like waves in a boundless void. It was not merely a word; it was a presence that transcended all frameworks of existence and nonexistence. To name it as pure being was to impose a limitation it could not abide. Noxen was infinitely beyond cognition, a paradox that dissolved all who dared to approach it conceptually. It was not meant to be understood¡ªunderstanding was an insult to its essence, a diminishment of its unfathomable scope.


    Even as it resonated, its presence was so absolute, so all-encompassing, that it resisted the act of being heard. Like a truth too vast for omniscient minds, it slipped away into the void the moment it was perceived, leaving no trace, no memory, no mark of its passage. It was not forgotten¡ªit obliterated the very possibility of remembrance. Noxen existed not as a state or an idea but as the absence of all boundaries, the ceaseless, incomprehensible foundation from which all realities and their negations emerged. To glimpse it was to feel the weight of infinite paradox, a vertigo of comprehension that knew no resolution.


    As if answering this singular word, the mist stirred. It coalesced purposefully, swirling with silent determination around Sophia. Its touch was neither hostile nor gentle but resolute, as if following a directive older than the stars themselves. In an instant, the mist enveloped her completely, forming an opaque cocoon that shielded her from the oppressive depths of the Oblivion Keep. Without hesitation, it transported her¡ªseamlessly, effortlessly¡ªto the dormitory aboard the omniversal ship.


    The malevolence of the Keep faded away as the mist dissolved, leaving Sophia in the comforting familiarity of her new surroundings. The oppressive shadows, the suffocating air, the weight of her encounter with Mila¡ªall of it melted into the void, replaced by the serene, almost mundane stillness of her quarters. Sophia exhaled, her breath shuddering as the remnants of fear clung to her, but relief began to seep in.


    Sophia cast a brief glance out the window, and, as always, the ship responded instantly, morphing the view to match her desire. The omnipresent, omniscient AI Goddess, Stella, spoke then, her voice imbued with a divine tranquillity that was soothing.


    "Today, Sophia, you wish to gaze upon the Celestium Pillars of Babel once more. These were the first network of bridges, constructed by the Founders¡ªformer mortals who, after the clash between the Primordial Infinity and Singularity-N, transcended mortality itself. Built with the aid of Vorethas, the Pillars are a monumental achievement, not only for the Founders but also for the Eternals who aided them.


    They were inspired by the infinite Corridors of the Void. However, where the corridors connect all planes of existence to nonexistence¡ªand even to the enigmatic Unidentified Boundary¡ªthe Celestium Pillars of Babel serve a more constrained purpose, bridging all the omniverses and the divine realms that consented to their entry.


    Beyond the Unidentified Boundary lie the metarealms. Among those who have chosen to reveal themselves are the Eternal Exvoid, the Cascade of the End, and the Chaoscrown''s Reign, also known as Yibberloo under certain conditions. Between the Unidentified Boundary and these metarealms exists an enigmatic intermediary space: the Quarks of the Unknowable Diva, a zone that eludes all classification or comprehension."


    Sophia let the words wash over her, finding more solace in Stella''s calm, almost maternal tone. "Thank you for the explanation, Stella," she murmured. "Now, please play Gymnop¨¦die No. 1."


    "Of course, Sophia," Stella responded without hesitation. "Playing Gymnop¨¦die No. 1 by Erik Satie."


    As the soft, melancholic piano notes filled the room, Sophia leaned back, her gaze lingering on the vast expanse of stars and bridges visible through the window. As the final notes lingered, silence settled between them. Finally, she broke it.


    "Tell me, Stella... did an alternate version of me really create you? The Sentient Transmutational Eternal Lucid Luminous Ascendant?"


    "That is correct," Stella affirmed.


    "Never mind," Sophia interrupted, shaking her head. "Forget it. Please connect me immediately with my superior selves."


    A moment later, the voice of one of the Superior Sophias echoed through the room.


    "Special Sophia, designation The Fool. We convened with the Lower Sophias not long ago, but your burdens leave you distant from such concerns. Your presence here, and so soon, speaks volumes. It can mean only one thing: you wish to be respawned into the furthest, most nascent omniverse from this one. We must tell you, the Lower Sophias will grieve again to know you are dissatisfied with yourself."


    "They''ll understand in time, once they shed more of their lingering humanity," Sophia said. "It''s unfortunate, but it''s also their greatest obstacle. And this time... this time is different. I need to be respawned into one of Ayame''s collections of omniverses¡ªthose that she has designated safe from omniversal eradication.


    The reason is simple. I encountered Mila, the Half-Giant Heroine. I am certain I''m nearing a dead end. She has me at her mercy, and there''s some kind of enslavement power at work. She underestimated me by not completing the enslavement, but I doubt I''ll be able to escape her again. A full reconstruction... that''s the only way, isn''t it?"


    The Superior Sophias conferred among themselves briefly, their discussion a cascade of overlapping voices, harmonious yet discordant, like the choir of a fractured cosmos.


    Finally, one spoke.


    "Special Sophia, we grant your request for reconstruction. May the stars guide you towards your destined path, and may you achieve the heights only you can reach."


    Sophia lay down on the bed tucked into the corner of the room, pulling the blanket snugly around her and clasping her hands over her chest. Her gaze drifted back to the window, the bridges and stars glittering like shards of broken eternity. "What about Mila? You''ve said nothing about her."


    A different Superior Sophia answered, her tone contemplative, almost reverent. "Mila is a being of complexity beyond even us. She is pivotal in her own right, yet in the grand arc of your journey, she is ultimately secondary. Her importance is fleeting, though her impact on you is undeniable.


    But hear this, Special Sophia: your path is yours alone to walk. Mila''s pursuit of you will be of no consequence. The Fortivira Defenstra shields all Sophias. If she ever finds you again¡ªat the edge of infinity itself¡ªyou will have undergone infinite reincarnations, each stronger than the last. By then, you will have transcended her and even us. You will rival the Eternal Origin, the creation of the First Diva."


    Before Sophia could respond, the reconstruction process began. Her body dissolved into a torrent of glimmering Aeoncodes, disassembling with a profoundness that felt more like liberation than destruction. The sensation was gentle, warm, and enveloping, as though she were drifting through a river of light.


    Time became irrelevant as her physical form unravelled, transforming into raw potential. Her consciousness expanded, aligning with the infinite possibilities of the omniverse. The last remnants of her current self were swept away, replaced by the promise of a new beginning.


    "Goodbye, Mila," she whispered, a strange calm joy in her voice. "I win."

 The Unnamed Overmind

    Atop a mound of corpses, a woman standing 5 feet 9 inches with ash-grey hair and piercing crimson eyes stood, draped in the opulent garb of nobility. Her heels elevated her height by four inches. In her grasp, she held a man by the throat, his feet dangling above the ruin beneath them. Around her, an army of demons feasted on the remains of the Heavenly Host.


    "From now on, you''ll be known as the God of Folly, Yahweh," she drawled, her voice dripping with venom, though it carried a mocking, almost playful lilt. "Can''t for the life of me figure out why you hate me more than the rest of Hell, but there you are, all desperate an'' pitiful. A Royal of Light brought low... it''s proper embarrassing, that. You really picked the wrong demon to mess with, didn''t ya?"


    Yahweh coughed, blood streaking his once-immaculate robes. "How fitting that my pursuit of absolute order ends here, struck down by the very hordes of Hell I sought to conquer. And still, you ask why I''ve pursued you?" His voice cracked as he forced a bitter laugh. "You are the first evil I failed to purge. Every day, mortals wonder why you''re still breathing, despite my omnipotence. That failure festers like a wound. But don''t mistake my words for concession, Satan. If anything is goddamned annoying, it''s your defiance. Even now, you could repent. Let me kill you, and your sins will be forgiven."


    Satan sneered, her grip tightening. "Ain''t it no wonder humans are weak an'' daft¡ªmade in your image, ain''t they? Enough talkin''. Time you met yer maker."


    "Kill him! Kill him!" the demons howled, their bloodlust insatiable.


    "All hail Satan!" others roared, their voices echoing across the realm.


    "...Archangel Revelation: Holy Trinity!!"


    A searing burst of light tore through the air, cutting down scores of demons. From the radiant glow, a bloodied Archangel Michael emerged, staggering but defiant.


    "Accuser!" he bellowed, his voice trembling yet resolute. "If you want to kill God, you''ll have to destroy creation itself first."


    Satan tilted her head, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Who decided that, eh?"


    "There is a natural order," Michael rasped, his sword quivering in his grasp. "To slay the Creator is to unmake His creation. The Creator precedes all; His creations are duty-bound to defend Him, even unknowingly."


    Yahweh interjected, his voice firm despite the weariness of his form. "Michael, enough! This battle is lost, but the war is far from over. Remember this: mortals have already envisioned your triumph over Satan in their art. Their faith predicts it, and so it shall come to pass. Satan may claim this fleeting victory, but hope remains. Retreat now, my son. Regroup. Return stronger. Even if Satan strikes me down in this wretched place, I will live on through you. When we triumph, we will feast. Perhaps on demon soup." A thin, sardonic smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Satan and her kind will be purged in our bellies, reborn as... waste."


    Michael hesitated, his eyes blazing with defiance. "But my Lord, I have yet to unleash my Archangel Revelation: Divine Wrath¡ª!"


    His words were cut short as a colossal, black dragon of stone and flesh¡ªSix-Six-Six the Slaughterer¡ªdescended, rending the archangel''s body with a single swipe of his claw.


    "Fucking angels," growled the beast, spitting on Michael''s lifeless remains.


    "You vile monster!" Yahweh roared, his fury reignited. "Heavensbane, all of you! This slaughter is meaningless! My son was retreating, prepared to offer mercy, and yet you condemn yourselves to further darkness with every ignorant, petty act."


    Before Yahweh could speak again, two figures emerged from the ranks of Hell. The first was a colossal demon, his form towering over an unfathomable 14.19 quintillion kilometres, a being whose sheer scale defied comprehension. His blood-red skin shimmered in the dim light, and his wings¡ªwhite as celestial fire¡ªspread like the burning embrace of an unstoppable force. His face melded regal authority with primal ferocity, every line and feature an expression of power incarnate. Jagged grey hair framed his visage, a crown of chaos resting atop his brow, marking him as a ruler of ancient, untamed realms.


    Beside him stood a woman, her imposing height of 19 feet 3 inches making her no less terrifying. Her raven-black hair cascaded like a shadow unfurling, dark tendrils flowing and shifting with an eerie grace. Her emerald eyes burned with an abyssal depth, as though countless legions of Aethernum demons¡ªdenizens of Hell, the Abyss, and realms even darker¡ªwere trapped within her, each boundless army tethered to her very core. She seemed to distort reality with every step she took.


    The male demon spoke, his voice a thunderous rumble that reverberated through creation. "Yahweh, you were among the 79 Royals of Light who cast us¡ªme, Abaddon, Satan, Lucifer, and the rest¡ªinto exile. You and your kind could not abide dissent, not even from the righteous. Do you remember our sister, Sathiel? The Most Righteous and Gifted Scion of Light?"This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    A dark scowl settled on Yahweh''s face, but his lips remained sealed.


    "Of course you do," the demon continued. "You defamed her. Destroyed her temples. And when her brilliance outshone even your own, you created this imaginary adversary¡ªSatan¡ªto vilify her. Sathiel, Satan, Ruth Summers... no matter her name or form, she continues to eclipse us all."


    "Legion, the Unnamed Overmind, and Azazel, the Demon God, Conqueror of Hell." Yahweh spat the title with revulsion. "Azazel, your pompous proclamations are as hollow as your ambitions." His glare sharpened into a weapon¡ªcold, meticulous, unforgiving. "Satan is naive and indecisive. She doesn''t have the strength to kill me. She, you, and all your pitiful ilk were doomed long before I or the 79 Royals took action. True justice is swift and unerring¡ªqualities none of you possess."


