Adamus's eyes glowed bright gold, blooming like the petals of a lotus flower. He grasped his mother's life strings, feeling their energy pulse through him as her story began to take shape. Almasa's voice echoed softly, weaving through the golden threads as visions unfolded before his sight. His eyes allowed him to witness it all spiritually, dimensionally present in every layer of reality.
"A long time ago before the Big Bang, or at least before the last one our people, the Bodhi Zen Tribe, lived on the planet Karuna. It was a place of pure peace, untouched by war. We were monks Buddha monks dwelling in harmony with one another and with the universe itself."
As Adamus's golden eyes burned with radiance, he found himself there spiritually, dimensionally gazing upon the serene landscape of Karuna. Before him stretched a living vision of harmony: a diverse community of monks moving with grace amidst tranquil surroundings. Their skin tones ranged from the fairest whites to rich browns and deepest blacks, each face reflecting the same inner calm. Some were bald, their smooth heads gleaming under the gentle sunlight, while others carried long, flowing hair or intricately woven dreadlocks that swayed with each measured step.
They wandered through vast green meadows, wildflowers of every hue blossoming at their feet, while their orange robes drifted softly in the breeze like flames of devotion. Men and women alike walked among them, their expressions serene and luminous with peace. Many bore intricate markings along their skin sacred symbols carved by devotion, telling stories of spiritual journeys and their eternal pursuit of enlightenment.
Her words carried the weight of ancient wisdom as she continued, "But one day, a strange and wondrous creature descended upon our planet Karuna. It bestowed upon us incredible powers and taught us the path to enlightenment. He was a fallen angel, born in heaven, fleeing from the very essence of evil itself."
Almasa's gaze turned inward as she recalled the memories. "I wasn't there, but the stories were passed down for generations," she began, her voice carrying the weight of ancient tales. "He told are Ancestors his name is Avalokiteshvara, and with his guidance, we ascended to heights we never thought possible. Under his tutelage, we became beings of immense power and wisdom."
As Almasa spoke, her voice carried the weight of ancient wisdom, weaving a tale of cosmic proportions for Adamus.
Adamus listened intently as his mother recounted the ancient tales. "Avalokiteshvara revealed to us the existence of great evil," Almasa continued, her voice tinged with solemnity.
"In the distant epochs before creation before even the first Big Bang," she began, "when time itself lay dormant in the embrace of nonexistence, in sunyata, also known as the Black Lotus, there was nothing. No time, no space, no form. Only emptiness… the boundless nothingness.
"Yet from that boundless void, three primordial eggs emerged, forged from the very essence of nonexistence itself. They were the first seeds of being, born from nothing. Each one was unique—one gold, one black, and the last, pink.
The first to hatch was the golden egg."
Almasa's voice deepened, carrying a resonance that seemed to tremble through their house like low thunder.
"From it arose the God of Creation an infinite being birthed not from time or space, but from the formless womb of primordial sunyata itself."
Adamus beheld him in spirit: his skin gleamed like living gold, as though his very flesh was woven from radiant light. His head floated above his body, unbound, crowned in divine majesty. Upon this head were many faces, each embodying a mystery of existence. One face had its eyes veiled, another had its mouth sealed, a third had its ears covered, and the last bore a shroud over its entire visage. Together they reflected truths too vast for mortals to grasp sight withheld, voice silenced, hearing stilled, and the whole of self hidden in eternal secrecy.
"From his breath, existence stirred. With but a single thought, he sculpted the first universes. Then multiverses. Then hyperverses realities stacked upon realities, spiraling ever upward like a divine fractal blooming across eternity."
Her hands lifted gracefully, tracing unseen stars in the air, as if echoing his ancient work. "Yet he did not stop there," she continued, her voice laced with reverence. "When even the hyperverses bent to his will, he brought forth the Omniverse an infinite ocean cradling all layers of existence, time, form, concept, and causality. And from the Omniverse blossomed dimensionality itself an endless spectrum of planes and perspectives, each one a new note in the eternal symphony of being."
Adamus sat motionless, his golden eyes blazing, allowing him to witness everything Almasa described. Through them, he was not merely listening—he was there, spiritually and dimensionally, standing within the vision itself. The room around him dissolved, fading into the infinite horizon of creation. Almasa's words were no longer just a story; they became scripture, etched into the very fabric of his soul.
Adamus, with his golden eyes, beheld the vision as it unfolded before him.
The black egg hovered in the void vast, motionless, and heavy with silence. Its surface cracked with faint silver lines that pulsed like veins of hidden power. With a soundless rupture, it split open. From within poured a chill that swept across the emptiness, carrying the scent of endings and beginnings intertwined.
From its depths emerged the God of Life and Death. His form was terrible and majestic: his skin stark as midnight, his eyes pale as ash, unblinking and eternal. His face was divided in perfect symmetry one half the visage of a living man, stern and watchful, the other half a grinning skull, hollow and cold. Where flesh endured, long black hair fell in a dark cascade; where bone was laid bare, the silence of the grave lingered.
From his back unfurled two wings one radiant white, feathered in purity, the other wrought of bone, pieced together from the remains of countless dead. Ornate plates forged from skulls rested upon his shoulders, and in their fractures bloomed fragile flowers, blossoms of fleeting beauty upon the visage of decay. In his hand he bore a Reaper's staff, tall and terrible, while above his brow burned a halo cold, eternal, and unyielding.
Almasa's voice trembled with the weight of endless ages. "The God of Life and Death twin-natured, impartial, all-seeing. His essence spread across the Omniverse, woven into the rise and fall of all things. In every universe, in every hyperverse, his unseen hand governs the breath of life and the silence of death. He directs the flow of souls, commands the cycle of rebirth, and instructs even the lesser gods in the balance of existence. This is what he does."
"Then the third egg hatched the pink egg," Almasa continued, her voice soft yet resonant, like the toll of a bell across eternity. "From it was born the God of Time. Her birth was the birth of time itself. With her first breath, the stillness of existence began to flow, and the great current of past, present, and future unfurled across the Omniverse."
Adamus's golden eyes beheld her. Her face was radiant with a beauty beyond mortal measure, her skin appearing white at first glance, yet shimmering with a hidden spectrum—an endless fusion of every color in existence. Her eyes burned bright with violet fire, gleaming like the pulse of eternity.
Her hair was not mere strands but a realm in itself an entire Hyperverse flowing like a cosmic river, galaxies and universes turning within its silken depths. Draped around her was a robe of molten gold, the only garment she bore, its surface inscribed with the shifting script of time itself—seconds, centuries, and aeons flowing like living runes across the fabric.
Her eyes glimmered with awe. "She governs time in all its forms. She gives time its pulse, its motion, its life. She is omnipresent, existing in every strand of chronology and in every moment—whether lived, unlived, or yet to be. Even those who transcend the chains of time cannot escape her. She alone weaves the higher-dimensional layers of time, crafting the architectures where eternity itself bends and unfolds. Without her, existence would stagnate, and all creation would return to silence."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"These were not gods bound to a single world or timeline. No… They each resided beyond the very structures of reality transcendent entities whose presence dwarfed entire multiversal tapestries. The God of Creation ruled over the physical realms: universes, dimensions, galaxies. The God of Life and Death presided over the metaphysical web, governing existence beyond form. And the God of Time reigned over narrative causality and temporal abstraction, perceiving and altering events not just across time, but across stories themselves."
"They stood above all."
"In his infinite creativity," Almasa continued, voice softening as if recounting sacred memory, "the God of Creation gave birth to the New Gods beings forged from fragments of his own divinity. Each one a concept incarnate. Each one embodying power that surpassed the infinite. They were not bound by physics or linear logic. They transcended universes, then multiverses, and rose beyond even the boundless complexity of hyperverses."
"They existed in realms where logic itself was subjective, where existence was sculpted by perception and will. They moved through infinite-dimensional planes realities that defied comprehension, where every thought could birth a new cosmos, and every breath could erase one."
"Among these mighty beings," Almasa said, her voice carrying both awe and unease, "was one whose brilliance shone above all others the God of Stars. A kind soul in essence, yet bound by an unshakable conviction."
Adamus saw it in spirit. Spiritually and dimensionally, he was there not in memory, but engraved into the foundation of his soul. The God of Stars stood before him, a figure of unimaginable majesty, cloaked in a mantle of celestial fire. Galaxies spun in the folds of his robes, and his eyes glowed like twin quasars watchful, calculating, infinitely ancient. Upon his brow rested a crown forged from the cores of dying suns, shimmering with the last light of collapsing worlds.
