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(A/N: Thanks for sticking so long, Rockstars <3)
"Greetings, Noxinyargan."
The Cathulic Deity twisted sharply, his many eyes narrowing at the figure approaching through the void. It was Akira. But something was wrong—his aura, his presence, it felt... contaminated.
"You," Noxinyargan hissed, his voice reverberating in the gap. "You carry Achilles' stench. What have you done to him?"
Akira raised his hands in mock surrender, his smile faint and disarming. "Relax. I didn't do anything to him. Achilles and I fought, yes. But in the end, he saw reason. He chose to join my cause willingly."
Noxinyargan's eyes narrowed further, suspicion flickering. "You expect me to believe Achilles would bow to you? A warrior like him? Never."
"Believe what you will," Akira said, his tone measured and calm. "But he saw the truth. Azathoth's madness will consume everything—Nihila, Roxanne, Alice, even you. If we don't act now, there won't be a plane left to mourn."
The background shifted suddenly—faint whispers filled the void, and dark silhouettes danced at the edge of Noxinyargan's vision. He whipped his head around, but nothing was there.
"Enough games, Akira," Noxinyargan growled, his voice trembling slightly. "Your tricks won't work on me."
Akira's smile widened, his demeanor unflinching. "Tricks? I'm just trying to have an honest conversation, Noxinyargan. You're the one stuck here, paralyzed by indecision, while the world burns."
The void around them twisted again, this time brighter—a sudden shift to a radiant, endless field. The sun blazed overhead, and the ground beneath them was solid. It was... home. Noxinyargan's home, a place long lost to time.
He froze, his chest tightening. "What is this?"
"Your memories," Akira said softly, his voice almost kind. "I thought it might help you remember what you're fighting for."
Noxinyargan's resolve wavered, the nostalgia overwhelming. But then he shook his head, snarling. "No! This is another lie! A fabrication!"
Akira sighed, the scenery crumbling around them like shattered glass. They were back in the void. "You're so distrustful. I came here to unite us, Noxinyargan, not deceive you. I need your help. We all do."
"You say that," Noxinyargan said cautiously, "but I still feel Achilles within you. What did you really do to him?"
Akira stepped closer, his gaze sharp but his tone gentle. "You want the truth? Fine. Achilles challenged me, and I beat him. But he wasn't foolish enough to die for his pride. He joined me willingly because he understood the stakes."
The void darkened, shadows creeping closer to Noxinyargan, whispering unintelligible words. He took a step back, his confidence eroding.
"You're lying," he whispered, but the conviction in his voice wavered.
Akira extended his hand, his expression unreadable. "Then prove me wrong. Shake my hand, Noxinyargan. If you feel Achilles' essence within me, you'll know the truth. If I'm lying, you can destroy me."
Noxinyargan hesitated, every instinct screaming at him to run. But Akira's presence was overwhelming, his words worming into the cracks of his doubt. Slowly, reluctantly, he extended his hand and clasped Akira's.
The moment their hands touched, a surge of power coursed through Noxinyargan, freezing him in place. His eyes widened as he felt it—Achilles' aura, unmistakable, and stronger than before.
"You…" Noxinyargan whispered, horror dawning on his face. "You absorbed him. You used him!"
Akira's grin turned predatory, the darkness around them swirling like a storm. "Oh, Noxinyargan. You were always so gullible. But don't worry—you'll serve a purpose too."
The shadows engulfed them, and Noxinyargan's screams were lost in the void.
The parchment, once containing Achilles' essence, now pulsed with dark energy, its ink shifting like living tendrils as it absorbed Noxinyargan. Akira could feel it all—his power swelling, stretching, expanding into new and unimaginable heights. He had become something far more dangerous, something twisted by the very forces he had conquered.
His hair grew longer and whiter, almost silver in hue, as though it were being bleached by the very corruption coursing through him. His body trembled as dark black marks spread across his skin, like tattoos of sin, proof of the depravity he'd just committed—no longer merely a product of the system, but an abuser of its very laws.
His breathing was heavy, each inhale a sharp contrast to the overwhelming power coursing through him. But he was no longer the boy who roamed freely in search of entertainment, he was the father of a family who was ready to kill anyone for its sake.
Akira stood still, eyes wide with the realization of what he'd just done. He had taken the powers of two Cathulic Deities for himself, something unimaginable. Something unforgivable.
But in that very same breath, he also knew that there was no turning back. The power was his. And with it came a burden—the curse of using the very beings who'd once been free to fuel his selfish desires. All for the sake of protecting the people he cared about.
"This… this feels good," he muttered to himself, breathless. "No, it feels perfect."
The Dimensional Gap of Nexus. Only a select few had access to it—Azathoth, Nihila, and Howard. But now, it was his domain. He could tear through space and time at will, slipping through the cracks that had once been forbidden to him.
Akira's body pulsed with newfound power as he began to focus, calling upon the very energy that had now fused into his being. The world around him began to warp, the sky tearing open as the very fabric of reality bent to his will.
"Let's go," he said, his voice a low growl, almost unrecognizable from the man he once was. His eyes glowed with an intense, unnatural light, and in a flash, he disappeared into the gap, leaving the world he'd just altered behind.