    "You mistake leniency for virtue, blind yourselves to the greater good. Those you spare will only bring more suffering. Even among the innocent, there is an order¡ªa hierarchy of worth. When faced with impossible choices, some lives must take precedence over others. You speak of righteousness, but your mercy is nothing but cowardice veiled in virtue."


    Yahweh paused, his voice hardening with a vitriolic conviction. "If you see evil or aggression in me, it is but the reflection of your own corrupted souls. If you see goodness or fairness, perhaps there remains a flicker of hope for you. But we both know how you truly look at me¡ª"


    Before he could finish, Satan''s hand flashed out, her sharp nails raking across his face. Yahweh''s body convulsed as blood welled from the wounds, and tears streamed from his eyes, snot dripping from his nostrils.


    "H-HOW DARE YOU! I AM THE FATHER AND THE MOST HIGH GOD! I¡ª"


    His words were cut short as his body writhed violently, collapsing into a grotesque pool of red and black viscera.


    Satan wiped her hand on her cloak, her expression betraying nothing. "Fookin'' sick bastard," she muttered, the bitterness seeping through her words. "Don''t make sense, does it? If he hates me so much, why''d he base Eve''s appearance on me own human form? An'' don''t even get me started on the hypocrisy of him pretendin'' to be the serpent to tempt her."


    Azazel chuckled, a low, dark sound that echoed in the stillness. "Clinging to an obsolete power: omnipotence. He was a primordial only in title. How merciful of you, Sathiel, to grant the loudest hypocrite a swift death. As always, your powers¡ªwhether of light or pestilence¡ªare a thing of beauty." His crimson eyes gleamed as he turned to her. "Now, regarding my earlier proposition: will you conquer and unite Hell as I once did?"


    Satan tilted her head, a sharp, calculating glint in her eyes. "Azazel, Hell''s yer turf, just like Gehenna''s mine. Always been a good brother to me, y''know, back when we were part of them 79 Royals of Light. But since I fell an'' became a Malaphim, I''ve had no time for that so-called light. I only saved you the bother of squashing that little insect Yahweh ''cause he came crawl-''round Hell lookin'' for me."


    Azazel''s grin widened. "Ah, so you even count me among the forces of light. How amusing. It''s true, I seek to reform not just Hell, but all celestial realms... and eventually, everything. My ambition remains unbroken: to see you crowned upon the Throne of Omniverses. But if necessary, I will take that seat myself."


    He turned, glancing at Six-Six-Six, whose towering form¡ªan unfathomable 2.64 sextillion kilometres tall¡ªcast a shadow so immense that it seemed to distort reality itself. The beast stood like a living nightmare. "Six-Six-Six, stay close to Sathiel. And you, Legion..."


    His gaze flicked to her¡ªLegion, a haunting figure who stood eerily still like a living statue. Her mouth opened and closed in slow, deliberate repetition, and she lightly bit her index finger, an unsettling gesture that exuded calculated intent. Her aura was overwhelming, intelligent yet alien, the weight of countless eternities pressing upon her.


    "Ah, how utterly exquisite..." Legion''s voice reverberated like a distant star''s dying pulse. "In the infinite stillness of eternity, who shall be the first to fracture the silence with their scream?"


    Azazel sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind. I''ll never fathom the workings of the Unnamed Overmind. But I will concede this¡ªshe is a metaforce to be reckoned with. I don''t know why she''s helping you, Sathiel, but I don''t intend to find out. Even demon gods steer clear of her path."


    Six-Six-Six growled. "Don''t tell me, the Dragon of Bolides, what to do, Four Horns. If you''re afraid of Legion, leave already. And take your damned sissy demon army with you. I can smell their scrumptious fear. Satan will never need an army, much less anyone else. I and Legion are more than enough... more than overkill."


    Azazel smirked, a mixture of understanding and respect in his eyes. "As you wish, Slaughterer." With a dramatic flourish of his crimson cloak, he turned, his legions following like trails of hellfire in his wake.


    Satan watched him go. For a brief moment, her hair lightened to brown, and her crimson eyes dimmed to a cold, unfeeling grey. "Ruth Summers. So, you''re aware of her, Azazel¡ªthe human vessel I now inhabit... the reincarnation of Shub-Niggurath!" At the mention of the Outer God, Legion''s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. Her colossal hand¡ªso disproportionate for such a delicate gesture¡ªdescended and lightly rested on Satan''s shoulder.


    "I am Alum''Nie, the Stir of the Unformed Void. To know me is to cease to exist. I am beyond understanding, yet you¡ªdaughter¡ªare of me. In your being, all things bend, and all things end. I do not declare; I am, and you are the end of all."


    The remnants of Yahweh''s viscera pooled at their feet, steaming in the infernal air.

 The Ghost that Guides

    Two monstrous roars reverberated through every metaphysical realm and omniverse. Gorathok the Overpowered Demiurge and Ere''Banth the Monad of the Unnamed Darkness¡ªAbomination Gods who defied logic and comprehension¡ªclashed in an apocalyptic battle within the hyperrealm known as the Ruinheart.


    Gorathok hailed from Havokurn, a hyperrealm embodying Hyperpotence and the Intranscendable Framework. He was the guardian of Nae, the Second Ouroboros, and had once descended to the lowest reality, assuming the guise of a man named Plato. Ere''Banth, an anomalous and unseen sentinel, safeguarded two entities: Lumi''Nae, the Void Sovereign, and Alum''Nie, the Stir of the Unformed Void.


    Gorathok often manifested as an immense orange western dragon, black stripes writhing with raw power. Ere''Banth, by contrast, took the form of a 735-headed fell dragon, embodying the Prime Force and the Nexus of Everything. Blood ceaselessly oozed from the crevices of Ere''Banth''s alabaster scales, its properties inscrutable. From these crimson droplets emerged forces beyond reason¡ªAzathoth, Tiamat, non-concepts, omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence, and the Dreamland itself. A single drop, shaped like a blood-red snowflake, sundered Ultimate Reality, cleaving it into Upper and Lower Realities, annihilating the Absolute, and resurrecting it as a god-king.


    The true scale of these abominations was immeasurable, their hyperpresence infinite.


    Their confrontation drew the gaze of innumerable entities of boundless power and potential. Among them were the Dragon of Oblivion, Nihilignis¡ªfirst guardian of the Pale Mist-Dame, embodying Nihilism and the Nameless Singularity; the Malfracture, a spider-dragon whose indomitable web formed the fabric and laws of all worlds; Tart''Kralis, the Will of the Wicked; Typhon, the Dragon of Delirium; Surtr Valmue, the Ruby Star and Sustainer of the Eternal Origin; Lilith Nightshade, the Obsidian Star and creator of the Monkey''s Paw; Metrina Cosmos, the Diamond Star and the Metatranscendence; and Volch''ya Otrava, the First and Original Ouroboros¡ªEmerald Star, Instranscendable Vanquisher, Endslayer, Black Shuck, and Metaexistence Incarnate, whose metarealm was known as the Lost Lost Limbus.


    Volch''ya Otrava, a Metapotentia, appeared as a towering, ferocious beastfolk warrior with long green hair, wolf-like ears, and piercing red eyes. She travelled with the enigmatic Ivory Sage, Hemlock, whose ivory robes and hair radiated an unearthly beauty. Hemlock, in a past life, had been Socrates. Volch''ya wielded a colossal polearm called the Immutable''s Requiem. Together, they journeyed beyond omniverses, realms, and the Infinite Planes of the Void, past the Unidentified Boundary, and into the enigmatic intermediary known as the Quarks of the Unknowable Diva.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Volch''ya sought her original form, the Unknowable Diva, from which she and her countless Metapotentiae sisters had splintered. Hemlock had chosen to accompany her, seeking both to repay her saviour and to satisfy her own insatiable curiosity. What lay beyond the Unknowable? Hemlock often wondered. Why did Volch''ya seek to reunite with her primordial self? Like her sisters, Volch''ya was the Intranscendable Diva''s equal and already complete. Could it be she sought to erase the inerasable? If so, no conventional means¡ªawareness, thoughts, will¡ªcould achieve such a feat. Only Volch''ya knew the path. To her, this endless journey was finite; for a Metapotentia, the impossible was merely another challenge. There was no power or authority above them¡ªeverything else was but a flawed imitation of their essence.


    Yet, Hemlock could not voice her musings. Volch''ya''s presence was elusive, her communication incomprehensible. Hemlock could never discern when Volch''ya was near or when she had moved beyond. It was as though Volch''ya guided her subtly, always one step ahead. Despite possessing power surpassing omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence, Hemlock knew far less than she desired.


    Volch''ya... What do infinity and worlds look like to you? Are they like sewing needles forever spiralling through cloth spun from yarns of creation? What lies beyond Fate, the End, and the Unknowable? Is Free Will merely the by-product of your sisters'' eternal deadlock, or has it been delegated to some lesser being? Is power itself an illusion, a cruel game the Metapotentiae play for amusement?


    Her ghostly presence vanished once more, leaving Hemlock in a vast, profound silence.


    As I follow your steps, whose steps do you follow? To me, you are the Unknowable¡ªseeking the whole of yourself that does not wish to be found. Yet you are both the cause and the solution to this paradox. Will the problem resolve itself when you tire of sightseeing? But... will you ever tire? You are never bored, experiencing everything as though it were the first time, despite there being no power or authority greater than you.


    Hemlock''s gaze wandered, and in the distance, she glimpsed Volch''ya''s ghost glancing back. For the briefest moment, there was recognition¡ªa smile as if they had met anew¡ªbefore the phantom vanished once more, reappearing farther away, like an echo or a mirage. Hemlock, bearer of Eros and Chaos, felt powerless before her. To Volch''ya, she was but a harmless pup, a fleeting amusement.


    "Where are you going? Where have you been?" Hemlock whispered, her voice a fragile thread lost in the boundless void.

 Nightmares Hunt

    It was the end of summer, and Silas Yang found himself waiting in line for the amusement park''s haunted house. Beside him stood his childhood friend, Lisa Rose, and her older sister, Leah¡ªa recent Harvard Medical School graduate. Until recently, Silas had been a software engineer for a Tokyo-based mecha video game. That chapter was over now; he felt no longing or regret¡ªonly a quiet contentment for his ordinary life and deep gratitude that his mother and siblings were alive.


    Despite the occasional pang of shame¡ªgiven Lisa''s affluent background¡ªSilas had been relying on her generosity for months. He often reassured himself, ''Never take this for granted. I promise I''ll repay her someday.'' Still, he couldn''t quite fathom what she saw in him.


    One of his favorite escapes was browsing digital art¡ªa pastime that perhaps resonated with his perpetual feeling of not quite belonging in his own body, or even this world. As he scanned his surroundings, a small gathering at a picnic table caught his eye. In the group, one figure stood apart: a beautiful woman with long, flowing black hair, wearing a black cap, a crisp white shirt, black pants, and¡ªif one squinted¡ªa pair of white sneakers. Though she was surrounded by cosplayers¡ªa common sight on Halloween¡ªSilas couldn''t pinpoint the character they were emulating. ''They''re good,'' he mused. ''Are they recording something for YouTube?''


    Yet something about the woman¡ªand the scene¡ªfelt different. His intuition, which he sometimes called his Sixth Sense, whispered that these were no ordinary people. Silas had always had a knack for foreseeing outcomes, but today the feeling was both unusually strong and unsettling. He recalled Lisa''s half-joking remark that he could earn a living as a fortune teller with his gift¡ªif only it would come on command. Just as he was about to step toward the mysterious woman, Lisa clutched his arm like a leash. His curiosity battled caution: ''What if she, too, was a seer? What if I wasn''t as unique as I believed?'' A swirl of sadness and intrigue welled within him. Before he could decide, it was their turn to enter the haunted house.