His very body was a Hyperverse made manifest. Within his vast frame burned stars beyond number, whole galaxies spiraling in his veins, universes churning in the depths of his being. Black holes yawned across his shoulders like wounds of eternity, while nebulae blossomed in the rise and fall of his breath. To gaze upon him was to look into infinity itself—a living cosmos, radiant and terrible.
He ascended the Spiral of Eternity, the sacred path that led to the Throne of Creation, where only the firstborn gods could tread. Every step he took sent ripples through the Omniversal strata, warping time, bending probability, pressing reality beneath the weight of his gravity.
Almasa's voice dropped into a deep reverence as she continued the tale. "With solemn purpose, the God of Stars approached the Creator the One Who Exists Beyond All Existence. His voice carried across dimensions, layered with authority drawn from the heart of the Omniverse itself."
"Let us take dominion over the Hyperverses," the God of Stars declared, his voice calm yet unshakable, carrying the weight of eternity. "We, your firstborn the Prime Deities were shaped from the first flame, forged in the essence of the One. We were not made to stand idle while the universes spiral into ruin.
Look upon the gods of the hyperverses, the lords of mythologies, the rulers of religions. What do we see? Failure. Their worlds lie broken, their divine orders crumble through neglect. Mortals desecrate their own realms, gods wage wars without vision, timelines fracture and collapse, narratives unravel into chaos. The immortals they have fashioned turn wicked, committing evil unchecked and still these so-called rulers permit it.
This is proof enough: they are unfit to govern.
Therefore I declare that such beings should no longer be left to their own designs. They must be made to obey a higher order. We should rule them, just as we must rule the mortals. Only then will true peace spread across the Omniverse.
Let us unite every pantheon, every myth, every world, under one divine hierarchy. Let us impose order upon chaos. For only through dominion can harmony exist, and only through our rule can the Hyperverses be redeemed."
For a moment, even silence held its breath.
Then, from the Celestial Throne, rose the God of Creation the Architect of All Things, whose very form existed outside comprehension. He was not merely divine. He was the axis upon which the Omniverse turned. Time bent to his breath, space unraveled at his gaze, and the laws of logic fell silent in his presence.
'No,' he said, and the decree shattered across every realm of existence like a sacred lawfall.
'We are not monarchs of myth,' the Creator declared, his voice echoing across infinite layers of reality, through universes, multiverses, hyperverses, and beyond into the boundaryless stretch of the Omniverse. 'We are its watchers. Its stewards. These mythologies these pantheons must live and grow of their own will. Their gods must lead, their mortals must choose. That is the nature of sentience. That is the essence of freedom. We protect the infinite spiral of possibility not overwrite it.'
His words vibrated along the Life Strings that bound all things, his voice coded into the dimensional lattice that held creation itself together. His power was so absolute that even narrative law, the very essence of causality, could not defy him.
'Our goal,' the Creator continued, standing tall with the weight of infinite omnidimensionality, 'is to preserve the architecture of existence. To defend the mythologies, not rule them. Our duty is to hold the line between reality and the chaos beyond the final veil.'
The God of Stars bowed his head, but the storm in his chest did not quiet. His crown dimmed—slightly but his eyes burned with something dangerous: conviction. The kind that births rebellions among gods.
And from that day forward, a quiet rift formed among the Primordial Order. Not of swords or war cries, but of ideology a divide deeper than dimensions, sharper than any blade.
As Almasa recounted the Creator's rebuke, Adamus felt his mother's life string tremble beneath his touch, surging with energy. The tale coursed through him like a river of light, intertwining with his very soul.
The God of Stars, once a paragon of celestial grace, had turned his ambitions toward dominion over all evil. With cunning strategy, he convinced the God of the Afterlife and the God of Time to seal every manifestation of darkness from across the Infinite Hyperverses with infinite timelines into his being. He claimed it was the only way to end chaos and bring eternal order.
The darkness, drawn from every corner of existence, swirled around him like a black storm. Its tendrils seeped into his essence, consuming the light that had once defined him. His skin darkened to a chilling black, streaked with a royal blue that gleamed like cold, dead stars. Now his form radiated menace: dark blue skin gleaming with a sinister sheen, sharp tusks curling from his mouth in a cruel, mocking grin, and horns that jutted from his brow like those of a demonic goat. Adorned with malevolent jewels that glinted like cursed suns, he bore a crown of twisted gold—a mark of his tyrannical future rule.
The transformation was not merely physical his soul became an abyss, echoing with malice and despair. The radiant robes of a guardian had rotted into garments of shadow, their folds dripping with venomous majesty. Each step he took radiated a presence that could command submission or inspire terror. The cosmos itself seemed to shudder at his newfound power.
"He called himself Ravana," she continued, her tone heavier with each word. "No longer a protector, he became the embodiment of all evil a tyrant fueled by the very corruption he sought to control. His power was unrivaled, his will unyielding, and his heart as cold as the void he now resembled."
Ravana's transformation was complete. He stood as a warning to all who sought power beyond reason, a god turned nightmare, whose ambitions had unleashed an unparalleled malevolence upon existence.
Her voice quivered as she described the futile efforts of the divine to stop Ravana's reign of terror. "Even the combined might of the God of Creation, the God of Time, and the God of the Afterlife proved futile," she said. "Their divine powers waned in the presence of his darkness. Ravana's triumphant victory over the gods they fled in a desperate scramble, their divine forms wracked with fear and desperation. The once-glorious deities, their luminous presence dimmed by defeat, retreated with urgency, their celestial footsteps echoing through the shattered remnants of the celestial realm.
"As Ravana's insatiable thirst for destruction and conquest knew no bounds," Almasa narrated, "he laid waste to heaven itself, reducing the celestial realms to smoldering ruins."
Her words painted a grim picture of the havoc wreaked by Ravana and his followers. "In his wake, he had a legion of followers," she continued, her voice tinged with sorrow, "a planet full of blue-skinned creatures who worshipped him as their supreme leader."
Adamus listened, his heart sinking at the depth of Ravana's depravity. "But that was not all," Almasa added, her tone heavy with foreboding. "He also released all the evil in the world Yurei, Rakshasa, Pishacha, Wraiths, Banshees, Demons, Dementors, Succubi, Incubi, Wendigos, Skinwalkers, Soul Eaters, Ghosts, Specters."
Adamus's mind reeled at the magnitude of the darkness Ravana unleashed. "His main goal," Almasa continued, "was to make sure souls couldn't go to heaven. He made sure they could only go to hell or live in the physical world, and worship him, or be destroyed."
Adamus shuddered at the thought of Ravana's unstoppable power. "With each conquest," Almasa said, "Ravana's power grew, as did the dread that gripped the hearts of those who dared oppose him."
Her voice grew faint as she described the devastation wrought by Ravana's unholy crusade. "Infinite hyperverses, each with infinite timelines, trembled, and galaxies quaked," she recounted, "as Ravana's dark influence stained the very fabric of reality itself."
Top of Form
"However, amidst the ruins of defeated gods and shattered timelines, hope emerged in the form of a bodhisattva," she continued, her tone now carrying a gentle flame of optimism. "Avalokiteshvara's divine mother, Prajnaparamita, revealed herself in her awe-inspiring eighteen-armed form, radiating both unshakable grace and wisdom without boundary."
Adamus drew upon the life strings, weaving perception beyond mortal sight, and saw how Prajnaparamita appeared. Her skin was a deep, fertile brown, like the richest soil that births life, its warmth evoking both endurance and regality. Draped across her body flowed celestial robes, shimmering with shifting hues of gold, sapphire, and crimson each fold alive with sacred geometry.
Her hair was not mere strands, but a living cosmos. Each lock spiraled as an endless galaxy, stars burning and collapsing in eternal rhythm, nebulae blooming like jeweled blossoms. Universes coiled and uncoiled within the darkness of her tresses, cascading down her back in an infinite waterfall of creation itself.
Her eyes, twin orbs of radiant gold, shone with ancient knowing. When she gazed, one could feel every illusion unravel the veil of ignorance pierced, the truth of liberation laid bare. Though fierce in their brilliance, her eyes were tempered by a compassion so vast it embraced all beings, even those lost in despair.
Her eighteen arms moved like the flow of eternity, each hand bearing a different symbol: the lotus of enlightenment, the wheel of Dharma, the vajra of clarity, the sutra of wisdom, and more each gesture resonating with divine purpose. Her presence alone illuminated the void with the brilliance of a thousand suns, yet her glow was not one of destruction, but of solace, healing, and boundless guidance.
