And there they stood.
Before more than a hundred of their own kind — ancient beings, ex-guardians from past eras, living legends from beyond —
in a cosmic tribunal that quite literally existed nowhere.
Cael, hunched over like an intern caught using the office printer to print résumés.
And the blond guy? Standing tall, defiant, with that look of someone who'd done way worse before.
Around them, a dense mist crawled at their feet.
At the very center of it all — the most powerful entity of that plane.
Seated on a golden throne, wrapped in a white mantle woven from what looked like raw light, sat the Avatar of Elar.
Golden hair falling to his knees.
Eyes like galaxies.
The symbol of infinity carved into his forehead.
He was the manifestation of the Creator's neutrality.
A being over a hundred thousand years old.
The kind of presence that made time itself ask for permission.
Elohim.
One whisper from him, and reality bent.
One thought, and a world was born.
"Seriously, Eliyah?"
His voice was calm — but carried the weight of a million judgments.
"Of all the things you could've done… this is your choice? The worst one?"
"Don't you find it at least plausible?"
He chuckled awkwardly — that reckless child again.
This wasn't the first time he'd pulled a stunt like this.
The Avatar sighed — or pretended to, just for theatrical effect.
Beings at his level probably only breathe for dramatic flair.
"Plausible?" The word echoed.
"You kicked in the door of reality. You saved an anomaly that shouldn't even have a soul. And then you brought him to the Intermediary like he's your damn intern!"
"Well… technically, he is my intern now!"
He winked.
Cael, meanwhile, was ready to dig a multiversal hole and bury himself in it.
He knew he was a clueless idiot.
But in front of a cosmic judge, he hoped he could at least keep it together.
Or so he thought.
Because nothing — absolutely nothing — could compare to the guy who'd saved him.
That blond bastard had the energy of someone who could look God in the eye and casually say:
"You're a dick."
"Do you even realize what you've done?"
The Avatar rose from the throne — and for a moment, space itself bowed to him.
Not that it didn't already.
But for a guy who, until yesterday, thought stars were just faraway dots and stories of the beyond were delusions from crazy people…
this?
This was divine-level mind-blow.
"The Higher Plane is already buzzing! They want to know what kind of plague you've unleashed into the halls of Creation!"
The accused raised his hand, shyly.
"Speak."
"…Am I the plague?"
Silence.
Sharp looks.
A star flickered and died in the distance — literally.
"Yes."
As dry as the void between galaxies.
Cael nodded slowly and scratched his head like: "Alright, cool, just checking."
The awkwardness was thick enough to cut with a sharp thought.
Eliyah cleared his throat.
He was clearly trying not to laugh.
But hey — cosmic courtroom.
"Technically," he added, "you're an anomaly.
An out-of-scope variable.
A conscious… bug."
"Way to make it worse, man."
Then, his "defender" crossed his arms. Stance solid. Unshakable.
"So what?
He's here. He breathes. He feels. He thinks — even if it's mostly nonsense.
Even if he's a walking chaos bomb, he is.
And if the universe let him exist — let him escape death, bend the rules —
then maybe chaos is part of the plan.
And if it's not?
Then screw the plan. Let it adapt."
The elders around them began to murmur — a deep, dissonant hum.
Like a choir of entities debating the edges of existence.
The Almighty closed his eyes for a moment and returned to his throne.
When he opened them again, he seemed older.
Or maybe just… tired.
"The plan…" he muttered, "…was never a closed book.
Doubt is what keeps us neutral."
Silence.
Not out of fear.
It was almost respectful.
Almost.
"Mistake…" he continued,
"…is judging with the certainty of one who never dared to doubt.
And you, Eliyah…
You brought doubt incarnate."
He extended a hand toward the so-called "mistake."
"An existence that should not be.
Not spirit. Not flesh. Not Echo.
And yet… it is."
The young man looked down at himself like searching for a price tag on his soul.
Then tapped his chest twice.
"Ah, great. I'm officially a what-the-fuck.
Thanks, universe."
"You are the crack… through which the light may enter," the Avatar replied, unfazed by the sarcasm.
"Or the beginning of ruin. We don't know yet.
And that is why we shall not decide."
The blond just raised an eyebrow.
Like someone who's heard worse and believed less.
"So…?"
"So he shall live," the Avatar finally declared.
"Not by choice, but by our inability to do better."
What a damn monologue…
Cael rolled his eyes, dramatically, already fed up with this celestial courtroom and the eternal ping-pong of philosophical nonsense.
"But living here comes at a cost.
And since you brought him, Eliyah…
You will train him.
And contain him, if needed."
"Wouldn't have it any other way… my lord."
The blond bowed — for the first time, without sarcasm.
Cael, relieved, fell to his knees.
"I get to live… whew…"
"Good.
Now leave.
Both of you."
"With pleasure."
He glanced at Cael and sighed —
like a lawyer exhausted from defending a hopeless case.
But let's be real: in a court like this, no argument really mattered.
Only the final word of the cosmic being did.
And Cael?
He just stood there, still trying to wrap his head around what it meant to be living doubt.
A glitch in the divine matrix — with no manual.
But deep down, a thought began to take root.
If he was a bug…
maybe he could access commands the devs never meant to be found.
"Think I can hack reality like a Jedi in the Matrix?" he whispered to himself.
His "master" heard it.
Smirked.
That kind of smirk that knows more than it says.
"We'll find out! For now, let's just keep you alive… and me too, hopefully."
Turning his back on the tribunal, the entire space seemed to exhale toward the heavens — like the world had taken a breath and released them.
They began to fly again, over that same colossal city.
"Excited?"
"Uh… 'excited' isn't really my vibe, but hey — I'm glad I'm not dead. Spiritually speaking."
He let out a sigh — part relief, part irony.
And so, for now…
his fate was sealed.
Suspended on a fragile thread between chaos and providence.
Was he ready?