"DING"Get ready for the next skill…" The system's voice echoed through the void, but this time, Zayriel wasn't shocked. Calmly, he rested his hand in his pocket, floating among the endless stars.
Then… a voice came. Gentle as a mother's lullaby, yet fierce as a king's roar:
"I… am Genesis. CREATOR OF ALL THINGS."
Zayriel's eyes widened. The void itself seemed to hold its breath. Stars stuttered. Galaxies trembled. Time itself shivered at the words.
"IN THE BEGINNING—IF THERE WAS EVER A BEGINNING—
IF THERE WAS A BEING WHO CRAFTED THIS WORLD FROM NOTHING…
IT WAS ME."
Light erupted around him, impossible and blinding. He felt it before he saw it—a presence so vast, so absolute, that the universe itself seemed like clay in his hands.
Mountains rose and crumbled in an instant. Oceans surged, twisted, and vanished. Suns ignited, only to collapse into sparkling dust that danced across the void. All of creation bowed to Genesis.
"I DO NOT MERELY SHAPE THE WORLD. I BREATHE IT. I FORGE LIFE, MATTER, ENERGY… AND I CLAIM THEM AS MY OWN."
Shadows bent. Cosmic energy rippled like a storm across eternity. And yet, Zayriel… remained calm. Not fear, not awe—only understanding.
This was no skill. No weapon. No tool. This… was the root of existence itself, distilled into a single, commandable force.
Genesis spoke again, soft now, almost a whisper against the roar of creation:
"All that you see, all that you will shape… it is yours. But remember, mortal… creation is not mercy. Every line you draw can birth worlds—or annihilate them. Every thought can spark life… or burn it into nothing. Wield me wisely… for the power to create is the power to decide the fate of all."
Zayriel clenched his fist. A pulse of raw, infinite potential surged through him, intertwining with every fiber of his being. He wasn't just a system holder. He wasn't just a student of power. He was… a god in training.
The void whispered promises of endless possibilities, each one blood-pumping, terrifying, intoxicating. And Zayriel… smiled.
GET READY FOR THE FIFTH SKILL.
The void trembled. A voice echoed—calm yet infinite:
"I AM DESTRUCTION. THE DESTRUCTION OF ALL THINGS.
WHEN THE OMNIVERSE WAS BORN, IF IT EVER WAS,
CIVILIZATIONS AROSE, CONCEPTS TOOK FORM.
AND THEN CAME A QUESTION:
WHAT IF THERE WAS A FORCE TO UNDO IT ALL?
WHAT IF THERE WAS A CONCEPT AS ABSOLUTE AS CREATION—ITS OPPOSITE?"
The voice deepened; reality cracked like fragile glass.
"I EXISTED."
Visions erupted before Zayriel's eyes. Entire multiverses collapsed like paper. Titans of unimaginable power were erased before they could scream. Suns snuffed out like dying candles. No resistance. No hope. No return.
"I AM THE ABSOLUTE. I AM THE END. NOTHING TRULY ENDS UNLESS IT IS BY ME.
ALL I TOUCH WILL NEVER HAVE EXISTED."
A silence heavier than space filled everything.
"LISTEN, MORTAL. YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN THE PRIVILEGE TO WIELD MY POWER.
I WILL NOT COMMAND YOU—BUT I PITY THOSE WHO OPPOSE YOU.
FOR THEY HAVE MET OBLIVION ITSELF."
The voice faded, leaving Zayriel calm and observing. The system's voice rang again:
"THE FINAL SKILL… PREPARE."
A deep, almost imperceptible hum echoed through the void as Zayriel floated among the stars. Then, a voice—ancient, patient, infinitely cold—spoke directly into his mind:
"I AM AKASHIC. THE WORLD ARCHIVE… THE OMNISCIENT MEMORY.
THE ETERNAL EYES THAT SEE ALL. THE ETERNAL EARS THAT HEAR ALL.
THE MEMORY THAT NEVER SLEEPS. I REMEMBER EVERYTHING THAT EVER WAS, EVER IS, AND EVER SHALL BE."
Shadows of unseen worlds, civilizations, and battles shimmered faintly around him, like countless specters of memory trying to touch him.
"ALL YOU SEE, ALL YOU HEAR, ALL YOU EXPERIENCE… IS MINE.