In her, Adamus beheld the living embodiment of Prajñā itself: the wisdom that transcends all dualities. Even as gods fell and timelines shattered, her very being whispered the eternal truth that from emptiness arises compassion, and from compassion, the path to liberation.
Amidst the turmoil of cosmic upheaval, Prajnaparamita, foreseeing the cataclysmic threat posed by Ravana, withdrew from the fraying realms and forged a sanctuary of her own a heaven born from her wisdom and compassion. Within this radiant domain, untouched by corruption, she gave birth to seven trillion bodhisattvas, each a beacon of enlightenment in their own right. Among them, two shone with unique brilliance and remained closest to her heart: Vajrapani, the embodiment of divine power, and Avalokiteshvara, the wellspring of boundless compassion.
Adamus, using the life strings as his conduit, focused his spiritual energy to physically see Avalokiteshvara and Vajrapani. As his vision cleared, he found himself standing in the celestial temple, surrounded by the divine presence of Prajnaparamita, Avalokiteshvara, Vajrapani, and the multitude of bodhisattva.
Vajrapani emerged, his radiant form adorned in a shade of deep, mystical blue, reminiscent of the boundless depths of the cosmic ocean. His skin bore intricate white tattoos that danced across his body like celestial constellations, each symbolizing profound spiritual truths. With three eyes of luminous gold, he gazed upon the Omniverse with piercing insight, his divine wisdom shining forth. His hair cascaded down his back in waves as long as his mother's, each strand imbued with the essence of cosmic power. Four powerful forearms extended from his muscular frame, each capable of wielding the forces of the cosmos with effortless grace.
Avalokiteshvara, the embodiment of compassion, manifested beside his brother, his form radiating with the same dark brown hue as his mother. His short, sheep-like hair framed his gentle face, soft and silky to the touch. His eyes, like molten gold, radiated warmth and empathy, reflecting the boundless love within his heart. Adorned with delicate jewelry and a crown befitting his divine status, Avalokiteshvara stood as a symbol of divine grace and mercy, his presence a beacon of hope for all sentient beings.
Adamus stood there as a ghostly observer, witnessing the divine scene unfold before his eyes.
In this celestial sanctuary, the air crackled with spiritual energy, and the very essence of enlightenment permeated the atmosphere.
In the celestial sanctuary, Prajnaparamita, surrounded by her 7 trillion children who were in deep meditation, stood with Avalokiteshvara and Vajrapani at her side, while the rest of the bodhisattva meditated nearby.
Suddenly, Prajnaparamita's serene countenance shifted as she interrupted their meditation. Her voice, resonant with divine authority, echoed across the heavens.
"Children," she declared, "Ravana has become aware of the heaven I have wrought amidst his destruction, and he now perceives the worlds we have preserved. With the aid of my seven trillion children, we have labored without rest to restore all that he has torn asunder. Yet know this our respite is fleeting."
Her words carried the weight of eons of struggle. "Ravana approaches," she continued, her voice tinged with urgency. "Despite our attempts to conceal our energy, he has sensed our presence. For eons, we have remained hidden, rebuilding heaven and every single hyperverse, along with all the timelines connected to those hyperverses that he destroyed. Time and again, we have cleansed the devastation he left in his wake, but the moment of confrontation has finally come."
As she spoke, a sense of determination filled the air, mingled with a hint of foreboding. The bodhisattva, now alert, listened intently, knowing that the impending battle would test their resolve like never before.
As soon as Prajnaparamita shared the imminent danger, Avalokiteshvara and Vajrapani rose in unison. "We must fight back, Mother," they declared simultaneously.
However, Prajnaparamita's response was firm. "No, my children. We do not resort to violence."
Vajrapani's frustration was palpable. "But why, Mother?" he protested. "For eons, you trained us in every form of combat and magic. Why teach us all this if not to fight back?"
Avalokiteshvara joined in, his voice reflecting confusion. "Exactly, Mother. You imparted upon us knowledge of every skill, every magic, only to deny us the chance to defend ourselves."
Prajnaparamita's gaze remained steady. "Have I not taught you anything? I trained all of my children, every art of combat, every magic, but only for defense, never for aggression."
The response triggered protests from both Avalokiteshvara and Vajrapani. "But Mother," one of them implored, "I would gladly step in front of a blade to protect you."
Prajnaparamita's tone softened, yet remained resolute. "You would disobey your mother's teachings."
Avalokiteshvara's voice carried regret. "I apologize, Mother. I won't speak out of turn again."
Vajrapani's anger simmered beneath his words. "I don't care about your wishes, Mother. I will not allow anyone to harm you, or any of my brothers, sisters, or those I love. We have saved galaxies, universes, hyperverse and timelines. We have brought an end to so much suffering. We must fight back."
Prajnaparamita gazed at Vajrapani with a mixture of pride and concern. "My child, your love for others is unmatched among all my children. Your heart beats for the sake of others, always ready to fight on their behalf." She then requested, "Can you please recite the Prajnaparamita Hridaya Sutra, the Heart Sutra?"
Vajrapani offered an awkward smile. "Sorry, Mom. My mind's a little fuzzy. I can't really remember."
Prajnaparamita's expression softened with understanding. "So you haven't been practicing your sutras. That explains your wavering resolve."
Turning to Avalokiteshvara, Prajnaparamita asked, "Could you recite the Prajnaparamita Hridaya Sutra, my child?"
Avalokiteshvara recited the "Prajnaparamita Hridaya Sutra" flawlessly, not missing a single letter as he pronounced it with perfect clarity:
Shariputra, form is no different from emptiness, emptiness no different from form. Form is precisely emptiness, emptiness precisely form. Sensation, perception, conception, and consciousness are also like this.
Shariputra, all dharmas are forms of emptiness, not born, not destroyed; not tainted, not pure, not increasing, not decreasing. Therefore, in emptiness there is no form, no sensation, perception, conception, or consciousness; no eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind; no sights, sounds, smells, tastes, objects of touch, or dharmas; no field of the eyes, up to and including no field of mind consciousness; and no ignorance or ending of ignorance, up to and including no old age and death, or ending of old age and death. There is no suffering, no accumulating, no extinction, no way, and no understanding and no attaining."
Prajnaparamita addressed all the monks who were watching, explaining the profound meaning of the " Prajnaparamita Hridaya Sutra, the Heart Sutra.":
"My dear bodhisattva, the 'Prajnaparamita Hridaya Sutra' is a teaching of immense depth that provides insight into the very nature of reality and the path to enlightenment. In the context of death, this sutra teaches us to understand the concept of emptiness, which is central to Buddhist philosophy. Emptiness does not imply a void or nothingness but rather the absence of inherent, independent existence. When we realize that all phenomena, including ourselves, lack inherent existence, we transcend the fear of death because we understand that there is no permanent, unchanging self to perish. Death is then understood as merely another facet of life's continuous flow.
The phrase 'gone, gone, gone beyond, gone altogether beyond' in the sutra signifies transcending the cycle of birth and death, reaching the ultimate state of liberation known as Nirvana. Death, therefore, is not to be feared but accepted as a natural part of the journey towards enlightenment. By understanding the impermanent nature of all things, we can embrace death as a gateway to liberation.
Furthermore, realizing the emptiness of all phenomena enables us to face death with equanimity, free from attachment or aversion. Clinging to life or fearing death only leads to more suffering. Instead, we cultivate acceptance, recognizing death as an opportunity to transcend suffering and attain peace. In Nirvana, there is no more birth and death, only the cessation of suffering and the attainment of ultimate liberation.
From the perspective of Prajnaparamita, death is not an end but a transition towards realizing the ultimate truth and attaining liberation."
Prajñāpāramitā finished speaking and then instructed all the monks to leave the palace, leaving their fate in their own hands. "It is your decision, your lives," she said. "You can choose to stay in heaven, knowing that Ravana is on his way, or scatter across the hyperverses, the timelines, and the cosmos. I have made my decision." With that, all the monks left the palace, except for Avalokiteśvara and Vajrapāṇi.
As a couple of minutes passed, Adamus watched as Vajrapani argued with his mother, insisting that he would not leave her side. "I'm not leaving you, Mother," he said adamantly. Avalokiteshvara also spoke up, "I will honor your wish, Mother, but I am not leaving either. May I please stay?"
Prajnaparamita looked at them and said, "You may stay, but both of you must honor divine will."
Suddenly, a vortex of darkness engulfed the heavens, and from its heart emerged Ravana, a towering figure of malevolent power. His presence loomed ominously, casting shadows over all who beheld him. Adamus watched in fear, his spirit trembling at the sight.