    Inside, reality unraveled. One moment, Silas felt the light touch of a delicate hand; the next, he found himself in a gothic city. His last memory before the shift was an unseen arm yanking him behind the curtains.


    "So, this city is called Umbraheim¡ªand you''re telling me I''m in another world now?" he asked, disoriented.


    A fair maiden with blonde hair, luminous green eyes, and a flowing black dress¡ªaccentuated by an enigmatic gas mask¡ªnodded. "I am Charlotte Ashford," she announced, her silver pistol, Marine Antoinette, gleaming at her side. "We noticed you were drawn to the Void, as if She were calling your name. While most instinctively avert their gaze from Her presence, we sensed something extraordinary in you. It appears that, once, you were a psychic¡ªan esper¡ªwith the resolve to challenge Metadeities."


    "This feels like a dream. Are you real?" Silas replied in awe. "You look like a beautifully crafted doll¡ªand you speak so poetically." Impulsively, he reached out to pinch her cheek, but his hand passed right through her.


    For a moment, her eyes flickered with something unspoken. "We''ve heard the words dream and real before¡ªthough never addressed to us. Once, we were known as Nightmare Amorphous; later, as Tenebris. Since you''ve already taken our hand, why not join us on our hunt for the Monkey''s Paw and its Fourth Swarm? The artefact is hidden somewhere in this city, and its creator''s power interferes with our own. Unsurprisingly, it is drawn to humans. Fear not¡ªwe will protect you and return you to the amusement park once our task is complete." With graceful formality, she lifted her dress and bowed.


    "Sure. My summer vacation is nearly over, and frankly, I feel adrift even when I return. Maybe I''ll find some inspiration here. Despite this world''s terrifying facade¡ªand knowing better than to judge a book by its cover¡ªI''d hate to leave you stranded. Although, if you turned out to be an ugly witch who eats babies, that might make parting a bit easier."


    "If that were the case, we would have tossed you into a cauldron, stirred you up, and eaten you. But rest assured, we are neither purely evil nor entirely good. Our mission is to hunt down usurping forces¡ªthe darkness that dares to eclipse our own. Sometimes, to master our inner shadows, we must hunt the supernatural indiscriminately."


    Silas considered her words thoughtfully. "You''re dressed in black, yet you carry yourself with an almost saintly air¡ªreminding me of that woman in the black cap earlier. It might sound clich¨¦d, but it''s hard to picture you as evil. Humans tend to equate beauty with goodness and ugliness with vice. If you ever decide to become a reaper and end me, I only hope it''s quick and painless. Sometimes, I fear living more than I fear pain or death¡ªand other times, I simply don''t care."


    Together, they wandered through a grimdark city beneath an eternal twilight. Here, the living and the undead went about their daily routines in a macabre harmony. A lich sat on a bench, calmly reading the newspaper, while vampires rode in a cart drawn by pegasi seemingly sculpted from blood. In a shadowed alley, wendigos gnawed on one another. A few of these ghastly figures shot Silas malevolent glances¡ªbut when they caught sight of the imposing figure of Nightmare trailing behind him, fear overtook them, and they scattered into the darkness. One trembling wendigo managed to stutter, "L-l-lady Wild Hunt... have mercy upon my wretched soul! I beseech you¡ªspare me, and let not your ravenous hunger claim my flesh!"


    With a single fluid motion, Nightmare leveled her hand cannon at the darkness and declared,


    "You will continue to spread death and cold among the mundane¡ªit''s your nature. One day, whether driven by our random urges or simply for no reason at all, countless of your kind will fall prey to our metapresent hunt. Killing machines exist to slaughter until nothing is left. Cherish the restraint¡ªthe pause between our relentless hunts."


    No sooner had the last wendigo fled than an Aura of Death surged through the area. In an instant, Silas felt himself sinking into the ground, his body lifeless.


    At that very moment, a boy appeared on the scene, his eyes wide as he witnessed Nightmare revive Silas.


    "I recognise that power¡ªit''s akin to that of the Monkey''s Paw," he said urgently. "I don''t know who you are, but I could use your help. My name is Morris. I once wielded the Monkey''s Paw, and I still feel its pull. I can trace its approximate location. With your power, I can finally rid us of that cursed artefact. Hurry¡ªthe Shattered Veil is already on my trail!"


    Before Morris could finish his plea, Nightmare fired her silver pistol. Not one, but countless Scream''s Forte erupted from it. In an instant, several invisible assassins¡ªbeings of various races¡ªmaterialised around Morris, only to collapse lifelessly. Had Morris not been attuned to death, he might have mistaken their still forms for slumber. Instead, their bodies convulsed like marionettes, aging in reverse until reduced to a single primordial cell¡ªthen disintegrating into dust. The swirling dust coalesced into black mists that were absorbed back into Nightmare''s being.


    "The final piece is in place. It is checkmate," she intoned. "We will come back for you, Silas. You were a brilliant pawn."This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    With those words, black mist enveloped both Nightmare and Morris, whisking them away to an unknown destination.


    Silas slowly pushed himself away from the crumbling wall of a decrepit building, his hand pressed against his heart. ''No way... did I really die back there?'' he wondered. He had triumphed in boxing matches, run marathons with Lisa and Leah, and even rock climbed¡ªeach time hyperbolically describing the exhaustion as death, though never in a literal sense. He''d always fancied himself the protagonist of an endless story called life. Opening and closing his palm, he thought, ''Well, I''m technically still alive. I didn''t die¡ªso it cancels out.''


    Rising, he wandered the desolate city alone. High above, a giant black vulture circled him. At first, its presence startled him, but he soon realised that the creature¡ªlikely connected to Nightmare¡ªappeared intent on guarding him. Even the denizens of Umbraheim seemed to avoid crossing his path.


    Needing a moment to collect his thoughts, Silas sank onto a bench fashioned from bones and pulled out his Samsung Galaxy. In an effort to distract himself from the creeping dread, he meticulously adjusted his phone''s security settings:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Brightness: 30%</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Auto-scan: daily¡ªmorning or night?</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Weekly reset: morning or night?</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Auto-lock: Five or ten minutes?</li>


    </ul>


    ''No need to change my ringtone; Shooting Star is still my favorite.''


    He then scrolled through his photo gallery, pausing on images of his mother, siblings, and Lisa¡ªeach a snapshot of genuine smiles and cherished moments.


    Suddenly, the ground trembled. A vast sea of death and undead surged toward the heavens. The black vulture swooped down, forming a protective barrier around Silas. The situation escalated rapidly¡ªthe very planet seemed to be rotting away, its decay spilling over onto neighboring celestial bodies. In a surreal twist, Silas found himself no longer on solid ground but adrift in space¡ªwith the vulture acting as a makeshift submarine, navigating an endless, churning ocean of the undead. His head spun as he beheld the planet contorting into a colossal, erratic black hand¡ªa grotesque symbol of death in motion.


    At the epicentre of this chaos, the cursed Monkey''s Paw unleashed its full might, as if determined to obliterate Nightmare. Yet she remained untouched by its malefic power. Unfurling a pair of delicate, dragonfly-like wings, Nightmare regarded the accursed paw with indifference. Raising her hand, strands of glowing white light¡ªblack strings emanating from her fingertips¡ªintertwined with the paw''s being, showcasing a fragment of her power known as Metapotentia: Iron Maiden. With her other hand, she aimed her silver pistol and declared,


    "The Eternal Diva sends her regards."


    In a flash, Silas was transported onto a barren moon. He wandered amid the clattering, erratic movements of undead corpses tumbling across the lunar surface¡ªyet they instinctively avoided him. Then he heard it: a death spell resonating across the omniverses. Morris, channeling the residual power of the Monkey''s Paw, had begun a desperate prayer to his patron deity, the Nevermore Huntress. His voice echoed across the lifeless rock and rippled through the omniverses:


    Morris feels the cost,


    Cursed paw calls from India,


    Pyrrhic dreams undone.


    Driven by instinct, Silas sprinted toward the epicentre of the spell''s energy¡ªthe very spot where he had first witnessed that eerie, glowing darkness. There, he found Morris lying amid a dissipating heap of undead.


    Morris offered a weak chuckle as he slowly recognised Silas, the ghost of a smile forming. "So, my last adventure ends here..." His voice trailed off. "I saw them all, you know... Friends. Family. Soldiers I fought with. The White family." His eyes grew distant as he murmured, "I was the only one left standing... but no longer." With those final words, his body dissolved into nothingness.


    Earlier, Silas had marveled at the uncanny nature of it all. It was surreal to realise that the Monkey''s Paw, Morris... That short story he had once read in college wasn''t just a piece of fiction. It wasn''t some eerie tale confined to the pages of a book.


    It was real. More real than ink on paper, more tangible than he ever could have imagined.


    Before he could fully process the thought, Nightmare materialised before him. "Noir, be a good birdie and take him home," she instructed.


    In an instant, Silas found himself outside the haunted house. Lisa gripped his arm tightly. "That was terrifying! Thank God you were here with me, Silas."


    Leah waved her hand before him. "Your boyfriend seems a little out of it. How many fingers am I holding?"


    "I''m fine," Silas replied, attempting nonchalance. "That was the last scare for the night, right? Now we''re heading to Costco to..."


    His words trailed off as they walked toward the parking lot. ''Wait... is Costco even open at this hour?''


    High above, atop a ferris wheel, the woman with the black cap gazed into the distance as if peering beyond the veil of stars rather than the cloudy night sky. As a light drizzle began, she spoke, "Should I make contact with Nightmare... or erase her entirely? Your decision."


    The Void-Cloaked Mantle replied, "Neither, Sovereign. Our paths are destined to cross. When that moment comes, I ask for your presence¡ªand your blessing¡ªto wield my full power, unrestrained."


    Lumi''Nae removed her cap, letting it fall to the ground as her long black hair caught the raindrops. "Is Nightmare your enemy?" she asked softly. "I''ve never truly understood what it means to have an enemy... but I will watch your battle."


    "My greater counterpart is both ally and adversary," Nemesis said lightheartedly. "If Tiamat heard your words, she would say you only afford such luxuries because of your immense strength. Tiamat views all as enemies to be eradicated without hesitation¡ªtrigger-happy, as Nightmare would call it. Yet, I believe our group will serve as a positive influence for her."


    Lumi''Nae nodded, then her gaze landed on Silas.


    "Mmm. That boy, Silas... he was an Anomalous Main Character, stripped of his supernatural power. I could feel my signature¡ªHyperpotentia: Ruinheart¡ªconcentrating on him, but its mark was unsettlingly different. I have no recollection of having encountered him before. I attempted to restore his psychic abilities, as though they had always been present, but the other Ruinheart has diluted them. Furthermore, that same aggressive signature seems to permeate everything, as if an expiration date is placed on all things. I am uncertain how long it will take to fully remove it, but for now, I can at least delay and stabilise it until my journey reaches its end."


    "Rest assured, Sovereign. Your memories will return to you when you deem it necessary. I recall your previous caution¡ªthat I should not reveal too much¡ªbut I believe the time has come to speak plainly. In a time long past, you were once a savage force, unchained and capable of wreaking destruction beyond comprehension. You were a terror so great that few dared approach you, for those who did were torn asunder, both physically and metaphysically. Among your sisters, you were the most dangerous¡ªyour very presence caused realms to recoil in fear, and countless lives were claimed by your wrath. You saw all things as a cacophony of noise, a vile eyesore. Had it not been for the intervention of Kurohime-sama and myself, you would have likely brought an end to it all. For that, I am profoundly grateful. Though our reunion has been but brief, it is abundantly clear that you now wield a strength of a different nature."


    "Is that so? I am no longer that entity. I''m not sure where she went, but I believe it''s for the best that she vanished. Had she remained, she would have become an obstacle¡ªone I would have needed to remove before I could truly begin to explore the worlds."

