Against The True Gods

The world was wide, but existence was immeasurable.

Beyond the endless expanse of countless worlds suspended in the chaotic tides of primordial chaos, there lay realms far removed from what mortals could ever comprehend as reality.

Hell, Heaven, The True Void, Samsara—these were but whispers of places that defied the boundaries of existence.

And yet, among these realms, some were more elusive, more mythical than others.

There was a place where all things met and unraveled. A place where the chains of fate and the currents of destiny could be seen as threads in an infinite loom.

A place where causality intertwined and diverged in endless streams.

A place where only the divine, known as True Angels, could tread.

This was The Weave.

***

"ARGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Caine's scream pierced the heavens, raw and primal, as if the very essence of his soul was being unraveled.

'Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate.'

Silver tears of blood streaked his face, his anguish carved into his very being as the word echoed endlessly in his mind. The mantra was a curse, pulling him into the abyss of madness.

He writhed on the waters of the Pond of Serenity, its tranquil surface disrupted by his convulsing body. His mind dangled over the precipice of insanity, held together only by the unyielding might of his Dao Heart.

WHOOOSH!

The fabric of reality above Caine shattered, splitting apart like an old wound reopening.

From the tear emerged a void so deep and black that the world itself seemed to pale, its light dimmed by the presence of absolute nothingness.

Time froze. The wind stilled. The world held its breath.

And then—

CRACK! BOOOM!

The black void fractured, its edges splintering like fragile glass. Shards of its dark essence tumbled downward, rupturing the fabric of the world further.

From within the abyss, a multicolored expanse emerged—a kaleidoscope of shifting hues that defied mortal understanding.

At its center, a figure began to materialize.

Enshrouded in golden light, its movements were incomprehensibly swift, transcending the limitations of perception.

In one moment, the world teetered on the brink of annihilation, with Caine spiraling into madness.

In the next—

WHOOOSH!

Nothing.

Time resumed.

The skies were once again serene and blue, unmarred by the chaos that had unfolded mere moments before. The wind whispered softly, carrying with it the illusion of calm.

Everything was as it had been.

Except for one glaring truth: Caine was gone.

***

The realm he found himself in was infinite and incomprehensible.

The world was white, yet it refracted an infinite spectrum of colors, shifting and intertwining like a living tapestry.

The sea below mirrored the luminous white above but was translucent, revealing an endless web of strings and runes in countless hues and shapes. These threads stretched outward into eternity, their presence both calming and overwhelming.

In the vastness of this expanse, two figures sat.

One was a young man. His lifeless eyes stared vacantly ahead, his slack mouth dripping with saliva. He was a shadow of his former self, devoid of consciousness or will.

The other figure was no mere mortal—or even divine—it was an entity.

Its towering frame, standing nine feet tall, radiated an aura of absolute majesty. Its skin, a soft yet resplendent gold, shimmered like liquid sunlight. Its flowing hair, a cascade of molten gold, fell in undulating waves.

Its face was perfection incarnate, a beauty so pure it transcended mortal comprehension, capable of unraveling minds with its mere presence.

From its back, seventy-two white feathered wings spread wide, their brilliance illuminating the infinite realm.

Above its head, a halo of divine light rotated slowly, its radiance both calming and oppressive.

But behind this divine visage loomed a far greater horror: A pulsating, cancerous mass of flesh hovered ominously, riddled with countless wings that burst forth from its grotesque form. At its center sat a single, massive World Will Eye, its gaze omnipotent and unyielding.

Together, these two forms embodied the full and terrifying might of the word Angel.

Between Caine and the angel was a small marble table. They sat cross-legged, their gazes locked in silence.

Caine was broken, incapacitated, his body shattered and lifeless, while the angel exuded an unshakable divinity, its presence overwhelming the very fabric of the realm.

Within Caine's Bond Space, chaos reigned.

His stars exploded and reformed in an endless cycle, each rebirth more defiant than the last. They resisted the angel's oppressive presence with every reformation, their light refusing to dim.

His stars refused to die.

And neither did his Dao Heart, which shattered and reformed in a relentless cycle of destruction and renewal.

Time passed.
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"Should be about time," the angel said softly.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Caine's True Will surged to life, roaring back with unrelenting force. His body convulsed violently, thrashing on the waters beneath him.

'Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate. Fate.'

The mantra echoed endlessly, driving him to madness and beyond. His stars and Dao Heart shattered once more, the momentum of their destruction reaching terrifying heights.

Time passed.

BOOOM!

Suddenly, Caine went still.

Time seemed to halt.

Memories of his life flashed through his mind, each moment illuminated with perfect clarity.

And then—

"I AM ALIVE."

The words erupted from his lips as he gasped for air, his chest heaving. Black blood poured from his mouth as he keeled over, trembling.

His stars and Dao Heart stabilized, their light now blindingly powerful.

His True Will washed over him, its presence calming and steadying his fractured mind.

Slowly, he sat upright, his breaths even and deliberate.

As strength returned to his form, his crown materialized atop his head, surging power through his veins. Only once he felt the overwhelming might coursing through him did he truly calm.

The crown faded, and Caine's silver eyes opened, locking onto the entity before him.

"Good. Barely took an eon to adapt. Very good seed. Very good," the angel said. Its voice was a symphony of countless androgynous tones, each word laced with unfathomable authority.

Caine's Will trembled under the weight of its words, despite his newfound strength.

'…Terrifying…'

"Before we begin, I'll hand you this. You'll know what to do with it in time."

The angel reached up, grasping its spinning halo. With a flick of its wrist, it sent the golden ring hurtling toward Caine.

The halo landed on his head, fitting perfectly before vanishing—just as his crown did.

Caine neither reacted nor protested. Deep down, he knew he couldn't.

"Now, little Lerouge, I must congratulate you. You are the second to ever open The Weave as a mortal."

"Congratulations, truly. Even though it will take time for you to understand the depth of your actions, you deserve this much."