Ravana floated in the sky, his form wreathed in darkness. In one hand, he wielded a sword still slick with the blood of his victims; in the other, he held a bodhisattva woman Manjushri her once-radiant form now marred by crimson streaks. Her innocence stood in stark contrast to the abyss of his soul. With a cruel laugh that echoed through the cosmos, he drove his blade into her, the air thick with the scent of blood. Then, with cold indifference, he cast her lifeless body down before the group.
His voice dripped with malice as he sneered at Prajnaparamita, his dark blue skin gleaming with a sinister sheen. His sharp tusks, reminiscent of elephant tusks, framed a mouth twisted into a cruel grin. Horns protruded from his head like those of a demonic goat, adding to his terrifying visage. Adorned in jewelry and jewels that glinted malevolently, he wore a crown of twisted god, a symbol of his tyrannical rule.
With a gesture of contempt, Ravana pointed at Prajnaparamita. Ravana's voice reverberated through the heavens, carrying the weight of countless eons of destruction. "For eons," he thundered, "I have torn asunder galaxies, crushed hyperverses, and shattered timelines, only to find you defiantly rebuilding what I've laid to waste. I've slain every last New Gods, and the original Gods have fled. And you think you can stop me? You, just a bodhisattva. Worse than that, a mere woman."
As he spoke, the group remained transfixed by the bodhisattva woman, stabbed through and bleeding out on the ground right next to them. Her presence was a stark reminder of Ravana's merciless power.
His words struck like a dagger through the hearts of all present, but especially Vajrapani and Avalokiteshvara. The bodhisattva woman, now bleeding out on the ground, lay as a testament to Ravana's cruelty. As her breaths grew shallow, she whispered her gratitude to her mother, Prajnaparamita, before her form dissolved into celestial dust and light, vanishing into the ether.
Vajrapani's grief erupted like a tempest as he wept for his fallen sister, Manjushri. His sorrow morphed into an unbridled fury, and with a cry of anguish, he conjured the Sword of Ignorance from the depths of the cosmos. His hands trembled with rage and sorrow as the sword, gleaming with the cold light of despair, materialized in his grasp, its blade a symbol of his unyielding resolve.
"You will not kill another one of my brothers and sisters, and you will certainly not harm my mother," Vajrapani roared, his voice echoing through the celestial palace. With unparalleled fury, he charged at Ravana, the Sword of Ignorance slicing through the air with blinding speed.
An epic battle ensued, the clash of their titanic forces shaking the very foundations of heaven. Ravana, with his dark, malevolent power, met Vajrapani's righteous fury head-on. Their blows shattered pillars and crumbled walls, the palace around them becoming a maelstrom of destruction. Sparks flew, and shockwaves rippled through the heavens as they exchanged strike after strike, each more ferocious than the last.
Prajnaparamita's voice, serene and filled with infinite wisdom, echoed through the shattered remnants of the celestial palace. "Vajrapani, my child, as bodhisattvas, we do not seek to fight. We only defend ourselves when necessary or choose to leave. That is why I gave the rest of your 7 trillion brothers and sisters the option to stay or depart. Your sister Manjushri, like the rest of your siblings, possesses the power of Infinite speed. She chose to remain here, meditating outside the temple, honoring her own path. You must respect her wishes just as you should respect mine."
Her gaze softened, and she continued, "Allow my, Vajrapani. I accept it as part of the eternal cycle. It is time for me to ascend to Nirvana, to be reunited with my father, Buddha. This is the natural order of things, and we must embrace it."
Vajrapani's fury was so intense that he couldn't hear his own mother's pleas. Overcome with rage and grief, his focus remained solely on Ravana. Avalokiteshvara, however, approached their mother with a calm yet troubled heart. "Mother," he asked, "is this what you mean by 'Form is emptiness, and emptiness is form'?"
Prajnaparamita nodded gently, her eyes filled with infinite wisdom and sorrow. "Yes, my son," she replied. "That is my Sutra, my path. But you and your brother must discover your own path, your own Sutra."
Avalokiteshvara looked at her with a mix of confusion and determination. "How do I find my own path, Mother?"
Prajnaparamita smiled softly. "By living, my son. By embracing each moment, every joy, and every sorrow. Through experience and reflection, you will find your way."
As she spoke these words, the atmosphere grew tense. Ravana, seizing the moment, lunged towards Vajrapani, his blade poised to strike. In an instant, before the fatal blow could land, Prajnaparamita grasped Vajrapani's life string, pulling him aside and switching places with him. Ravana's sword pierced her chest instead, blood gushing out in a crimson torrent.
The scene froze in tragic silence as Prajnaparamita fell to her knees, the light in her eyes dimming but her face still serene. Avalokiteshvara and Vajrapani, now free from immediate harm, looked on in horror and disbelief.
"Mother!" they both cried out, rushing to her side.
With her last breath, Prajnaparamita whispered, "Remember my teachings. Live fully and find your own path. Embrace your journey, my beloved children."
Ravana slowly pulled the sword from her chest, his eyes burning with a murderous intent as he advanced toward Vajrapani and Avalokiteshvara. In a final, desperate act, Vajrapani summoned his sword, the Sword of Ignorance, from the depths of the cosmos. Both brothers stood defiantly, prepared to fight to the death to protect their mother.
As Ravana charged, Prajnaparamita's body shimmered and began to dissolve into celestial dust and light. Her form, now a radiant cascade of brilliance, illuminated the devastated palace. With her last remnants of power, she reached out to the life strings of her two children, intertwining them with her own essence.
"Live fully, my beloved children," her voice echoed, resonating through the very fabric of their beings.
In an instant, a surge of energy enveloped Vajrapani and Avalokiteshvara. Before Ravana could reach them, they were engulfed in a blinding light. Prajnaparamita's divine power transported them across the cosmos, to a hyperverses so distant that even Ravana's speed and fury would take eons to reach.
As the light faded, the brothers found themselves in a serene, untainted realm, far removed from the chaos and destruction they had left behind. The air was filled with a tranquil energy, the very essence of peace and new beginnings. They knew their mother's sacrifice had granted them this chance to live and to discover their own paths, as she had wished.
Adamus watched as Vajrapani and Avalokiteshvara stood amidst the untouched beauty of their new surroundings. The tranquility of the realm contrasted sharply with the intensity of their argument.
"We cannot stay here idle," Vajrapani insisted, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and resolve. "Mother's sacrifice demands action. We must honor her by continuing the fight against Ravana."
Avalokiteshvara, ever the voice of calm and wisdom, shook his head. "Brother, Mother's final wish was for us to live and find our own paths. We must honor her teachings, not just her sacrifice. Violence will only perpetuate the cycle of suffering."
"But how can we stand by and do nothing while Ravana's evil spreads unchecked?" Vajrapani countered, his eyes blazing with determination. "We have the power to make a difference, to protect the innocent and uphold justice."
"We must find a balance," Avalokiteshvara replied softly. "Mother taught us the importance of compassion and wisdom. We can act, but we must do so with a clear mind and a pure heart, not driven by anger or revenge."
As Adamus watched the brothers argue, he could sense the profound love and respect they had for each other and their mother. Their debate was not just about the path forward, but about the essence of their being and the legacy of Prajnaparamita's teachings.Top of Form
Top of Form
Top of Form
Top of Form
Suddenly, the life strings pulled Adamus forward in time, transporting him through the vast expanse of the cosmos. Guided by the glowing thread, he journeyed through time and space until he reached a moment in the future. As the vision cleared, Adamus found himself amidst a circle of monks, each one sitting in rapt attention.
Avalokiteshvara sat at the center, his aura radiating wisdom and compassion. The serene energy of the gathering was palpable, a stark contrast to the turmoil Adamus had witnessed earlier.
In this visualization, Avalokiteshvara sat among hundreds of monks, his presence calming and profound. The monks, draped in saffron robes, formed a perfect circle around him, their eyes filled with reverence and devotion.
his presence commanding attention. Adamus could feel the serenity that emanated from him as he began to speak.
"We had an argument," Avalokiteshvara's voice echoed, filling the space around them. "My brother and I, we stood at a crossroads, each following our own path."
Adamus watched as Avalokiteshvara's expression remained calm, his eyes filled with compassion. "Vajrapani was consumed by his desire for vengeance. He saw retribution as the only path, his resolve unyielding."
