Mü Thanatos floated in the infinite void.
Around her, suspended in the boundless darkness without horizon, stood other Original Gods: Munhwan, Son of God, and Oniyurei.
Each radiated an aura that could have drowned galaxies under its weight, yet at this moment, none spoke.
The silence of space seemed heavy.
The luminous body, almost unbearable to look at, of Son of God vibrated with a rare unease.
— We are heading straight toward disaster…
His words were lost in the void, absorbed by nothingness, but heavy with an irrevocable truth.
Munhwan frowned, his breath shifting rings of dark matter orbiting him.
— We should warn the Father God. I don't know what this is, but… it has no place in existence.
Mü Thanatos did not answer.
Her eyes—two pale abysses—remained fixed on the entity before them.
It was not a creature.
It was not a form.
It was not a concept.
It was a presence.
A mass of something that refused definition.
A mass that resembled neither a star, nor a being, nor even an idea.
It melted into the universe, as if it were only a defect of reality, a mistake… or a reminder.
An existence that perhaps should never have been an existence.
Its limbs were multiple but unorganized, it seemed to be an absence of stable will.
Its body seemed to merge with the stars, as if the universe was just its skin.
In the silent void, the entity continued to writhe, without rhythm, without center.
Its faces were neither shaped nor stable: they appeared, collapsed, absorbed, as if the creature borrowed, imitated,
but never understood what a form is.
It was the presence of a world where structure does not exist.
There was no coherence of being in it.
No soul.
No singular will.
It was a whole that ignored itself.
And yet—when they contemplated it, the Original Gods felt strangely familiar.
As if this thing was the memory of what they were before being.
A forbidden reminiscence.
A deep unease spread among them.
Oniyurei spoke, his flat voice resonating like a breath through the fabric of the void:
— What troubles me… is that it resembles us. Like the echo of a state we would have forgotten. What could make it manifest… in this way?
No god answered immediately.
Mü Thanatos remained motionless.
Her gaze fixed on the unspeakable.
But Son of God already understood.
The golden glow of his body darkened, as if crossed by a dying dawn.
— This is not a form born from the Father God's Dream, he said very softly.
— This has never been narrated. Never thought. Never told.
— Its manifestation is… a flaw. A primordial error.
He turned his gaze to the others.
— And this error exists here… because of Sakolomi.
Oniyurei nodded slowly.
His shadowy, liquid face distorted like an oil slick.
— Yes. Sakolomi carries something that does not belong to this world's history. He is… contiguous to these things. If we do not intervene, he will become a gateway.
Mü Thanatos breathed in—a breath without air.
— Then, we have two urgencies: to hold back this…
She pointed at the shapeless mass undulating.
— …and to prevent other forms from joining it.
Munhwan spoke, his red cape blossoming around him like a flower of smothered blood:
— We must seal the union that is taking place within Sakolomi. If he synchronizes further with this being or its kind, the structure of the Dream will crack.
Mü Thanatos felt Shad Ruhvaël stir within her—
and Shad Ruhvaël never stirred.
It was an absolute sign:
This entity did not come from the Dream.
It came neither from the Source nor the Void.
It came from outside.
But where is outside when the Dream contains everything?
The question itself was forbidden.
Then Mü Thanatos spoke, her voice deep and slow, like a hammer resting on the soul:
— I may have to assimilate it. Absorb it and drown it within me.
A silence fell, immediate.
Oniyurei slowly turned his gaze toward her:
— Don't do that.
— You don't know if what you absorb will absorb you in turn.
Mü Thanatos said nothing.
She kept watching.
And suddenly—the creature changed.
Not in form:
in orientation.
As if it had just looked at Mü Thanatos.
Then a resonance occurred.
Not a memory.
Not a vision.
A recognition.
Mü Thanatos felt something crack in her own memory—or in what precedes memory.
Her voice almost broke:
— I…
— I remember you.
Mü Thanatos fixed her penetrating gaze on the undulating mass, as sharp as a fragment of void. And suddenly, a memory erupted in her being, older than time, vaster than the dream itself.
She remembered.
She remembered a moment when the absolute had brushed against the real. When the breath of the spheres had frozen before what could not be named. For Zeus and Ñout, this memory was only a vision, a fragment in the Hall of Foreseen, that the hall had offered, a divine hallucination that no mortal nor even lesser god could have contemplated. Yet Mü Thanatos knew it was real. That it was true.
In that ancient instant, an entity—borne neither born nor forged—had fallen into the realm of the Méracloxes thanks to her, thanks to her Absolute Bloods. A presence that defied the order of things, that crossed the layers of the dream without ever belonging. A "thing" that was not meant to exist in any form whatsoever.
As her memory deepened, a word emerged, clear as a flash in infinity: My0x.
The name echoed in every fiber of her consciousness. It was neither human, nor divine, nor conceptual. It meant nothing in any known language, yet it contained everything. All that was, all that could be, all that should never be.
— My0x… she murmured, her voice stretching into the void like a thread of dark light.
The mass before her seemed to shudder, react to this name. And Mü Thanatos understood that this moving, formless creature, defying logic and memory, was none other than the echo of what she had faced long ago. A fragmented absolute, forced to fall into the narratable by her own intervention, yet that had survived beyond the order of things.
Her memories aligned with terrifying clarity: the My0x, when seen by the Dream, had perceived an intruder—a being that should not be there. By approaching, by touching the threshold of the narratable, it had been forced to exist, or at least to be told. Mü Thanatos had imprisoned it in the Méracloxes, and this act had marked it, but she had never been able to forget.
Today, this presence finally showed itself. And it bore this name like a mark, an impossible code, a code of the Absolute "All."
— It's you… My0x… she said, slowly, as if uttering this word could consume or reveal her.
She knew she had already faced a fragment of you. But now, you show yourself to me, fully. And what you are… surpasses all I can understand.
The void around them tightened, vibrating with the tension of an ancient secret finally revealed. Mü Thanatos felt a strange familiarity in the creature's gaze. A resonance. As if the echo of the past, the shadow of her own confrontation with the Absolute, recognized her.
And in this silent recognition, Mü Thanatos knew a name had been born. Not a name that contained human nor divine meaning. But a name that contained everything: My0x.
An impossible code. The code of the Absolute All.