Chapter 83 - Miracles?

The Void...

'So... why did you extricate that human?' Phoenix asked from atop Aragorn's draconic form as they flew through the emptiness. Aragorn had taken this form to make use of his void stomach to store some 'things.'

'My directives, of course,' Aragorn replied, matter-of-factly.

'I don't see it,' Phoenix said. 'What directive would include that human? What even is remarkable enough in that human to be included in your directives?'

'You got it all wrong.' Aragorn shook his head. Since Phoenix was riding behind his crown of horns, she shook with it. 'There's nothing remarkable about the human in question, but I had a specific directive under her name.'

'What?' Phoenix asked. 'That makes even less sense. Was it perhaps about her story? I saw nothing remarkable when compared with the countless others.'

'I have a directive that reads: Save Saki Yoshida. Her story was quite the trauma during my human teenage years. Whenever my older sister went out, I would accompany her like a guard dog, especially to parties and such.' Aragorn shared his memories with Phoenix.

'I was a lanky teenager, and my sister was about two years older, so in a way she had more muscle than me—especially since girls develop faster—it made for quite the comedic sight,' Aragorn commented.

'At least I was popular with her girl friends, not like that ever led to anything,' he added.

'... You made a directive specifically for a mortal human just because of this?' Phoenix asked, incredulity laced in her words.

'Yep, though I don't know what I'll do with her when we return,' Aragorn confessed.

'You were quite the...' Phoenix searched for words. 'Sentimental child.'

'I was a pathetic child—bad at living and life, a bad day away from mass murder or suicide. But, well, it was what it was,' Aragorn said without an ounce of sentimentality.

'Now all your emotions but love are faded. Interesting contrast,' Phoenix said.

'Yeah, and I'm like a psychopath—treating facial expressions like a communication language and having to manually make them,' Aragorn said with a chuckle.

'Were it not for those eyes, you would have had a harder time in the beginning,' Phoenix commented.

'I agree,' he said.

'What about the elf?' she asked.

'Celestine Lucross? I liked her physical appearance,' Aragorn said. 'Also, her soul was quite pure for one her age—among the purer I've seen—comparable to some neurodivergent grownups.'

'That's the reason you risked entering that cursed world?' Phoenix asked, eyes wide.

'She is also a high elf—not that it means much in that cursed world—and I thought I could use her genes in the elven community in Halo. However, it was mostly because I found her physically pleasing,' he said.

'You can be so brave for the strangest of things,' Phoenix said absentmindedly.

'I like pretty things. That's why I like you despite your sadism,' he replied.

Phoenix didn't react to his compliment. She had been in his mind more than enough to know that, despite their clashes regarding Jean's upbringing, he was considerably biased toward her and saw her as one of his few friends—and that what he meant by "pretty" was her shining form as a flaming phoenix.

Phoenix and Aragorn continued to peacefully traverse the territories of absolute absence, discussing topics of mutual interest—which usually gravitated toward Jean and Death—their voyage slow but surely on the path to their destination.

While on this path, they came upon something of mutual interest: the birth of a Multiverse.

'I can't understand at all what is happening,' Phoenix confessed upon seeing that for which there were no words to use for description.

'I can, but the birth of the Multiversal Barrier is flying over my head,' Aragorn said, there was bitterness in his voice.

Aragorn had the ability of Creation. The birth of the frame used for a Multiverse was not foreign to him—at least, not the part unrelated to life and the Multiversal Barrier—so it wasn't strange that he could follow the process of the genesis of a new Multiverse.

Phoenix, on the other hand, could create within the domain of a Creator—The One Above All. So while both processes were creation, one was Primordial Creation, the other was creation.

Regardless, it was valuable data for Aragorn, so Phoenix showed patience in his regard.

'It's done,' Aragorn said.

'Done?' Phoenix was confused. Compared to the Multiverses she had seen so far, this one was utterly empty.

She could see its boundaries where the Multiversal Barrier and the Void met, but otherwise, inside was just about as empty as the Void. It even lacked the most basic ingredients needed for Reality: Time, Space, Matter, Energy, and Concepts.

'Is it a creator-less Multiverse?' she asked, her confusion growing the more she observed.

'No... there's a creator in there,' Aragorn said, his eyes flickering through multiple colors in a pattern she had come to understand as curiosity.

'Should we interact with it?' Phoenix asked. She was curious about a Multiverse so raw and empty.

'No, let's wait. That being is Omniscient and Omnipotent within its domain. We don't know for sure if it is amiable or a tyrant in the making—nor what type of Multiverse it will create,' Aragorn suggested.

'You say "being," but I don't see anything in there—just an empty shifting bubble,' Phoenix said.

'It's more accurate to call it a Will. It is both the creator and the creation,' Aragorn explained. He then shared his vision with Phoenix.

'Your vision is even more confusing,' Phoenix grumbled. 'But I can at least identify the Will with it.'

And so they waited and observed... until... nothing happened.

'Are you sure it is a creator?' Phoenix asked, rightfully doubtful. 'Why is it not creating anything?'

'... It is, but I don't know,' Aragorn said, just as confused as her.

'Maybe it doesn't know how to create, even if it can,' she suggested.

'I don't know how it was for the Aniki, but I instinctively knew how to use my Creation when the ability crystallized,' Aragorn said.

'But what if it doesn't know what to create—like an artist devoid of inspiration?' Phoenix said.

'... Okay... I hadn't thought of that,' Aragorn admitted. 'Although I gained know-how of the ability, I was aided by my memories and not the ability itself.'

'I'm sure that given enough time—once Time is created—it will create something. But maybe we should interact with it,' Phoenix suggested.

'... Okay, but you go back inside me. I'm the most durable between the two,' Aragorn said, opening his maw wide for Phoenix to fly inside.

With no objection, Phoenix flew to his void stomach.

Aragorn brought his draconic forelimb and placed it gently against the Multiversal Barrier.

'Salutations/Hello/Greetings—We/Us/Phoenix and Aragorn/This Pair/This Couple—Come/Arrive—In/Present—Peace/Amicability/Harmony/Amity.' Aragorn spoke in conceptual language. {Hello, we come in peace.}

The Will stirred up, doing its equivalent of looking left and right with its omniscience. Since Aragorn was outside the Multiversal Barrier—outside its domain—it took a while to locate the origin of the greeting.

'What/Who/How/Why—Is/Are—That/You?' it asked, with a myriad of meanings loaded into its question. {What are you?}

{A/N: The following interactions are in conceptual speech, but for readability, I'll write in 'common' language.}

'Lucivacui/Lux Vacui.' Aragorn used his true name—which carried over his informational essence—to explain what he was, who he was, how he existed, and why.

'Do you have a name for yourself?' Aragorn asked while waiting for the Will to finish processing the information.

'I don't have a denotation at the moment, I just am,' the Will replied.

'I see,' Aragorn nodded—he had guessed as much. 'When you figure it out, let me know.'

'I was bored,' the Will suddenly said.

'There's nothing around here but you. Obviously, you would get bored,' Aragorn said.

'Enter,' the Will said.

Without hesitation, Aragorn stepped inside the Multiversal Barrier. Suddenly, he felt and saw—a sight privy only to his eyes—the mantle of the Will's omniscience covering him whole.

'I don't know you,' the Will said, its tone upbeat. 'I like not knowing.'

The Will's omniscience knew everything that is, was, and will be within its domain. Although the domain was empty, its omniscience meant it didn't need to wonder what would happen if it filled its domain with creations. That stopped it from even attempting to create.

'I'm from the Outside. It would be strange if you knew me,' Aragorn calmly explained, his thoughts filtering out under his command for the Will to explore, facilitating communication.

'Can I meet the other one?' it asked.

Conceptual speech works wonders in carrying over meaning and understanding. So when Aragorn said, 'We come in peace,' the Will received the necessary information to comprehend who 'we' were. That was why it was curious about Phoenix.

'Soon, I'll introduce her to you,' Aragorn said, opting to keep Phoenix inside his stomach in case the Will turned out to be tyrannical.

'Let's get to know each other,' the Will said, the reason for Aragorn's hesitation becoming clear to it under conceptual speech.

This was why conceptual speech was the preferred language, it carried meaning beyond words, making communication easy and more complete than any other language.

'Sure. What do you want to converse about?' Aragorn asked.

'All and everything,' it said.

'Sure, there's time,' Aragorn chuckled.

'Time?' it asked, for it didn't know 'time' since it hadn't created it.

Aragorn and the Will spent uncountable years—obviously due to a lack of time, it was uncountable—before Aragorn felt comfortable taking Phoenix out. Then, the three discussed topics ranging from why dragons were cool to the most sophisticated matters, such as the elementary requirements for reality to exist.

The Will had just enough traits to possess a barebones personality, marked most clearly by its innate curiosity and propensity to find entertainment in that which existed outside its control—namely, Aragorn and Phoenix.

In some aspects, the Will was unmistakably a child, going so far as to jokingly address Phoenix and Aragorn as 'Mother' and 'Father.' In others, it carried a maturity and apathy not unlike Phoenix's.

The three grew close enough to call each other friends, which, in turn, made it harder for the Will when it learned that Phoenix and Aragorn would eventually have to depart.

In response to its reluctance to return to the boring days of loneliness and omniscience, Aragorn suggested it populate its Multiverse with its own creations.

And so it did.

Initially, it decided to create other wills, but it soon realized they would need [Space] to occupy and [Time] to experience events sequentially. Not only that, but they also needed the other fundamental forces required to distinguish themselves from reality. Thus, it first created the egoless elemental forces known as [Great Holy Spirits].