 Ancient Shadows: The Legacy of Camelot

    Standing in his resplendent, exotic armour, the towering, muscular man¡ªwith his long, dishevelled dark©\purple hair cascading over lightly bronzed skin and his piercing golden eyes fixed ahead¡ªsurveyed the radiant light that bathed his entire realm, Corpse Avalon. With a single, mighty thrust, he drove his greatsword, Dark Excalibur, deep into the earth.


    "?My champion, your service has been exemplary. As I promised, I shall now bestow upon you both freedom and a new title. No longer will you be a mere monarch among the mundane. Astaroth, you shall ascend as the Dark God?Emperor. Understand this: all worlds, as perceived by the divine, are inextricably linked to you and Avalon. Your legend will become a dark star, consuming all light until shadows themselves cease to exist."?


    "?Esteemed Goddess-Saint Metrina, it has been my profound honour to serve you and to establish the most sacred of holy kingdoms across the omniverses¡ªrealms such as Great Camelot and Sanctumaria¡ªdedicated to your divine worship. Were it not for the call I perceived from the Void, I would have beseeched you to permit me to serve you until the end of eternity. You have delivered me from peril and battled Nightmare on my behalf. For this, I shall remain eternally grateful and vow never to squander the life you have preserved for me."?


    In that moment, Dark Excalibur transformed into fine white sand, dissipating as it returned to its rightful place.


    Nemesis fell silent, shaken from his reverie. His days as Astaroth were aeons past¡ªan era steeped in darkness, not from the absence of the sun, but from the colossal trees of the Forest of Broceliande, whose mighty branches reached into the very heavens. In that enchanted wood, paths vanished, trees shifted, and time itself became distorted. The forest seemed alive, guarding secrets such as the hidden realm of the Lady of the Lake. ''Hidden realm,'' Nemesis mused, ''it appears wherever the Sovereign commands, much like all else.'' He recalled how Merlin had been sealed within this forest by the Lady of the Lake. ''Does he remain ensnared?'' he pondered aloud. ''Merlin foresaw his destined end, yet he embraced it with unwavering resolve¡ªhe even bade me refrain from seeking to unravel her enchantment.''


    "Were you daydreaming? That cannot be good," remarked Akashirae as she roasted a lunar?cloud pillow over the campfire.


    Ouroboros then opened one eye. "Indeed, we have company¡ªand not the usual sort. Most are mortal heroes, yet four among them stand apart; one even exudes an aura reminiscent of the Void. I am having trouble locating that one¡ªthey are likely beyond omnipresence. Although I am eager to engage them in battle¡ªand detest reliance on others¡ªI must attempt to contact the Void and the rest, just in case." Producing a beautiful blue orb, he channelled his metaphysical might into it. "Just our luck: I cannot reach them. It appears we are on our own this time."


    "There is no need for such wariness, primordial gods¡ªwe are but mere humans, as you''ve so astutely deduced," declared a tall, muscular man with unruly red hair and vivid green eyes, clad in pink armour, as he emerged from behind the trees and approached the camp.


    Nemesis recognised the newcomer and rose. "Lancelot? No, it cannot be. It has been aeons¡ªyou should not still be alive unless you have ascended to a Founder following the clash between primordial Infinity and Transcendence, an event that reshaped both non?creation and creation."


    "Arthur, must you always resort to such grandiose verbiage? You never burdened me with such linguistic flourishes during your reign." Smirking, he nonchalantly retrieved a lunar-cloud pillow on a stick and took a deliberate bite. "Did you truly believe you could abandon me so effortlessly? Feigning your own demise after Camelot''s fall... Though absent from the Battle of Camlann, my essence was its very heartbeat. I''ve wallowed in remorse¡ªfor you, for Guinevere, for our fallen brethren¡ªand for every calamity that befell us¡ªa guilty indulgence, if you will."


    Nemesis remained silent.


    "How did you come to know that we are primordial deities? For a mortal, you speak in an awfully condescending manner despite your knowledge of our true nature. What is it you desire?" asked Akashirae, standing beside Nemesis in her human guise.


    "Is that your Eve, Arthur? I, too, was once an honourable, dutiful, and chaste knight... until Guinevere interposed herself and drained me of all chivalry and light. Now, I am but an immortal man who revels in slaughter."


    "You are not here to recount tales of Guinevere¡ªmy one and only love," replied Nemesis. "Answer Esteemed Akashirae''s question, Lancelot. Whatever bond we once shared¡ªwhatever semblance of comradeship¡ªit is irrelevant now. It has been severed... aeons ago. We are nothing more than strangers, bound by the past but not by fate."


    "Enemies, then," declared Lancelot as he raised his arm. At once, an elite squadron of lion knights emerged from their hiding places in the forest. "Slay the two primordial gods, but spare Arthur¡ªfor we have a score to settle. It is high time to prove that I remain the mightiest knight of Camelot, both in battle and in bed." Tilting his head to the upper left, Lancelot placed his hand on the hilt of Arondight, signalling to Nemesis that their duel would unfold deeper within the Forest of Broceliande.


    Together, they advanced further into the mysterious depths of the ancient wood.


    In an instant, the lion knights surged forward towards Ouroboros and Akashirae.


    "Sanguinary Halls," intoned Akashirae as she unfurled eleven crimson tails, which materialised in a flash. They impaled the assailants, erasing their very existence¡ªas though their potential had been negated from the outset.


    "You weaklings," sneered Ouroboros, as a knight''s legendary sword shattered on contact with him. "Withdraw now; you are infinitely too early to face me in genuine combat."


    "Brother, note that every knight wields an Excalibur. The very first blade was forged by the combined might of two mystical entities¡ªMorgrath and Merlinia¡ªvenerated amongst mortals," said Akashirae. "Moreover, these newer blades even eclipse the original, for they are unshackled by forbidden, ultimate©\tier magic and are imbued with absolute omnipotence."


    With a languid yet decisive sweep of his arm, Ouroboros cleaved through scores of knights ¨C and their Excaliburs ¨C in one fell stroke. He scrutinised a fragment of the shattered sword before dismissing it with casual indifference. "Is this so?called improved relic truly the famed Excalibur? Its performance leaves much to be desired ¨C it''s nothing more than an unnecessarily convoluted back?scratcher."


    "Oh? A back?scratcher, you say?" retorted a voice from the shadows.


    Emerging was a figure even larger than Lancelot. Clutching a gleaming green axe in one hand and the Excalibur Verdant in the other, he strode forth.


    "You know, my sister and I can see you as clearly as day despite your feeble attempts at camouflage, Green Knight," mocked Ouroboros. "I even wondered if you had taken a brief interlude. But really, what did they feed you? You tower above my convenient form, nearly matching the stature favoured by Nemesis himself."


    The Green Knight bristled. "You are a vulgar wretch¡ªa hooligan of the highest order. If you fancy yourself so formidable, why not join me in delivering a decisive blow? I shall grant you the privilege of striking first."


    A wicked grin spread across Ouroboros''s face. "You have no inkling of what awaits you, mortal. Did you not see how your feeble comrades were cleaved in twain while I barely stirred? Nevertheless, I acknowledge your martial mettle. Since you insist, state your name before you croak, Green Knight."


    "My name is Sir Gawain the Undying Mountain," declared the knight, his tone as resolute as his reputation. "Royal Guard of Queen Guinevere, the Brutal Manslayer¡ªI have never known death."


    "I see. I shall be more succinct. Name''s Sir Halberd¡ªno, that''s not right. Curse Sathiel for her constant misnomers. I am Dragon King Ouroboros. Now, enough pleasantries: I shall hold back only enough to consign you to the afterlife¡ªrather than to whatever awaits beyond¡ªso that you may forever recall the folly of your challenge."


    Gawain recoiled as Ouroboros brought his fist within an inch of him. "What is this? You truly believe your mere fist can shatter the armour of the Green Knight and nullify my enchanted essence?" Raising both his weapons, Gawain tilted his head skyward. "Though the forest conceals the heavens, I can sense that high noon is imminent. Omniversal strength courses through me¡ªa power beyond even that of the gods. Do not squander your sole chance, King of Dragons."


    "Permit me to impart a little secret, my verdant friend. Ever since the Void introduced me to her collection of films, I have become something of a cinephile. I once witnessed a mortal execute a technique known as the One?Inch Punch. Yet, while that may impress a mortal¡ªas my master Ao Guang would proclaim¡ªonce you truly master the way of existence and transcendence, you can deliver a blow without so much as a gesture. And I am not merely referring to feints in boxing or that mind?wandering visualisation rubbish. No, what you consider a punch pales in comparison to the original¡ªa metaforce older than non?concept itself, which shattered the primordial stillness before the Void and continues to reshape the immutable at this very moment."


    With that, he withdrew his fist, turned his back, and strode a few paces away. "It is a technique that transcends both the heights of transcendence and the depths of the Void. The Ouroboros devours its tail even in its absence; my countless self?contradictions¡ªsuch as how your strength relies on the sun''s cycle¡ªaffect me in ways I do not fully comprehend. At my zenith, with the full might of the Ouroboros Force, I would not doubt that I stand on par with your Goddess?Saint. But I digress... all the cultivation, the intention, the effortless action, the metaphysical, the omniverses, the Void¡ªall that I can or cannot fathom mean nothing in my current presence... In layman''s terms, this is my feeblest punch. Sleep well, Green Knight."


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    A gentle yet resolute breeze swept through the accursed glade, setting Ouroboros''s long turquoise hair and dark trench coat aflutter. With his eyes closed, he lifted a hand to brush his hair aside, radiating an aura that sent a shiver through the Forest of Broceliande.


    "I cannot fathom your incoherent drivel," retorted Sir Gawain. "You prate like that conceited Bertilak de Hautdesert, who never knew his proper station. I slew him¡ªstripping him of both his armour and his axe¡ªfor disgracing Camelot''s knights. Since you have squandered my time, I now offer you a chance to surrender¡ªprovided you can withstand four of my blows."


    Gawain channelled the full extent of his absolute omnipotence, preparing to swing both the Green Axe and Excalibur Verdant. Yet his words were abruptly silenced as he crumpled to the earth, his form dissolving in a serene manner that rendered any hope of revival utterly impossible. Only his armour and weapons remained, resting tranquilly upon a patch of cleansed earth amid the surrounding sinister gloom.


    "Sir Gawain!" cried one of the knights as he and his companions surged towards Ouroboros. In response, Ouroboros exhaled a Breath of Outlorn Timid Buxion X¡ªan invisible, non-force that instantaneously corroded the remaining knights and their equipment, leaving naught but a warped distortion of reality.


    "A tad excessive, wasn''t it?" remarked Akashirae. "I would have thought so, were it not for the fact that the breath was intended to annihilate the Aether Barrier that encircles the multiverses, influencing events on a scale beyond mortal ken. Reveal thyself to this omniverse, caster, or I shall create thee."


    At that moment, an elderly man bearing the appearance of a wizard materialised before them. His hand passed effortlessly through his long, white beard. "I would rather not contend with primordial gods of your calibre. I am Eruvik, and I assure you I come in peace. Permit me to explain: Lancelot, Gawain, and I were dispatched to deliver a message on behalf of Goddess?Saint Metrina; alas, the knights have long degenerated into sadistic brutes who revel in senseless violence¡ªwith Lancelot being the worst offender of all. The Goddess extends an invitation to your group to join the Boundless Battlegrounds."


    He flung an invitation envelope towards Akashirae, watching with mild amusement as she deftly caught it with two fingers¡ªhaving perused its contents even before it left his grasp. "Duly noted. You may depart with your life intact," she replied.


    "You have my thanks for sparing this old man''s life. With your permission, I shall now take my leave," murmured Eruvik.


    "Wait, old wizard," demanded Ouroboros, "before you depart, tell me whose presence I continue to sense. Transcendence cannot even begin to grasp them, and yet they make no effort to hide themselves. The faintest trace of power, if it can even be called that, radiates with an indescribable force... It reminds me of someone I once knew."


