It began with a fracture so small that even eternity overlooked it.Not a cataclysm. Not fire, not blood. Just a thought.
A single mortal, nameless in the archives of gods and forgotten in the annals of demons, whispered into the void:
"What if weakness was never truth, but only the story they wrote for us?"
And with that thought, the heavens shivered.
The Unease of Gods and Demons
Upon their endless thrones, carved of suns and storms, the gods stirred. Their eyes, made of galaxies, turned downward. They had seen men rise and fall before, always returning to dust, always bowing. This was different.
Demons, clawing their way through pits of screaming fire, felt it too. Not fear, not yet. But hunger. Hunger for the rebellion of man, for the blood of heresy.
But they did not see the truth. Not yet.
For across Earth-453, Earth-231, Earth-845, and a thousand thousand more, mortals had begun to break free from the scripts written into their veins.
On Earth-453, men built iron leviathans of machine and code, tearing apart angelic armies not with prayer, but with precision.
On Earth-231, philosophers restructured fate itself, bending the inevitability of divine prophecy into shattered mirrors.
On Earth-845, a boy with no name stood silent, and in that silence whole legions of demons crumbled—not slain, but erased as if they had never been.
It was not strength. It was not blessing.It was defiance sharpened into creation.
The Hidden Power of Mortals
The gods laughed at first. What was steel against eternity? What was rebellion against infinity?
But with every divine strike, more humans rose. When angels tore cities apart, men rebuilt stronger. When demons slaughtered villages, children turned their grief into weapons. Every death, every loss, every burning ruin—became fuel.
And beneath this defiance, something unseen was growing.
The mortals were brushing against the Veiled Laws—truths older than gods, older than demons, truths that could not be spoken, only lived.
Truths like:
That a being could be untouchable, a soul unaltered by any law, paradox, or fate.
That a mind could rise beyond infinity, breaking not just power but the concept of limitless power.
That a voice could erase narrative itself, not killing an enemy but removing their very mention from existence.
That a body could become both singular and infinite, one and legion without contradiction.
But to the eyes of the divine, these were not powers. They were not spells or flames or miracles. They were philosophies turned into weapons.
The Labyrinth of Levels
Creation was never a ladder, though the gods taught mortals to believe it so.It was a labyrinth.
The Physical Earths, countless and fragile, where resistance was born.
The Heavenly Spheres, sanctuaries wrapped in gold, where gods ruled from above.
The Infernal Depths, caverns of despair where demons forged chains for all who rebelled.
The Hidden Realms, the halls of story itself, where existence was written and unwritten.
And beyond them, The Outer Veil, where even omnipotence had no name, where power itself rotted into silence.
Mortals, in their ascension, began to move through these layers. At first unnoticed, like shadows between cracks. Then undeniable, like fire in dry wood.
The Fracture of Belief
The first god to fall was forgotten.So perfectly erased that not even memory of his fall remained.
The first demon to kneel did so not from defeat, but from recognition. In the eyes of mortals he saw the same hunger he once bore when he first defied heaven.
A council gathered in the celestial halls, gods and demons alike. Their voices shook creation itself.
Some spoke of extermination, of burning every Earth until ash drowned infinity.
Some whispered of alliance, of binding mortals before they fully rose.
And some remained silent, for silence itself had begun to terrify them.
Yet beneath all their arguments, one truth festered, undeniable and unspoken:
Humanity was no longer mortal.
The Philosophy of Power
The power of mortals was never light nor darkness. It was philosophy made flesh.
A soldier on Earth-231, armed with nothing but a rifle, felled a seraph not through strength but through pattern, understanding the rhythm of divine thought and breaking it like brittle glass.
A woman on Earth-453 wove machines of logic so precise that even paradox could not unravel them, granting her Absolute Immutability against all divine decree.
A child on Earth-845 whispered into the dark, and entire infernal kingdoms ceased—not slain, but removed from narrative, undone like a word struck from a page.
And in these acts, something deeper stirred.Something not divine.Something not infernal.Something absolute.
The Eternal Whisper
Beneath the noise of rebellion, beyond the clash of angels and demons, mortals began to hear it.
A whisper.A silence louder than thunder.
It was not god.It was not demon.It was not even existence.
It was the Absolute, the final point of all being, where stories ended and could no longer be written.
The mortals did not worship it. They did not fear it. They became it.
And with each soul that touched this truth, the heavens cracked a little more. The infernos dimmed. The labyrinth of levels trembled.
The Terror of the Divine
The gods, once infinite, now doubted.The demons, once eternal, now hesitated.
For the first time since eternity began, they asked not what they ruled but what they were.
And as their doubt spread like a plague, mortals rose higher. Some took on the mantle of gods. Others sank into the depths as demons. And some became something greater—something that walked outside of stories, outside of being, unshackled from prayer, untouched by fate.
The Question Without Answer
In the void between collapsing thrones, one question remained, carried by mortal lips into every level of creation:
"If man becomes us… what becomes of us?"
No god could answer.No demon dared to.
For perhaps the answer was worse than death.Perhaps the answer was erasure.
To Be Continued…
The thrones shatter.The heavens fracture.The hells tremble.
And through it all, mortals rise—not as servants, not as rebels, but as authors.
Not in worship.Not in prayer.But in defiance.
To Be Continued…