Chapter 6: The Proposal of Eleven and The Sealed Deal
The chamber of endless stars shimmered faintly, the air itself humming as though it carried the breath of eternity. The Ten Supremes stood in their circle, each presence warping reality in its own way—flames flickering where none should exist, shadows pooling beneath their feet despite the void, and runes of impossible machines glimmering faintly around Kronexus.
The Sage's calm voice cut through the quiet.
"What is it, young one?" His eyes, deep as eternity itself, turned to Noah.
Noah swallowed hard. His throat was dry, but he forced the words out.
"Um… are you excluding me from this whole memory and power integration?" His voice cracked with hesitation. "From what I've heard, you'll all integrate into the clones of my body, right? Then… how about I also get that package of power and memory?"
His heart thundered in his chest. He half-expected Samael to vaporize him on the spot.
Instead, the Demon Supreme threw his head back and laughed, the sound like knives scraping against steel.
"Hah! Did you people hear that? The insect wants to wield our powers!" His eyes glowed crimson, hungry and amused. "The moment he tries to draw even a wisp of our energy, his body will crumble to dust. What a delightful joke!"
The Sage nodded in grim agreement.
"He speaks truth, little one. Your vessel cannot withstand it. To bear even a single breath of the Dragon's power, you would need at least a thousand years of body-tempering."
Noah blinked. For a moment, shame stung his chest—until he realized. They hadn't excluded him because they hated him. Only because he was weak. His lips trembled, but he pressed forward.
"Then… didn't Master Kronexus say you'll create clones of my body for assimilation? Wouldn't that put you all at the same level as me? Wouldn't the vessel be the same?"
This time, it was the Dragon who answered. Veytharion's gaze burned brighter than suns, his words rolling like thunder.
"Listen, puny one. Though I find it hard to believe that my counterpart could be this feeble, I will not deny you are one of us. We are Supremes. Power is not something we wait for—we reclaim it. Even if fate binds us to your vessel, the moment I enter its clone, I will awaken my Dragon Factor. That truth applies to us all. Because unlike you, we know what we once were."
The others inclined their heads in solemn agreement.
Noah clenched his fists. He couldn't stop now—he had to speak, or he'd lose the chance to repay the family who gave him a home. His voice wavered but carried conviction.
"But… didn't Master Kronexus also say memory can be accessed?" His eyes darted to the Machine God, then swept across the circle. "I have an idea. Just… hear me out. I promise this way we can all—no, all eleven of us—grow stronger than ever."
A flicker of curiosity crossed the Supremes' faces. The Sage tilted his head.
"Hoh? What is that little mind of yours cooking, child? Speak."
Noah took a breath, steadying himself.
"What if we share our memories—all eleven of us—and make a clone not just of our bodies, but our experiences? We fuse those memories into a single subservient consciousness. A system of sorts. It wouldn't control us—it would serve. Each of us keeps our original memories as the master, but all of us gain access to the shared ones as the servant."
The Supremes leaned in, their presences sharpening. Noah pressed on, his words tumbling faster now, fueled by the fire in his chest.
"We create a constant feedback loop. Real-time updates. If one of us dies… we can extract their memory from the system and recreate them. Immortality—not as a dream, but as a design. And while alive, we can borrow from one another's knowledge, even taste each other's powers to broaden our horizons. Master Samael, Master Veytharion—you two could be reckless without fear. We'd all grow far stronger than before."
His voice rose, conviction blazing.
"I've seen people in my world merge three to five personalities into one vessel. They gained all their powers. If eleven of us do this—our vessels, our very bodies, will grow to match it."
Silence fell.
For the first time, the Supremes looked… unsettled. The thought of sharing their innermost selves, their divine memories, was a risk none had ever taken. Yet the reward loomed vast. The void itself seemed to hold its breath.
It was Kronexus who broke the stillness, his voice mechanical and resonant, gears grinding in unseen dimensions.
"It is indeed possible. A system of memory convergence. But… only if all agree. Especially Veytharion." His metallic eyes glowed brighter. "Safe memory extraction is not beyond me, though my methods are crude—wires, incisions, the architecture of thought. But the theory stands."
The circle of Supremes shifted. Their gazes turned to the Dragon, whose wings of flame unfurled like an omen.
And Noah stood small among giants—yet for the first time, his voice had made them pause.
Veytharion's molten gaze fixed on Noah, his aura flaring until the very void seemed to quake.
"To make my memory—a Dragon's consciousness—into a servant?" His voice rumbled like collapsing mountains. "The idea itself reeks of blasphemy…"
Noah held his breath, but then the Dragon's tone shifted. The burning in his eyes softened into something sharper, hungrier.
"…But you." Veytharion's gaze slid toward the Sage. "You look as though you cradle the knowledge of the cosmos in your palms. I want that. And you…" He cast a glance toward Seraphael and Samael. "…You burn with might I refuse to be outshone by."
His wings spread wide, casting firelight across the circle. "Fine. I will do it."
The void seemed to sigh. The most prideful had spoken.
Kronexus' mechanical hum grew brighter, a choir of gears and code. "As expected. A system thrives only when all its nodes are willing. I, too, consent. To weave knowledge into machinery is my endless hunger."
Kaelith, the Blade Saint, rested his hand upon the hilt at his waist. His voice rang like steel unsheathing.
"If this grants me sharper edges than I have ever wielded, then I see no reason to refuse. My sword cuts truer when forged by many masters."
One by one, the rest followed. Arvannon, the Primal Emperor, rumbled his agreement, nostrils flaring like a beast scenting prey. Nyxar, cloaked in shadows, whispered assent with a voice like a dying flame. Zoryth, the Elemental, flickered through fire, ice, and void before nodding. Sanguor, the Tyrant of Blood, grinned with fangs bared.
Only three remained—Angel, Demon, and Sage.
The angel's halo blazed brighter, a storm of gold at his shoulders. His words were edged with reluctance.
"Though it disgusts me to let the spawn of the Abyss even glimpse the sanctity of my memory, if he swears not to share what he learns with the other demons… then I will agree."
The demon chuckled darkly, his grin spreading like a wound.
"Do I look a fool to you, feathered one? Why would I hand my kind the keys to kill me? No, no… this is better. With you at my side, I can set snares for the others. Demons kill demons—it is our way. But with your strength mingled in mine…" His crimson eyes flared. "…I will carve a throne even among the Abyss."
Their glares locked, holy fire against abyssal night. Yet both had given their word.
Now, all eyes turned to the Sage.
The old one chuckled, a sound like pages turning at the end of time. His staff tapped lightly on the void floor, each strike rippling with starlight.
"Hohoho… the idea of eternity itself. Of eleven wells of knowledge feeding one endless stream." His gaze gleamed like galaxies awakening. "Child, you offer me an ocean where I have been sipping rivers. Why would I deny?"
The circle closed.
For the first time in countless ages, ten Supremes stood united—not in rivalry, not in pride, but in agreement.
And at the center of it all stood Noah Draven, his heart racing, realizing the truth: he had just convinced gods of creation and destruction to share their very souls.
The pact was forged.