That was how Light [Hikari] and Darkness [Yomi] were born—Light, based on Phoenix's flamingly bright form, and Darkness, based on the darkness Aragorn had taught it about.

Assisted by the Great Holy Spirits, the Will set about creating reality. It filled it with worlds, universes, dimensions, realms, and all manner of Time-Space weaves, drawing inspiration from the memories Aragorn and Phoenix had shared.

'Now this looks like a proper Multiverse,' Aragorn commented while observing the Will's artwork.

'I must agree,' Phoenix said, pleased with the Will's work.

'Now it just needs Life and Sapience,' Aragorn said.

Phoenix and Aragorn patiently observed as the Will completed its creation, waiting for it to finish to its satisfaction.

'I think I should create other wills before I complete the last worlds,' the Will said.

'You sound reluctant,' Phoenix pointed out.

'I will remain bored if I know everything about them,' it admitted.

'Are you thinking of renouncing your omniscience?' Aragorn asked.

'And my omnipotence. If I don't, I could will myself to regain my omniscience, which would defeat the point,' the Will spoke assertively.

'Are you sure? Without omnipotence, you could die and become the fertilizer for your creation,' Aragorn cautioned.

'It's alright. I have a countermeasure for that,' it confidently said.

'Do as you want. It's your creation, and Aragorn and I are merely guests,' Phoenix encouraged it.

The Will then parted with its omnipotence and omniscience, and from that act, three individuals of unequal power were born.

The first was a large dragon with cyan scales, four legs, two massive wings, and smooth spines running down its neck and onto its back—a being with the creator's will but existing as part of creation rather than beyond it. It embodied the Will's creative aspect.

The second was a being devoid of emotions or coherent thoughts, moving only based on instinct—an instinct that compelled it to seek destruction and meaningless chaos. It embodied the Will's destructive side.

'This feels similar to our world,' Phoenix commented, noting the resemblance to the relationship between the One Above All and the One Below All from her Multiverse.

The third was a bodiless existence with no ego, no emotions, and no personality. It existed solely to maintain balance and uphold intrinsic aspects of [Reality]—a being born from the Will's desire for its creation to thrive.

The first to speak was the third entity, which did so with Aragorn's female self's voice.

┌Name: Lucivacui/Lux Vacui/Aragorn.

│Race: Dragon-shaped Eldritch Slime/Progeny of the Outside.

│Blessing: Creator's Favor/Guest Administrator.

│Title: Creator's First Friend.

└Skills: [Lucivacui/Lux Vacui/Aragorn]

┌Name: Phoenix Force.

│Race: Shard of Personified Psionic Nexus/Guest from the Outside.

│Blessing: Creator's Favor/Guest Administrator.

│Title: Creator's Second Friend.

└Skills: [Phoenix Force]

'Was this inspired by my system?' Aragorn asked, processing the information directly delivered to his mind.

'It appears so, but this feels more complete,' Phoenix said.

'It's a system created with a portion of a creator's omnipotence and omniscience. Please don't be so rude as to mention both in the same sentence,' Aragorn said, dejectedly. 'Mine is still growing, alright?'

'Which is It?' Phoenix asked, ignoring Aragorn as she observed both embodied aspects of the Will.

'The dragon,' Aragorn pointed. 'That other self has zero personality,' he said, pointing at the indeterminate and monstrous form of the destructive self.

'How long until they wake up?' Phoenix asked.

'I don't kn—'

Before Aragorn could finish, the dragon disappeared from sight.

'Where did it go?' Phoenix asked.

'I'm searching,' Aragorn said.

It took a while, but Aragorn located the dragon, and shortly after, they appeared in front of it, this time awake.

'Veldanava, the Star King Dragon. Nice to meet you, my friends,' he said.

'Excellent choice of incarnation. You can't go wrong with dragons,' Aragorn beamed in approval.

'I was hoping for a phoenix,' Phoenix said.

'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Phoenix. This form felt right, like it was meant to be,' Veldanava said.

'It's fine, Veldanava, no hard feelings,' Phoenix said. She flew around his draconic shape, inspecting him in great detail.

'Will you continue your creation?' Aragorn asked.

'Yes, I'm almost done,' Veldanava's tone was laced with expectation and thrill.

Veldanava took command of the Great Holy Spirits and created the Seven Angels of Origin from [Hikari]. In response, the Voice of the World, to maintain balance, created the Seven Primordial Daemons, assisted by [Yomi].

Using the power of the Great Holy Spirits and his skills, Veldanava began finalizing the construction of countless worlds with varying natures and differing laws, completing his Multiverse.

At the center of it all was a universe he called the Central World.

'These angels,' Aragorn commented from Veldanava's side while observing them closely, 'their emotions are about as faded as mine. Was that by design, or were you hoping they would develop their own?'

'Feldway, Dino, Obera, Cornu, Garasha, Pico, and Zalario are good children. They'll grow and develop on their own; they don't need me for that,' Veldanava said.

His words reached the angels just as they did Aragorn, yet they remained unphased.

'If you say so,' Aragorn didn't argue further. 'What do you plan to do in Central World?'

'I plan to populate it with powerful and immortal spirits bearing flesh—a race of godly people,' he said, his eyes shining with anticipation, much like Aragorn's.

'You're going all out on this, aren't you?' Aragorn chuckled.

'~Hehe, yes. It's my life's work,' Veldanava proudly declared.

Eventually, the second of the True Dragons was born—Velzard, the Frost Dragon. Not long after, the third came—Velgrynd, the Scorch Dragon.

To facilitate the upbringing of his race of immortal men, Veldanava first created a founding being that he named Twilight Valentine to serve as their template and ancestor.

However, there was a problem. Twilight was a perfect being who lacked any concept of gender and was incapable of traditional reproduction. To solve this, Twilight used its powerful intellect to create two species based on its own body—the High Humans and the Vampires.

Aragorn took this opportunity to dump Celestine Lucross and Saki Yoshida in the first pool of created beings, the ones who called themselves the Pupils of the Ancestor.

Naturally, he took some precautions to over-power up the two girls and give them enough of an edge. He didn't want them dying just after he had saved them from their gruesome future.

"Kami-sama, I understand and am grateful for you saving me from that horrid future," Saki said, evident reverence in her voice, "but was it necessary to turn me into some sort of fantasy expy of Eve?"

"Saki-chan, why do you insist on addressing me like that?" Aragorn grumbled, clearly displeased with the title.

"Kami-sama is a kami. As such, he should be addressed with the appropriate respect." The one who replied was not Saki but the erofu Celestine Lucross.

"Tch! You're the least respectful one. Just call me Aragorn, or I'll even take Alduin—or better yet, my true name," Aragorn grumbled.

"Kami-sama jokes. There's no way anyone other than Veldanava-sama or Phoenix-sama could even survive pronouncing Kami-sama's true name," Celestine said.

Celestine and Saki had undergone obvious advancements in race; otherwise, they would not be alive to this day. These advancements brought evident physical changes, especially in Saki's case—who used to be a simple human. They had also adapted to the lifestyle of the nascent societies of Central World.

For one, Celestine, after Aragorn's insistence that her attire made no sense other than to summon a violent dickdown, changed to a more conservative style. Aragorn's eye twitched like crazy when she called him to model for him in her new dress and he discovered it was based on Queen Marika's. Yes, the NSFW version—the one that was clearly the work of a modder with just his left hand.

Saki, on the other hand, was his island in the violent seas that Celestine stirred. She wore a Greek-styled, knee-length, silken black toga adorned with sakura blossoms.

Another change that was obvious was their maturity and personalities. Saki remained a somewhat shy, girly woman—reserved in nature, but with a soft heart and a mature personality beyond her years. Celestine still carried the same air of an airheaded seductress, and even to this day, her soul remained one of the purer ones for her age. But aside from that, she seemed to find joy in her small acts of rebellion against Aragorn, like addressing him overly formally and convincing Saki to do the same.

"Leaving the erofu's insubordination aside, you can do some asexual reproduction. I gave you the skill for that. You don't need to fully embrace the Eve role and start pumping children for an Adam," Aragorn said.

"Saki-chan, you should consider your descendants as the ones who will populate your future kingdom," Celestine said, ignoring Aragorn's jab at her.

"But I don't want a kingdom. I'm not like you, Celestine-san, I'm not queen material. I'm only doing this to repay Aragorn-sama for saving my life and Veldanava-sama for accepting me into his world," Saki said.

It wasn't that Aragorn was forcing or manipulating her into becoming one of the ancestors for Veldanava. Doing so would be no different than saving her only to throw her into another forced destiny. Aragorn had simply turned her into a [Divine Human] and figured that, since she was biologically immortal, she would eventually have descendants—so there was no pressure on her.

Celestine had been a queen before Aragorn unceremoniously abducted her. To her, the role Aragorn was offering was no different from her previous one, with the addition of being one of the progenitor High Elves. She found her role quite pleasing, especially since she shared responsibilities with Sylvia El Ru, the other True Ancestor of the Elves, the one created by Twilight Valentine.

"Then you don't have to. You can just come with me and be part of my future kingdom!" a voice intruded.

"Luminous, are you here not only for your daily ogling of Celestine but also to poach Saki-chan?" Aragorn quipped at the intruder.

Luminous Valentine was what Twilight Valentine hailed as his masterpiece. She was a silver-haired, heterochromatic-eyed teen who appeared to be frozen in the moment of change between girl and woman. She was also a flaming homosexual.

"Annoying dragon!" Luminous growled. "I'm obviously here to visit my friends. Saki and Celestine are the only normal ones among our generation. It's even hard to believe they come from you."

"That would have been more convincing if you had said so while not being enraptured by Celestine's assets," Aragorn said.