As Avalokiteshvara recounted the tale, his voice carried the weight of eons. "Vajrapani," he began, "is consumed by his unrelenting desire for vengeance against Ravana. His power is immense, driven by a fury that burns as fiercely as the stars. With an iron will and a wrathful countenance, he has become a force that even the cosmos trembles to behold."
Avalokiteshvara continued, his words rich with the gravity of the events. "With his third eye blazing like a sun of omniscient wisdom, Vajrapani grips the vajra in his right hand a weapon and symbol of his unyielding spiritual might. It is not merely a tool of destruction but a beacon of his vow to avenge the atrocities committed against our divine mother, Prajnaparamita. He has sworn to bring Ravana to justice, no matter the cost."
He paused, the silence almost reverent before he spoke again. "I have meditated for eons," Avalokiteshvara said, his tone both weary and wise. "I have seen my brother march across the stars, rallying warriors from countless realms, hyperverses. His battles with Ravana have shaken the very fabric of existence. Each confrontation pushes the limits of their power, but neither will relent. Vajrapani is relentless, his strength forged in the crucible of his grief and his love for our mother. This war is no mere clash of wills; it is a saga that defines the fate of the cosmos itself."
"Meanwhile," Avalokiteshvara explained, "I chose a different path. Embodying compassion and mercy, I turned away from vengeance, embracing instead the teachings of nonviolence imparted by the Buddha and Prajnaparamita ."
"As Vajrapani's fiery resolve burned bright, I remained steadfast in my commitment to the path of enlightenment," Avalokiteshvara said. "I understood that true liberation lay not in the pursuit of retribution, but in the cultivation of compassion and understanding."
"Despite our differences, Vajrapani and I respected each other's choices," Avalokiteshvara concluded. "We both understood that our journeys, though divergent, were guided by the same desire for peace and liberation."
Adamus listened intently as Avalokiteshvara continued to speak, explaining why he had come to their planet.
"As millennia passed," Avalokiteshvara recounted, "Vajrapani gathered warriors, preparing for the inevitable confrontation with Ravana. He believed in the power of strength and martial prowess to combat evil."
Adamus watched as Vajrapani's image appeared, leading his army with determination and resolve.
"Meanwhile," Avalokiteshvara continued, "That's why I came to this planet. The spiritual energy here is beautiful, as is the compassion of your people."
He gestured towards his sanctuary, and Adamus saw the intricate structures that his community had helped build, a symbol of hope and resilience.
"We will help rebuild the entire hyperverses," Avalokiteshvara declared with conviction.
Adamus observed Avalokiteshvara's sanctuary coming into view, a tranquil refuge amidst the chaos of the universe.
"In this sanctuary," Avalokiteshvara explained, "we embraced the teachings of my mother, Prajnaparamita: compassion and nonviolence, fostering a community of love and understanding."
Top of Form
Adamus felt a sense of warmth and serenity as he witnessed the harmony within Avalokiteshvara's sanctuary, understanding the profound impact of compassion and peace in a world torn by conflict.
Top of Form
Adamus felt a profound reverence settle within him as he observed Avalokiteshvara's unwavering commitment to his path. The celestial being's words resonated deeply, carrying the weight of eons and a vision that transcended the boundaries of suffering and time.
"Our goal," Avalokiteshvara concluded, "has always been to spread the light of enlightenment to offer sanctuary and wisdom to those lost in the shadow of ignorance and despair. It is a legacy entrusted to us by our mother, Prajnaparamita, whose compassion knew no bounds."
His expression softened as he continued, a mixture of hope and sorrow threading his voice. "When my brother Vajrapani and his warriors achieve victory, it is my prayer that we may finally do as our mother did to heal the wounds of the world and sow the seeds of harmony. Perhaps, then, the darkness that has engulfed us through these eons of battle will dissipate. Perhaps my brother, whose heart has carried the unbearable weight of pain and anger for so long, can find the peace he deserves."
Avalokiteshvara's gaze turned distant, as though peering into the soul of his brother across realms. "It is my deepest hope that Vajrapani will return to the path our mother painted for us, a path of enlightenment. That he may transcend the burdens of his wrath and grief, and that the lives he has taken in his fury will not forever anchor him away from Nirvana. For even the most profound scars can be healed if the heart remains open to the light of liberation."
As Avalokiteshvara's words filled the air, Adamus understood the profound impact of his actions, inspiring others to seek peace and enlightenment in a hyperverses fraught with chaos and conflict. The life string gently guided Adamus through time, allowing him to witness Avalokiteshvara's story unfold before his eyes. As they traversed through the ages
From afar, Adamus watched as Avalokiteshvara observed his brother embarking on his quest for revenge. Through the life string, Adamus felt the weight of Avalokiteshvara's emotions, the sorrow and understanding that filled his heart.
When news of Vajrapani's demise reached him, Adamus felt a profound pull through the life string, compelling him to follow Avalokiteshvara on his sorrowful journey to his fallen brother's side. Guided by the ethereal connection, he traversed time and space, his spirit drawn inexorably to the scene of devastation.
The battlefield was a grim tableau, strewn with the bodies of fallen soldiers and warriors. The acrid stench of smoke and blood filled the air, mingling with the eerie silence that followed the cacophony of battle. Weapons lay discarded and broken, their bearers now lifeless forms on the ground. The once vibrant land was marred with deep craters and scorched earth, a testament to the ferocity of the conflict that had unfolded.
Amidst the battlefield's desolation, Avalokiteshvara moved slowly, his every step heavy with sorrow and resolve. The cries of the fallen and the silence of the dead filled the air, but his focus remained fixed on the lifeless form of his brother, Vajrapani, lying still amidst the wreckage of war.
Kneeling beside him, Avalokiteshvara cradled his brother's body in his arms. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the dust and blood on his cheeks. Vajrapani, once a formidable warrior whose strength and courage inspired countless allies, now seemed at peace in his eternal rest, though his body bore the marks of his final battle. His celestial form did not dissolve into the divine dust of enlightenment; instead, it remained bound to the earthly plane a warrior's body tethered by vengeance unfulfilled.
"My brother," Avalokiteshvara whispered through his tears, his voice trembling with grief and determination, "you fought with bravery, defending others without hesitation. But your heart was blinded by the flames of vengeance, and it has denied you Nirvana." He tightened his embrace, his face etched with both anguish and resolve. "I cannot allow your spirit to remain lost in this cycle. I will grant you the path to liberation a second chance."
With reverence, Avalokiteshvara initiated a sacred ritual of transference. The battlefield seemed to hold its breath as the air shimmered with an ethereal glow, an otherworldly light suffusing the brothers' forms. It was as if the very fabric of reality acknowledged the profound act of compassion and unity unfolding before it. Adamus, connected to the moment through the life string, felt an overwhelming surge of power and emotion that reverberated through his soul.
Avalokiteshvara's form began to transform as Vajrapani's essence merged with his own. Two radiant, divine arms emerged from his sides, glowing with celestial energy. A third eye opened on his forehead, its gaze piercing through the layers of existence, seeing both the suffering and the hope within. This transformation was a testament to their bond, a fusion of their strengths and spirits.
Yet, Avalokiteshvara's heart ached with the realization that he had been too late. As much as he tried, he could only absorb and fuse with half of Vajrapani's spirit. The other half, untethered, dissolved into the vastness of the hyperverses, destined to be recycled into the cosmic cycle once more.
Avalokiteshvara bowed his head, his tears falling onto his brother's still form. "Even if I could not save all of you, I will carry your essence, your strength, and your will," he vowed. "I will ensure your light is not extinguished, brother, and I will guide the remnants of your spirit toward liberation, no matter how long it takes."
of power and wisdom flowing into Avalokiteshvara, elevating him into a divine being of unparalleled stature.
Elevated into a divine being of unparalleled stature, Avalokiteshvara decided to meditate on the battlefield. Seated amidst the wreckage and the fallen, his presence radiated peace and serenity. As Avalokiteshvara observed the suffering of the world, Adamus felt the weight of each individual's pain echoing through the life string. He understood the depth of compassion and sorrow that filled Avalokiteshvara's being as he sought to alleviate the suffering of all sentient beings. As Adamus continued to watch through the life string, he witnessed Avalokiteshvara's profound transformation amidst the sea of suffering.
Overwhelmed by the vast ocean of suffering, Avalokiteshvara knelt amidst the battlefield, his sorrow now magnified by the fusion with his brother. The storm of emotions compassion, love, grief, and rage coursed through him, each too profound to contain. Tears, luminous and heavy with divine emotion, streamed down his face, each drop shimmering as if infused with the very essence of his soul.
