Chapter 5: The Eleven That Are Ten
The Sage finally stepped forward. His robe shimmered like a night sky turned inside out, constellations burning faintly across its folds. His presence carried no weight of force, no roar of power — and yet the chamber stilled. Even Samael, grin still plastered on his obsidian face, found his words caught in his throat.
Orivandus's eyes — galaxies compressed into mortal shape — swept over them. "Now, now… must survival be reduced to this crude contest?" His voice was calm, but each syllable carried the hush of eternity. "Did you not truly examine the boy's memories? At least look at what lies within him before you sharpen your claws."
Silence pressed in. None wanted to admit it, but no Supreme truly desired the annihilation of the others. They were rivals, yes, egos beyond compare — but they were also fragments of one whole. Yet survival demanded dominance… or so they believed.
At the Sage's urging, their attention turned back to Noah's mind. Threads of memory unfolded again — scribbled notes, impossible theories, worlds spun from ink and imagination.
The first to react was Veytharion. His molten-gold eyes widened, scales rippling with faint amusement. "Ho… this puny brain of his…" A low laugh rumbled from his chest. "Indeed, this is something else. A trove of ideas no realm has dared attempt."
Seraphael's stern façade cracked, his brow furrowing, lips twitching with reluctant intrigue. "Impossible… yet… this…" His twelve wings flared faintly, flickering with light. "It suggests a path… one where we need not destroy each other. To coexist… in one vessel, at one time."
Samael's grin faltered — only to twist back into a feral smirk. "Keh. And here I was, ready to carve feathers off this pompous angel. But if this works… Hahaha! Perhaps I can have both — my survival and my fun."
Then the chamber thrummed with a new voice, deep and mechanical, yet threaded with infinite calculation.
Kronexus's towering frame stirred, gears clicking into rhythm. His many eyes flickered as data cascaded across them. "Analysis complete." His voice was precise, sharp as steel grinding on steel. "This boy's memories reveal a world abundant of supernatural advancement. Thus, his creativity was forced into abstraction. Fiction, they call it. Yet the designs, unbound by limitation, surpass many realities. Since he wasn't able to implement those ideas yet as his vessel wasn't mature yet...he came in the form of a imagination...detailed imagination."
The Machine God extended a hand, his palm splitting into whirring lattices of light and code. "Clone bodies. Memory segmentation. Identity partitions tempered for subservience. Organic artificial intelligence — self-replicating thought. His crude scribbles… exceed even some of my own architectures." A brief pause, and the slightest hum of admiration escaped him. "Unorthodox. Elegant. And viable."
His gaze — a dozen glowing lenses — swept over the others. "If we adapt his designs with our combined resources… then cohabitation is possible. All of us, within him. No need for annihilation."
For the first time since their gathering, the chamber was filled not with killing intent — but with the hum of consideration.
Veytharion chuckled, a quake that rattled the chamber's walls. "Now that… would be fun. A shared dominion."
Seraphael folded his arms, reluctant but thoughtful. "To live alongside… filth like him?" He gestured at Samael, wings twitching. "Disgusting." His voice dropped, however. "…And yet, preferable to erasure."
The Demon's laughter rose, dark and delighted. "Kekekeke! A council of Supremes in one body? The realms won't know whether to kneel or flee."
Orivandus only stroked his beard, faint amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Ah, so you do see it now. The boy's 'senseless imagination'… may be the key to eternity itself."
At the center of it all, Noah's knees nearly gave way. His throat was dry, his chest heaving.
They're… they're taking my stories… my nonsense ideas… and calling it salvation?!
The Sage stroked his beard again, eyes glimmering like shifting constellations. "You are still thinking too narrowly. Eternity will not be achieved by cramming yourselves into one fragile vessel. No… peer deeper into the boy's knowledge. You will find pathways where each of you can pursue your truth — our demon friend his duels, our dragon his dominion, our angel his justice… and the rest, their dreams. And," his gaze slid toward the Machine God, "I suspect our mechanical companion already understands this."
All eyes turned.
Kronexus's gears ground into motion, his voice a resonant hum of machinery and stars. "Correct. The Sage speaks true. Assimilation into a single host is unnecessary. If fate demands we bind to this boy… then why not create ten more of him? Ten vessels. Ten reflections. Each bearing our essence, yet sharing one network of memory."
The great construct's arms unfolded into shifting lattices of light and code. "It would not break causality. We expend our essence to forge the bodies, and the chaos of this collapsing world will replenish us swiftly. With shared memories, we gain one another's wisdom… and in time, even access each other's powers."
For a moment, silence reigned. The idea was vast, almost heretical — yet dazzling.
It was Seraphael who broke it, his luminous eyes narrowing. "Wait. If I, a Seraph, inherit the Abyssal's corruption through his memories and energy… will that not weaken me? Angelic and demonic force are antithetical."
The Machine God responded instantly. "Incorrect." His hands lifted, energy crackling in both palms — black flame in the left, radiant gold in the right. "You perceive them as opposites. I perceive them as frequencies."
The chamber vibrated as the two energies surged. The Demon's grin sharpened. The Angel's spear quivered.
"Demonic resonance — corrosive." Kronexus's left hand pulsed with shadow. "Angelic resonance — regenerative." His right hand flared with light. "Collide them raw, and they cancel." The two forces slammed together, sizzling violently, a storm of destruction threatening to unravel the space. Then, with a slow rotation of his wrists, the Machine God shifted their vibrations, tones softening, harmonics aligning.
The chamber stilled.
The two forces did not destroy each other. Instead, they fused — a swirling, radiant-dark flame, humming with equilibrium.
"Moderation, then union," Kronexus intoned. "The result is neither holy nor unholy… but something new. Stable. Potent. Dual-aspected."
The Angel's breath hitched, his twelve wings rustling in astonishment. "…This… I never conceived of such a synthesis."
Samael's obsidian horns gleamed, his grin now hungry, desperate. "Kekekekeke! So that's why…!" His laughter erupted like thunder. "That explains it! Once, when I lazed about and fought a weakling angel half-heartedly… the clash leveled a city! I thought it chance — but it was amplification! Hahaha!" His claws clenched, eyes blazing. "This is mine. I need this power! When do we begin?"
The chamber buzzed now, not with killing intent, but with raw, feverish anticipation. The Supremes leaned forward, visions of unimaginable synergy dancing in their minds.
And Noah? He just stood there, slack-jawed, every word soaring leagues over his comprehension. His thoughts swirled uselessly.
What the hell are they even talking about? Fusion frequencies? Clone bodies? I'm a writer, not a goddamn lab rat!
Then, as the Supremes continued debating their grand designs, something cold slid into his stomach.
Wait… His eyes darted around. They only ever said ten. Ten Supremes. Ten bodies. His throat tightened. But… aren't there eleven of us? Did they just… exclude me?
"No…" he whispered under his breath.
Finally, his nerves broke. Noah raised a shaky hand, his voice cracking. "Uh… hello?!"
The chamber fell silent.
And once again, every Supreme turned their gaze upon him.
Noah felt like the universe itself had just leaned in to stare.