Saki and Celestine chuckled at this, and the vibrations of their laughter made it even harder for Luminous to tear her eyes away from Celestine.

Luminous sometimes wondered if Celestine's body operated under different physics laws. That jiggle is unnatural!

"Ahem!" she voiced out, her eyes moving to Saki. "You can stay in my future kingdom if you don't want to rule, or even join Celestine and Sylvia's. I don't recommend staying with Jahil—that High Human gives me the creeps!"

"I agree with Luminous, Saki-chan. After Phoenix and I depart, don't stay with Jahil. That guy makes me want to erase him from time to time," Aragorn said, his eyes flickering crimson.

"Okay... I still don't know what I'll do, but I'll heed your advice and not stay with Jahil-san," Saki said.

Hearing Saki refer to Jahil with respect, Luminous and Aragorn clicked their tongues in disagreement. Celestine chuckled at how in sync the two of them were.

From then on, with Twilight continuing their research, and the first-generation working to increase their numbers, diversity began to increase. Humans, Demi-humans, and all other manner of life began to populate countless worlds, including the Central World.

Ivaragé, the embodied destructive side of the Will, began to rampage, and Aragorn took charge of fighting it to keep it occupied while Veldanava decided what to do. That took a few eras, given that Veldanava was undecided and also busy fixing a few 'bugs' that arose due to his inability to know it all.

Aragorn took this opportunity to work in his spell system, while also evaluating and studying Veldanava's Voice of the World System, to draw some inspiration for his humble system back home. Phoenix joined him, with her having access to the theory of the magic system from Jean's memories, she was the perfect help.

Veldanava decided to seal Ivaragé in a place called the Otherworld. With it sealed, Aragorn returned to his life of leisure beside Veldanava while he continued creating. Phoenix decided to try her hand while using her Administrator Status to create a race of phoenixes.

Velzard, quite the possessive and controlling sister, didn't like Aragorn 'demanding' her brother's attention and challenged Aragorn multiple times—all of which ended in failure because her power lay in Time, and Aragorn could simply ignore it. Aragorn also beat her in mobility, so would often escape when she got annoying.

Veldanava ordered his first and foremost subordinate, Feldway, to eliminate threats to humanity and ensure they could thrive.

With an abundance of different races and cultures quickly populating the entire planet, Veldanava finally felt content with his work. He felt he could step back and relax, maybe even experience some of that "family" his friend Aragorn had told him about.

Veldanava isolated parts of his divine authority over creation into seven powerful Ultimate Skills called the Seven Virtues. He began to distribute them to those he deemed worthy, passing the rest into the cycle of reincarnation to choose their own masters while keeping only [Michael] for himself.

"So, have you figured out what's the story of this Multiverse?" Phoenix asked. Aragorn was visiting the little corner of the Multiverse she had claimed for herself and her creations—the phoenixes.

"The Voice of the World gives me the impression of 'Tensura,' but I believe the events of Tensura happened far into the future, so I don't know for sure," Aragorn said, sharing his memories of Tensura with Phoenix.

"There's surprisingly little information about this story. Was it one you disliked?" Phoenix asked after going over the memories.

"I liked it, but by the time I began to grow interested in it, I had no time to pick up its manga or novel, and the anime only made it to the first seasons before the bugs invaded," he said. "The only memories you're watching are from the times I recalled it during my deployment, but I mostly forgot about it somewhere around my third semester into the war."

"This Milim Nava is obviously related to Veldanava," Phoenix said. "At least if we go by the name."

"I figured as much. Also, I think that Guy Demon Lord is probably the gender-bent version of Rouge," he pointed out. "Possibly. It's hard to compare anime drawings with real people."

"Why would she change to male?" Phoenix asked.

"I don't know. I switch genders from time to time—maybe she picked it up from me," Aragorn said.

"I can see that happening," she agreed. "And this maid is definitely what I imagine an anime Luminous would look like. I also feel like I recognize that Ramiris fairy."

"That's the Fairy Queen, at least if we go by the name, but she is supposed to be a Ruler Elemental, not a corrupted pixie," Aragorn said.

"A ruler, like me over my phoenixes?" Phoenix raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, just like you're the Ruler Phoenix, she is the Ruler Elemental," Aragorn explained.

"I wonder how The Ruler of Elementals turned into a corrupted being such as a Demon Lord," Phoenix said.

"I have no idea, but if we're talking about corrupted beings, there's Dino in that group—an angel," Aragorn said.

"...Really? What sort of mess happened to twist things like this, and where was Veldanava?" Phoenix asked.

"I don't know. The story follows Rimuru. It had the vibes of a weak-to-strong tale with a flair for kingdom-building, so maybe Veldanava wouldn't have shown up until the end?" Aragorn asked, unsure of his own conclusion.

"Do you think he turned evil and is the final boss?" Phoenix asked.

"It could be, or maybe that particular reincarnation of him was evil or corrupted, and the plot of the story is to kill the Star King Dragon to have him reincarnate into his benevolent self," Aragorn suggested.

"Like a typical 'the bad guy is just a good guy being manipulated' story?" Phoenix asked.

"Yes. Following the logic of the Voice of the World System, there are multiple paths to corrupt a True Dragon and manipulate them, so maybe the final boss is a controlled Veldanava or something along those lines," Aragorn said.

"A bad guy who isn't really bad... that's turning into a cliché," Phoenix said. "What should we do?"

"Maybe I could craft some Genesis-grade artifacts for him?" Aragorn said. "Something like a purification dragon eye, or something along the lines of using my body parts for the crafting to get the best outcome possible."

"Would that work? We don't know what conditions led to his control," Phoenix said, equally confused about how to approach the situation. "If he even was controlled—maybe he tired of his creation and truly turned evil."

Things being out of her control were a blessing to her, as she always sought change and evolution. In that regard, she was similar to Veldanava, who didn't want to be omnipotent and craved challenge. But it wasn't without its negatives. In this case, she also saw Veldanava as a friend, and it didn't sit well with her that his possible future was so bleak.

"I don't know," Aragorn sighed. "This is based on our assumptions and pattern recognition, but the plot might be something else entirely."

"Can't you peek into the future?" Phoenix suggested.

"We've been here for billions of years. To avoid losing too much time compared to the time flow of our Multiverse, I'm speeding up the time flow from outside," Aragorn explained.

"I understand that, but why can't you peek at the future?" Phoenix asked. "I thought that was something within the reach of your eyes."

"My magic system is new, and it has flaws," Aragorn said with an uncomfortable expression.

"And?" Phoenix prompted him to continue.

"The spell I'm using to 'fast forward' the time flow is affecting me. If I act beyond its scope, it will change the target from the entire Multiverse to only the future, which would do the equivalent of spaghettifying the timeline—ergo, ripping it apart," Aragorn explained.

"What sort of stupidity is that?" Phoenix couldn't help but ask.

"Like I said, the magic system is new, and we're bound to find flaws as we explore and expand upon it," Aragorn said. "In this case, I made an error in the logic frame of the range and target of the spell matrix and its focus.

"I failed to consider how some of my rule-breaking abilities—in this case, my eyes—would affect it. Since the spell is powered by my energy, which is at the level of its source—AKA me—cast by me, and the target includes me, I affect it in a catastrophic way," Aragorn explained. "It's like this, if I focus on the future, the spell might designate that as the priority target because I'm the caster, then it would use the energy needed to speed up an entire Multiverse to speed up a single concept, the future."

"You mean to say that if I were the Psionic Nexus of this Multiverse, I could safely peek into the future because you accounted for third parties like me but not yourself?" Phoenix asked.

"Yes. I didn't consider myself in the equation for feedback looping, and since I entered this Multiverse when there were no strata to stratify my Paradoxical Existence, I don't even have a self outside to observe things from a third-person POV," Aragorn said.

"So you would have to exit and then reenter?" Phoenix asked. "Can't you do that?"

"Yes, but when I reenter, I will be stratified, and I might not have access to all of my power, especially since I don't even know how many layers Veldanava constructed, I might end up having to start from 'level 1'," he replied. "I could take a look, but since Veldanava dumped some of his omnipotence into the World's Voice, the number of onion layers of information my eyes would have to pierce through is considerable enough to make it unfeasible."

"...So we can't see the future," Phoenix concluded.

"We can't. And also, I don't even know how far the timeline has advanced—maybe we're riding the first wave, and the future I'll be able to peer into is just a century away," Aragorn said.

"I understand," Phoenix said. "To make matters worse, since you and I were definitely not part of this Tensura story, even the little information we have is unreliable."

"Yeah... it's all bleak," Aragorn slumped next to Phoenix.

"I think we should go with the purification artifact route. Leave that to me," Phoenix said—she was not one to wallow in what she couldn't control. "You should create some form of armor—the protection artifact route. I figure that if we hand Veldanava both artifacts, he is bound to survive no matter what."

"There's too many variables," Aragorn complained but he also began to switch to his draconic form and rip scales off.

Aragorn and Phoenix got to work on their projects. Phoenix created a Genesis-grade artifact she called [Phoenix Tears]. It was a vial that generated a clear liquid capable of healing anything—whether soul-based, mind-based, or body-based. The vial produced about one drop every 20,000 years.

Aragorn created a soul-bound draconic armor he simply named [Stalwart]. It was full plate armor, similar to the ones he had given Gaea and Carol for protection during his absence. The difference was that the Voice of the World recognized it as an artifact that granted absolute defense, even against Ultimate Skills. The armor appeared as if made of glass or hard light due to the properties of his scales.

Like [Phoenix Tears], it came with limitations. The armor could withstand up to five lethal attacks but would require about a year after the fifth strike to function at that level again.

