CHAPTER 46: (MISTAKE. DON’T UNLOCK)

Hades floated in an endless dark expanse, a void without form or direction, where neither time nor existence held meaning.

There was no ground beneath him, no sky above, only the silence of infinity pressing against his soul, a silence so heavy it was defeaning.

Yet beneath that silence, something stirred.

A vast abyssal presence of the outer one lingered beyond comprehension, watching him, studying him, and then, slowly, it reached out, trying to recreate itself once again using his body as a host.

The darkness itself began to twist and writhe, like an ocean made of thought and malice, and Hades felt it, the presence, trying to swallow him whole.

It was not merely consuming his body, but his being, clawing at the essence of what made him him.

Every thought, every memory, every heartbeat from the dawn of his consciousness was being stripped away, atom by atom, soul by soul.

His flesh burned not with heat, but with the agony of being erased. His bones trembled as if remembering pain that came before existence.

His divinity fractured, and his consciousness began to splinter, scattered across the endless black like shards of dying stars.

The abyss whispered to him, without words, without sound, promises of rest, of surrender, of dissolution into the eternal quiet.

For a moment, Hades almost gave in.

After all, what was the meaning of resistance in a place where meaning itself did not exist?

Yet even as his thoughts dissolved, something deep within him refused to die.

It was not pride, nor rage, nor fear.

It was something far older—a will that transcended the gods themselves, a defiance born from the first flicker of life that ever dared to exist in darkness.

He resisted.

Every moment of pain became an anchor.

Every scream of agony became a reminder that he was.

He felt himself being pulled apart by a force that sought to erase him, but he held on to the faintest thread of his own existence, gripping it until his consciousness bled.

The torment was beyond language, and even beyond description.

His nerves burned, though he had no body; his heart broke, though he had no soul left to break.

He experienced an eternity within a single moment, an infinity of suffering compressed into the breath between annihilation and rebirth.

In that infinite time, he had almost gave up, but then he remembered the writer. That thing. The one writing his whole life, whose existence a mockery of his struggles, of his victories, of his strength.

The writer had already erased his ending, intending to let him create his own path and carve his own ending.

Would he just die here without even proving anything? Would he die here without even getting back at that thing for dictating his whole life?

He will not allow that.

He swore, he will make that writer pay! They were a living, breathing, beings! They were not mere words on a book who you can erase when you’re bored!

He couldn’t help but think, if he had really died as the writer had intended, what would happen to his wives? His children? His family? The entire Greek Universe? The Norse?

Surely, they will perish. Trillions of lives, gone because the writer was bored!

"I...will... endure!"

He screamed, a purple aura bursts out of his body, traveling through infinity.

But, at that moment, his body was already quickly breaking down, and it was only being held together by the Breakdown Sphere, but he knew that it won’t be long, before he himself would dissappeared.

But before his consciousness faded, he used every ounce of his power to fix his his breaking body using the remains of the outer one.

The power he had devoured was too much for his body to handle, so he will just create a body that can handle it!

And then, suddenly, the pain stopped.

The darkness recoiled, and a strange, almost divine stillness washed over him.

The silent , infinite void now hummed with quiet power, like the breath of a sleeping cosmos.

Hades felt something shift within him, something immense and irreversible. It was comfortable, as if hus entire body was being rejuvenated.

The Breakdown Sphere that had once pulsed at the core of his chest began to dissolve, its purple radiance flowing through his veins, merging with his very essence.

Every cell, every fragment of his being, was rewritten in light and chaos, death and creation intertwined as one.

He felt everything. The pulse of dying concepts, the rhythm of universe being born, the faint heartbeat of time itself, all of it, he can feel.

His existence expanded until it could no longer fit within the concept of "form." He became both infinitesimal and infinite, a being unbound by the logic of gods or mortals.

The void around him began to convulse as his power surged outward, waves of divine energy colliding and folding upon themselves.

Space twisted, time screamed, and for a moment, the infinite void looked as it did before creation—when all things were one, and chaos was the womb of existence.

And from within that chaos, Hades screamed.

It was a sound that split reality, a cry that shattered the eternal calm of the void. His power erupted from him in torrents of dark light, painting the emptiness in colors that had never been seen before.

Entire realities bloomed and died in the wake of his resurgence, as though his rebirth demanded the recreation of creation itself.

Then, as the storm of his ascension began to calm, his body began to take shape once more.

His eyes remained closed, his expression serene as though lost between worlds, but upon his forehead, a third slowly eye opened.

It glowed with the brilliance of something beyond divine, a luminous crack in the veil of eternity, burning with the raw, incomprehensible power of a being who had looked upon the abyss, and had refused to vanish.

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Across the endless void, where silence howls and time forgets its own name, countless Outer Ones drifted, their titanic forms weaving through the fabric of reality, crossing infinite distances in the blink of a cosmic eye.

They were beings beyond the comprehension of creation, beyond the breath of any god or the reach of any law, moving aimlessly through the pale ocean of eternity that had never known dawn.

And as the writer described them, the manifestation of his boredom. His forgetfulness given form.

As an extension of the writer, they transcended beyond this reality, eating every universe that the author grew bored of or have forgotten.

Normally, they cared for nothing but eating, unconcerned about the petty going ons of so-called gods who were confined in their small universe.

But at this moment, as the third eye of Hades opened, they all felt it.

It began as a vibration, subtle and low, like the heartbeat of a dead star remembering life.

Then the tremor deepened, resonating across layers of existence, until the void itself shuddered.

The pulse that followed was not of sound, but of truth collapsing, a thunderous revelation that split the infinite calm.

The Outer Ones stirred.

Their innumerable eyes, universes swirling in their pupils, thoughts older than existence burning within, turned as one toward a single point, where the ripple began.

For an instant that stretched across eternity, even they hesitated, even they doubted.

Their eyes widened in something they had never known they can feel: surprised.

They were surprised, for a law had been broken, one older than time itself. A truth that no god within creation could ever ascend beyond it, was shattered.

Hades, who was once bound to the dark soil of a single universe, had devoured that which lay beyond it.

He had consumed an Outer One, something considered an impossibility, a blasphemy against the structure of all existence, and in doing so, his essence tore through the veil that separated divinity from the infinite.

And as the echoes of that act rippled outward, touching every horizon of the endless void, it seemed to say; something new was born, or perhaps something ancient awoke within the forgotten marrow of the void.

For the first time since the dawnless beginning, a god confined in his universe had breached the veil, tearing open the prison of universes, and in the blinding aftermath of that rebellion, in the baptism of paradox and annihilation, Hades had successfully and truly a ascended.

A god confined within finitude had shattered his chains and stepped beyond the threshold, crowned in the still-beating heart of the Outer he devoured.

His presence burned across existence like a scripture written in fire upon the skin of nothingness.

And the Outer Ones, those who had existed since before the thought of time, beheld him, not as prey, not as anomaly, but as kin.

Their whispers, older than entropy, rolled through the void like collapsing suns.

Something had changed.

The absolute hierarchy of eternity had been breached.

And where once there had been only dreamers beyond creation, now there stood a god who dreamed himself into the infinite.

For from the prison of his cosmos, a god of mortality’s myth ascended the endless staircase of oblivion and emerged among those who had existed before existence.

The void itself seemed to bow, the fabric of dimensions folding inward, as if acknowledging a new sovereign of chaos.

And thus, for the first time since eternity began its slumber, a voice born within a universe rose to speak in the tongue of the Outer Ones, and the void, infinite and ancient, listened.