"Stop," Ashura commanded, her voice calm but absolute.
Remus roared in defiance, his form trembling with the uncontainable force of his power. "Leave me alone!" he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the fragile layers of overlapping stories.
Yet, even as he surged upward, he felt an invisible wall halt his progress. Ashura stood unmoving, her presence fixed at the center of his path.
"Why?" he shouted, again and again, his fury mounting with each failed attempt to ascend.
Ashura's form shimmered, flickering between reality and unreality, a silhouette against the backdrop of countless stories she wove effortlessly into existence. "Because I am the progenitor of Stories," she said at last, her voice soft yet undeniable. "Every world that ever was, every story that ever will be—they come from me."
Around her, stories began to form in real-time, spiraling upward and outward, their speed not just matching but surpassing Remus's relentless pace. Entire universes blinked into being and layered themselves above him, a seemingly endless cascade of creation.
"I'll get away!" Remus roared, his eyes blazing with desperation. "Even if you're the origin yourself, I'll escape from everything!"
Ashura's expression softened, almost pitying. "Hopeless," she said quietly. "I'm sure of one thing: I can write faster than you can climb."
With a snarl, Remus lunged at her, his entire being condensed into a singular attack, his power surging outward to erase anything in his path.
Ashura didn't flinch. "You won't understand," she said, her tone both sad and resolute.
From nowhere, a feathered brush appeared in her hand, its edges shimmering with iridescent light. She held it aloft, and with a single stroke, streams of black, ink-like liquid poured from her. The writings spilled out infinitely, folding and twisting into themselves, each character a gateway to uncountable stories.
The words surrounded Remus, binding him in place despite his struggles. His form writhed, attempting to break free, but the bindings tightened with each movement.
"I'm sorry," Ashura said softly. "But this has to be done."
The writings coalesced into a single massive tome, and Remus, his form trembling and distorted, was drawn into its pages. His once-boundless energy dimmed as his body shifted from reality to ink, his presence becoming a single drawing within the book.
Ashura looked at the tome for a long moment. "Rest here," she said gently. "Climb to your heart's content within these pages."
With a quiet motion, she closed the book and held it in her hands. Without another word, she vanished, reappearing in the First Story, where the others awaited her.
Michael stood near the edge of a swirling staircase of ink, arms folded, his gaze steady. Gabriel hovered silently, his wings partially unfurled, while Anu and Oneiro sat close by. She yawned dramatically, brushing strands of hair from her face.
"Well, that's a wrap," Oneiro said lazily, stretching her arms overhead. "Glad that chaos is behind us."
Anu tilted his head. "It is remarkable, though. Humans—such fragile beings—and yet capable of such overwhelming power. It's… unsettling."
Ashura didn't respond immediately. She hovered slightly above the ground, her form still radiating faint trails of ink and light. Her eyes were half-closed, her attention elsewhere, though the tremors of her creation had stilled. Slowly, she spoke.
"It's not over," she said. "Not entirely."
The others exchanged glances.
"What do you mean?" Gabriel asked.
Ashura's gaze sharpened as she extended her hand, and fragments of Stories coalesced into translucent images before her. The broken remnants shimmered with faint traces of unfamiliar light. "The Stories that Remus destroyed... I've restored them. But they're not the same."
Her tone carried a note of concern as she gestured. The fragments shifted, revealing flashes of unfamiliar worlds and beings within. "The Constants' essences," Ashura continued, "moved from their perch during the chaos. They flowed into the shattered pieces of these Stories, fusing with their essence."
Michael stepped forward, studying the fragments with a furrowed brow. "Are you saying the beings within these Stories are… different now?"
"Changed," Ashura confirmed. "The influence of the Constants has given them abilities, power beyond anything they could have achieved on their own."
The room fell silent.
"What do we do about it?" Anu asked, "We can't allow these beings to spiral out of control like Remus."
Gabriel nodded in agreement. "They might not have his level of power yet, but the potential is dangerous. They could destabilize the very foundation of the Stories."