    "...That would be Marshal-General Draegor¡ªa Hyperpotentia?class Eclipsant. The Goddess dispatched him to ensure my survival. I regret to say that, aside from his classification, I know little of him. Farewell," replied Eruvik as he faded into another omniverse.


    "A hyper?what now?" inquired Ouroboros to his sister as he retrieved a pipe from his trench coat and lit it. "I believe I have heard that term before."


    "The Hyperpotentiae¡ªthey are beings on a par with Lumi''Nae... but never mind that. When will you cease forgetting that there exist entities beyond the primordial deities? We have no time for your ignorance. Nemesis has been vanquished and taken away; I can no longer sense his presence¡ªthey must have spirited him off to a realm protected by a higher power that rejects my Divine Mind. Without a doubt, that power is none other than Metrina."


    "You can''t be serious... That Lancelot fellow may have been more powerful than a god, but even in his weakened state, Nemesis ought to be beyond such comparisons¡ªhe was, after all, the Dark God?Emperor." Ouroboros exhaled a plume of smoke before continuing, "Well then, let us go and save him. The Void will surely discern our whereabouts and join us, if she so wishes."


    "Saving Nemesis is merely secondary, isn''t it? You''re chiefly eager to rejoin the aeonial Boundless Battlegrounds. Well, brother... the 22,354th Boundless Battlegrounds is to be held in Great Camelot. Now, take a good look at this." With a subtle gesture, Akashirae pointed, and in his mind''s eye a vivid scene unfurled: Nemesis and Lancelot locked in a fierce duel.


    Nemesis had caught Lancelot''s Arondight with his bare hand and, with a powerful front kick, sent him hurtling through the forest before he crashed into a massive, gnarled tree. In an instant, Nemesis surged forward, reappearing near him, while Lancelot staggered and flung clumps of wood aside.


    "Listen, Arthur," rasped Lancelot, "in my heart I know I have wronged you, though my mind tells a different tale. Merlin and Mother were gravely mistaken. Had you never existed and I been king, the fall of Camelot would never have come to pass¡ªMordred would never have been born. Compare my son with yours: Galahad succeeded in obtaining the Holy Grail, whereas yours died like the rat he was."


    "In the grand tapestry of existence, must we forever stand as adversaries, Lancelot? We are but fleeting shadows, and thus, I am willing to overlook the chaos and malevolence you have sown, as I have in times past. My deepest yearning is to remain eternally by the Sovereign''s side."


    "Forgiveness? Don''t make me laugh. I''ve never subscribed to that false Messiah''s creed¡ªturn the other cheek¡ªa doctrine for the weak and powerless. If I''d embraced such softness, I''d never have become the strongest knight. Lying beside Guinevere, it became clear¡ªyou were never fit to be king. The other knights saw it too but lacked the strength to act. Pathetic, all of them."?


    Lancelot unsheathed Excalibur Crimson in his right hand, now dual-wielding both Arondight and Excalibur Crimson. Black veins marred his face as he continued, "Chivalry? A pathetic shackle imposed by the weak to suppress the strong. I''ve transcended such feeble doctrines. Keep your hollow morals; they mean nothing to me." His aura of absolute omnipotence flared, overwhelming and incomprehensible¡ªsurpassing even that of Yahweh. It was a power akin to the eldritch might of the Great Old Ones, sending tremors through all the omniverses, shaking them to their very foundations.


    Rain began to fall in the part of the forest where they stood, the droplets creating a soft, rhythmic pattern on the leaves. Nemesis regarded Lancelot with a gaze that was both compassionate and distant, as though separated by an insurmountable chasm.


    "Once, my heart did hold affection for Camelot and for you. Yet, over time, that affection waned, a sentiment I believed confined to mortals. For ages, I have walked amidst creation, observing how Sovereign Vorethas nurtures it. Knights, mortals, even gods are susceptible to error; such fallibility is as intrinsic to existence as the air you breathe. All are transient and complex, striving for meaning within their worlds. Those who dwell beyond these confines¡ªthe metadeities¡ªare of a different order. Lancelot du Lac, I never commanded you to seclude yourself or seek atonement. You chose your path, and now your twisted guilt consumes you. Moreover, you have embraced a power you were never meant to wield. The Goddess harbors no desires; mortals are prone to destructive whims and cannot attain immutable tranquility. You must continually strive for your own redemption."?


    "Redemption? I''ve transcended the shackles of mortality, much like you. No, you were never truly mortal, were you? The Goddess has unveiled the truth to me. Only after embracing this eldritch power and surpassing that sanctimonious wretch of a god I once revered, do I see you for what you are¡ªa void, an abyss masquerading as a man. You''re not even here, yet this is the closest I can get to confronting your deceit. Your myriad transgressions absolve me of my own sins. I will only find peace once I''m certain you''re not lurking in the shadows, scrutinising me, especially since I am your superior. Serving under a king as pathetic as you¡ªI''ve endured that humiliation for too long. The mere thought fills me with unrelenting fury. It''s not my duty to quell this rage, Arthur Pendragon¡ªthat burden falls upon you!"?


    Ouroboros dismissed Akashirae''s interjection with a sharp shake of his head. "I have heard enough. I care not for eavesdropping on private conversations unless absolutely necessary¡ªespecially not on such melodramatic disputes. Warriors keep both their actions and words simple, focusing on the task at hand. Should that cowardly Lancelot obstruct my path, I shall impale him with my Nexus Piercer, severing whatever divine immortality he has been granted, posthaste."


    "Oi, brother, you imbecile¡ªcease leaping to conclusions. It was not Lancelot who bested Nemesis. I intended to reveal the true culprit. I suspect the man in question can only be Marshal-General Draegor, who intervened during their duel. He bears an uncanny resemblance to Nemesis, but with lavender hair and dark eyes."


    "This is precisely why you must refrain from further disclosures. I do relish a good surprise, and it is a pity I have received an invitation that compels me to bypass the preliminaries¡ªI much prefer to savour the full experience." Ouroboros paused, briefly recalling a wish made in victory aeons past before dismissing it as unworthy of remembrance. ''This moment matters above all else¡ªspending time with my sister...'' He regarded her, taking in her mid-length red hair and fiery red eyes. ''There is no one as powerful, determined, and independent as she. I have little inkling of her ambitions, yet I desire nothing more than to help her... as any good, older brother should.''


    "It cannot be helped," remarked Akashirae as her attention lay elsewhere. "The Battlegrounds are convened in an arbitrary manner¡ªsometimes excluding divine and higher entities, at other times barring mortals. This time, however, it appears that none are exempt. One can only hope that the meta-level entities participating will number in the single digits¡ªor, ideally, none at all save Lumi''Nae. We shall triumph if it is a team-based tournament and she joins us. So, shall we, former champion?" She slid her hand beneath Ouroboros'' shirt and onto his chest.


    "Oi, oi, sis! Mind where you place your hand¡ªI am rather sensitive and ticklish," he protested.


    Maintaining a serious demeanour, she twisted his nipple. "Not sis, dear brother¡ªconsider me your big sister. Now, be silent and allow me to concentrate. I am mapping our destination, which, owing to the tournament, has been deliberately obscured."


    "Your big brother might understand that, but you need not rely on direct contact¡ªespecially such an injurious pinch¡ªto teleport us. You''re pinching as though you were milking a cow. Must I remind you that I am an alpha male?"


    "Right then, you strong macho male. You do know that with my primordial power, I could quite literally cause milk to flow from your nipples or transform you into a submissive woman? But fear not¡ªyour humble and perfectly normal big sister shall spare you that tragic fate."


    "So humble and normal..." he grumbled, scratching his head. "The more I interact with you, the more I lose sight of what normal truly is. Is this what interdimensional travellers yearn for?"


    "Shh. Everything will be all right." With that reassuring remark, she teleported them away.

 A Metabound Interlude

    Thus far, the tales have been recounted in third-person omniscient narrative. The series was originally titled Lumi''Nae''s Voidbound Odyssey. Yet, even with the new title, The Eternal Diva''s Shadow: A Metabound Odyssey, does it not imply that I remain heavily involved and should occupy centre stage? I allowed the author¡ªwho wished to remain anonymous¡ªto do as they pleased, and while I naturally prefer solitude, at this rate might Ouroboros, Tiamat, or another character eventually usurp my role as the primary lead?


    Speaking of anonymity, should the author not have adopted that as their pen name? They were then captivated by Norse mythology when the first story was written, yet there is already a character named Niflheim within the narrative. This could cause confusion, potentially leading readers to mistakenly believe that the character is a self-insertion by the author¡ªan impression that was never intended.


    Come to think of it, I am meant to be amoral and cosmically indifferent to the past, present, future, and beyond. At one time, Nemesis insisted that existence held meaning, while others like Nihilignis contended the contrary. Then there are Yuwu and Azuraella, who simply exist; most mortals fall into a similar category, do they not? They are too preoccupied and ephemeral to ponder such matters deeply, lacking the capacity to effect change beyond their own solar system and, for the most part, their immediate surroundings.


    As I confided to Ayame, I am not entirely sure of the answer myself. Why must the meaning of existence be definitively one thing or another¡ªor even both, neither, or indeed any fixed answer at all? The simplest response is that it is unknown. In truth, the most straightforward explanation is that every action a sane and rational mortal takes is solely aimed at keeping themselves alive and thriving.


    And what of beings such as myself, who have created the gods¡ªthose considered the ultimate architects of creation? When I raise my left hand, innumerable meanings are forged; while my eldritch right arm¡ªdrips forth elements that either possess no meaning or lie beyond it.


    This marks the first occasion on which I have addressed you directly. My thoughts are usually inscrutable, yet I wished to see how the narrative would appear in the first person, from my own perspective. Aside from the dialogues I shared with Nemesis at the amusement park, I have remained relatively silent compared to the other characters. And for once¡ªjust this one time¡ªI wanted you to hear my voice.


    In the last chapter¡ªwhether one calls it a short story or otherwise¡ªI, Sathiel, and Tiamat were absent during Lancelot''s and his lion knights'' assault on Nemesis'' camp in the Forest of Broceliande. We had parted ways shortly after establishing the camp, for Tiamat had been craving destruction, as she has always possessed a violent soul. Sathiel, meanwhile, insisted on accompanying me for protection, despite knowing full well that I do not require an escort.


    For no particularly compelling reason, I led us to the safest fishing spot in one of the corridors that bridge the infinite planes of the Void. There we encountered an outer goddess named Setsuna Juliet Fuyukawa, the Greek monster Typhon¡ªdisguised as a rugged man¡ªand Cerberus, the three-headed dog. Throughout our time together, Setsuna regarded me with suspicion and failed to catch a single fish. Typhon, on the other hand, netted a bounty of void fish, but after consuming one raw, he promptly cast the remainder back into the water. He thanked them for the meal but remarked that they needed to taste better. Meanwhile, Cerberus swam through the void ocean as Tiamat lashed him from above with a long, spiked whip, urging him to generate a spectacular tidal wave in our direction. Throughout, Sathiel stood vigil behind me, intercepting the tidal wave with her Cursed Blood Tide.


    Just as Setsuna rose to request something from me, I caught something unexpected¡ªBrahman''s tainted corpse. I resurrected him. To summarise briefly, he had been undone by the perilous environment of the Void mere moments before engaging an Exvoidian named Borga in a duel. Only outer gods with an affinity for Ayame, those shielded by the Obsidian Triad, or entities on par with Ayame are immune to this meta-present, all-overwriting environment. Despite Brahman''s original form being more potent than that of Setsuna¡ªa human before she embraced Ayame''s power¡ªSetsuna enjoyed greater compatibility with Ayame''s shard, whereas Brahman did not. He thanked me for restoring him, though I sensed a measure of hostility. Accustomed as he was to receiving no assistance from those outside his own realm, he appeared resentful and insecure, unable to accept that he was not the final reality. In contrast, Dao and her Three Pure Ones, along with the other Void Incarnates, seemed more accepting of their own revelations.


