"You may not know this," the Guardian began, its voice vibrating through the Astral Nexus like the resonant hum of a galaxy itself, "but my power is directly linked to the Supercluster."
Dorian's eyes narrowed as he looked at the being floating in the center of the infinite void. Its form was shifting, ever-changing, almost ethereal, yet there was a weight to its presence, a gravitas that pressed down like the pull of a collapsing star. The Guardian's words were deliberate, carrying the weight of a thousand eons.
"When the breach formed," the Guardian continued, "the Supercluster entered a weakened state… and so did I. My influence over its vastness remains, yes, but in terms of raw power, I am… diminished. Comparable only to a Six-Stage Greater Wizard."
Dorian blinked, trying to absorb the enormity of the statement. "A being who can manipulate a Supercluster… reduced to the strength of a single Stage Six wizard? That doesn't make sense."
"It is the truth," the Guardian said calmly. "The Supercluster and I are intrinsically linked. Its wound became mine. And as it weakens further, so do I."
Dorian's mind raced. The weight of the cosmos pressed down on him, and for the first time in his life, he felt insignificant. And yet… curiosity pried at him. "And these dark creatures," he said, voice trembling slightly, "the ones that appeared after the breach—surely, you could just summon other Stage Nine Grand Wizards to stop them. Across all worlds, there must be others."
The Guardian tilted its head, and the void seemed to shiver at its movement. "No. It is not so simple. When the breach first tore open, I gathered all wizards above Stage Eight. Millions responded. They fought with courage, strength, and skill. But we underestimated the creatures' evolution. They adapted, they multiplied, they learned. And many, many perished."
Dorian's stomach churned. "And now?"
"Now," the Guardian said, voice almost mournful, "the Supercluster has weakened over centuries. No new Grand Wizard has been born. Only one Stage Eight wizard remains… and his life wanes. Soon, he will be gone. And when he is, the there will be no grand wizard left in the entirety of the cluster ."
Dorian's heart pounded. "And what you're saying is…"
"If nothing changes, we have one thousand years before the Supercluster collapses. And when that happens…" The Guardian's voice lowered, filled with a weight that almost shook Dorian to his core. "…all life as you know it will be erased."
Dorian staggered back, as if the void itself had struck him. "Why… why come to me? I'm not even a wizard anymore. My core is shattered. My power… my potential… it's gone. I am nothing."
The Guardian's gaze sharpened, piercing him through the empty expanse of the Nexus. "You are wrong," it said. "You are far from nothing. In you, I see potential. Something that has not existed in this cluster for countless eons."
Dorian laughed bitterly. "Potential? I am a husk. I have no magic, no path, no power. I'm broken beyond repair ."
"And yet," the Guardian said, "I can restore you. Not merely to what you were, but to something greater. Something… unprecedented."
Dorian's laugh faltered. "Unprecedented? How? A wizard can only awaken once. Every law of magic—every law of existence—says that once a core is shattered, it is gone forever. You cannot restore me. You cannot bend the universe for me."
"You underestimate me, boy." The Guardian's voice, usually calm, now carried the weight of galaxies. "I am older than your comprehension, older than the worlds you can imagine. I have seen powerful beings die and new ones rise, civilizations rise and fall, and the threads of fate bend under my will. I can restore you. I can give you power equivalent to a Stage Nine Grand wizard, beyond the reach of any Grand Wizard."
Dorian swallowed hard. "And what do you want in return?"
The Guardian's eyes glowed faintly. "Your allegiance. Your body, your strength, your very life… but not in servitude. You will be my avatar, my messenger, my hand in the mortal realms. You will carry my sigil, and with it, the authority to act in my name."
Dorian's pulse quickened. "And if I betray you?"
The void seemed to grow darker. "If you betray me… I will snuff out your life as easily as extinguishing a candle."
Dorian's body shivered. He could feel the weight of the threat. But deep inside, a fire flickered. He had been betrayed, cast aside, humiliated. And yet, this… this could give him a path to revenge, to power, to reclaiming what he had lost.
"You speak of restoring me," he said slowly, choosing each word carefully, "but what of the Supercluster? If no new Grand Wizards can be born, how can I ascend? How can I reach the power you speak of?"
"By my hand," the Guardian said, voice like molten stars. "I will not birth you through the Supercluster. I will forge you anew. You will not be bound by its laws. You will carry my essence, and in doing so, your power will surpass all but the very few who can command reality itself."
Dorian's chest tightened. "And you're not afraid I'll turn on you? That I'll use this power against you?"
"I am," the Guardian admitted. "But the risk is… necessary. The cluster cannot survive without intervention. You are my only choice. You may fail, you may falter, but if you succeed…" It paused, and for a moment, Dorian saw something almost human in its expression. "…then perhaps there is hope."
Dorian went silent. Thoughts roared in his mind. The faces of those who had betrayed him, who had mocked him, who had left him for dead… the fire in his chest burned brighter with every memory.
After thinking for a long while about all the pros and cons of accepting this deal he looked at the Guardian, eyes steely. "…I accept."
The Guardian's form shimmered, radiating a light that made the stars themselves seem dim. "Excellent."
A sphere of white energy, larger than a wrecking ball, formed in the palm of the Guardian's left hand. It swirled violently, tendrils of light lashing outward like the fingers of a living star.
Dorian's eyes widened. He raised his arms instinctively, crossing them in an X to brace for impact—but the energy sphere did not strike as expected. Instead, it shrank mid-flight, condensing to the size of a baseball. It hovered in front of him, pulsating, alive.
And then, with terrifying suddenness, it shot toward his chest.
The mass of light then phased through his clothes then into his chest where it grew tendrils as they spread out to every corner of his being from every finger tip all the way to the soles of his feet.
It was akin to roots growing in him painful was an under statement.
All the while Dorian was flailing around in pain whilst letting out screams of agony,
After an eternity of pain Dorian opened his eyes as the pain began to subside, unbeknownst to him his hair had turned white no translucent the iris of his eyes had also turned milky white
Then his vision turned blurry as he collapsed completely exhausted.
The Guardian watched silently, unmoving, untouched by the spectacle. After Dorian collapsed, it lifted a hand. Dorian's unconscious body vanished from the Astral Nexus, whisked away to an unknown location.
Now alone, the Guardian lifted its gaze toward the endless void.
"I hope you're right about him," it murmured—not to itself, but to someone, or something, beyond the stars.
And then its form flickered and disappeared.
Where it went, no one knows.
And the one it spoke to… remains a mystery
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