Ashura tilted her head, contemplating their words. "Perhaps. But destruction is not the answer."
Michael's voice cut through the tension. "Then we leave them be."
The others turned to him, startled.
"Leave them?" Anu echoed, incredulous.
"Yes," Michael replied firmly. "We let them grow, evolve. But we regulate them. We create a framework—limits to how much power they can acquire at a time. They'll still have their freedom, but within boundaries."
Oneiro's gaze flicked between Michael and Ashura. "A system, then? Something that scales their growth?"
"Exactly," Michael said. "Something layered. Structured. Simple to follow, but adaptable enough to ensure stability."
Ashura's lips curved into a faint smile. "A system built around the Seven," she murmured.
"Seven levels," Gabriel mused. "A perfect number. Balanced, harmonious."
"And no cap at the seventh," Ashura added. Her eyes gleamed with sudden inspiration. "No artificial limiters. Those who reach the peak should be free to continue evolving naturally, unbound."
Oneiro smirked. "Sounds like we've got our work cut out for us."
Ashura extended her hand, and streams of ink flowed outward, spiraling into intricate, glowing diagrams. As the others watched, the framework of the new system began to take shape, etched with precision across the endless canvas of the First Story.
"It's decided, then," Ashura said softly, her voice carrying both weight and certainty. "We give them the means to grow—and the wisdom to wield it."
The Seven gathered at the heart of the First Story, their forms radiating power that seemed to stretch beyond the confines of even the most infinite domains. Anu stepped forward, his crystalline figure shimmering faintly. His voice carried the gravity of their collective thoughts.
"If we are to ensure that no one—no matter how fast or high they climb—can reach us again, we must act together," Anu said.
The others exchanged glances, solemn and resolute. Without hesitation, they joined hands at a single point, their essences intertwining.
Michael stood off to the side, his gaze steady but distant. Adam turned to him, his voice carrying a subtle warmth. "You are one of us, Michael. Get in here."
For a moment, Michael hesitated, his wings folding slightly. Then he stepped forward, his presence completing the circle. The instant their hands met, the First Story was engulfed in a radiant white light, brighter than anything that had ever existed or been imagined.
Their combined power surged outward, shaking the foundations of reality itself. Adam spoke, his voice resonating with authority. "We are the Zenith."
Enryu followed, his words calm yet firm. "It is written unto law: no being shall ever reach us."
Golden letters materialized above them, flowing like streams of divine ink. They formed words that shimmered with endless authority: Endless. Unreachable. The decree echoed across all planes of existence and nonexistence, sinking into the very fabric of creation.
As the Zenith's power solidified, they felt themselves ascend further, their forms growing impossibly radiant. What had once seemed infinite was now merely a stepping stone. Above them, a golden tree with ten distinct points began to glow. Its form, resembling a Decagram, spread across the cosmos, covering both the Seven and Michael. Each of them occupied one of the ten points, their essences in perfect harmony.
And yet, two points remained unoccupied, their faint glow a mystery even to them. There was no time to ponder this anomaly, for the tree vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Its departure marked a change—one that could not be undone.
They began to rise, drawn upward through planes of unreality that defied even the most abstract notions of existence. Each higher plane seemed more impossible than the last, but they moved through them as though it were natural, their power transcending all boundaries.
Before leaving, the Seven acted once more. Splitting a fraction of their collective power, they scattered it across the Stories. From this power, avatars were born, manifesting as dragons in the First Story for example. These dragons, massive and ancient, became guardians of the First Story, now renamed the Axis World. This world was both the peak and the nexus, connecting all Stories in an endless web.
Enkidu, alongside the Archangels and Archdemons, rose with the Zenith. Their ascension solidified their place within the new order, their powers similarly elevated beyond comprehension.
With the golden tree's creation, the Zenith found themselves sharing abilities freely, unbounded by their previous limits. Their union was complete, their strength immeasurable. The Axis World stood secure, watched over by their avatars, as the Zenith moved ever higher into realms unknown, ensuring the safety of creation for all eternity.