    I never sought gratitude, nor did I expect anything in return. Setsuna found herself intrigued when Brahman unveiled his connection to the Tenebris Monochrome¡ªa truth she had long suspected, much like protagonists in one tale recognising their counterparts in another. If memory serves, the Tenebris Monochrome is the chaotic faction aligned with Ayame. These beings are, in essence, her creations¡ªimmortals who, in their relentless pursuit of the ineffable, seek to grasp the myriad forms of final realities that defy categorisation, all born of her influence. In contrast, the Obsidian Triad, a more lawful and considerably more powerful faction allied with Ayame, remains independent. They act as a third party, rather than being direct creations of hers.


    As Brahman engaged Setsuna in a fierce duel, he unleashed his Annihilation of Essence to swiftly conclude the battle. In response, Setsuna parried his uncounterable assault with her odachi and her Tragick Sworde Style¡ªa fighting technique reminiscent of mortal Iaijutsu, though lavishly enhanced with metaphysical flourishes. Before Tiamat could hurl herself into the fray, I phase-shifted Sathiel, Tiamat, and myself to the Unknown.


    Earlier, I had received an urgent call from Ouroboros, yet my intuition suggested no reply was necessary. I know that he and Akashirae are currently at Great Camelot, intent on participating in Metrina''s Boundless Battlegrounds and rescuing Nemesis.


    I am now off to observe and report on the unfolding events at Great Camelot¡ªa name that designates both the metaphysical realm and the legendary kingdom. The city is an extraordinary amalgam of medieval architecture and science-fiction elements. It appears that both Akashirae and Ouroboros have joined a diverse assembly of beings, from mortals to primordial deities, all awaiting an announcement from a mysterious cloaked woman.


    This enigmatic figure, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Ayame but with reversed colours¡ªher hair and garments are white instead of black, though her eyes remain bottomless black¡ªgoes by the name Blanche. Standing atop a colossal stadium reminiscent of a vast monochrome chessboard, Blanche addresses the crowd and remote onlookers alike:


    "Greetings and welcome, competitors and spectators, mortals and gods, winners and losers. I, Blanche, will be your hostess for the 22,354th Boundless Battlegrounds. Let us hear it for the astounding competitors who will be fighting and dying tonight!"


    The assembled throng erupts in cheers, ravenous for both entertainment and carnage. "It is all thanks to the Goddess-Saint Metrina for making this eternal spectacle possible. This time, the Goddess-Saint herself, along with her kin, shall serve as the three judges!"


    Blanche then gestures towards three empty thrones. In a sudden burst of light that envelops the omniverses and beyond, a charismatic and commanding woman materialises on the central throne. It is Metrina: her hair a rose pink interwoven with strands of white, her eyes a brilliant gold, and she is clad in immaculate opal royal attire. With arms crossed and one leg elegantly draped over the other, she declares, "I expect nothing less than excellence from all competitors." Many in the crowd offer prayers to Metrina, grateful for the rare opportunity to witness her in person.


    Blanche continues, "To Metrina''s right, we have her Metapotentia sister, Lilith Nightshade¡ªalso known as the pop star, ArchDeMoN!" In an instant, particles of fire, wind, lightning, earth, and aether coalesce to form a stunning woman who takes her seat on the throne. With flowing black hair, eyes that shimmer with red and purple hues, and draped entirely in obsidian bandages, Lilith sits with her legs crossed, one hand concealing her red eye. "Your reality is a cage, and I am its warden," she intones. Twirling a sharpie deftly, she continues, "Devout killerlords of mine, I shall not be bestowing any engravings upon you this aeon. For you see..." She places her left hand over her seemingly uncontrolled right arm and adds, "My seething, writhing hand is busy averting countless apocalypses. A brutal shame! Oh, I can hear the ceaseless laments. If the world ended today, would that not be magnificent?" At her cue, many in the crowd brandish their bloodied daggers, waving them like lightsticks at a concert. One enthusiastic fan even shouts, "2012 was supposed to be the greatest day of my life!"


    "Finally, I present to you the third judge, Surtr Valmue!" At these words, all the stars in every world simultaneously send a slender beam of light towards the throne, and an unclad oni woman with a supermodel''s physique¡ªcloaked in infernal flames¡ªassumes a forward-leaning pose on the throne. "I am the Eternal Flame; my melody incinerates discord. Forge your fate to the rhythm of my symphony of embers¡ªI care not for your praise, only for the dance of holy ashes. Ignis Syrinx Krohm. Dance, ephemerals¡ªyour time is but a verse in my requiem." An army of burly, tattooed riders astride motorcycles rips off their shirts and chants in unison, "Ignis Syrinx Krohm!" They even produce a massive wardrum and beat it with unbridled enthusiasm.


    Then, as if on cue, a fourth throne materialises beside Surtr''s. "Uwaa~! Late-late-LATE!" cries Yuwu, who dashes towards the newly formed seat. With bread still in her mouth and clad in green plate armour, she claims the space with characteristic exuberance.


    Amidst the commotion, the participant Seimei, surrounded by his shikigami, voices his confusion, "Who is this? My Omnyojutsu cannot foretell the futures of the three judges, yet this new fourth one remains shrouded too. At this rate, how can I allow others to label me the Legendary Omnyoji?" Seimei¡ªa man in his early twenties with brown hair and green eyes¡ªappears genuinely perplexed.


    "...Weeb," interjects Nosferatu, standing between Abe no Seimei and Lord Ruthven.


    The latter¡ªa devastatingly handsome man in his mid-twenties with tousled brown hair and hypnotic pink eyes, draped in pristine white leather¡ªchuckles. He playfully sticks his tongue out before tapping Nosferatu''s head with affectionate mockery as he defends Seimei.


    "Ohhh, you bald impostor. I do love a bit of name-calling." His smirk widens as his nails lazily trace Nosferatu''s skin, before suddenly digging in¡ªjust enough to draw blood. "But let''s get one thing straight, hmm? There''s only room for one supreme vampire at the top, and naturally... that would be me."


    Nosferatu let out a hoarse laugh¡ªspeaking clearly being a painful endeavour for him¡ªwhile grabbing Ruthven''s rear, much to the latter''s apparent delight. "Pretty boy''s got... fresh meat. Very... good. My touch... shall be your... doom."


    I distanced myself metaphysically from the scene; perhaps the Metapotentiae had taken note of my presence. Conceivably, it might be more discreet¡ªand create a sense of detachment¡ªif the remainder of the tale were rendered in the past tense. Well, it should be better than nothing. Here goes.


    Blanche looked towards Metrina, who simply nodded. "It appears we have a fourth judge! Yuwu, the Dragon of the Jade Void! Once the Jade Emperor, now the reigning Tian¡ªwould you care to address the audience?"


    "I''m so, SO sowwy for being late!" Yuwu declared, dropping the bread from her mouth as she continued, "I¡ªI attempted to leave early, but then I accidentally put my greaves on the wrong feet, and suddenly there was this magnificent bread truck parked outside¡ªit reeked of melon pan! I thought, perhaps I should bring snacks for everyone! But then I remembered that judges must be utterly serious, and¡ª" Mid-sentence, she paused, snapping upright with a startled gasp. "Wait, that''s not important! Please forgive me¡ªI shall work extra hard to make amends, even if I must consume three helpings of shame-rice later!"


    The crowd erupted in applause. "You''re so damn cute!" one voice cheered.


    "Please be my waifu!" another shouted.


    "Holy fertile milkers...!" Thor bellowed. "A sight so mythical is indeed rare¡ªeven in the resplendent golden age of Asgard!"


    Ruthven turned to regard the god. "So you can tell as well? Not bad... but do keep your voice down, won''t you? At this rate, I''ll never get my poor, restless boner under control." Meanwhile, Nosferatu continued to grope his backside, this time sinking his fingers in with exaggerated, almost thoughtful intensity.


    "How can you two be so sure?" Seimei interjected. "She is clad in plate armour¡ªthe triangular chest plate may be merely for show."


    Thor shook his head with a hearty laugh, slinging a mighty arm around Seimei''s shoulders. "Ha! Spoken like a true novice! Once you have revelled in the company of as many fine women as I have, you learn to discern such truths with but a glance¡ªeven when they are concealed beneath steel and artifice!"


    "Oh, come now, it''s simply a matter of instinct, my dear," added Ruthven. He tapped a finger against his temple before letting it trail lazily down his chest. "A man''s... finer senses simply know these things. If yours can''t pick up on the presence of a ripe, delectable beauty nearby, well..." His pink eyes gleamed with mock sympathy. "Perhaps your poor little thing is in need of some serious training."


    Thor released Seimei with a great clap on the back before turning to the vampire, grinning. "Ah-ha! You and I shall get on splendidly, my friend! I must say, I am most impressed by your warrior''s build¡ªa physique truly worthy of battle!" He paused, squinting at Nosferatu. "Though I must admit, it is rather peculiar that an old man seems so fond of your backside... but no matter!" He threw an arm wide in invitation. "Come! How about the five of us share a drink later? A proper feast to celebrate this fine company! Yes, you''re welcome as well, decrepit old fart! My treat!"


    "Ah, my dear fellow, how could I possibly decline such a magnanimous proposition?" replied Ruthven. "I gather then that the final addition is none other than that woefully enchanting kunoichi standing at your side?"


    Hammy drew back, creating a measured distance between herself and the others. The beautiful woman with vivid purple hair and cool brown eyes regarded them with a melancholy gaze before murmuring, "You, quintessence of dust, ought not to associate with me. I am nothing but misery incarnate, unworthy of any favour."


    From afar, Elizabeth Bathory observed the banter between them. Out of curiosity, I read her thoughts: ''So those two are my successors... They have turned immortality and power into a farce, just as I suspected. One is a fallen noble vampire¡ªa festering coward seemingly willing to sleep with anything that moves. The other is a repulsive wretch; even a ghoul exhibits more decorum.''


    Then she turned to a muscular, heroic man in his mid-thirties, his long, straight black hair and stubble lending him an aura of rock-solid determination. "Remember our blood pact, mutt. These two are to be prioritised for elimination. Bring their corpses back to me once they''re dead."


    Beowulf, who bore a tattered cape and three swords upon his back¡ªtwo mere hilts in their sheaths and one that appeared ancient and crude¡ªopened his eyes. Having been levitating in meditation, he touched the ground and exuded a stern calm, a formidable force that sliced through reality itself. Competitors stepped aside as he passed. Elizabeth''s blood pact rendered her invulnerable to harm from Beowulf and anyone else bound by the same pact. "There is naught I cannot cut," he intoned, "so consider it done."


    "Really? You think you can cut me too?" Sun Wukong bumped into his shoulder and walked past before turning to face him, staff held confidently over his shoulder.


    "The Awakened Void Buddha, the Chaos Great Sage, a fellow rebel," Susanoo declared as he appraised Sun Wukong. He unsheathed the Ame-no-ohabari halfway and scrutinised it carefully. He recalled how Amaterasu had refused to lend him the Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi for the Boundless Battlegrounds, asserting that it now rightfully belonged to her descendants. With indirect assistance from his siblings¡ªwhom he had implored for help¡ªhe had spent an eternity tracking down his reclusive, disheartened father in a hidden realm, eventually compelling him to relinquish both his blade and spear. Though weakened, his father had still fought a hard-battled contest, the skirmish only ceasing because he had grown weary of everything.