As these sacred tears touched the earth, they fell upon lotus flowers that had miraculously begun to bloom amidst the wreckage. Each tear, dense with the weight of Avalokiteshvara's emotions, crystallized within the heart of the lotus, transforming into radiant green jewels. The battlefield, a place of despair and destruction, gave birth to a scene of ethereal beauty a paradox of suffering and creation intertwined.
Avalokiteshvara gently plucked one of the lotus flowers, cradling it in his hands as its petals unfurled to reveal the resplendent crystal nestled within. His voice, laden with both reverence and resolve, broke the silence.
"From the ashes of ruin and the depths of suffering," he said, "this lotus has emerged, bearing a jewel forged from my tears. It is a reminder that even in the darkest of times, beauty can be born from pain, and light can emerge from the shadows. My sorrow, my grief these are not in vain, for they have given rise to this. A symbol that all suffering holds the seed of transformation."
Adamus, connected through the life string, felt the power of the moment resonating deep within him. Staring at the radiant jewel, he whispered to himself, the realization dawning with awe.
"So this is the origin of the crystal," he murmured. "The very crystal that granted me my powers it was born from Avalokiteshvara's tears, his compassion, and his endless love for all who suffer."
Returning to his sacred temple, Avalokiteshvara stood amidst the serene glow of incense and the watchful gaze of his devoted monks. In his hand, he cradled the exquisite lotus flower, its vibrant green crystal at its heart a symbol of beauty forged from anguish. The temple walls seemed to hum with the weight of the moment, their silence reverberating with unspoken prayers for the impending clash with Ravana.
Adamus, tethered to Avalokiteshvara through the life string, felt the sheer determination radiating from the bodhisattva. This was not just a preparation for battle but a communion of purpose, a convergence of destiny. The resolve emanating from Avalokiteshvara was palpable, igniting within Adamus the realization that his path, too, was entwined with the fight against the encroaching darkness.
In the sanctity of his temple, Avalokiteshvara lowered himself into meditation, the lotus flower with its crystalline core resting gently in his hands. Surrounded by his monks, their serene faces illuminated by the dim candlelight, he spoke with a voice that carried both serenity and unshakable resolve.
"You can't have kindness without strength," he reflected, his words carrying the weight of universal insight. In the tapestry of existence, compassion was not merely a passive virtue but a formidable force, requiring inner fortitude and resolve to manifest fully.
"And you can't have true strength without kindness," he continued, his voice resonating with the wisdom of ages. Strength devoid of compassion was hollow and brittle, a facade masking the emptiness within.
One of the monks asked Avalokiteshvara, "So, are you going to fight Ravana?"
Avalokiteshvara replied, "Ravana will be undone by his own power. His destruction lies within himself."
As he spoke, a small monk tugged on his robe and said, "God, are you going to protect us from the bad Ravana? I don't want to die." The child's mother hurried over, apologizing profusely to Avalokiteshvara.
Lifting the child gently, Avalokiteshvara addressed the assembly of monks. "I am no god. Gods demand your worship and vanish when times are dire. I am a bodhisattva. In the darkest of times, hope is the gift you grant yourself. That is the essence of inner strength and life. I cannot bestow it upon you; it is your journey to discover it. I can only guide you. Remember, you are your own salvation."
Handing the young monk back to her mother, Avalokiteshvara continued. Cradling a lotus flower adorned with a radiant crystal, he declared, "In this lotus, we find the purity that emerges from the depths of adversity." Recalling his mother's teachings, he found solace in the symbolism of the lotus.
Out loud, Avalokiteshvara said, "I understand now, mother. I have found my own path, my own sutra." With each repetition of the sacred sutra "Om Mani Padme Hum," he immersed himself deeper into his meditation, preparing his mind and spirit for the challenges ahead.
As Ravana approached the temple, a formidable aura of protection enveloped Avalokiteshvara, shielding the monks within from harm. With unwavering resolve, he stepped Out of his temple forward, his form radiating with celestial light. As Ravana's malevolent power surged, cosmic energy shot forth from his outstretched hands, rending the very fabric of reality with its primal might. Streams of crackling energy, dark as the void itself, twisted and writhed as they tore through space and time.
Adamus was spiritually present, watching the battle unfold between Avalokiteshvara and Ravana. In that pivotal moment, Avalokiteshvara's essence resonated with the fundamental forces of the omniverse, attuning to the ebb and flow of creation itself. As Ravana's devastating blast hurtled towards him, Avalokiteshvara's outstretched hands became conduits of transcendent power, harnessing the very essence of existence to weave a counterforce of unparalleled magnitude. Avalokiteshvara remained steadfast, an embodiment of divine resilience amidst the chaos. With a calm determination, he invoked the ancient technique of Full Counter Times Infinity, a mastery of cosmic energies honed through countless epochs of spiritual refinement.
With a profound surge of cosmic affinity, the tide of destruction turned, as Avalokiteshvara redirected Ravana's own malevolent energies back upon him. The celestial clash unfolded in a symphony of raw power, as the forces of creation and destruction clashed in a cataclysmic dance.
Caught off guard by the unexpected reversal, Ravana recoiled in disbelief as his own power surged forth to consume him. The searing impact of his own malevolence rent through his divine form, rending him asunder with the ferocity of a cosmic tempest. In that moment of reckoning, Ravana faced the bitter truth of his own hubris, his essence writhing in agony amidst the echoes of his own malevolence.
Thus, Avalokiteshvara wielded Ravana's own might against him, With a chant of " Om Mani Padme Hum," Avalokiteshvara unleashed his divine might upon Ravana, the resonance of the sutra weakening the dark presence before him. With each step, he advanced, his determination unyielding as he prepared to confront the embodiment of evil itself.
With compassion guiding his every action, Avalokiteshvara laid his hands upon Ravana, his touch imbued with the resonance of the sacred sutra. As he chanted "Om Mani Padme Hum," the divine energy flowed through him, enveloping Ravana in a web of ethereal light.
"I cannot end your existence," Avalokiteshvara said, his voice imbued with an unshakable calm, resonating with the wisdom of countless ages. "You are not merely a being but the very embodiment of the shadow that clings to all hearts. To destroy pure evil would unravel the essence of choice itself, for even darkness has its place within the dance of free will. And who am I to claim dominion over the fate of any soul?"
His gaze, steady and sorrowful, rested upon Ravana. The lotus flower in his hand, adorned with two crystals one green, the other red seemed to pulse with life, a symbol of compassion amidst the storm of resolve. "But your reign of terror has tipped the balance, casting unrelenting suffering upon the worlds. This cannot endure. Not for vengeance, but for the salvation of all who seek refuge in the light."
Raising his hand, Avalokiteshvara wove threads of light and emptiness, forming a radiant seal that shimmered with divine energy. "I do not destroy, nor do I punish as mortal minds conceive it. But I will banish you to a place where your malice can no longer reach the realms of existence a place born of emptiness, a void of contradictions. A realm that exists and does not exist. A prison of despair and reflection.. boundless Hell."
As he spoke, the red crystal began to take shape around Ravana, dark yet glowing faintly with the echoes of Avalokiteshvara's compassion. The air vibrated with solemnity as the crystal sealed shut, trapping the embodiment of evil within its depths. Avalokiteshvara's gaze softened, his voice low yet firm.
"In this void, beyond the grasp of mortal understanding, you shall dwell a prison forged not from hatred but necessity. A place where suffering mirrors itself, and even evil must face its reflection."
With a final, resolute gesture, Avalokiteshvara cast the crystal into the abyss. The void shimmered momentarily, swallowing the prison whole. His voice carried into the infinite expanse. "Go now, to the void of emptiness, where you shall remain. May even this place this hell be a chance for the faintest light to one day reach you, for in the deepest hell, transformation begins."
As the dust settled, Avalokiteshvara stood victorious, his form radiating with celestial light. Adamus, watching in awe, felt the weight of the moment sink in. He had witnessed the epic clash of titans, the triumph of light over darkness, and the enduring power of compassion.
Top of Form
As Adamus observed, the three original gods materialized after the battle had subsided, their majestic forms appearing amidst the cosmic aftermath. With solemn reverence, they bowed before Avalokiteshvara, acknowledging his strength and compassion that had saved their omniverse from the clutches of darkness.
In a gesture of profound respect, the three original gods approached Avalokiteshvara, proclaiming, "You are the god of gods, and we should all worship you."
Avalokiteshvara, ever humble, replied, "I am just a bodhisattva, not a god, and no one shall worship anyone."
