Chapter 132: Absolute Ascension
[: 3rd POV :]
[: Absolute Being: Absolute Ascension :]
The words rolled out of Daniel’s mouth like a decree from something that had existed before creation itself, calm, absolute, and terrifying.
And the moment they were spoken, the air changed.
It wasn’t merely pressure.
It was existence itself rejecting the Apostles’ presence.
The sky trembled.
The light bent.
The will of the world, broken moments ago by the Spark of Overrule, shuddered, as though it recognised its true master.
Daniel’s body began to glow, not with radiance, but with something deeper —an aura that seemed to consume even the concept of colour.
His form blurred between light and dark, shifting between creation and destruction, as if reality could not decide what he truly was.
The mana energy that often danced around him now roared like a cosmic sea, swirling into halos of black and white that stretched endlessly behind him.
The ground beneath his feet cracked, then sank as though bowing in reverence to his presence.
Every Apostle felt it.
Azarkon’s scales snapped open, his scales glimmering under the suffocating weight pressing down upon him.
His eyes widened, his throat constricted by something alien, fear.
"What the fuck... is this?" he hissed, his voice raw.
"What... is he?"
He turned to the others, his composure fracturing under the unseen weight.
"Vaelgor! Y-You feel that too, don’t you!?"
Vaelgor’s molten veins pulsed erratically; the flames that composed his body flickered and dimmed.
His grin, usually eternal, faded into something grim, almost mortal alike.
"You don’t have to say it," he muttered, voice gravel and fire.
"I feel it too."
Even Minerva’s poise faltered.
Her eyes, those endless galaxies that looked upon mortals as insects, trembled.
For the first time, her hands shook, unable to keep her halo steady.
The Spark of Overrule, her anchor of control, quivered as though it was afraid.
"What... is this anomaly?" she whispered, her tone losing its divine calm.
"This sensation i-it shouldn’t exist."
Seraphis took a step back, her silken veil fluttering.
The orb she had summoned, large enough to blot out the sun, cracked, fragments of its energy peeling away as if refusing to remain near Daniel.
"Impossible," she breathed.
Daniel looked at them all, his expression still, his violet eyes now luminous to the point of blinding.
Within those eyes, they saw a reflection, not of light, but something ancient.
"Now you understand," Daniel said softly, his voice layered, human and divine, mortal and infinite.
"I was never meant to kneel to your kind."
His words cut through the air, and with each syllable, the apostles’ strength faltered further.
The oppressive energy of the Overrule began to unravel, its law rewritten not by relics, but by Daniel’s mere presence.
He raised a hand, and the void pulsed outward like a heartbeat, one that made reality shudder.
Minerva’s jaw clenched as she forced her will against the tide. "No! This world is under our dominion—!"
Daniel’s gaze met hers, and she froze mid-sentence.
"No."
That single word silenced her divine voice, and the Spark of Overrule cracked in her hand.
The air distorted as the pressure intensified.
The sky bled light; the ground fractured; time itself hesitated.
To the Apostles, it was as though a god had awakened within a mortal shell.
To Daniel, it was simply another step.
"Absolute Ascension," he murmured again, his voice now rippling through space itself.
And with that, the void bloomed.
The Absolute Being.
A title that had once shattered the balance of countless realms, an existence so forbidden that even the highest pantheons erased its name from their scriptures.
To speak of it was heresy; to witness it was a death sentence.
It was a concept that defied creation, transcending divinity and nullifying law itself.
Because this trait, Absolute Being, was never meant to exist.
It was the root of contradiction, the ultimate taboo, the anomaly among anomalies.
It represented one thing that no world, no god, and no cosmic order could ever tolerate: the absence of limitation.
Where all things had an end, the Absolute Being did not.
Where all paths led to a boundary, it had none.
And now, standing in the heart of the ruined colosseum, Daniel embodied that heresy in its purest form.
The air rippled around him, not with mana, not with energy, but a substance that’s beyond authority, concept or commandment.
A cold, suffocating stillness expanded from his being, swallowing the divine currents of the Apostles.
Even the world’s consciousness, faint and wounded from the Spark of Overrule, began to recover as Daniel belonged to this world, not a foreign one.
His transformation was aiding the recovery of the will of the world.
Minerva’s divine senses screamed in warning.
The sigils floating around her began to flicker violently, as if refusing to obey her commands.
She could see it, the laws that defined reality itself were unravelling in Daniel’s presence.
Her grip tightened around the Spark of Overrule, but the artefact trembled like a terrified creature.
She could feel its fear.
The divine construct that once reigned over planetary laws was now shaking in front of him.
"This is impossible..." she whispered, her voice breaking.
Her words went unheard by Daniel, whose focus was inward; his consciousness was ascending, stretching past every known boundary.
The essence within him was no longer mana or soul; it was something deeper, something that could redefine existence itself.
