In the sky, a crack in reality split open, distorting the very fabric of existence. From within the rupture, a badly damaged human figure plummeted toward the city below at breakneck speed. The figure crashed into a park with an earth-shaking impact, obliterating the area upon contact and sending nearby civilians hurtling through the air.
Before they could hit the ground, a blur of red and blue streaked across the scene. Moving faster than the eye could track, the figure caught each person mid-air, safely placing them far from danger before coming to a stop.
His red cape billowed behind him as he hovered in the air, a striking young man with a presence that radiated strength and authority. His eyes glowed faintly, piercing through the thick dust cloud that had risen from the crash. Beyond the haze, his gaze locked onto the unconscious human lying at the center of the crater, motionless and battered.
Shocked, he vanished in an instant, seemingly teleporting beside the unconscious young man, who was lying completely bare in the aftermath of the crash. Wasting no time, he scooped him up and disappeared again, not toward a hospital, but to a teleporter stationed nearby.
A flash of light engulfed them, and the next moment, they reappeared in the vastness of space, inside a massive watchtower floating above Earth.
Dozens, no, hundreds, of heroes gathered in the hallways, their eyes locked on the unconscious figure in his arms. Whispers filled the air, curiosity, and concern evident on their faces, but he didn't stop to explain. He moved swiftly, heading straight for the medical bay, where the most advanced technology from across the universe awaited—tools capable of saving even those on the brink of death.
"It's weird—he just fell from a crack in space," Cyborg said, projecting a hologram of the incident from his palm. The footage displayed a young man plummeting from the tear in reality before crashing into the park below.
"That wasn't just a crack in space—it was a tear in reality," a deep voice stated.
A man dressed in black stepped out of the shadows, his presence startling the gathered heroes. Despite the sheer number of them, none had sensed his arrival.
"What do you mean?" asked a blonde-haired man clad in a green skin-tight uniform, his brow furrowing in confusion as he turned toward the newcomer.
"His genetics—the very building blocks of his existence—are completely different from anything in our universe or even the rest of the known multiverse," the man in black said, his gaze fixed on the unconscious figure. The stranger's face was badly disfigured, bearing the marks of whatever had torn through him during his journey. Judging by the damage, it seemed as if he had passed through a cosmic storm.
"…His power is immense," he continued. "I'd say even Superman would struggle against him at his peak. So be cautious with him here."
With that, he plucked a loose strand of hair and a fragment of skin from the unconscious man before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows, leaving the gathered heroes to process his words.
"It wouldn't be wise to ignore Batman's words," a woman dressed in what looked to be striper clothing said seriously. A golden lasso hung at her side, its presence alone demanding respect.
The gathered heroes exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. Without hesitation, the disfigured young man was carefully moved to a more secure and reinforced room, ensuring that, should he awaken with hostile intent, they would be prepared.
***
"Weird, I can't see," Ashborn muttered, his voice echoing through the endless void. He should be able to see in absolute darkness… yet all he saw was darkness.
He took a cautious step forward, then another, feeling nothing beneath him yet somehow moving forward. Darkness stretched in every direction, thick and absolute, offering no sense of direction or space.
He wasn't sure how long he wandered, minutes, hours, or even days. Time felt meaningless here. Just as frustration began to gnaw at him, a faint glow appeared in the distance. A flicker of hope surged through him, and without hesitation, he sprinted toward it. The closer he got, the more the darkness thinned, giving way to soft, golden light.
Then, suddenly, his foot met something solid. A strange yet familiar sensation spread beneath him, and as he looked down, his breath caught in his throat.
A cloud. His body tensed, realization hitting him like a crashing wave. He had stood here before.
A chuckle echoed through the sky, warm yet laced with amusement. "You didn't expect to see me again so soon, did you?"
Ashborn turned toward the voice, already knowing who it belonged to. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped.
"Well, what could I do against the likes of Oblivion? Honestly, all this 'infinitely greater' stuff is getting annoying. That storm I faced between words was way too overpowered. Even with the Mother Storm trying to absorb it, I still ended up dying," Ashborn sighed, rubbing his temple before taking a seat in front of the old man.
"Haha, indeed. It's difficult to wrap your head around," the old man chuckled. "But to make it easier, just think of it like this. there's an infinite number of decimal numbers between 0 and 1, 1 and 2, not all infinities are equal. Infinity is everywhere, you're either too strong to notice it, or too weak to notice it… by the way you're not dead."
Ashborn frowned slightly, processing the words, but then something else caught his attention. "Wait… you just said I'm not dead?" he asked, confusion flickering across his face.
Ashborn wasn't confused about the decimal numbers part. That much made sense. Infinity existed everywhere—it wasn't some abstract concept, but a fundamental part of reality. The issue wasn't understanding infinity; it was dealing with its implications.
When one had enough power to destroy a universe, it was easy to assume that being 500 million times stronger would allow them to destroy an entire multiverse. But no, that was just enough to destroy 500 million universes, not the infinite layers beyond them.
So the real question was: How strong did Ashborn need to become for even his weakest shadows to reach heights capable of destroying a universe? How could you multiply ten and reach infinity? The answer was simple—you couldn't. No matter how much mastery he gained over his power or how much stronger he became, the multipliers his rabbit's shadows received would never be enough to push them into the realm of true infinity or the greater infinities that lay beyond.
"I'm not dead?" Ashborn asked again, still in shock. He was certain he had died, but to his surprise, he hadn't.
"Haha, nope… right now, you're in a state of half-death. When you can touch death—truly grasp its complexity—you'll be able to wake up… and as a bonus, you'll gain a massive boost in power. I even helped out by bringing you somewhere where death is far stronger," the old man said with a knowing smile.
"What do you mean?" Ashborn asked, frowning in confusion. But the old man simply smiled, refusing to answer.
"Can I at least know why you wanted me to be a Shadow Monarch? Seeing all the power at my disposal… I can't help but think there's more to your decision than just chance," Ashborn said, watching the old man closely. If he wasn't going to answer the previous question, maybe this one would get something out of him.
The old man paused for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, he finally spoke. "When the time comes, you'll understand. Sorry, kid, I'm not trying to act all mysterious or anything. It's just that you have free will, and my words might influence your choices. I don't want that."
Ashborn raised an eyebrow at that response but, after a brief moment of consideration, simply shrugged. "Fair enough."
"It should be easy for you to grasp death. After all, you've already died once. So, good luck," the old man said with a smile.
Before Ashborn could respond, he found himself once again surrounded by darkness—only this time, there was nothing beneath him, nothing to stand on. He simply floated in the void, weightless, directionless.
With no other choice, he closed his eyes, letting his mind drift back to his past life—the moment before he blew himself up, the feeling of destruction overtaking him. Then, his thoughts wandered to his clash with the cosmic storm, the overwhelming force that had nearly erased him from existence.
He floated in that emptiness, memories shifting like waves. Soon, his mind turned to the world of zombies—the creatures he had been surrounded by for so long. They were beings that should have perished, yet remained animated, lingering in a state between life and death. That universe had no concept of true death, and yet, in a way, he had been standing at death's door the entire time without realizing it.
"What is this, some kind of cultivation novel?" Ashborn chuckled, a smirk forming on his lips as he fully embraced the moment when death first took hold of him in his past life. That fleeting instant when he had stepped through the doorway of death, neither alive nor truly gone.
He had died once before, yet here he was again—standing at the precipice, staring into the abyss. Only this time, instead of resisting, he reached out, grasping the essence of death itself.