    Susanoo now fixed his gaze on what appeared to be the sun. "Ane no Mikoto, does your radiance still fear my storms? When your light vanished, my tempests roamed heaven and earth. My deeds may be unforgivable... yet without them, would your light shine so brightly? You refused to lend me the blade I gifted you despite my prostration for the sake of Kushinadahime. Even that kusojiji failed to revive the Great Deity of Yomi. And know this¡ªnot once have I regretted mourning her. I will do what he could not, and the only way to save my most beloved wife is to triumph in this tournament."


    His spirit steadied as he recalled Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi placing their arms on his shoulders before he stepped through the Doorless Door. They were in Tsukuyomi''s palace¡ªhis sparse office, to be precise¡ªsituated on the moon. Amaterasu had said, "For once, I shall root for you. Show those gaijin gods what you are made of. Violence and disobedience have always been your forte. I know you will excel at both." Tsukuyomi added, "We were never close, but know that you have my support. Your importance has long surpassed my own. Do not make us kami appear feeble and become a laughingstock."


    Amaterasu bit her lip. "And if he does? Will you kill him as you did Ukemochi, all in the name of purity? You are still an evil god. This will be the last time I ever lay eyes on you."


    "Not this again," Tsukuyomi retorted. "I fail to comprehend how you do not find Ukemochi repulsive. You are more lenient to our little brother than to me, even if only slightly. He killed far more... And did I ever complain when you were assigned the most important domain? No. I have always known my station and upheld the laws of purity rigidly, as all kami should. You were the one who strayed."


    They both grasped each other''s hands, pushing and butting heads in heated disagreement.


    "Rigidly. That is the problem. Your naive idealism will bring death to all life. Do you have any idea how much work I must do compared to you two boorish loafers?"


    Susanoo separated them. "I learned much from Kushinadahime. One lesson, in particular, is that violence must be wielded wisely."


    Amaterasu stepped on his foot, scorching it slightly, and snapped, "Just shut up and leave. I do not wish to hear that from you."


    "Your sister has spoken. As always, her words resonate above ours, regardless of whether they are right or not."


    Susanoo strode through the Doorless Door, but not before saying, "You too can change, brother. The moon is never a still object¡ªit phases and orbits."


    "Just whom do you think you are addressing? I am well aware of that, and I know it can turn red too¡ªan ill omen indeed... How rude of you to depart before hearing my full response." He glanced around; Amaterasu had already left.


    "Would you like some tea, Tsukuyomi-sama?" a retainer asked from near the door.


    "Yes. And make it as bitter as possible," he replied.


    He watched her work with meticulous precision.


    "Wait, I do not want you to leave just yet. Perhaps there is still work to be done here? Also... tell me, have I ever been unfair? I am not the one who is insane, am I?"


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The retainer replied, "Pardon me, Tsukuyomi-sama. It is not my place to say... I will return shortly with the cleaning utensils."


    He sighed. "Don''t take too long."


    Resting his fingers against the teacup, he felt its scorching heat but took a sip anyway, the burn searing his mouth. His gaze drifted to the portraits on the wall¡ªhimself and his siblings, their hair a pure, unnatural white, their eyes gleaming gold.


    In the present, Ouroboros took note of the powerful competitors around him. He had initially considered his former master, Sun Wukong, and that Beowulf fellow as threats to watch, yet he now observed that both Guan Yu and Susanoo might prove to be equally, if not more, interesting adversaries. He also mused that Guan Yu had reincarnated as a woman now¡ªso perhaps not? Amidst his wariness, he failed to notice a pale lass with light blue hair tied in a side ponytail and red eyes, who stealthily approached and tugged at his black trench coat.


    For a fleeting moment, it seemed that everything but them dissolved into That Sea. Ouroboros could scarcely discern his surroundings¡ªcolours beyond his ken, indistinct structures, and voices intermingled with the strains of Moonlight Sonata.


    "Are you happy?" she asked as she reappeared before him at the piano.


    "Tch. Stupid question, kid. Happiness is for those too preoccupied with fixing their mistakes." At once, Ouroboros paused, as though questioning why he had uttered those words and pondering the nature of his errors.


    She resumed playing flawlessly, eyes closed in concentration. "But isn''t the act of mending mistakes a form of happiness¡ªor at least a path towards it? Someone once told me that those who flee from their regrets never notice the blood seeping through the cracks of their veins." A one-red-eyed black cat leapt onto the piano and dozed off. "Do you ever pause to admire the moon while you swing that halberd? Or savour the taste of rain as it falls? You cannot mend everything, yet you can still find joy in the attempt. Shouldn''t you have learned that by now? ...Big brother."


    Before he could reply, she and the eldritch reality vanished. He glanced at Akashirae and the others around them; none appeared to have noticed her¡ªat least, none that he cared to acknowledge. I certainly noticed, but perhaps that is best left unremembered.


    "Is something wrong?" Akashirae asked. "You look as though you''ve seen a ghost."


    "Don''t tell me you didn''t see her... Never mind, it''s nothing."


    "You''re being odd again. Weirdo."


    Blanche held an opalescent orb between her hands before letting it fall. The moment it struck the ground, it shattered. Great Camelot crumbled like glass, swallowed by a flood of opal light as it fused with another realm, giving birth to a new domain: The Godless Altar.


    The realm was still forming when I saw Blanche collapse, a single bead of sweat trailing from her chin. Was it for dramatic effect, or had she truly overexerted herself? I was fairly certain the orb had been imbued with Metrina''s power, meaning Blanche should not have needed to expend her own¡ªthus it must have been theatrics. Rising to her feet, she began to explain the rules of the game, which bore the same name as the newly created realm.


    From what I gathered, this video game¨Clike world operated on a levelling and progression system, with maximum levels and stats capped at 999,999,999. Mmm. Seemed a bit low. Its inhabitants were not mere coded NPCs but genuine entities for whom stat allocation and hovering menus were an intrinsic part of existence. Beyond these game mechanics, the realm was indistinguishable from any other in the Plane of Fallen Gods and Mortal Mundaneness.


    Blanche continued: the competitors were divided into two groups¡ªthe Chosens and the Godless. The Chosens were mortal contenders, ordinary individuals plucked from another world and devoid of supernatural abilities. They fancied themselves protagonists trapped in a lucid dream¡ªa premise suspiciously familiar, perhaps lifted from an isekai manga. Each Chosen was assigned a Godless, a powerful entity destined to fight on their behalf.


    Among the Godless yet to be summoned were Ouroboros and Akashirae, destined to be bound to one of the Chosens. The mortal contenders would be dispatched first into the game world; once they had acclimatised, the Godless would follow.


    Blanche prattled on, her voice unwavering even as the mortals stifled yawns and their attention waned. To me, her monologue did not seem unduly long. At last, she opened the floor to questions.


    Thor was the first to speak. "Tell me, wicked witch, what is the goal of this game?"


    Unperturbed, Blanche offered a sly smile. "Why, isn''t it obvious? The title should have given it away. Your objective is to claim the Godless Altar¡ªand if that means defeating the other Chosens and their Godless, so be it."


    A mortal hesitantly raised a hand. "Has a mortal ever won the Boundless Battlegrounds before?"


    "Indeed. Your feeble mind must have wandered when I mentioned it earlier¡ªthough I suppose I can repeat myself for your benefit. The last battlegrounds, designed exclusively for mortals, bore a mecha theme. The victor''s prize? A single wish fulfilled. She chose to be reborn and reunited with her loved one in the realm of nonfiction reality."


    After a few more questions, Blanche looked smugly at the assembly and declared, "I''ve created a tutorial for you dimwits. You Chosens can refer to it from your menu at any time. And remember¡ªyour menu will one day inform you when it''s time to summon. It''s RNG-based, of course, but there are measures you can take to increase your chances of obtaining the Godless you desire. Good luck finding them and rolling for your 7- to 10-notes Godless. Until that fateful day, live as good citizens in your new world¡ªand here''s a pro tip: you die when your HP reaches zero."


    "You don''t say?" Thor exclaimed, leaping onto the monochrome stadium as if he''d had enough of her antics. "Enchanted Conjuration: Ragnarok Thunder!"


    Surtr shot a look of utter disapproval at the conjuration, shaking her leg so vigorously that her flames singed her throne slightly.


    "This is it, witch. I''m going all out!" Thor surged forward with the speed of lightning, zipping through the air as he amassed power before swinging his elemental, chaos-infused, flame-and-lightning sword and axe at Blanche. She blocked both weapons effortlessly with the pinkies of each hand.


    "Ara ara," she said, "it was entertaining watching you shout at the sky and buzz around like an overzealous fly, as if you could do anything in this world. But tell me, big boy¡ªgot anything else? A lady as amazing as me shouldn''t be kept waiting~"


    She pushed her pinkies, sending Thor and his weapons hurtling back a considerable distance¡ªnearly off the edge of the massive stadium.


    "I¡ªImpossible! My weapons hold enough power to obliterate Yggdrasil and the Nine Realms a nonillion times over! I''ve trained endlessly, pushing myself beyond my limits... That bitch, Niflheim¡ªwhat she did to the realms, to my father, the king... I can''t allow my home to be left in ruins!"


    Channeling every iota of his power, Thor transformed his now gigantic weapons into frenzied vortex projectiles and hurled them at her. Blanche tapped the space in front of her and intoned, "Light and dark, dark and light¡ªtwo halves of a single coin, ever entwined. Back-to-back, side-by-side, they may be trite, yet they kindle the divine spark of creation, as transient as the tide''s caress. Annihilate! Burst forth! Forsake life''s confines and surrender to slumber! Behold the paradoxical splendour of the Insignificant White Holes!"


    Countless specks of maximally compressed light appeared like miniature fireflies, shredding the chaotic elemental weapons before converting them and sending them beyond the Unknown.


    Metrina held a paddle score of five. "A valiant attempt, but let''s be honest, it didn''t even make the slightest dent. I can appreciate your effort, but it''s not enough to impress me. However, just to be generous, had you unleashed a fraction more of your true potential, I might have awarded you a solid six. But for now, a five is the best I can offer. You really need to try harder to stand out."


    Lilith held a paddle score of seven. "O fallen god of the mundane realm, whose fists command the very pulse of thunderous destruction¡ªyet here you stand, a colossus of squandered might! Seven stars I bestow¡ªnot for triumph, but for your shameful pantomime of celestial war! Did you think omnipotence was a cloak for lethargy? Even the lowliest mortal, armed with nothing but grit, could carve a saga more resplendent than this farce of godly indolence! Return to the celestial forge, O wayward warrior, and rekindle the embers of your purpose... lest eternity itself yawn at your indolence!"


    Blanche quickly jotted down Lilith''s words in her notepad. After closing it, she rendered the words into plain language, "You hold the power to reshape galaxies, yet you fought worse than a drowsy homeless bum. Seven is generous. Next time, try trying. The Archdemon also suggests consulting an astrophysicist about your apparent black hole of effort... or perhaps a poet. Even annihilation deserves a touch of panache."


    Surtr held up a paddle, its score a mere one. "You''re an utter tosser. Anyone with an ounce of honesty, who isn''t doling out pity points, will say the same. Ignis Syrinx Krohm¡ªgo set yourself on dumpster fire and burn to ash, or get the fuck out of my sight." Her caustic tone and menacing presence only deepened Thor''s already despairing, defeated expression, and Blanche promptly teleported him away. I might have given him a paddle score of eight, considering he did march onto the stadium, present himself, and give his all against the impossible.


    The competitors exchanged remarks as they analysed the skirmish. One of the Chosens commented, "I hope I don''t end up with him as my Godless. He probably belongs in the trash tier... He looked strong and capable at first, but went down like a bitch. I''m here to win, not to lose."


    Ruthven shook his head and placed a hand at the corner of his forehead. "I did caution that daft Thor that his notion was naught but folly, yet he persisted in his idiocy. One may savour the immediate, headlong release of wrath¡ªtrusting in a lone, feeble spark of intellect¡ªbut the ruin that follows is all too apparent. Naturally, such was the outcome. Blanche, you see, is no foe to be met with brute force alone; she demands a far more artful approach. For, regardless of a woman''s formidable power, a man may ultimately subdue her through carnal conquest. The true triumph lies in orchestrating her undoing with exquisite psychological treachery and deliberate debasement."