The trait pulsed, forming a halo that devoured light.
His shadow extended infinitely, swallowing the remnants of the colosseum, and from the abyss of that power, a divine hum echoed, a resonance that silenced every heartbeat in the world.
Azarkon stumbled forward, rage masking the fear in his eyes.
"Minerva, what the fuck are you waiting for? Stop him!"
"I’m trying!" she snapped, her voice laced with terror.
"But even my Concept doesn’t respond! The laws!" she clenched her jaw, ’’They’re rewriting themselves around him!"
Vaelgor’s flames sputtered into embers as he stared at Daniel’s form.
"This can’t be real... even the Apostolic Core can’t measure this energy."
His eyes widened further. "
Minerva’s panic finally gave way to desperation.
"Stop him at all costs!" she shouted, her voice shaking the realm itself. "Don’t let him do whatever he’s doing now!’’
The command cracked through the apostles’ hesitation.
Azarkon bared his fangs, wings unfurling in a storm of red lightning.
Vaelgor erupted in molten fury, and Seraphis gathered what remained of her orb.
They moved as one, gods of apocalypse descending upon a single man.
But Daniel didn’t move.
He didn’t even acknowledge them.
Instead, the halo behind him shifted, its shape stabilising into a spiralling sigil that pulsed with an infinite rhythm.
Symbols of unknown origin, ancient and forbidden, manifested in the air, revolving around him like stars.
The moment all four Apostles lunged forward, desperate to interrupt the impossible transformation taking place before them, the world itself rebelled.
A deep, resonant hum echoed through the air, not of sound, but of pure existence.
Space folded.
Time faltered.
Every motion halted mid-breath.
Azarkon’s blazing claws froze inches away from Daniel.
Vaelgor’s infernal flames dimmed and sputtered, suspended in midair like droplets of molten gold.
Even Minerva, whose very essence resonated with divine authority, found herself utterly paralysed.
Her lips parted to command, yet no voice came out.
Her thoughts screamed, but they could not escape.
It was as though reality itself had declared.
"Be still before the Absolute."
A pressure unlike any divine force pressed down upon them.
An undeniable, supreme command that tore through their divine cores and shattered their pride.
It was as though the Trait itself was alive. Conscious. And it refused to allow them to move before its chosen vessel.
Even the air trembled in reverence as Daniel’s body began to shift.
At first, it was subtle, the faint shimmer of light crawling across his skin.
Then, like an ancient cocoon unravelling, that faint glow exploded outward in waves of unbridled divinity.
His body lifted slightly above the ground, suspended within a sphere of collapsing light.
The energy radiating from him bent the space around it, fragments of shattered dimensions circled him like stars orbiting a newborn god.
Daniel’s breathing slowed.
His heartbeat faded.
Every pulse of his being synchronised with the rhythm of the universe itself.
Then, the metamorphosis began.
His once-black hair shimmered, bleeding into hues of deep grey before darkening further, ashen like the remains of a world long destroyed.
Strands of light and darkness intertwined, weaving together as if time itself was being rewritten strand by strand.
His eyes snapped open.
The familiar violet hue that once marked his Void affinity drained away, replaced by a radiant, silvery-white glow that pulsed like a dying star reborn.
The shape of his pupils elongated and twisted until they formed a diamond, sharp and brilliant, refracting infinite light and darkness within them.
Behind him, reality rippled violently.
From the rift in space, two pairs of colossal wings unfolded, each feather sculpted from intertwining threads of gold, silver, and black.
They weren’t physical; they were manifestations of pure essence, shimmering between creation and destruction.
Every beat of those wings sent tremors through the world.
Mountains beyond the capital quaked.
Oceans trembled.
Even the stars dimmed, as though bowing in submission.
And yet, the transformation was deceptively simple.
Daniel’s body didn’t grow monstrous, nor did he radiate the blinding arrogance of divinity.
His form remained humanoid, graceful, unassuming, but utterly otherworldly.
Because what stood there was not a god trying to be perfect.
It was perfection rejecting godhood itself.
Minerva’s divine eyes shook as she forced herself to speak, her voice breaking through the oppressive silence.
"W-What... what are you?"
Daniel slowly turned his gaze toward her.
His expression was calm, almost serene, but in that calmness, the Apostles felt despair.
’’What am I...? All of you know the answer to that’’
The Apostles fell to their knees, their divine cores quivering.
Their very existence screamed in protest—yet they could do nothing.
They weren’t bowing by choice.
They were forced to.
The trait itself demanded reverence before the Absolute Being.
Cracks appeared in the crimson sky, reality unable to withstand the coexistence of something infinite within a finite plane.
Light bled from the heavens, cascading down like divine tears.
Daniel’s wings spread wide, casting a shadow that blanketed the ruins of the colosseum.
For the first time since the Apostles had been chosen, they felt something no divine being should ever feel and that was hopeless insignificance.
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