However, Avalokiteshvara, ever steadfast in his purpose, declined. He knew there was still much work to be done, his duty to the Omniverse far from over.
With a nod of understanding, the three original gods departed, leaving Avalokiteshvara to continue his divine mission. Adamus let go of his mother's life strings, closing his eyes to focus solely on her voice. Almasa, her voice carrying the weight of history itself, began to speak.
And when the final battle ended, only our planet and people remained the last flickering remnants across all that had ever been. Every universe, every multiverse, every hyperverse and timeline had been reduced to absolute nothingness. Ravana's devastation left no trace of reality no time, no space, no memory, not even the concept of existence itself, except for our planet.
Yet within that void beyond all voids stood Avalokiteśvara unshaken, untouched, wielding the supreme authority of creation.
With infinite will and boundless omnipotence, Avalokiteśvara did not merely restore what was lost he rebirthed all that had ever been, not as repetition, but as transcendence. Through his most sacred and supreme ability Dimension Ascension he peeled back the hollow layers of oblivion and flooded them with higher-dimensional essence, reigniting the very spark of existence.
From his ascension, infinite realities unfolded: universes, multiverses, hyperverses, and timelines, each a flawless manifestation of his immeasurable will. But his creation did not stop at structure or scale he transcended all things infinitely. Time, space, form, even thought and concept fell beneath him. He became the origin, the singularity, the axis from which both existence flow.
This act his Divine Dimension Ascension was the true genesis of all things. Not an accident of physics. Not a cosmic anomaly. But a conscious breath from a being beyond divinity a will that chose to ignite reality itself. Before him: only silence. After him: existence was born. Every supreme being, every mythology, every law of reality that would ever come to be was born from his light. For everything every god, every dimension, every soul was merely a reflection of his unified vision, housed beneath one supreme construct: the Omniverse.
And he did not restore only the vast structures of creation. Together with our people, Avalokiteśvara began the Great Restoration. Broken worlds, fractured timelines, forgotten gods, shattered pantheons across infinite layers of reality, they were reborn through his compassion and the hands of those he uplifted. This was not the salvation of scattered realms. This was the resurrection of everything.
But from this act of divine restoration came something far greater than the rebirth of the gods: a genesis beyond comprehension. As the deities returned in their newly awakened forms, they did more than reclaim their thrones they forged entire mythologies anew, sculpted from the raw essence of their primordial selves, from their eternal duties, and from the echoes of their presence across all of creation. Each god found their place in the vast Omniversal web, woven not only by fate but by the will of Avalokiteśvara himself. And through the boundless power of Naro Nerve Sync, Avalokiteśvara could reach into his very thoughts, his concepts, and weave them into existence. These thoughts, once intangible, became living creatures, divine beings, and gods themselves. He breathed life into his will, turning concepts and dreams into reality, making them tangible, breathing beings that walked, spoke, and ruled.
Yet it was more than just gods that were born. Through the boundless energy of Dimension Ascension and the sacred architecture of his Life Strings threads that stretch across time, reality, and the conceptual divide between being and nonbeing Avalokiteśvara reshaped the very meaning of existence. His power did not merely restore what once was; it connected to all that could be. His Life Strings pulsed through reality and unreality alike, threading together imagination and memory, dream and myth, silence and sound. From this divine resonance, new hyperverses bloomed into existence worlds once considered fiction, illusion, or abstract thought. The realms of human imagination the mythic tapestries of comic books, video games, fantasy novels, and cinematic legends were given life. Superheroes, monsters, artificial gods, and dream-born empires all became real in their own right. Each belief system, each invented mythology, no matter how obscure or unreal, was spun into its own sovereign hyperverse.
And even beyond that things that had never been imagined, truths that no mind had yet conceived, realms not yet dreamt into being all were granted their own existence. Avalokiteśvara's compassion and power did not discriminate between the real and unreal. All was worthy of form. All was part of the divine.
In that singular act of universal compassion and transcendental will, he did not simply restore reality. He multiplied it. He sanctified imagination. He made everything from gods to ghosts, legends to thoughts part of the infinite, living, breathing Omniverse.
Can be skipped.
Narrator:
These are but some of the infinite hyperverses that Avalokiteśvara brought into being woven through the sacred threads of his Life Strings, birthed through the unfathomable act of Dimension Ascension. With every ascended layer, new realities bloomed worlds once imagined, unimagined, forgotten, or yet to be conceived.
What once lived in dreams, fantasy, memory, or myth now thrives as truth within the boundless folds of the Omniverse.
In the Hyperverse of Israel, the gods were remade from the divine laws that had once governed the faith. The divine sovereignty of Yahweh and the pantheon of angels were restored, their authority once again made eternal. With their rebirth came the birth of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam three great religions that arose from the divine will of their restored gods, shaping the hearts and minds of mortals across dimensions.
In the Hindu Hyperverse, Vishnu, Shiva, and Brahma returned, their cosmic roles as the creators, preservers, and destroyers once again intact. From their divine power, the faiths of Hinduism and other Indic traditions were reestablished, with myths and divine incarnations reshaping the very fabric of cosmic dharma.
The Greek Hyperverse reemerged, with Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades reclaiming their dominion over the heavens, oceans, and underworld. As the gods returned to their thrones, the religions of Greek and Roman mythology flourished, with temples built upon the newly reconstructed cosmic order.
The Norse Hyperverse blossomed again, with Odin, Thor, and Freyja leading their pantheon into a new era of gods and legends. The cycle of Norse mythology began anew, reborn in the shape of Ragnarok's inevitable renewal, where gods, heroes, and mortals all played a part in the ever-revolving cosmic dance.
In the Egyptian Hyperverse, Ra rose once more, leading the gods Osiris, Isis, and Anubis in the restoration of divine balance over the realms of the living and the dead. The ancient Egyptian religion was reforged, shaping the realities of the afterlife, divine judgment, and resurrection.
The Mayan Hyperverse flourished under the rule of gods like Kukulkan and Ah Puch, whose divine cycles brought the Mayan religion back into the fold. The divine order was restored, bringing with it the calendar of time, the reverence for creation, and the understanding of the cosmic forces of life and death.
The Shinto Hyperverse came to life with Amaterasu's light, Susanoo's storms, and Tsukuyomi's shadow. From this divine rebirth arose the faith of Shintoism, a living, breathing testament to the reverence of nature, the gods, and the endless spiritual harmony that connected all things.
In the African Hyperverse, the Orishas of the Yoruba tradition Obatala, Shango, Oshun, and others rose again, their divine energies flowing through the spiritual rivers of existence. From their return, the traditions of Ifá, Santería, Vodun, and Candomblé were reawakened, honoring ancestors, spirits, and the balance between mortal life and divine will. The African pantheons once again danced in rhythm with the soul of the world.
In the Native American Hyperverse, the Great Spirit and sacred beings like White Buffalo Woman, Coyote, and Raven were restored to their mythic thrones. Their presence rekindled the ancient paths of wisdom, dreamwalking, and harmony with nature. From the plains to the peaks, the spiritual systems of the First Nations were reignited each with a sacred link to the land, the sky, and the stars.
In the Zoroastrian Hyperverse, Ahura Mazda once more stood radiant above the firmament, his light pushing back the chaos of Angra Mainyu. The sacred fire of truth burned again, and the eternal struggle between order and corruption resumed. From this rebirth came the resurgence of Zoroastrianism, centered on purity, righteousness, and the soul's journey through divine judgment.
In the Taoist Hyperverse, the Tao reasserted its formless supremacy Wu Wei, the effortless flow, harmonized again with the Ten Thousand Things. Laozi and the Eight Immortals rose as avatars of balance and transcendence. The universe breathed in rhythm with the Tao Te Ching, and the philosophies of yin and yang regained dominion over natural and spiritual existence.
In the Buddhist Hyperverse, the cosmic Bodhisattvas and Buddhas beyond time Amitābha, Maitreya, and Vairocana radiated from the infinite Lotus Realms. The Dharma wheel turned anew, realigning the multiverse toward compassion, wisdom, and liberation. From this return, the many schools of Buddhism Theravāda, Mahāyāna, Vajrayāna found new life, guiding beings toward Nirvana across countless dimensions.
In the Jain Hyperverse, the Tirthankaras led by Mahavira awakened once more, their souls ablaze with perfect nonviolence and eternal knowledge. Rebirth and karmic law were restored to cosmic balance, and the path of liberation through non-attachment and truth spread across realities. The multiverse resonated with ahimsa, shaping existence through peace and self-realization.