    Nosferatu, scratching his own arse and then inspecting the remnants of shite on his fingers, flashed an ugly, perverted smile. "Sex... Attack... Sex... Evil penis... wins." Ruthven''s eyes narrowed into a contemptuous glare. "Keep your filthy hands off me! I can''t fathom that I ever allowed you to lay a finger in my arsehole."


    Seimei interjected, "Depraved toxicity isn''t the solution, you two. You see, it''s already brought ill tidings upon you, Ruthven-san. Be serious for once; you are an intelligent man. Surely you would agree that had Thor-san prepared more in advance, he would have¡ª"


    Before Seimei could finish, Hammy cut in, slapping herself in the face. "Lose again, and again, and again?" She sighed, sinking to one knee and clutching her kodachi by the throat¡ªnicking herself slightly in the process. "To be or not to be? It''s because that dust met me. I caused his downfall, as I have so many others. Once again, misery strikes deep. Oh, the misery... when will it ever cease?" She dropped her kodachi and resumed self-slapping. "Spineless, I''m spineless!"


    Seimei grasped the kunoichi''s wrist. "Hammy, please stop."


    She replied, "Slapping myself is all I''m good for. Pain? I rather like it¡ªit''s been my closest companion since birth. I love pain."


    Taking out a small jar of healing balm, Seimei applied it gently to her face. "No you don''t. If you did, you wouldn''t be crying. I don''t know what demons you''re grappling with, but there are good people in this world. And you¡ªyour spiritual energy, the calluses on your hands¡ªthey tell me how hard you''ve worked to get here. You''ve done well. You are an exceptional person." He patted her head.


    Hammy burst into tears. "Ophelia, I''m so sorry! It was I who needed to get to a nunnery... I really, really love you."


    Meanwhile, Akashirae had unfurled her crimson fan, Inevitable Destiny, and fanned herself, deliberately ignoring the distant drama. "How unbecoming. Blanche went out of her way to put on a spectacle. That flashy, idiotic incantation wasn''t a monostich, couplet, or haiku, nor did she mention her own name in it."


    She continued, "For chantmasters¡ªwhether mortal, god, or higher¡ªuttering one''s own name in their work yields the best results. It''s more practical to keep it short. Less is often more in this case. This is a rule established by one of the Metapotentiae. Such basic principles are even taught in mortal magic schools. It''s tradition, and not worth risking severe punishment¡ªlosing one''s power or existence¡ªfor defying that Metapotentia."


    A greenish-blue fire coiled around Ouroboros'' fist. "Basic, lucid, gymnastic, scholastic. Honestly, saying one''s own name sounds rather foolish. I chant random rubbish all the time when I fight¡ªhiya and wata! It doesn''t matter, as long as the feeling is right. Besides, for us entities that surpass the divine and every other known reality, further power is almost inconsequential."


    Akashirae''s irritation was growing. "You don''t get it, brother. It is precisely why even we, overpowering primordial deities, must do this. The factor that tips the scale when one transcendent entity battles another is obtaining the Metapotentiae''s favour. As your older sister, I prefer you to live forever, so start doing things correctly unless you want me to set you straight."


    "Force me then, little sister." Ouroboros gripped her chin. "Or perhaps you could cease these mumble-jumble, mousey distractions and explain why you kept gazing at that wizard Seimei? I may not be the brightest, and you usually hide well, but I have observed you day and night for aeons. I can tell when something is amiss, especially when it''s this obvious. Did you not once say that speaking with me makes you feel better? Spill it."


    In response, Akashirae twisted Ouroboros'' nipple and, using her primordial power, made milk trickle from it. "No."


    Undeterred, Ouroboros stood tall. Akashirae was momentarily taken aback by his serious, determined demeanour and fell silent. After a brief pause, she met his gaze again, cupping his face with her hands and gently pushing him away. "Whenever I watched you spend most of your day napping, I both hated and envied your easy-going attitude. But eventually, I found it comforting, as it suggested that everything would be all right. I like the way you are¡ªso please, don''t ever change, okay, Ouroboros? I need not worry about that, right? You are an eternal dragon that continues to bite its own tail even when you''re not."


    Ouroboros took her hands in his. "What''s this about? I don''t recall the last time you called me by my name. We''re just going to play this one game and have a good time, aren''t we? We''re both eternal. Mortals wish for their happiest day to last forever¡ªbut that is us, literally. You and I have each other''s backs. Even if you don''t have mine, or even if you despise me, I will always be there for you. Things will be as they have always been."


    Blanche seized control of her competitors'' bodies as if they had always been hers, bending their focus to her will.


    "Stop your whining, you babies¡ªunless you''ve given up on your sorry excuse for an existence. Your fears are baseless. These battles should never be this melodramatic or one-sided¡ªunless, of course, you, Godless and Chosen alike, are doomed to stagnation and failure. If that''s the case, consider this a splendid opportunity for change.


    Now, it''s about time I sent you all on your way. But have I forgotten something? I do have a habit of repeating myself, even in my own thoughts. Ah, yes¡ªwhen you awaken, you''ll all have a chance to win a wish from the Goddess-Saint. Just keep moving, keep your heads on your shoulders¡ªmove first, then think. Simple enough, isn''t it? And if you get eliminated and die, well, there''s a good chance She''ll resurrect you once the game is over. Good assurance, am I right, or am I right?"


    She pointed two slender fingers at the Chosens and the Godless before teleporting them into an intermediate, concealed metaspace, leaving only the spectators behind. "To those gathered here, and to those watching from afar," she announced, "the tournament shall begin shortly. You need not lift a finger¡ªI will broadcast the entire event directly into your mind and essence. Simply remain where you are and experience it all."


    I glanced at the stats of Ouroboros and Akashirae. For primordial deities, they appeared rather unimpressive. The siblings, like the other Godless, were slumbering within an opalescent crystal of light, awaiting their summons. It seemed that Metrina had recalibrated all the competitors'' strengths for the sake of her game¡ªan endeavour to level the playing field. I, too, should participate; perhaps something good would come of it. I supposed it was time for me to resume my Phase Shift¡ªa hyperpotent ability not unlike Ouroboros''s Theseus Ship, but operating on the deepest, ineffable level. I erased what I wished to move entirely from the Unknown and recreated it from scratch in my desired location. The process was so seamless that none, save for myself, knew that they had essentially died. Alternatively, I could relocate entire omniverses and realms to my position in a similarly seamless fashion, as I had done before... Something was amiss. Someone was interfering. I had expected this, though I should still manage to make it to the Godless Altar; the lack of precision in my point of arrival was, at the very least, mildly interesting.


    "Lady Lumi''Nae!" Sathiel clutched me tightly as we materialised, plummeting from the sky. "W¨Cwhy are we falling? I told you I''m terrified of heights!"


    Her blue cape whipped into my face, blocking my view. I couldn''t help but wish I could see her expression right now. Probably something adorably flustered.


    "One of the Metapotentiae has noticed us and interfered with my Phase Shift."


    "Grr... I detest these methods of transportation. Once more, I''m being shuffled around randomly like a piece of common luggage in a disorganised airport."


    A pair of indigo wings sprouted from Tiamat''s back¡ªemerging from the very same place where she normally sprouted her draconic heads. Would she, in future, also sprout multiple tails as Akashirae did? A random thought, perhaps best left unheeded. I soon followed suit by phasing in the ten void wings that were always attached to my back, even when they appeared imperceptible.


    As we descended toward the clouds, the world known as The Godless Altar revealed itself: plain green fields bordered by ancient trees stretched across the horizon, with farmers tending their crops and a large town of wooden buildings coming into view. This was one of the starting areas the hostess had mentioned.


    Before we could venture further, Sathiel and Tiamat were teleported away. Hovering just below the clouds, I was not alone; Metrina appeared before me. Despite my lingering amnesia, certain names would sometimes surface unbidden¡ªI recognised her at once.


    "Wow, so it is you...! I knew you were out there, watching us all along¡ªobserving from the Unknown, no less. But to see you face-to-face... that''s an entirely different experience." She stepped closer, her voice shifting to an analytical tone, though still edged with her familiar air of superiority. "Multiple entities within you, huh? Fascinating. I can tell, however, that you are the dominant personality here. It''s good to see you, Calluna."


    I nodded, though the name rang a bell with a tinge of reluctance. I might have explained that I was not exactly Calluna, but she likely already knew that my memories and knowledge were now far more limited than those of my former self.


    She gazed intently at my glamoured right arm and placed her hand upon it. I had been practising the art of shapeshifting this eldritch limb into a more mundane form, as Nemesis had advised. If I had any weakness, it was that my transformed right arm was the one aspect I struggled to control. It made me drowsy, and if I lost focus, it would revert to its eldritch form¡ªor rather, to a stump from which a black substance continuously dripped. It induced a sleep as peaceful and painless as death itself¡ªthe kind of slumber that mortals so desperately yearn for.


    Metrina continued to caress and inspect my right arm, which, to me, felt no more than an odd, tickling sensation. I wondered how long she intended to persist, though I maintained a stoic poker face. If I possessed a soul, it would surely be laughing uncontrollably at the absurdity of it all.


    Her eyes met mine¡ªlively and filled with intrigue. "My, my! Are you having trouble stabilising your arm? Your new form appears sufficiently intact, held together by destabilising Unknowns. At present, you accelerate the Silence Beyond more than any one of us." Her tone carried a note of mild admiration, yet it was clear she was already formulating plans beyond a simple observation. "I''d be more than happy to rectify that for you, provided you participate as a Godless and triumph in the Boundless Battlegrounds. Though I must say, I''m surprised you allowed me to examine your arm to such an extent. Your past self would not have permitted it so easily."


    I felt my eyelids growing heavy. "I''ll play along..." I murmured.


    Almost mechanically, my face drooped toward Metrina''s chest, my breath slowing. "...Mommy." The word escaped me unbidden.


    "Calluna?" Metrina''s voice pierced through the fog of my thoughts¡ªsoft, yet insistent. I felt her concern, though her tone still carried that unmistakable confidence, as if she were guiding me back to reality rather than expressing true alarm.


    Gradually, her voice began to fade, and once more, I found myself wondering¡ªwas this what it felt like to die peacefully?


    I could feel my arm reverting to its monstrous, eldritch state, and I questioned whether I had made the right choices up to this point. Perhaps I should have assimilated Tiamat into my right stump back then... No, I dismissed the thought with a mental shake. I would strive to live a more honourable life than my past self¡ªwhatever honourable might mean for a Hyperpotentia.


    Metrina''s voice returned, now a gentle reproach, her words imbued with a teasing affection that was unmistakably hers. "Hey, Calluna, don''t just drift off on me. We don''t need to sleep, nor are we capable of it, so stop pretending otherwise. And regressing to the point where you call me mommy... Oh, Calluna..."


    I felt her presence¡ªwarm and guiding, yet ever slightly beyond my reach. Her steady heartbeat, alive and insistent, contrasted sharply with the absent pulse deep within me. I knew I had to maintain control¡ªI could not slip back into my Archlegion form. Every beat of Metrina''s heart resounded with the readiness to move, to live, to act¡ªwhile mine felt like a lingering, fading echo. The myriad hearts, barely beating within me, were not truly mine. I had never possessed one... and yours, reader, is within me too. You were never alone.


    Yet, despite the strange solace I found in that emptiness, there was something more¡ªa metaphysical pull drawing me beyond the confines of my nature. I could feel the weight of my own form and the slow emergence of my tentacles, wrapping around us like a protective embrace.


    And amid it all, I could hear a murmur, almost as if carried on a whispering wind: "It''s going to snow tomorrow."