That didn't mean the armor was useless while in its recharging state—just as [Phoenix Tears] retained some, if not most, of its qualities while regenerating. However, neither would function at their absolute peak during this time.

Veldanava was deeply moved by the gifts, as he knew that Aragorn and Phoenix rarely showed kindness to anyone they didn't consider part of their family—or, in Phoenix's case, her property.

Time passed. Kingdoms rose in the Central World, and one day, Veldanava approached Aragorn with an interesting request.

"Aragorn," Veldanava greeted. "Are you bullying Ramiris again?"

"S-Save me!" the Elemental Ruler shouted from the clutches of the tyrannical dragon.

"It's not bullying, and I didn't start it. She said she was stronger than me, so I challenged her. That's what we do around here to those stronger than us. You can ask Phoenix and your possessive freak sister-chan," Aragorn said. He had Ramiris trapped between his two draconic hands, his claws—taller than her—forming the prison bars.

"Hahaha! Don't be so hard on Ramiris, Aragorn," Veldanava requested, stepping closer to her prison and reaching out to pet her.

"No, no, I don't need this," Ramiris protested, trying to act haughty and swatting the offending hand away. "I just need you to hold him back for a second. I wasn't serious before!"

"See? If she says so herself, then she must be telling the truth! How can hearing that not ignite my fighting spirit?!" Aragorn declared with such energy that, even across the Omniverse, a certain Guy shouted, "YOUUUTH!"

"Ramiris, you..." Veldanava searched for kinder words but ultimately gave up. "Anyway, I came to see if I could obtain a certain resource from you, Aragorn."

"You make it sound like a shady deal," Aragorn said.

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you," Veldanava replied, shaking his head while wondering why his friend's mind always wandered to the strangest conclusions. "I was inspired by your and Phoenix's gifts, so I thought I should try my hand at forging my own Genesis-grade artifacts."

"Alright... Do you want my scales?" Aragorn guessed.

"No, I'm interested in making blades," Veldanava said, his eyes drifting toward the blade at the end of Aragorn's tail.

"I see..." Aragorn followed his gaze. "How many blades?"

"Four," Veldanava said hopefully.

"I guess that's fine. Just promise me you won't create a blade with an absolute cutting effect greater than [Stalwart]'s defense," Aragorn requested.

If Veldanava created an artifact capable of overpowering [Stalwart]'s defenses, all his hard work would be for nothing.

"That's easy—I promise. I was taking a different direction anyway," Veldanava readily agreed.

Having secured his promise, Aragorn plucked his blade from his tail four times in a row, waiting for it to regrow each time. Veldanava left with a cheery smile and an upbeat mood.

"Hey, how about handing one of those to me—your favorite person—Ramiris?" the prisoner asked.

"Why would the strongest being in existence need one of my paltry blades, Ramiris?" Aragorn asked, bringing his massive draconic muzzle close to the prison holding the fairy queen.

"E-Eh, o-of course! W-Why would I need it? D-Decoration! Right?" Ramiris stammered all the way through.

Aragorn stared at her for a moment, which soon stretched into a long silence. Ramiris began sweating bullets. Being stared down by eyes bigger than her entire height while imprisoned in the hands of such a beast only exacerbated her anxiety.

"You're adorable, Ramiris. Never change," Aragorn said, lifting one of his hands and undoing her prison.

"E-Eh?" Ramiris' eyes widened. When her mind processed his words, a faint blush painted her cheeks.

Although this Ramiris was in her grown-up form—and she objectively was beautiful—since she obviously hadn't been corrupted by the evil magic of Daemons and the powerful aura of Dragons, Aragorn still saw the woman as a childish, willful brat.

(Ignore the Twerking Rimuru.)

One day, Veldanava returned with four blades, which he proudly displayed for Aragorn to analyze.

"I named them [Ark], [Asura], [Deva], and [World]. What do you think?" Veldanava asked, wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

"They are beautiful. Congratulations, Veldanava," Aragorn said, not skimping on the praise.

Later, succumbing to Ramiris' incessant pestering after she discovered that Veldanava had given one of the swords to Rouge, he made another Genesis-grade artifact for her, not a blade though, he didn't feel confident in handing her something that deadly.

Kingdoms and territories began to take more solid shapes, and, as was normal, skirmishes broke out, leading to enmity and eventually wars. Nothing new there.

Twilight's creations took different paths. They were all part of the same grouping, Pupils of the Ancestor, but even then, swayed by their own interests or those of their kingdoms, some of them began to harbor hostility toward each other.

Celestine and Saki joined Silvia El Ru in her kingdom, and since Silvia had little interest in politics and governance, she declared Celestine her right-hand woman. Celestine had experience ruling—it was the logical choice.

Saki assumed the role of Silvia's caretaker, given that the latter had a tendency to sequester herself in her research and studies, forgetting the world around her.

As the kingdoms grew, so did the greed and desire for power and control among their rulers. The best example of this was Jahil, the other progenitor of High-Humans and Humans aside from Saki.

His kingdom was a super-advanced scientific marvel, and he decided to try his hand at world conquest.

"That one must be one of Twilight's defective creations, it's clearly stupid," Phoenix said.

"How can that maggot think he has a chance at laying claim to the world when I am here?" Ramiris asked. She was seated on one of Aragorn's hands. Some might say she was trapped, but nothing in her attitude reflected that claim.

"I always hated that guy. That's why I advised Saki-chan to stay away from him," Aragorn said.

Phoenix, Aragorn, and Ramiris were covertly observing Jahil from a distance as he prepared a ritual to summon a daemon.

Jahil made the appropriate sacrifices—perhaps more than needed—and began the summoning ritual.

He arrogantly believed that as long as the archdaemon was within the material world, it could be controlled by the magic forced upon it during summoning.

"That idiot, that's Rouge, the Red Primordial," Phoenix commented. She always found joy in the suffering mortals experienced due to karmic retribution.

"That's a young master if I ever saw one," Aragorn remarked about Jahil, glancing with mirth at the upcoming bloodbath.

"So, not like I'm saying that I'm afraid of that daemon because I could totally beat it, but that human is the greatest fool I've ever seen since I spawned," Ramiris commented, taking cover behind one of Aragorn's clawed fingers.

From there, it was a shitfest.

Rouge destroyed not only the nation he was summoned to fight against but also used the millions of bodies and souls to ascend to True Demon Lord status.

As if that weren't enough, he then incarnated Bleu and Vert, his fellow Primordial Daemons, who had been serving him ever since he defeated them in combat ages ago.

"Jahil is beyond fucked," Aragorn commented.

"Yes. The summoning contract did not apply to Bleu and Vert," Phoenix said.

"Should we do something? I feel like too many humans died today. What if Veldanava gets angry?" Ramiris asked.

"It's alright, Ramiris," Aragorn reassured her.

"It's all that human's fault. Don't assume blame that isn't yours," Phoenix said. She took a seat on Aragorn's forelimb, next to Ramiris, in her Jean form.

Rouge ordered them to slaughter Jahil and all the residents of his Super-Sorcery Empire while avoiding the use of mass destruction magic to prolong their suffering.

"Yuck!" Ramiris complained. "Too bloody!"

As Rouge crushed his enemies, he relished in their doomed pleas and found it a pleasant sound. He named himself Guy and his companions Misery (Vert) and Rain (Bleu), reflecting the misery of mankind and the rain of blood that followed wherever he went.

"That cockroach isn't dead, right?" Phoenix asked.

"No. His spirit got away," Aragorn replied.

"Eh? Even after being killed, that Jahil guy didn't die? That's even more disgusting!" Ramiris cried out in revulsion.

Guy and his companions then went on to explore Central World, and eventually, they met Veldanava. Guy, of course, challenged him to a fight but was quickly defeated.

Even after having given away most of his power, aside from Aragorn and Phoenix, Veldanava matched Ivaragé in the spot for the strongest. However, the difference in power only served to stir Guy's rivalry further. Aragorn and Phoenix, wisely enough, decided to steer clear of the demon lord.

Eventually, Veldanava appointed Guy—and Ramiris, who joined impromptu because she didn't want to be left out—as nominal administrators, effectively delegating most of his responsibilities.

"I feel so free!" Veldanava confided in Phoenix and Aragorn. "And it only took me a few billion years!" He beamed a smile so bright that Aragorn checked with the World's Voice using his admin rights to see if he had gained a skill for it.

Around this time, Guy had challenged Veldanava almost as many times as Velzard had challenged Aragorn. Conspiring with Veldanava, Aragorn managed to pair the two losers together.

"Excellent work, my friend!" Veldanava exclaimed, watching his sister and the daemon make friends through a fight to the death. "They'll keep each other busy."

"Yep! I knew it would work!" Aragorn nodded in satisfaction.

They looked at each other, and the two dragons high-fived!

They ignored the absolute chaos and destruction happening in the background.

Veldanava returned to the Kingdom of Nasca, the place that had caught his eye and that he had chosen as his temporary residence. Aragorn stayed longer to observe Guy and Velzard make friends.

Somewhere after this, Veldora was born. However, Veldora was so chaotic and rambunctious, that Velzard and Velgrynd had no patience to deal with him and began to spawn kill him like campers.

Centuries later...

"Phoenix," Aragorn called to her one day.

"Aragorn?" Phoenix replied.

"Multiverses are not stationary in The Void, or... it might be more accurate to say that The Void is not stationary around Multiverses, I think?" Aragorn said, doubtful of his wording.

"Okay... Is there a point to the rambling?" Phoenix asked.

"Our destination multiverse has recently gotten closer," Aragorn got to the point. "We should take advantage of the opportunity, I believe."