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The Dimensional Gap was a place untouched by the rules of reality, a place where the laws of physics had no hold. The infinite nothingness was a canvas for beings like Azathoth and Howard, whose powers extended beyond comprehension.
Azathoth, his chaotic presence radiating throughout the gap, faced Howard, the being who had merged with Nihila. The silence of the gap was unsettling as they stood, not moving, yet their presence alone seemed to create ripples in the air.
Without warning, Azathoth stretched out his hand. But instead of a physical attack, it was as though time itself bent around him. It wasn't magic, it wasn't physical force—it was the purest form of chaos, the ability to tear the very idea of Howard from reality itself.
Howard's body flickered, as if the concept of him was being erased. His form began to distort, like an image being overwritten on an old television. But instead of panicking, Howard smiled.
"You think you can make me forgotten?" Howard's voice resonated from the cracks in reality, louder than the chaos around them. He reached into the folds of space, pulling from the gap itself, remaking himself. Where Azathoth tried to erase him, Howard reshaped the essence of his being, creating new layers of existence that were untraceable, undistortable.
Howard's very presence began to spread like a concept, becoming a distortion in the space around Azathoth. It was as if his very idea of existence was seeping into the gap, a void within the void.
Azathoth, feeling the shift, roared in defiance. His form splintered into thousands of chaotic, formless shapes, each one an embodiment of a different aspect of destruction and madness. They attacked not as mere physical blows, but as infinite possibilities, a thousand different versions of Azathoth clashing at once.
Howard wasn't there to fight them in the traditional sense. Instead, he used their own chaos against them. He didn't simply dodge or deflect—they were now part of him. With each chaotic manifestation of Azathoth, Howard absorbed it, weaving it into the fabric of his being. But he didn't just absorb the chaos; he understood it, bending it to his will and reshaping it into something new.
With a final snap of his fingers, Howard reshaped Azathoth's very essence into a perfect paradox—a form of destruction that would eventually lead to its own creation. Azathoth's myriad forms froze in place, suspended in an endless cycle of self-destruction and rebirth.
"You were never a god of chaos," Howard whispered, stepping forward, his presence pulling Azathoth's very being into his control. "You were a prisoner to it."
In that moment, Azathoth's chaotic roars faded into silence. His form collapsed in on itself, not destroyed, but reformed, an endless loop of entropy and creation locked in place by Howard's will.
Thats when the dimensional gap welcomed a new intruder. Akira stood there, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and curiosity. He tilted his head toward the strange entity, the object that held Azathoth's essence. "Welcome to the Nexus," Howard's voice rang out, rich with both authority and amusement. "I take it you're here to save my son from his education," Howard gestured toward the object, his words laced with a hint of dark humor.
Akira's laugh was low, almost sinister as he gazed at the object, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "Oh, Howard, what I wouldn't do to see Azathoth's face he must be tweaking knowing he got transformed and not me." Akira's words were laced with venom, but they were also tinged with genuine amusement.
Howard smirked in return, his eyes glinting with a rare sense of pride as he regarded Akira. "I know everything about you, Akira. How your existence began from simple ink and pen, how you rose from the void to something far beyond anyone's imagination. I'm proud to call you my son's best friend." His words seemed to carry weight, a hint of something more, a deeper recognition of Akira's power, but also a subtle warning.
Akira's smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "You were supposed to be dead," he retorted, voice laced with disbelief and contempt. "I can't believe Alice gave you the cube. Though I guess it was the only way for us to cross over."
Howard chuckled darkly, the sound echoing in the vastness of the Nexus. "Yet here you are, more powerful than ever." His gaze intensified as he focused on Akira, a strange glimmer of approval flickering in his eyes. "Same thing can be said for you. You were supposed to be dead, Akira. Had ROB not reincarnated you, you would've remained nothing but a forgotten fragment of someone's imagination."
Akira's heart skipped a beat, his surprise palpable. "Y-you know ROB?" His voice betrayed a rare moment of vulnerability, a crack in his otherwise unshakable confidence.
Howard leaned back, his figure growing even more imposing as he towered over Akira. "I know lots of things, dear," Howard said, his voice smooth, laced with both power and knowledge. "ROB has a peculiar way of intervening in the lives of those like you and me. He's a puppet master of sorts, pulling the strings of fate. But his reach isn't infinite. Even he can't control what's been set into motion."
Akira held the parchment containing Achilles and Noxinyargan, feeling their combined essence surge within him. Despite the power, something was missing. Howard, unimpressed, watched him carefully.
"You know," Howard said, "I can make you meet ROB if you want."
Akira paused, considering. The power he sought was close. "Okay," he replied, his voice calm but calculating.
Howard raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Once you meet him, things will change."
Akira's smile returned, colder this time. "I'm sure."
The Nexus around them shifted, as if anticipating the decision. Howard's smirk deepened, and with a single motion, the space between them began to warp.
"Very well," Howard said. "Prepare yourself, Akira."
Akira's heart raced, but his exterior remained unshaken. There was no turning back now. The final step was about to begin.
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