NOTHING ESCAPES ME. I RECORD IT. I LEARN IT. I PERFECT IT.
THE SECRETS OF THE OMNIVERSE, THE TECHNIQUES OF MASTERS LONG DEAD,
THE RULES EVEN GODS FEAR TO BREAK… ALL WILL BOW TO MY MEMORY."
A galaxy flared into existence in his vision, then collapsed in an instant, consumed and stored in the Archive. Zayriel could feel the weight of infinite knowledge pressing against his consciousness.
"BUT KNOW THIS, MORTAL: I AM NOT YOUR HANDHOLDER. I GIVE, I RECORD, I OBSERVE.
YOU MUST EARN, YOU MUST STRUGGLE, YOU MUST DECIDE.
YOUR WILL, YOUR VISION, YOUR HUNGER… ONLY THEN WILL THE MEMORIES I HOLD BE YOURS TO WIELD.
FAIL… AND I WILL REMEMBER YOUR ERROR FOREVER."
Streams of glowing text, impossible sigils, and abstract symbols swirled around Zayriel, wrapping him in a cocoon of knowledge. Each fragment pulsed with raw potential, whispering secrets of martial arts, magic, skill, and weaponry—promises of unimaginable power.
"EVERY BATTLE YOU FIGHT, EVERY CREATURE YOU FACE, EVERY OBJECT YOU TOUCH… I RECORD IT.
YOUR ENEMIES' TECHNIQUES, STRATEGIES, STRENGTHS, WEAKNESSES… ALL. NOTHING IS LOST. NOTHING IS FORGOTTEN.
AND WITH EACH MEMORY, YOU GROW. EACH FAILURE, EACH VICTORY, EACH BREATH… ADDED TO THE INFINITE ARCHIVE.
YOU WILL MASTER TECHNIQUES FASTER THAN ANY WHO HAVE LIVED, AND PERHAPS CREATE THINGS NEVER IMAGINED."
The voice softened, but the chill cut deeper than any blade.
"AND YET… BE WARNED. I AM NOT KIND. I DO NOT FORGIVE. I DO NOT HIDE.
I SEE YOU… ALL OF YOU. I SEE THE DARKNESS YOU TRY TO BURY, THE WEAKNESS YOU DENY, THE TRUTHS YOU FEAR.
IF YOU ABUSE THE KNOWLEDGE I GIVE… I WILL REMEMBER. I WILL JUDGE. AND I WILL MAKE SURE THE MISTAKES OF THIS WORLD ECHO THROUGH ALL FUTURE REALMS."
A pulse of golden-violet light surged through Zayriel. His eyes burned with newfound clarity. Thousands of lifetimes, countless civilizations… now flowed through him—a library of the universe bound to his will… if he was clever enough to wield it.
"I AM AKASHIC. I REMEMBER. I RECORD. I TEACH. AND I WAIT."
The voice faded. Silence returned. A mortal floated alone in the void. Zayriel's body trembled.
Then… Buhahahaha. A long, echoing laugh rolled across the void. Slowly, he regained control.
"SYNTHESIS… DEVOURER… DESTRUCTION… AKASHIC," he bellowed. His voice sharp, unyielding.
"DO YOU ALL DARE LOOK DOWN ON ME?"
His face turned serious. The void warped around him.
"I WAS BORN INTO THIS WORLD. I GREW IN THIS WORLD. I SAW ITS TRUTH… I SAW MY LIMITS AS AN ORDINARY HUMAN. AND YET, I STILL ASPIRED TO CLIMB THE MOUNTAIN, SAIL THE OCEANS, AND MASTER THE SEAS OF EXISTENCE."
His voice turned cold, slicing through the emptiness.
"DO NOT THINK… THAT YOU GAVE ME THE PRIVILEGE OR THE HONOR TO BE GREAT. I WOULD HAVE BEEN GREAT WITHOUT YOU.
DEEP DOWN, I ALWAYS KNEW I WAS MEANT FOR GREATNESS. I ALWAYS GRABBED EVEN THE SMALLEST CHANCE TO ASCEND. I NEVER SHIED AWAY FROM IMPOSSIBLE RISKS… BUT I ALSO NEVER WALKED BLINDLY INTO CERTAIN DEATH.