"Could we drop by here on our way back?" Phoenix asked.

"That was my plan," Aragorn nodded. "While I think I've studied the World's Voice System as much as possible, I do want to drop by and check on Veldanava before we return indefinitely to Marvel."

"Then I agree," Phoenix said. "We should say our goodbyes soon."

"We still have time, a few centuries, I believe, so take your time," Aragorn said in a relaxed tone.

Time passed, and the time for departure was nearing.

Veldanava had found true love in the Kingdom of Nasca in the form of Lucia Nasca. She was the sister of Rudra, the crown prince of the kingdom and also Veldanava's apprentice.

Rudra was an interesting guy with a grand dream of becoming a chosen hero capable of standing up to Guy. This piqued Veldanava's curiosity, and to assist him in his dream, apart from training him, he handed him his last authority, Michael.

Mortals, immortals, eternals, and pretty much anyone who had ever sought power or experienced adversity would condemn his actions as illogical and downright foolish. But to Veldanava, becoming part of his creation and eventually joining the reincarnation cycle was part of the grand adventure he had always dreamed of.

This was part of why Phoenix and Aragorn only cautioned him but never opposed him. From the moment they met the Will, they knew it was not one meant to hold the seat of Omnipotence forever. His actions as Veldanava only confirmed this.

Leaving aside Veldanava's justifications, Rudra was such an intriguing High-Human that when he met Guy, he renamed him Guy Crimson and promptly passed out from magicule expenditure. Ramiris almost joined the reincarnation cycle from laughing herself to death when she heard the story from Guy.

Eventually, as is normal with bees and birds, Lucia became pregnant. With the child, most of Veldanava's remaining power transferred away, leaving him destabilized.

"You... I think you should live the rest of your life carefully," Aragorn advised.

Aragorn was not worried about Veldanava dying permanently. He was a True Dragon, and even if he perished, he would be reborn—the world supported him, and all True Dragons, that much. But Aragorn cautioned him because he feared Veldanava might simply die of natural causes due to being as weak as a normal human.

"Don't worry, my friend. I just need to create one last thing," Veldanava said, smiling like a loon, his eyes fixed on Lucia and their child, Milim.

"Well, how about you do it in my presence so that I can intervene in case something goes awry?" Aragorn suggested.

"Aragorn, thank you for always looking after my fool," Lucia said.

"Don't worry, Princess. This fool is one of my few friends across the Omniverse. I would care for him even if he doesn't," Aragorn said.

He walked slowly to Lucia and extended his arms expectantly toward her baby. Lucia passed Milim to him, and in the process, Aragorn shifted to his female form.

"I developed a sort of fixation on breastfeeding," Aragorn said, her voice the same as the World's Voice—or, more accurately, the other way around. Her clothing shifted to free her breast, and with practiced ease, she set Milim to suckling.

"I think it's due to the mother-daughter bond," Aragorn explained. "My children are mostly adopted, and I created my daughter in a similar way to how Twilight created their progeny, so she was 'born' in a fully grown body.

"However, through chance and happenstance, I've actually breastfed a large number of babies. Mostly human infants I picked up and saved during my time as A'Heelah," Aragorn said.

"A'Heelah?" Lucia asked with interest. Veldanava had seen the memories, but his curiosity was no less; he loved hearing stories.

Aragorn spent the rest of the afternoon telling and showing Lucia his life in Marvel. Phoenix joined them toward the end, saying her goodbyes, for they were departing that very day.

After Milim was put to sleep in her cradle, Lucia followed her husband and friends to a separate room.

Veldanava performed his last miracle and created a sibling for Milim—a baby dragon.

"Luckily, your complete depletion stabilized your body," Aragorn informed him after analyzing Veldanava's state. "But you will live the rest of your life as a normal human, so be careful—unless you want to reincarnate before you see Milim grow up."

"That's the plan, my friend. That has always been the plan," Veldanava said. His demeanor was that of a man who had just won the lottery. He had never possessed the character needed to wield the overwhelming power his existence granted. Once again, Aragorn was certain of that fact.

That was the day Phoenix and Aragorn departed from Tensura.

————————————————————————

Earth-5H1N3.

~5,012 BE (Before Emergence) ~ 2,988 BCE (Before Current Era).

"Humans have a way of stumbling upon greatness in the oddest ways, don't they, Yggdrasill?"

Odin, dressed in his imposing black armor and draped in a red cape, stood at the base of Yggdrasill. His divine eyesight allowed him to peer into Midgard from his current location—specifically, at a lab siphoning power from a dimension outside Reality.

His spear lay lazily over his shoulder, the spearhead dripping with divine blood.

"I can't see your fate. None can now. But I don't need it to have the awareness that what awaits you is far worse than death, Odin Borson," the disembodied voice of the universal tree's ego reached Odin clearly.

"No one can see fate anymore, can they?" Odin asked, his cold gaze fixed on the three bloodied bodies lying still at the roots of Yggdrasill. "No one has been able to see the future for a long time."

The Norns, the three sisters who oversaw the fates of the people of the Ten Realms—where they were known as the Norns—and of the Olympians, who also knew them as the Moirae, breathed no more.

Skuld the Silent, who had the domain of seeing the future, lay vertically bisected.

Urd, in charge of seeing the past, had a searing, smoking hole carved straight through her face by a lethal blast of Gungnir's energy rays.

Lastly, Verdandi, who oversaw the present, lay beheaded.

The Fates had lost a great part of their power years ago when Odin destroyed the future of the universe, but even then, they posed a threat—one that could bring his sin to light. As such, Odin had long since bound them by contract. They were forbidden from speaking of his sin to anyone, and he, in turn, his sin would be known if he attempted anything toward them.

At that time, having recently lost their ability to perceive the future, the Fates had been unable to see the deceit in the contract. They had failed to spot the simplest loophole—that if Odin were to kill them, they would be incapable of speaking of his sin. In short, the contract bound only them.

Today, Odin decided to rid himself of them. They were no longer needed. After today, regardless of their words, everyone would be dragged down with him as enemies of Aragorn. And since lifeforce and divinity were needed for the Destroyer Armor, they served a better purpose in death.

Odin waved his spear over their still bodies, and flames powered by the Odinforce consumed them—their divinity and lifeforce having already been extracted for the armor.

Deliberately, he walked to the Loom of Fate. The loom was located at the base of Yggdrasill, its tapestry recording Asgardian history as it wound upward along the tree.

"Do you remember when Those Who Sit Above in Shadow used this loom to force Asgard into a cycle of Ragnarok, feeding off our misery?" Odin asked, stopping before the loom.

"They controlled fate through it," Yggdrasill replied, as if discussing the weather. "But that unsavory practice ended when you took advantage of Death's (Hela) Divine Energy explosion to end them. Not that they would have had much future after the future itself was ended by your sin."

"For years, that sword loomed over my head, and just when I rid myself of it, the world's end showed its menacing figure just around the corner—like the Midgardians say," Odin commented.

"You speak of the repercussions of your actions, Odin Borson," Yggdrasill pointed out.

"And I couldn't rid myself of this constant reminder while keeping up pretenses." Odin pointed his spear at the loom. Once more, flames erupted, consuming it. "But no more. No longer will I hold back."

"Odin Borson, why do you not heed logical advice? This is not a dragon you want to prod with your spear," Yggdrasill warned.

"Dragon... Speaking of dragons… Don't I have the perfect candidate here?" Odin vanished in a flash of the Bifrost and reappeared in Hvergelmir, the Roaring Kettle.

(This pic is not from Marvel, but the one from Marvel was awful, so we'll use this one.)

One of the three wells at the base of Yggdrasill, Hvergelmir was the wellspring of Niflheim's cold. It was believed that all cold rivers flowed from it, and above it, the serpent Nidhogg gnawed at one of Yggdrasill's roots.

(This one is Marvel's—)

(—But we'll use this one. Much better.)

Odin observed the serpent dragon with the patience of a scientist studying an experimental subject, maybe even a father observing his child grow.

"Yes, you should do," Odin muttered, his voice drawing the serpent's attention.

ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR

The mindless beast roared, its predator-like, glowing purple eyes slitting upon spotting prey.

"Neither deity nor extra-dimensional invader," Odin remarked, paying no mind to the encroaching dragon.

The dragon growled before instantly accelerating to relativistic speed, going from zero to a percentage of c in a literal instant. Its maw gaped open above Odin before— {A/N: c is the constant for lightspeed.}

CLAT!

—it snapped shut, swallowing him whole. The dragon relished its prize—

"—Perfect. You really shall do," Odin's voice echoed.

The beast growled in alarm, its reverberations shaking the ground and churning the Hvergelmir.

Odin appeared above its head, now donning the Destroyer Armor. Before the dragon could react, he tapped its forehead forcefully with the butt of his spear.

Without fanfare, the beast fell unconscious.

It all happened so fast that the dragon had no chance to use its most powerful weapons—its venom and poison—because it had not even registered Odin as an opponent.

The Destroyer Armor vanished, leaving him once more in his royal black divine armor. He landed atop the unconscious dragon.

"Next, the Night Shards," Odin said, pointing at the dragon. A pillar of multicolored light rained from above, and the unconscious creature disappeared.

"Where's the limit, Odin Borson? Will you take responsibility for that being's wrath?" Yggdrasill asked.

"You speak as if my inaction equaled my acquittal," Odin said.

The rainbow light dropped on him, and moments later, he was in Omnipotence City.

The monument to the deities' vanity and pageantry was under an atmosphere it had only experienced once—when the Celestials stood opposite them.

