The higher plane stretched endlessly, yet it was not endless in the way Lui had once known. Infinity here was layered, like a fractal spiraling within itself—a scale where what seemed boundless in lower dimensions was trivial, and what seemed finite could unravel entire realities. He stepped carefully, feeling the pulse of existence itself ripple underfoot, though "foot" was merely a convenient approximation of his presence in this abstract space.
The bridge of concept—the path formed from the interplay of thought, will, and infinite potential—twisted before him. Shadows and light merged into impossible geometries. Spirals of time, fractals of space, and layers of collapsed possibilities rotated, merged, and folded over one another. For a fleeting moment, Lui glimpsed every world he had visited—the Promised Lands, Chaos World, the Dreamroot, the infinite labyrinths—and realized they were all merely echoes of this higher plane, imperfect reflections in the mirror of perception.
"Something beyond endless," he murmured to himself. "Even infinity in one dimension is meaningless here."
And then he sensed it. Not a presence, not a being in any conventional sense, but an awareness of being watched, measured, and understood simultaneously across countless dimensions. It radiated intelligence beyond comprehension, as though the very laws of reality had been woven around it, and yet it did not move—it was the space, the time, the possibility.
From that awareness, a voice resonated—not with sound, but with the vibration of truth itself.
"Lui… you have stepped beyond the echo of beginnings."
He swallowed. He had expected trials, paradoxes, maybe even illusions. But this… this was something else entirely. A consciousness that had never needed form, yet could bend the infinite to its whim.
"Who… are you?" he asked. Words were useless here, but intention was understood.
The entity's response was a ripple across his very being.
"I am what your mind cannot conceive. I am not a god, nor a fragment of gods. I am the dimension beyond dimensions, the infinity that contains even the endlessness of the First Silence. You may call me… Erythiel."
Lui felt his mind fracture at the name, yet simultaneously expand. It was impossible to grasp the entity in full, yet impossible to deny its existence. Every rule he had learned about the Dreamroot, the multiverse, the labyrinths—everything—collapsed under its presence.
"Erythiel… why are you here?" he asked, his voice trembling, though sound could not truly exist.
"I am the measure of what is beyond measure," Erythiel replied. "I exist to test those who venture beyond the frameworks of known existence. You, who have walked through infinity and perceived the relative boundlessness of worlds, have earned the chance to witness… to participate… to understand."
Lui's mind swirled. "Test? Understand? Participate? How… how can I possibly comprehend something beyond all dimensions?"
"Comprehension is irrelevant," the entity said. "Perception is optional. What matters is interaction. Even the First Silence, who abandoned omniscience and omnipotence, cannot fully contain me. You will experience, and through experience, you will evolve."
The space around him shifted. He felt as though he were walking along a bridge of thought, yet beneath him stretched nothing, and around him floated all possibilities at once. A wave of abstract forms—some beautiful, some terrifying—brushed against his consciousness. They were worlds that could exist, might exist, and could never exist, all coalescing into a singularity of perception.
"This is… beyond comprehension," Lui whispered. "It feels… alive."
"Yes," Erythiel said. "Life, death, creation, destruction, possibility, impossibility—they are all threads I weave. And now… you will weave with me."
Before Lui could respond, the higher-dimensional space folded around him. He felt every choice he had ever made, every path he had ever taken, stretching into infinite consequences. He saw countless versions of himself—some who had failed the labyrinth, some who had never been born, some who had ascended into forms of pure thought. Each version existed simultaneously, each influencing the others subtly, yet the aggregate of their experience was him.
"You see the multiverse," Erythiel said, "but you see it through a narrow lens. Infinity is relative. What you consider endless is finite here. The Dreamroot, the labyrinths, even the First Silence—all are fragments compared to me. Your understanding is a seed, and I will guide its growth."
Lui tried to move, but the laws of physics, time, and space were irrelevant here. Instead, he focused on intent, and the abstract bridge beneath him shifted accordingly. He stepped forward, and the entity extended a fragment of itself—not a hand, not a form, but a pulse of raw dimension—toward him.
"Touch this," Erythiel commanded, "and perceive what lies beyond existence, yet within it."
Hesitation surged. His mind screamed that he could not survive this, that he would be annihilated, that reality would collapse beneath the weight of a consciousness too vast. Yet the pull was irresistible. He extended his awareness—and in that instant, the fabric of all possible worlds unfolded into him.
It was overwhelming. Infinite realities stacked, nested, and folded upon one another. He perceived the Dreamroot, the Menger sponge paradox, countless infinities, and even the unmanifest—the possibilities that had never been, and could never be, all at once. His consciousness stretched across dimensions, brushing against planes that had no measure, no substance, no name.
"I… I feel… everything," he whispered. "And yet… I feel nothing."
"Exactly," Erythiel said. "Perception is a prism. What seems full in one plane is empty in another. What seems infinite in three dimensions is trivial in higher ones. You have seen the relative nature of endlessness. Now you will act within it."
The bridge of thought shifted again, and Lui felt himself moving—though he did not move. Possibility became his body, and thought became his limbs. He manipulated fragments of existence, weaving them subtly. A star formed here, a world dissolved there, a timeline bent toward coherence or chaos depending on his focus.
"You see how even infinitesimal acts create ripples," Erythiel said. "A thought in a higher dimension can birth or erase an entire universe in a lower one. Yet every act is relative. What seems monumental in one context is nothing in another."
Lui's consciousness trembled under the weight of that responsibility. He saw worlds where civilizations rose and fell in a blink, timelines where gods were born and annihilated in a breath, and dreamscapes where life itself existed only as abstract potential.
"Do not fear," Erythiel said. "You are not omnipotent. You are an observer, an actor, and a participant. You are a seed of understanding, growing in a garden that has no boundary."
For the first time, Lui understood the paradox that had haunted him since the higher-dimensional labyrinth: endlessness is a relative measure, and infinity exists only in context. Every world he had walked, every trial he had endured, every whisper of the Dreamroot was both insignificant and essential in this plane.
"Then… what am I here?" he asked, feeling himself stretch across dimensions like a strand of light.
"You are a witness," Erythiel said. "You are a participant. You are a bridge between dimensions, a prism through which relative infinity can be perceived and acted upon. You are, in a sense, less than endless—and yet, for this plane, you are everything."
A silence fell. Not empty, but infinite, full of latent possibilities. Lui floated—or stood, or simply was—absorbing the paradox. He saw himself reflected in higher-dimensional fractals, mirrored infinitely, yet somehow all versions converged into a single consciousness.
"Go forth," Erythiel said. "Walk the Dreamroot, traverse the multiverses, explore the paradoxes. Every step you take, every choice you make, echoes across planes you have yet to perceive. You will never understand all, yet you will understand enough to continue."
And with that, the higher-dimensional plane began to fold back, reshaping itself into something Lui could navigate. He felt the weight of infinite worlds settle around him—not as oppression, but as guidance. The entity Erythiel receded, leaving a pulse in his consciousness—a trace of the dimension beyond dimensions, a spark of awareness that would grow as he continued his journey.
Lui exhaled, though the air did not exist. He felt both insignificant and monumental, a paradox walking within a paradox. He had glimpsed the limits of infinity, the relativity of endlessness, and the responsibility of perception in higher planes.
Ahead, the Dreamroot shimmered, as if aware of his return. Worlds awaited, labyrinths unfolded, and the infinite stairs beckoned. Yet now, Lui understood the scale differently. Every world, every universe, every moment was relative, yet every choice was consequential in its own context.
He stepped.
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