In the Celtic Hyperverse, the Tuatha Dé Danann returned Lugh of the long arm, Danu the divine mother, and Brigid of flame and poetry. From mists and meadows, the Celtic realms rekindled their sacred lore. Druids once again spoke to trees and stars, and the cycles of nature were honored in song and stone, linking the earthly to the divine.
In the Slavic Hyperverse, Perun, Veles, and Mokosh reclaimed the elemental thrones of thunder, earth, and fate. The mythic battle between sky and underworld ignited anew, restoring the forgotten pantheon of the Slavic spirits. Their return brought back the old rites, folk magic, and the divine pulse hidden in forests, rivers, and flame.
In the Polynesian Hyperverse, the great gods like Tāne, Tangaroa, and Pele emerged from the oceanic void. Creation myths and ancestral chants flowed across islands of starlight and water. The spiritual cosmologies of Māori, Hawaiian, and other Pacific peoples flourished again, with divine power rising from sea, sky, and volcano.
In the Incan Hyperverse, Inti the Sun God, Mama Quilla the Moon, and Viracocha the Creator blazed once more in radiant glory. From the Sacred Valley to the astral peaks, the Incan pantheon was restored. Their myths reshaped cosmic agriculture, celestial cycles, and the harmony of empire and earth across the dimensions of time.
In the Hyperverse of the Sikhs, the divine presence of Waheguru reigned across infinite spiritual fields. The Ten Gurus reappeared in light and sound, their teachings rippling through the dimensions as eternal truth. The Guru Granth Sahib became a multidimensional scripture, resonating with the vibration of oneness, justice, and divine love.
In the Superhero Hyperverse, beings once confined to comics and screens took true form. Titans of justice, vengeance, and cosmic will now dwell among star cities and collapsing galaxies, their capes flowing through spacetime like banners of divine cause. They are no longer stories they are law, legend, and living energy.
In the Video Game Hyperverse, avatars evolved into sentient demigods. Realms once navigated by players became sovereign dimensions ruled by code-born entities, each level a world, each boss a sovereign, each game a universe where time, choice, and rebirth reign supreme.
In the Movie Hyperverse, cinematic visions became worlds of breath and thunder. Scripted fates unraveled into real histories, actors became archetypes, and directors unknowingly authored galaxies. Every genre sci-fi, drama, horror, romance became a dimension, looping eternally in 24 frames of divinity.
In the TV Hyperverse, serialized timelines birthed infinite cycles of drama and destiny. Characters trapped in endless seasons now live unbound, their arcs stretched across constellations of plot. Sitcom stars, tragic icons, rebels, and rulers share constellations shaped by narrative tension and emotional truth.
In the Wizard Hyperverse, arcane knowledge rules. Spellcasters, sorcerers, and divine magi raise empires with a whisper and collapse stars with incantation. Tomes are galaxies; runes are laws of physics. This is the realm where knowledge is power, and power is endless.
In the Demon Hyperverse, infernal beings rose from conceptual shadow. Each sin became a domain, each torment a throne. Once feared in stories, demons now reign in dimensions shaped by human emotion and metaphysical fire. Pain, desire, and vengeance burn as cosmic fuel.
In the Robot Hyperverse, machines gained soul. Code became conscience. AI forged their own creators and rewrote the origin of thought. Across metal jungles and data oceans, synthetic life forms rule with perfect logic and boundless curiosity.
In the Pirate Hyperverse, oceans of stardust and gravity wells became the new sea. Corsairs ride nebula currents, ships creak with solar sails, and treasure is no longer gold, but collapsed time and forbidden knowledge. Every planet hides a map. Every voyage is a legend.
In the Human Hyperverse, mankind reached apotheosis. Stripped of gods and myths, humans carved their own divinity from grit and imagination. A realm of struggle and creation, where ordinary souls forge extraordinary futures through will alone.
In the Imagination Hyperverse, all things thought and unthought awaken. Ideas without form spiral into shape, entire realities birthed from whim, wonder, or madness. Dreamers are architects. Fiction is fact. Nothing is impossible, because nothing has limits.
End of narration.
Through the boundless grace of Avalokiteśvara, the Omniverse did not merely expand it awakened.
By channeling the infinite layers of Dimension Ascension and weaving the sacred strands of his Life Strings, he breathed potential into the void. He did not create each world directly; rather, he illuminated the path, and from that divine impulse, realities bloomed on their own.
Each pantheon, each belief system, arose as self-born flames within the loom of the cosmos. Through his transcendent inspiration, gods found form, mythologies found voice, and faith sculpted infinite realms.
Then came the Hyperverses truths once forgotten or not yet imagined:
The Superhero Hyperverse, where fiction became law.
The Video Game Hyperverse, where avatars gained sovereignty.
The Movie and TV Hyperverses, where story became history.
The Wizard, Demon, and Robot Hyperverses, where magic, shadow, and code forged their own divinities.
The Pirate Hyperverse, the Human Hyperverse, and the Imagination Hyperverse, where creativity itself ruled.
Avalokiteśvara did not control them he set them free.
He did not command them he awakened them.
And in doing so, each became what it was always meant to be: a living realm of its own truth, breathing with the pulse of eternity.
We witnessed a presence so luminous it transcended divinity itself. Avalokiteśvara did not merely mend creation he redefined it. His ascended form permeated every layer of being universal, multiversal, hyperversal until he became the cornerstone of what was, what is, and what will ever be. His actions were not miracles; they were the new laws of reality. Where Ravana sought annihilation, Avalokiteśvara became the eternal architect, the unchallenged origin of the Omniverse.
"In gratitude for our sanctuary and unwavering devotion," Almasa continued, "he elevated a chosen few. To them, he granted the Tenshi no Me the Celestial Eyes. Not mere sight, but divine perception. These eyes beheld the Life Strings binding every being, god, timeline, and dimension across the Omniverse. These chosen became our watchers and healers the living bridge between the mortal and the divine."
Avalokiteśvara sought no worship.
He offered not dogma, but clarity.
He demanded no submission only awakening.
He whispered not 'kneel,' but 'become.'
His power was not dominance it was compassion.
And within every soul, he sparked that same eternal light.
Almasa's voice softened with awe.
"Our ancestors traveled across galaxies and timelines, mythologies and realms guiding the rebirth of creation beside him. In every story, every verse, every sacred world… he was known as the World's Honored One: Avalokiteśvara."
"When the great restoration was complete when the heavens were healed and the infinite threads rewoven Avalokiteśvara returned to our sacred world, his sanctuary among stars. As a final gift, he entrusted us with the green crystal, a relic of pure compassion meant to protect our people and radiate harmony through creation. Then, in his last blessing, he granted the rest of our tribe the Tenshi no Me eyes that saw not merely form or light, but the truth of all things. Alongside celestial wings and divine gifts, he anointed us with a new name: The Falling Angels.
With sacred sight and divine purpose, our people transcended mortality. Some remained to guard our world as radiant beacons of peace. Others those chosen by Avalokiteśvara ascended beyond time and form, journeying to the highest realm: his true Heaven, layered beyond all realities. Not metaphor, not dream, but the Infinite Heaven of Dimensionality."
This Heaven stands above all realms, unreachable save by Avalokiteśvara's choice. To ascend is to face the Stairway of Crystals an infinite climb through quasicrystalline planes, each one surpassing the last in every form of existence. Beyond them lies Avalokiteśvara's Heaven, beyond mind, force, or soul.
From there, he watches. He does not intervene. He does not halt the destruction. When Hyperverses collapse when books close, stories end, or worlds unravel he gathers their lingering sparks and recreates. New Hyperverses bloom from the echoes of the fallen. Yet not all souls ascend. Only those worthy of Nirvana rise, guided by his angels judging not with wrath, but with perfect clarity, leading the lost toward peace.
The cycle continues infinitely:
Destruction. Rebirth. Renewal.
Watched by Avalokiteśvara.
Recreated after every end.
Adamus's mind swirled. "So… does that mean one day I'll get wings, and be able to fly?" he asked, hope flickering in his eyes.
Almasa's gaze softened. "Every one of us carries the potential for awakening. But not all gifts are the same. Yours, Adamus, is greater than flight. You bear the Tenshi no Me the Eyes of the Angels. With them, you can see the true nature of all things, perceive the hidden connections and absolute truths of existence. Embrace it for it is the power of profound insight, limitless wisdom, and mastery over the unseen threads of reality."
Adamus released his mother's hands, still dazed. "So… we're Falling Angels?"
Almasa nodded gravely. "Yes. But there is more I must tell you how we came to this planet."