The usual massive, flamboyant halls, plagued with hedonism, were now filled with armed deities, calls for war, and the shouts of deities sparring—trying to shake the rust of sedentarism off. Incoming and outgoing war deities moved through the halls, rallying supporters. The entirety of Omnipotence City was in a state of war mobilization.

Unperturbed by his surroundings, indifferent to the countless lives mobilizing that would perish due to him, apathetic to the millions—possibly billions—of followers who would meet their end for following their deities, Odin strode confidently to the Halls of All-Knowing.

Lord Librarian waited for him, a dark shard of the umbra in hand.

"Odin Borson, The Night That Was, to be delivered to the King of Asgard, as ordered by the council," Lord Librarian said, handing him the Shard.

Odin took it and nodded to Lord Librarian. He exited the Halls of All-Knowing, his destination: the sentient planet Euphoria.

"May the will of reality protect us, and the continuity of existence have mercy on us," Lord Librarian muttered before returning to his duties, as pointless as that might seem.

(This planet, though currently there should be no inhabitants there.)

Euphoria was a sentient planet with a special adaptive atmosphere. It could alter its atmosphere to turn it into a neurotropic gas—hence the name.

At one point in the distant past, after splitting Nyx's powers into three Night Shards, Zeus handed Euphoria The Night That Is for safekeeping.

Odin landed on the sentient planet with the subtlety of a highly energetic Einstein-Rosen bridge, falling in a pillar of iridescent light onto the surface.

"Euphoria," he commanded as much as he called.

The embodiment of the planet's sentience materialized in the shape of a female humanoid made of green vines.

"Godhead, do you desire happiness?" the being asked.

"The Night That Is. Hand it over," Odin commanded, his body rendering useless whatever effect the atmosphere might have had.

"...As is your right as one of the three leaders of the Council of Godheads," it said.

From the ground, green vines—uncannily resembling the being's body—emerged and bloomed, with a shard of umbra at the center.

"One more left," Odin said before storing the shard, and the pillar of Bifrost light consumed him.

"Though first, I must make a quick stop on Midgard."

Odin appeared in the dimensional pathway to Earth and other dimensions, sealed his divinity completely—assuming a fully mortal form—and then his physical form began to change.

From an imposing figure, riddled with muscles and battle scars, he transformed into the lanky frame of an unremarkable old man in his 70s. He dressed in yellow attire and sported a pair of thin, small, polarized glasses. His once-long, full beard turned into a scrawny, long goatee, while his full hairline receded into a balding, creased head, with only a tuft of hair near the back.

He appeared on Earth, on Boca Caliente island.

Boca Caliente was an island under the control of Advanced Idea Mechanics (AIM), one of Hydra's subsidiary organizations.

Odin walked with the confidence of an inner-circle member amidst the yellow hazmat suits of the organization. On his chest, hanging from a lanyard, a badge that read 'Alvin Tarleton~Scientist Supreme' opened all doors and garnered respect from the passing members of AIM.

Security scan after security scan—biological scans, security questions, security protocols, passwords, pins, and more—Alvin Tarleton (Odin) passed through every security measure with familiarity, the type that came naturally.

"Ah, Dr. Tarleton! It's a pleasure to have one of the founding members of AIM with us today," Lyle Getz, one of the lead researchers, greeted him with respect and a pinch of adoration.

"Dr. Getz, I'm here to observe the completion of AIM's brainchild. The pleasure is mine, just as it's yours," Alvin Tarleton said with a sharp grin.

"Of course, of course! Our brainchild! I can't help but be a little emotional about it—HA!—even someone like me still gets the jitters!" Lyle Getz said.

"How is MODOC supporting the imprint of foreign extra-dimensional energy into the body matrix?" Alvin Tarleton asked.

MODOC was the artificial intelligence created using Asgardian technology that Odin had developed for the Cosmic Cube project. It stood for Mental Organism Designed Only for Computing.

In another reality, the son of the man whose identity Odin had appropriated—Dr. George Tarleton—might have had a connection with MODOC, their fusion giving birth to MODOK. But in this reality, Alvin Tarleton and his son had long since been disposed of by Odin, and MODOC had become the third most advanced AI on the planet.

"I can't help but feel boundless respect for your mind, Dr. Tarleton! Without MODOC, we would still be plotting designs for the storage matrix!" Lyle Getz said with his classic overeagerness.

"I'm glad," Alvin Tarleton said.

"By the way, Dr. Tarleton, someone from the administrative department will join us," Lyle Getz informed.

"Oh, do you know who it is?" Alvin Tarleton asked.

"You know how it is, Dr. Tarleton. We in the research and development branch don't pay attention to those stuck-ups! I only know that it's the one who's nobility in some European country," Lyle Getz said.

"I see," Alvin Tarleton said no more.

The two, like old cogs in a wheel, began working together seamlessly to ready the final steps for the birth of the Cosmic Cube. Their compatibility and familiarity with each other were to be expected—after all, they'd been working together for almost a decade now.

A few hours later, the door to the laboratory opened, and a bald man whose presence demanded attention and respect entered, flanked by a woman in green with a perpetual scowl, the eyes of a killer, and the body of a poisonous seductress; and a man of obvious Asian descent, with long, straight black hair and pale—almost greying white—skin, wearing sunglasses.

"Baron Wolfgang von Strucker... and company... it's a pleasure to have you with us, witnessing history," Alvin Tarleton said.

"Dr. Tarleton, don't mind them. They're here for my security," Strucker said, gesturing toward his guards. "These are Gorgon and Viper, proud creations of our administrative branch."

"Of course, Baron," Alvin Tarleton said.

Strucker and his guards took seats near the entrance of the lab, observing with minute attention as the researchers finalized preparations.

A few minutes later, they green-lit the start of the operation.

"Today, we make history," Lyle Getz declared.

"Today, we set foot on the path of godhood," Strucker said.

"Today, I change fate," Odin murmured, smiling darkly.

Near the center of the lab, what could only be described as a compressed cosmic electric storm flickered to life, violent and untamed.

"Forcefield at 30% capacity," Odin voiced, reading the details from his screen.

"Matrix assimilation rate at 1.8%," Lyle Getz informed.

The storm of extra-dimensional energy siphoned more power from its source dimension, and lightning—charged with energies unknown even by Asgardian standards—flooded the forcefield.

"This reminds me of Tempest," Odin said.

"What tempest, Dr. Tarleton?" Strucker asked.

"It's from an old Nordic legend, Baron," Odin replied without taking his eyes off the genesis of a miracle. "Though, with the emergence of the Goddess herself, the legend might hold some truth."

"Do enlighten us, Dr. Tarleton," Strucker said, his gaze fixed on the slowly advancing progress bar on the main holograph.

"God Tempest, or the Mother of Thunder, had existed since the dawn of time, growing gradually in size with each passing eon. It was a cosmic storm the size of a galaxy," Odin recounted.

"Its winds blew comets off course, ripped worlds from their orbits, and snuffed out stars like flickering candles. Its lightning could turn moons to dust, and its thunder made black holes tremble."

As Odin spoke, as if weaving a spell, the singularity of Beyonder energy grew more ferocious, yet the containment matrix held firm, absorbing the violence incarnate.

"On its path of destruction, the God Tempest eventually reached Asgard. The All-Father Odin confronted the storm and battled it for days until the tempest grew tired and weak," a reminiscing smile graced his lips.

"Odin struck it with a nugget of Uru—a divine metal gifted to him by the Dwarves of Nidavellir. Through means of dark and primal magic, the storm became entrapped inside the Uru," he continued. The screens and projections showed that the project was entering its final phase.

"Odin then took the Uru back to the Dwarves so they could forge it into a weapon through which he could wield the storm's power. That bears a striking resemblance to what we're doing here, doesn't it, Baron?" Odin asked, his face illuminated by the storm's eerie glow.

"Gathering a power of untold limits into an instrument to be wielded by our hands... I can see the resemblance, Doctor," Strucker smirked, pleased with the comparison. In his mind, he saw himself as the Odin of the story.

"I knew you would appreciate the allegory, Baron," Odin said.

"In the story, what became of the weapon?" Strucker asked.

"After seventeen weeks of forging—during which the Dwarves had to use the power of a star to reshape the metal—the Uru was transformed into a hammer, which Odin dubbed"—an unnatural grin spread across his face—"Mjolnir."

"The hammer of the God of Thunder, Thor?" Strucker said in realization. "Then may the hammer of lightning fall upon a certain obnoxious pest," he grinned maliciously.

"Baron, are you speaking of Aragorn Abner?" Odin asked.

"There's no greater pest to our grand cause," Strucker growled. "We were only a few years away from taking full control of the most important governmental posts, and now our projections have hit an immovable roadblock—the Abner name.

"No matter how tight our grasp, no matter how deep our control, if Abner catches wind of us, we are doomed... No matter how many heads we have waiting to resurface," Strucker spat.

"All that planning, and now a single wrench is stopping the cogwheel," Odin mused.

"Except this wrench is made of adamantium, backed by divine will—and whatever that dragon is," Strucker said. "But that changes today. Our own Mjolnir is about to be born. What can a single mutant do in the face of absoluteness?"

The forcefield rippled under the weight of what it contained. Across the island, multiple power sources were squeezed dry as the matrix absorbed and stabilized the miraculous energy. The structure twisted and shifted—changing from a two-dimensional grid to a three-dimensional pyramid, to a rhombohedron, to a perfect cube—before finally settling into a tesseract.

"How marvelous," Strucker said, enraptured by the sight.

"It's perfect," Dr. Lyle Getz commented, tears running down his cheeks.

"I have a bad feeling about that thing," Viper murmured to Gorgon.

