There are places in existence that were never meant to be seen.
Places that exist not within a world, nor between worlds, but beneath the very concept of worlds themselves.
This was one such place.
A realm beyond time, beyond space.
No stars. No ground. No gravity. No gods.
Only a void.
A pure, undiluted dark, deeper than any night and more eternal than any death. A colorless black that wasn't merely the absence of light—but the absence of being.
This was the Dimensional Gap.
An infinite expanse between realities, a primordial fracture in the firmament of creation. It was not made — it simply was. A scar left behind when existence itself had torn, long before time had a name.
At first glance, it seemed like endless nothingness.
But then came the cracks.
Hairline fractures, like slashes on obsidian glass. Rifts that shimmered, split, and pulsed with an eerie light. They stretched in every direction, some no bigger than a crack in glass, others wide enough to swallow galaxies.
And through them… the multiverse revealed itself.
Every crack was a window — a fissure that looked into a different universe.
Some showed lush green worlds, where beasts of legend roamed skies of violet.
Others pulsed with magic, where titanic dragons fought beside gods beneath twin suns.
One showed a mechanized civilization, where machines ruled, and humans had vanished.
Another showed a world of burning red sand, where black suns circled above ancient ruins.
A few cracks were completely still… dead realities, silent and grey, with no motion at all.
Each rift led to something different — some vibrant, others dying, and a few so alien and terrifying that even the void seemed to recoil around them.
They weren't just windows. Some were doorways. And some of them… bled.
From one crack, a river of molten silver flowed endlessly into the gap, spiraling into nothing.
From another, came voices — endless, whispering voices — in languages never spoken by men or gods.
From a third, emerged light so intense it cut through the void like blades… until it collapsed inward and vanished.
---
But the cracks weren't the only things here.
Objects drifted in the black.
Things that had no home, no world — remnants, artifacts, beings, concepts.
One could see a crown forged from crystallized thoughts orbiting itself in a loop of shattered memory.
Another object looked like a book, its cover bound in rusted chains that hissed with every turn.
There was a single sword floating alone, glowing with red flames, burning in silence… but none of its fire gave off warmth. The void itself seemed to avoid its presence.
Further away was something Ethan — or any being — would never understand. A cube of rotating colors, each face screaming with a different reality, constantly collapsing and reforming, like it was eating itself.
Everything here was wrong and right at the same time.
Some of it was ancient, timeless. Others were impossibilities that should not exist.
Some were beautiful. Others were terrifying. And some things… were still alive.
Massive shadows moved at the edge of perception, too large and too foreign to understand. No shape. No sound. Just intention. Hunger. Watching. Waiting.
This was the trash bin of the multiverse — and the cradle of paradoxes.
A place where discarded timelines drifted like space dust, where failed gods and forgotten dreams twisted endlessly in an ocean of entropy. Where weapons too powerful to be kept, ideas too dangerous to be born, and lives too complex to die all found a place to linger…
...forever.