A vast, empty abyss stretches beyond the concept of space itself. No stars. No light. No darkness. Just absence so absolute that reality itself trembles on the edge of non-being.
" Where am I? Or rather, what am I?"
Shrouded pieces of existence swirl around Zenoth form—an impossible figure, silhouetted against the backdrop of nullity. His body is undefined, a shifting paradox of form and formlessness, simultaneously there and not there. His eye reflects countless universes, each spiraling infinitely inward, collapsing upon themselves the moment he perceives them.
"I see them. Every timeline. Every possibility. Every past and future. And yet, none of them are real."
"Awaken."
Three beings materialize—faceless, undefined, yet omnipotent in presence. They are the architects of reality, entities who shape the very fabric of existence itself.
"You are not meant to be here."
"You exist outside the great design."
"We must correct this anomaly."
Zenoth tilts his head slightly, expression unreadable. The space around him warps violently just from his movement.
"You call me an anomaly when you yourselves are bound to the very concept of correction?"
With a mere thought, Zenoth's presence alone begins to unravel the Architect's form. Their celestial bodies fragment into mathematical impossibilities, reducing them to raw non-existence.
"NO… THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!! IMPOSSIBLEEEEEEEE!!!!!"
Nothing remains of them. No dust, no echoes, no memory. Even the concept that they ever existed is erased from the structure of reality itself.
"If this is what they call order, then their order is nothing more than a fragile illusion."