"I've had a bad feeling about that old man since we entered," Gorgon said, his eyes never leaving the back of Dr. Alvin Tarleton. His tone was just loud enough to reach the currently mortal ears of Odin.

"Sharp Midgardian," Odin said, this time with his imposing voice, not that of Alvin Tarleton.

Odin's sudden change put Gorgon and Viper on edge. It broke Strucker out of his stupor, but not Lyle Getz—he remained transfixed by the cube.

"...Who are you?" Strucker demanded, taking cover behind Viper and Gorgon, both of whom instantly aimed their weapons at Odin.

"Haven't your organization been wondering where the other gods were if Gaea was real?" Slowly, his body changed, returning to its black armor-clad, imposing presence.

His height grew until he eclipsed everyone in the room.

His divinity remained sealed, but that was no problem for a magic caster.

"Humans have a way of stumbling upon greatness in the oddest ways, don't they, mortal?" Odin pointed at the Cosmic Cube, and it flew out of its restrictive field and into his hand.

"In my eons of life, I've come upon very few treasures of high existential threat, yet... none exuding energy as chilling as the rupture your people came upon." He summoned his divine spear and pointed at the tear in reality that only those endowed with special sight could observe. The rupture slowly mended itself, for not even in his madness was Odin crazy enough to let that tear remain.

"Not even the Casket of Ancient Winters... nor the Infinity Gems," he mused, raising the cube to his eye level and observing it with both greed and respect. "Maybe I should correct myself. That green door exuded an even more chilling energy than this cube."

He lowered his gaze, looking at the unmoving humans—just as he had wished to the cube—and said, "Yet you thought you could oppose the being that stopped that calamity in your mortal coils?"

"Lord Alduin has never been the target of Hydra," Strucker said, keeping his wits by sheer will.

There was an odd security and calmness in his voice, possibly stemming from the fact that he was sure the rest of Hydra must have been informed by now of the happenings in the room—as everyone had been observing through the camera feed.

"Alduin?" Odin scoffed. "You don't even comprehend that Alduin and Aragorn are one and the same," he mocked with disdain.

"...What?"

Not only Strucker but also the other heads of Hydra listening to the conversation lost their ability to think and rationalize for a moment. After that, dread, despair, unwillingness, anger, wrath, hesitation, and bitterness flooded their hearts.

"For whatever reason, Aragorn didn't intend to deal with you using the most logical, direct methods and settled to play you like you played the other Midgardians. His motives are beyond me," Odin said.

His calmness and willingness to share information were not because of the virtue of his character. It was because he was getting used to wielding the cube. He was slowly understanding the principles needed to warp reality with it, starting small and moving into greater fields.

"But I don't know for how long... Good luck, mortals."

BOOM

At the end of his words, unceremoniously, the Bifrost descended onto Boca Caliente. The energy output of the wormhole tore apart the lab and killed most of the people in the building.

Strucker, Viper, and Gorgon, by virtue of their modified and strengthened bodies, survived.

"AGHHHHHHHH!" Strucker kneeled and struck the ground with his fist in a fit of rage.

It wasn't only about losing the Cosmic Cube—because even though they created the containing matrix, they didn't know what it could do—it was about the fact that Aragorn had been playing them all along. And now that insurmountable obstacle had gone beyond their scale of comprehension. Was there an adjective beyond 'Insurmountable'? Because if there was, they would be using it for Aragorn.

He wasn't alone in that feeling of utter impotence and powerlessness.

In a secure room, Alexander Pierce clasped his trembling hand into a fist, his expression a reflection of his fight to keep his despair in check, to not succumb to it.

Daniel Whitehall, also known as Kraken, on a submarine in the Pacific Ocean, gritted his teeth in defiance, his gums bleeding, his eyes bloodshot.

Elisa Sinclair, a magic user who had joined Hydra recently, trembled in dread. As a caster, she knew better than most of her colleagues the might of the dragon.

Arnim Zola, in his robotic body, stood still. The screen that normally projected his face now displayed streams of binary code and numerous red warning notices.

"Father! Father! What's going on?!" his daughter, Jet Zola, called out worriedly.

Helmut Zemo, in a royal room in his castle, took off his mask, his disfigured face exposed to the world. He brought his hands to his face in defeat.

Others from the High Council and the World Security Council remained still in their offices, unmoving, unable to process Odin's words.

Aragorn Abner was powerful, undoubtedly so. His position as the herald of Lord Alduin granted him another level of political strength, and his status as the head of a conglomerate of multiple multinational companies and organizations bolstered this image further.

But regardless, Aragorn Abner was human—a person with human desires, objectives, and motivations. This meant that if the path of strength didn't pan out, there were other avenues to consider.

A human—granted, a very powerful mutant—but a human nonetheless. Hydra had experience dealing with humans. A human, no matter how Omega, was something they were confident they could surpass. Numbers make might; that has been the truth of humanity since time immemorial. Kings, emperors, politicians, and other figures of power only wielded power as expansive as the many beneath them.

Mutants, by their lonesome, were vulnerable. Hydra understood this best; they had kept the mutant populations under control for ages. The arrival of a single organization—Daybreak—had changed this. Mutants, who had never been a problem, escalated in difficulty just by following a single man: Magneto.

Unity brought strength. This was the undeniable conclusion backed by eras of evidence and the present events. So they didn't fear Aragorn Abner.

But the dragon, Alduin?

The being who had essentially remade the planet while fighting off a monster that created quasars and supernovas—the very forces that kept the universe going. The creature that had a goddess subservient to him, could create life—or at least they perceived it that way—could wield stars, and who, by all their accounts, might as well be omnipotent. That was who Alduin was to them.

And as Strucker had said, they had no intention of opposing it, especially since it normally kept to itself.

They had planned to change Aragorn from Alduin's herald to one of their own. But now? What was the feasibility of that plan?

Odin's words broke something in them. And madmen without hope were often more dangerous than madmen with delusions of grandeur. For this reason, among many others, Aragorn had never flaunted his power beyond what they could handle in front of them.

However, none of this was his problem. Odin had paid no mind to his words or their repercussions. He had simply been talking while he adapted to handling the cube—nothing else, nothing more.

As Odin traversed the spatial layers of the universe in the Bifrost's energy, his attention remained on the cube he held. Slowly, from minute to small, to medium, to large, he kept testing and adapting to the limits of the reality manipulation granted by the cube.

And when he was comfortable enough, he asked for his first grand wish—he wanted to know the location of his enemy. Information is war. Odin gained his authority through power, but this did not mean he was a brute conquering realm after realm with pure strength; he knew how important information was.

"Aragorn is not within range?" Odin asked himself. "So... he's outside the Universe and its inner planes?" He pondered silently for a moment before asking instead for another wish—to know of his location the moment he returned.

"I wonder how long he will be away," Odin muttered.

But regardless of Aragorn's motive, which he didn't know, it was beneficial for him if Gaea was unprotected.

For the moment, he didn't need anything else, so he set the cube to his chest plate, where it sank into the Uru as if it were water and became its centerpiece.

The iridescent light of the Bifrost dispersed, and he appeared in a dimension of the Inner Planes—Alchera, the home dimension of the Aboriginal Gods of Australia.

"Odin, it's been since the Celestial War, hasn't it?" the chief god of the Aboriginal Gods greeted him.

"That, it has, Baiame," Odin greeted back, the charisma of the Godking of Asgard unmistakably present.

"Word has been sent by the council—we are to help you jump into one of the neighboring dimensions, is that correct?" Baiame asked.

"Within the Dreamtime, where your neighboring cluster of dimensions resides, I'm looking for the Dream Dimension," Odin informed him.

(Dreamtime, it encompasses everything unconscious, not just Earth. It's also a pathway to reach other Deities.)

(The Dream Dimension only encompasses humanity's unconscious, and it's within the Dreamtime.)

"Ah, the cursed astral realm linked to and shaped by humanity's collective unconscious?" Baiame didn't hold back his displeasure about the Dream Dimension.

"That is correct, Baiame," Odin nodded. "Within one of the subdimensions of the Dream Dimension lies a certain piece we need to be able to fight the dragon head-on."

"What a cursed reality—fighting and fighting. Everything is about fighting or quarrel," Baiame lamented.

"It's our reality, and we must fight to ensure it keeps running. It's our duty," Odin said in an inspirational tone.

"It is, isn't it?" Baiame sighed heavily and motioned for Odin to follow him.

The rest of the Aboriginal Gods stood around Odin as he sat in the middle of a divine circle.

Without much fanfare, Odin's astral form was pulled out and sent into the Dreamtime. From there, guided by the divinity of the Aboriginal Gods, he found the Dream Dimension.

From the Dream Dimension, he wished to find the Nightmare World, and the cube, still connected to his astral form by the tether of his soul to his body, responded.

(Nightmare World is the part of the Dream Dimension that the Fear Lord Nightmare governs, but technically the entire Dream Dimension is his to rule.)

With a newfound sense of direction, his astral form flew to the Nightmare World and entered.

Nightmare was a Fear Lord, a conceptual entity born from the need to dream—born in the Everinnye dimension, just like the Dweller-in-Darkness. He came into possession of one of the splinter realms and named it the Nightmare World.

(Nightmare.)

(Dweller-in-Darkness.)

Thousands of years ago, Nightmare agreed to Zeus's request to guard The Night That May Yet Be in the Nightmare Realm. Zeus wanted the shard hidden where no one would ever look—behind the "light of dreams." In exchange, the Olympians would stay out of Nightmare's realm.

"Fear Lord, come out. I know you can sense me," Odin demanded in an authoritarian tone.

"You're in my realm, in your astral form. Tell me, god, what manner of nightmare deluded you into thinking you could speak to me like that here?"

