Chapter 7: The Divine Surge
The Infinitum Core trembled, a pulse reverberating throughout the entire structure of the Celestis Veil. The Sovereigns—beings who had transcended beyond comprehension, beyond fiction, religion, and thought—felt it first. A force, an anomaly, something outside the boundaries of even their unimaginable dominions, rippled through existence.
Each of them, embodiments of the fundamental energies that governed the multiverse, stood at the apex of power. They were the creators, destroyers, and regulators of all things that had ever been, were, and would be. Yet this thing, this presence, was beyond them. Beyond everything they had ever shaped or conceived.
Aetherion, the Infinite Wellspring of Becoming, felt it first. Its essence vibrated with the foundation of reality itself, an ancient and primal force that had never once faltered. But now, even the raw, untamable chaos of Aetherion's own birth—that was now at risk of being undone.
The vast oceans of creation, rippling within Aetherion's infinite form, shuddered. Its very existence began to dissolve around the edges, the fundamental laws of creation crumbling like sand through an invisible hand.
Aetherion turned their gaze to the center of the Infinitum Core, feeling something untraceable and profound in its presence. There was no sound, no voice that could explain what had been unleashed. Only the sensation of something far, far beyond even Aetherion's infinite reach—a distortion that made reality quake and bend.
"The fabric of existence itself wavers," Aetherion muttered, not in voice, but through the very vibrations of creation.
Aeon, the Pulse of Timeless Existence, snapped into motion as well. The temporal laws they had once sculpted with a mere thought, laws that spanned all time, now bent unnaturally. Aeon saw time unraveling—not just in distant histories or future possibilities, but right in front of them. Time splintered into waves of irrationality, spirals breaking apart into nothingness.
But Aeon knew one truth that rang like a hammer against their cosmic will: They were the keeper of time. They had seen every moment, every possible timeline. They had bent and shaped the passage of time at will. Yet now, this force was doing what they could never have imagined—breaking the laws they had once claimed dominion over.
"Is this a challenge?" Aeon's voice rang across the realms, but even they knew their certainty wavered. It was no challenge. This force was no adversary—it was a cosmic inevitability that broke down everything Aeon stood for.
Volkrith, the Unraveling Eternity, was not afraid. Volkrith had torn down the very bedrock of existence countless times, watched realities fall apart, devoured the essence of entire worlds without even a flicker of resistance. Yet as they watched this force—this new presence—their form shifted and fluctuated, as if even they were uncertain.
"I cannot unravel this," Volkrith whispered, a cold shiver running through their being. "This is not like the others. There are no threads to pull, no seams to tear. The fabric itself is collapsing—yet it is not my doing."
From the deepest reaches of existence, Vanta-Xeth, the Descent into Non-Existence, responded with a chilling calmness. Their being was built from the very essence of negation, a constant state of annihilation. To them, there was nothingness—and everything else was insignificant.
But even Vanta-Xeth felt it—the distortion of all that had been annihilated, the rupture in the order of death itself. Vanta-Xeth could erase existence, could drag all things into the infinite abyss of nothingness, but this presence? This... force? It was the very thing that would erase even them, even their ability to exist.
A void that consumed all, yet could not be consumed. A force that broke the law of annihilation itself.
The Sovereigns looked toward each other, realizing the magnitude of this. Their power, a power beyond all laws, beyond every understanding of reality, had been bent—contorted—by something they could neither control nor fully comprehend.
Nexos, the Endless Thread of Connection, whose essence tied the very strands of all realities together, extended their presence across every point of connection that held existence in balance. The Web of Isness was their domain—their art, and they had woven it into every fragment of time, space, and thought. The threads of every being, every plane, every pocket of reality were intertwined beneath Nexos' touch.
But this force? It had severed the threads. It snipped through the connections as though they were no more than dust. Nexos reached out, but their web now had gaping holes, like broken strands in a spider's net.
"There is nothing here to bind," Nexos uttered, the weight of realization settling heavily on them. "We cannot even feel the connections anymore. There is only... void."
Erebus, the Stillness Beyond Thought, emanated a pulse of utter quiet. The universe bowed to them—everything was still, everything frozen in the perfect quiet that defined them. But the Stillness of Erebus had been broken, too. Even Erebus, the one who governed peace through sheer inertia, now felt an unsettling force of movement—a chaotic push against their stillness, a disturbance that shattered the eternal calm.
For the first time in eons, Erebus' silence was fractured. And it was not something they could ignore. There was a soundless tremor in the Veil, something that disrupted the very essence of what they were.
And then, in unison, the Sovereigns felt it.
A shift. A presence—too vast, too overwhelming to be contained. It was not a force. It was not something they could comprehend. It was the embodiment of chaos, of everything that could never be described, that could never be explained.
It was beyond all reason.
The sky above them cracked open. The Celestis Veil, once the infinite space that held their essence, shattered like glass under a blow that could not be perceived. The distortion was too powerful to be contained. The very energies of existence began to spiral away, unraveling into nothingness.
And in that moment, a being stepped forth—a presence of unimaginable scale, a being that should not exist. It was more than a being. It was more than power. It was the ultimate paradox—the essence of everything that was impossible.
The Sovereigns could not stop it. They could not challenge it, for they could not even grasp its true nature.
Aetherion reached forward, extending the very foundation of creation to hold this presence in place—but their energy bent and shattered upon contact. Aeon cast forth the eternal flow of time itself, but even the stream of infinity collapsed under its force. Volkrith's touch turned to ash before it could even unravel.
Vanta-Xeth's void swallowed nothing as it ceased to exist.
And Nexos? Nexos' very web unraveled, scattered to the winds.
"Is this our end?" Volkrith hissed, voice quivering with the same terror they had never known. "Have we become nothing?"
The being shifted. Reality itself bent under its presence, warping, distorting—shaping—and the Sovereigns realized something: they could not fight it. They could not bend it. They could not destroy it.
Because this was the force that existed before even the Sovereigns.
It was the source of everything that ever was—and the end of all things.
It was the beginning of the end.
The Sovereigns stood in awe—not before an enemy, but before the raw, primal essence of existence itself.
And then, with a single thought, the presence surged forward.
The cosmos shattered. Every divine law, every paradox, every fragment of reality unraveled into a singular truth.
Nothing would ever be the same again.