In the stillness of the fifth dimension, Lazaro lifted his hand.
With a single flick of his finger, **trillions of spiritual spaces** shattered at once — vast realms of consciousness, each containing infinite minds and metaphysical planes, erased without resistance.
The shockwave didn't travel through space.
It **jumped between dimensions**, phasing through layers of existence both physical and abstract — moving freely through spatial, conceptual, and even metaphysical domains.
Wherever it passed, definition itself bent and dissolved.
Lazaro's body glowed faintly, but not with light.
It was a quiet, invisible **energy field** that surrounded him at all times — a force that could erase **body, mind, soul, information, and concept** alike.
Anything that touched it would vanish from every record of being.
Yet he restrained it.
That immeasurable energy pulsed under perfect control, like a storm caged in silence.
Each heartbeat could have ended countless worlds,
but his will held it still — calm, absolute, unyielding.
In that moment, the multiverse itself seemed to hesitate around him,
as if aware that one stray thought could end everything it was made of.
Lazaro extended his hand.
From the void, **a blade** formed — forged from his own essence, shaped by his infinite power.
It wasn't metal, nor light, nor energy.
It was the embodiment of *negation itself* — a weapon that could **cut through every concept, every law, every story** that ever existed or could exist.
Once drawn, the blade could not be dodged.
Even causality itself was **reversed** to ensure the strike connected.
For the universe, it was not a question of *if* it would be hit — but *when it had already been cut.*
Lazaro stepped forward and swung once.
The impact was silent.
Yet **one hundred and twenty seven-dimensional multiverses** shattered at once —
each multiverse containing infinite universes, collapsing into nothingness like glass erased from existence.
He stopped for a moment, then sneezed — a faint, careless motion.
Across creation, **countless dream worlds** crumbled instantly, fading before the echo of the sound could reach them.
He moved his hand, and the air split open.
Not with power — but with will.
Space itself divided cleanly, forming a **gateway** made from the wound he carved into reality.
He stepped through, bridging worlds that should never have been connected.
Then, with a light kick, he struck something unseen — a **law of physics** itself.
The law cracked, detached from its home universe, and flew outward — landing in another realm altogether.
The receiving universe trembled, its structure distorting under the weight of a rule that did not belong there.
Lazaro watched the aftermath, expression blank.
To him, even the destruction of dimensions was nothing more than the sound of footsteps in an empty hall
Lazaro stood alone in the dark between everything.
No movement. No emotion.
Only silence deep enough to hold infinity.
He drew a slow breath.
The air trembled — not around him, but across **existence itself.**
With that single, gentle inhale, **infinite realities** began to fall apart.
Each reality contained **endless smaller realities**,
each one nesting within another, a hierarchy of worlds stacked without end.
All of them collapsed.
Every layer, every mirrored reflection, every lesser existence folded inward and vanished —
like paper burning inside a fire that left no ash behind.
Within those dying planes were **countless timelines**,
each eleven-dimensional, sprawling across endless sequences of cause and meaning.
And inside them lived uncountable **laws, concepts, and stories**,
all erased in the wake of a single, effortless breath.
No sound followed.
The multiverse had no time left to scream.
Causality had no place to register what had happened.
When the silence settled, there was only Lazaro —
standing in the void where infinity used to be,
his calm exhale echoing through what remained of nothing
Lazaro lifted his hand.
No light formed. No aura flared.
But the air began to warp — bending under a force that had no name.
From the stillness, he created an attack that stretched across **countless realities**.
Within its reach, existence itself began to ignite.
The temperature rose beyond all measure —
not heat as matter knows it, but a **limitless inferno** that burned on the level of concept itself.
It scorched **laws**, **stories**, and **principles** alike.
Causality crumbled.
Fate unraveled.
Space and time melted into a blank, undefined haze.
And then, the fire turned on what should have been impossible —
it began to **burn the void.**
Even *nothingness* could not endure.
The gaps between realities, the silence that held creation together — all turned to white ash that did not exist.
From afar, no one could witness it; there was nothing left to see.
From within, no one could understand it; there was nothing left to think.
Only Lazaro remained, standing amid the afterimage of an infinite flame,
his expression unchanged, his presence calm —
a being who could burn the very concept of "absence" itself.
Before Lazaro stood a being beyond comprehension —
a creature whose existence stretched across dimensions,
anchored in another realm beyond reach.
It was said that this entity could **recover from anything.**
Even when its concept, information, or very *story* was erased,
it would reconstruct itself —
returning through the echoes of its own absence.
It was the embodiment of infinite regeneration.
Lazaro watched it quietly.
No hostility. No emotion.
Then, with a simple gesture, he willed reality to still.
The creature's body shimmered across layers of space,
its higher-dimensional form attempting to heal before injury even began.
But Lazaro's power wasn't destruction — it was **denial.**
He didn't strike, didn't move.
He simply decided that the creature **could no longer recover.**
And in that moment, the rule of its existence — the command that said "I return" —
was **removed from creation.**
Its regenerative cycle stopped, not by injury, but by erasure of the *idea* that healing could occur.
Across dimensions, its true body trembled.
Even in higher realms, where it had hidden its essence,
the command to "exist again" dissolved.
For the first time in its eternal life,
the being felt what it had never known — permanence in loss.
Lazaro turned away, his voice barely a whisper:
> "Infinity means nothing if I decide it ends."