Nightmare was a being who, while inside his dimension, was on par with the Abstracts. A being who, in another universe, from another Reality, had accomplished the feat of imprisoning Eternity.

(Yeah, Nightmare is packing.)

Nightmare was capable of playing with Beyonders as toys inside his dimension.

(The Beyonders are the ones in the top left corner.)

Yet... here Odin was, making demands in his astral form while inside Nightmare's domain of near-omnipotence.

As was only logical, Nightmare made his displeasure known.

The realm, already a representation of nightmare-level logic, twisted and churned into something that harmed the soul simply by being observed.

Before Odin could react, he was in bed with his wife, Frigga.

"Husband," she called to him with that sweet tone she reserved only for him.

"Frigga?" Odin asked from under the sheets—the shelter they were sharing, their escape from the madness of rulership.

"Why did you end us?" Her words seemed to shatter reality, and now Odin found himself powerless, bound by the same metaphorical chains he once used to drag Hela to her prison.

Around him were Frigga and Thor, both with worried looks. Loki had a betrayed expression, and Hela cackled madly, pleased with the scene in the background, freed from her bindings.

"Old man, I can't believe you made me the villainess of your story when it was you—your greed—that condemned the Universe!" Hela shouted with mad satisfaction.

"Father, how could you?" Thor demanded an explanation.

Odin pulled at the chains binding him, only to confirm his powerlessness. He flared his Odinforce, only for it to be dispelled. The situation could be described in a single word: impotence.

Because Odin's nightmare was not for others to discover his truth. His real nightmare was to be subjected to the will of others, especially those close to him who had always been beneath him.

Yet, Odin didn't panic nor despair. He simply wished for the strength to overpower his current situation, and the genie lamp responded.

"Who are you—any of you—to judge me?!" Odin exploded in wrath.

His anger was amplified by his fear and the Cosmic Cube tethered to his soul.

The nightmare dispelled.

"Do you think that means something? I can just keep trapping you in a cycle as many times as needed until you break," Nightmare's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere.

"It means nothing if you use external methods. The moment you stepped inside my realm was the moment you lost!" Nightmare declared, and the nightmare restarted.

Odin found himself in a similar position to before, except this time the godheads of the council were judging him.

Once more, he wished for strength to overcome his nightmare, and the cube granted his wish.

Nightmare restarted the nightmare as soon as it was dispelled. He was not lying—Nightmare could and intended to keep going until Odin's spirit was crushed by repetition and monotony.

"Fear Lord, what would happen if humanity lost their ability to dream?" Odin asked with a vicious snarl after breaking free from the nightmare for the umpteenth time.

"... God, are you trying to turn humanity insane?" The Nightmare World trembled with its ruler's rage. "Humanity needs dreaming just as much as I need them to dream. Have you deities turned insane and plan to initiate humanity into your madness?"

There was something frantic in Nightmare's voice that pleased Odin dearly.

"Yes, insane we are. How could we not be, with the opponent we'll face?" Odin declared.

"...Who?" Nightmare asked—a question born out of curiosity, but also caution.

He was nigh-omnipotent in his dimension, which granted him a level of cosmic awareness that stemmed from his near-omnipotence. It wasn't hard for him to 'know' that Odin had come seeking The Night That May Yet Be. But if that was the case, and they obviously were not planning to free the mad goddess Nyx, then it meant they needed her power to fight something—someone who might later come for him if they failed.

"Aragorn, a dragon of untold might," Odin said with severity. He knew it was better to satiate the curiosity of the Fear Lord if it meant lessening his opposition.

"...AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

Nightmare laughed—not a maddened laugh, not laughter tinged with insanity. No, it was probably the sanest laughter Nightmare had ever cackled. His realm shook with his disembodied mirth. The millions on Earth experiencing nightmares suddenly felt joy; those dreaming experienced ultimate bliss. The neighboring Dimensional Lords felt the joy seeping out of the Dream Dimension.

And then he appeared in front of Odin, sporting a massive grin on his deranged face, the Night Shard in his hand.

"Here, god, The Night That May Yet Be." He handed over the shard under Odin's disbelieving gaze.

Odin didn't understand what had prompted the Fear Lord's evidently good mood, but he was not about to start deciphering the thought process of a Fear Lord now, that was a fool's dream. He simply took the shard and departed.

From the lower realm of Liveworld, Dreamqueen, Nightmare's succubus daughter, emerged.

"What's got you in such a mood?" she asked, her face twisted in a grimace. She hated her father, and her father hated her back—yet, in this reality, they could coexist.

"Odin, the Asgardian Godhead, just came for the Night Shard Zeus handed me over," Nightmare said, keeping his tone mysterious, as if building up to a joke.

"That old thing? Good riddance, no?" Dreamqueen said. The shard benefited none of them.

"Well, obviously, they plan to use it against someone of might. So I asked who..." Nightmare dragged his words, before revealing the punchline of the joke, "and they said it was Aragorn."

"Aragorn... isn't that the psycho Progeny of The Outside?" Dreamqueen asked.

"The one and only," Nightmare affirmed, giggles escaping his lips.

"PFFT! HAHAHAHAHA! Those fools! HAHAHAHA!" Dreamqueen exploded in laughter, and Nightmare soon joined her.

For eras too great to count, Nightmare had only feared one being—Gulgol.

The Gulgol was a powerful and destructive entity from the Netherworld, one with an inability to sleep. The creature was completely immune to Nightmare's influence. Because of this, Nightmare had guarded against the Gulgol for ages.

The Gulgol was Nightmare's natural predator, and for ages, he could not imagine another creature being born that could exude as much dread as the Gulgol—much less one that could sleep.

Anyone who dreamt could be subjected to Nightmare's authority.

While everyone experiences REM sleep, the stage associated with dreaming, some people may not recall their dreams or may have a very low frequency of dream recall, leading them to believe they don't dream. But everyone had the capacity for dreaming, and that was the only entrance Nightmare needed to bend someone to his might.

Odin, empowered by a tool—the Cosmic Cube—capable of warping reality at a universal level, his Odinforce, and his indomitable will, couldn't stop Nightmare from pulling him into his nightmare. That alone spoke volumes of how absolute Nightmare's authority was.

Yet, in 1997, Terran date, something strange began to happen in the Dream Dimension.

Someone, or something, began to visit the Dream Dimension—but in presence only. Not in astral form, unconscious mind, or even spirit. Yet, as the Dimensional Lord, Nightmare could feel this overwhelming presence in his realm every so often.

It was a presence that accessed the Dream Dimension yet refused to dream. A presence that gave the impression that it had the potential to dream, yet abstained. A presence so overbearing that it matched the presence of the Aspect of Death, who around the same time had begun to visit his dimension in her subconscious.

From the pattern, he could infer that both were related. Death always appeared whenever he sensed the presence, so the most logical conclusion—one backed by his form of cosmic awareness—was that another Abstract had emerged in the universe. One that held the potential to dream yet didn't.

...That terrified him more than the Gulgol.

He could feel it. If that entity ever dreamt, the Dream Dimension would fuse with the waking world, and all dreams would become part of its dream—effectively ending Nightmare, humanity, the waking world, and the Dreamtime.

Nightmare knew deities. He had had dealings with them before. He knew extra-dimensionals like Dweller-in-Darkness or the other Fear Lords. He knew demons like Mephistopheles. He knew Celestials; in fact, the Dreaming Celestial, Tiamut, was a regular in the Dream Dimension. But among all the entities he knew, Abstracts had a category unto themselves.

Abstracts, like Eternity—the eye of his ambition—were beings that under normal circumstances, not even within his Nightmare World would he attempt to antagonize. Abstracts were beings against whom he would never dare to move unless he was 100% sure he would succeed.

The Night Shard had been with him for centuries, along with many other treasures and artifacts capable of granting godhood or more to any wielder. Yet, even with these artifacts in his possession, Nightmare never felt even half-confident in dealing with an Abstract.

And now, Odin had come, claiming the Night Shard to use it against Aragorn. The same Abstract being that had recently grown stronger after its disappearance. The same entity that made him and his daughter tremble even from a dimensional distance. The same entity that possibly didn't even know it had such an effect on the Dream Dimension.

That same monster that made Nightmare feel humility.

How could he not explode in laughter after hearing Odin claim him to be their enemy?

To his eyes, Odin appeared like a three-year-old approaching an adult and declaring that he needed his favorite toy to achieve world domination—all while maintaining a serious expression, as if it were a matter of great importance.

What else was he supposed to do except hand Odin his favorite toy and bless him in his conquest?

He was prepared to play the chicken game with the Council of Godheads. Nightmare believed that no matter how insane they were, the deities knew better than to meddle with the planet the Celestials had banned them from. But that changed when Odin declared their intention to use the Night Shards to oppose Aragorn.

What better punishment than the realization dawning on them about who they had dared to challenge?

He was sure to enjoy the nightmares that would bloom from that encounter in the unconscious minds of the survivors.

Odin, ignorant of the motives behind Nightmare's sudden willingness to cooperate, obliviously landed in the now-empty residence of the Fates.

He summoned the Destroyer Armor and fed it the three Night Shards. The moment he did, a deity of Night and Darkness, born outside Reality, felt the connection to all her powers vanish from her prison.

Again, this was no concern for Odin—few things were. His only concern was to persevere. To survive and remain afloat in the coming flood.

With the Destroyer Armor strengthened beyond anything it had ever been, Nidhogg under his thrall, and the Cosmic Cube safely fused to his royal armor, Odin moved confidently to the Throne Room, where his wife and sons awaited him, along with the upper caste of his military.

It was time.

Time for the War of the End.

————————————————————

{A/N:

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