EVERY STEP, EVERY STRUGGLE… PART OF MY PATH. EVEN WITHOUT YOU, I WOULD HAVE CARVED MY CONCEPT, MY STYLE, INTO THE ATOMS OF HISTORY ITSELF."
As he spoke, Zayriel's body glowed with majestic, pulsating light. Golden and violet energy spiraled around him, casting shadows that twisted like living beings.
"That is why you are all… merely stepping stones.
All powers, all skills, all abilities the system offers… are tools. Tools for me to forge my own path. My own style. My own legacy—ever known or yet to be known in history."
His voice boomed, shaking the void, reverberating through space itself.
"REMEMBER THIS! I AM THE ANOMALY AMONG ANOMALIES. THE CONCEPT THAT DEFIES EVERY RULE, EVERY LAW, EVERY EXPECTATION.
ALL POWERS YOU HAVE GRANTED ME ARE BUT STEPPING STONES…
FOR I AM ZAYRIEL. AND I… WILL CREATE MY OWN DOMINION."
The world seemed to pause, absorbing the magnitude of his declaration. Then, Zayriel vanished, returning to his room.
He tried to sense his powers, but… nothing.
"System…" he whispered, stunned.
"Your abilities are extremely limited," the system replied. "Creation is watered down—you need energy to form anything. Devour only works on what you touch or kill. Synthesis is intact. Destruction has been nerfed, but you can still fight powerful opponents. Akashic holds no secret knowledge—you must observe, touch, and experience to record and analyze. You understand?"
"System… when did this happen? Are you saying you nerfed me?" Zayriel shouted.
"…"
"I… don. Zayriel's breath came slow and steady, but the veins of light crawling over his skin pulsed like caged storms. His eyes burned like two newborn stars.
"System…" his voice was a low growl now, "are you saying you nerfed me?"
A pause. A single blink of silence stretched across eternity. Then the System spoke, voice smooth, unshaken:
[LIMITATION NOTICE:] Your powers are in their lowest state. The True Concepts of Creation, Destruction, Devourer, Synthesis and Akashic cannot be wielded in full without collapsing this plane. You will have to grow. You will have to build your own energy, your own path. Only then will the seals crack and your true authority return.
The words hit like hammer blows, but Zayriel didn't flinch. His fists slowly unclenched. A smile—wolfish, sharp, dangerous—spread across his face.
"So that's it," he whispered. "You think locking me down will make me weak? You think diluting my power will slow me? No…" he raised his head, eyes like suns. "…it'll make me faster. Stronger. Smarter."
His voice rose, booming across the empty space around him:
"EVERY LIMITATION IS A TRAINING WEIGHT. EVERY CHAIN IS A FORGE. EVERY 'NERF' IS A LESSON. AND WHEN THE SEALS BREAK, WHEN I UNLOCK MY TRUE AUTHORITY—"
The light around him burst outward, a shockwave of raw willpower and hunger.
"—THERE WON'T BE A SINGLE CONCEPT LEFT IN THIS OMNIVERSE THAT CAN STAND IN MY WAY!"
For a heartbeat, he stood there, head tilted back, laughing. The sound wasn't mad. It was… victorious. It was the laugh of someone staring at an impossible mountain and already seeing himself at the summit.
"Fine," he muttered. "We'll start with your little 'nerfed' version. We'll build. We'll climb. We'll break."
Inside his chest, something stirred. The five concepts pulsed faintly, like slumbering beasts waiting for the moment to wake. Each one whispered promises. Each one demanded mastery.
And for the first time since stepping into this void, Zayriel felt truly alive.
He opened his palm. The faintest flicker of Creation sparked there—a tiny, glowing mote like a firefly. In his other palm, the whisper of Destruction—a black flame so small it could be mistaken for ash. Devour, Synthesis, and Akashic shimmered faintly behind his eyes.
"Let's get to work," he said, voice low and deadly. "If the system wants me to earn it… then I'll earn it. I'll earn everything."
The void trembled. Somewhere deep inside the System, a warning flashed in red letters:
[ALERT: USER PATH DEVIATING FROM PROJECTED TRAJECTORY.]
[DANGER LEVEL: UNCHARTED.]
But the system did not speak it aloud.
Zayriel's laugh echoed one last time before the void dissolved. Reality folded back around him. He stood once more on solid ground, the night sky above him glittering like a million secrets.
The journey had begun.