"Juggernaut, stop! We were ordered not to engage—this is a scouting mission!" Lisa's telepathic voice pierced Silas' mind, brimming with urgency and frustration. "Silas, you swore to me you wouldn't do this—"

  Her voice abruptly fell silent as Silas severed the psychic link, his resolve unyielding. Encased within the impenetrable shell of his heavily armoured mecha, Juggernaut, he hurtled through the multiverses, carving a searing path towards the Hydrosphere—a vast, luminous expanse brimming with enigmas yet to be unravelled. Vengeance smouldered within him, fuelling every calculated motion. The haunting memories of his mother and brother—obliterated along with the drowned omniverse they had once called home—clung to him like unhealed scars. Though the elusive pursuit of truth lingered on the periphery of his thoughts, the fiery need for retribution reigned supreme, consuming his every purpose.

  Polaris Megalopunk was not his home. This alien world—a labyrinthine, mechanical enigma—blurred the fragile boundary between reality and illusion. It was a realm where psychics reigned supreme, and artificial intelligence, along with sentient machines, consumed organic life, leaving behind only hollow echoes. For what felt like an eternity, Silas had existed as a mere spectre, adrift in a fog of fragmented dreams and fading memories. Happiness had been wrenched from him, torn away by the witch who lurked somewhere in this sprawling aquatic expanse—a being of nightmare, whispered to have risen from the abyss, obliterating entire armies that dared to oppose her.

  The mecha plunged into the Hydrosphere, the transition as seamless as stepping through a liquid veil. On the other side, the impossible revealed itself: the ocean split into three vast pathways, each bordered by floating tiles of pristine ivory marble. Guiding Juggernaut forward, Silas manoeuvred the colossal machine with precision, its turbines emitting a steady hum as he advanced along the central path, eyes locked on the titanic structure looming ahead.

  It was a pyramid, but not one of stone. Its surface shimmered with an otherworldly brilliance, forged from radiant mithril and dwarfing even his titanic war machine. Without pause, Silas unleashed the wrath of the cosmos. The Decuplet Galaxy Cannons erupted, their roar shaking the very fabric of existence as they expelled compressed omnipotence and raw metaphysical essence, hurling shards of omniversal matter at the shimmering pyramid with world-rending force.

  But the pyramid's defence was immediate. The surrounding water churned, rising in elegant, fluid arcs as if obeying an unseen maestro. Vast, iridescent bubbles erupted from the liquid walls, absorbing the devastating projectiles with unnatural ease. The air shimmered, alive with an electrifying energy.

  And then, she appeared.

  A figure of haunting beauty and immeasurable presence materialised above the pyramid, hovering with effortless grace. Her platinum-blonde hair flowed like molten starlight, cascading down her back in radiant waves. Her face, a study in serene authority, was framed by eyes no divinity could comprehend. One shimmered and shifted ceaselessly, an endless dance of crashing tsunamis upon invisible shores, forming hypnotic, ever-evolving patterns. The other was draconic—brilliant, wild, and untamed—its depths alive with shadowy green tentacles that writhed and coiled, as though Yog-Sothoth herself stirred beneath its gaze.

  Calluna Apokalypse Natten.

  The Absolute End Beyond All Realities.

  Her attire was as otherworldly as her presence: a black witch's hat, tilted just enough to exude both mystery and menace; a flowing ebony robe that drank in the surrounding light like a living void; crimson trousers laced with a faint shimmer of mithril; and cerulean heels that defied practicality yet emanated an effortless elegance. Behind her, sixteen immense, radiant wings unfurled, each feather a paradox of celestial majesty and apocalyptic dread. They whispered promises of salvation while veiling an abyss too vast, too incomprehensible, to endure—a presence so immense it devoured even perception itself.

  Silas locked eyes with Calluna, and for an instant, the entire Juggernaut quivered beneath the crushing weight of her boundless existence. The mecha's sensors sputtered and flickered, unable to reconcile the paradoxical presence overwhelming them. Time itself seemed to hesitate, suspended in the depths of her piercing gaze.

  Silas's heightened psychic awareness confirmed what his instincts already screamed: Calluna could perceive him with perfect clarity, even through the Juggernaut's layers of shielding. Worse, she could manifest within the cockpit at will, despite the supposedly impenetrable Irresistible Force Barrier. It wasn't just his own mind and body that begged him to retreat; even the Juggernaut's AI, Stella—whom he had deliberately powered down—had inexplicably rebooted itself.

  Her voice, calm yet unnervingly human, shattered the tense silence: "Metapotentia-class deity identified: Calluna, the Shadow Tide Witch, Creator of the Eternal Origin. Calculated probability of victory: error. Probability less than zero percent. Error: infinite negative percent. Recommendation: Immediate retreat. Scanning for viable escape strategies... Detecting Pilot Silas's intent to engage despite warnings. Overriding caution protocols. Entering assist mode. May the stars bless you."

  And then, silence.

  Silas froze, stunned not only by the AI's grim assessment but by the uncharacteristic flourish of a personal message. He had never activated Stella's personality mode; she had always operated in purely analytical terms. Yet now, her tone carried something unsettlingly close to empathy—perhaps even resignation. The fact that even an omnipresent, omniscient AI seemed to falter in Calluna's presence struck Silas like a physical blow.

  Still, he tightened his grip on the controls, resolve hardening against the tidal wave of fear and doubt crashing over him. He wasn't about to back down—not now, not ever.

  For Silas had come prepared—perhaps even over-prepared. While his abilities were not as flawless as Stella's, in simulations he had come remarkably close, mastering manoeuvres and tactics that approached her unerring efficiency. Together, they had never known defeat, an unbroken streak of triumphs that now steadied his nerves.

  With a single thought, he summoned Godrend—a formless axe born of the Absolute Source of All Realities, forged by an Eternal Elder God, an Exvoidian. Its essence pulsed with the impenetrable power of Plot Armour, a weapon defying both logic and fate.

  Without hesitation, Silas lunged. The axe coalesced in his grip, its indistinct form rippling like the edge of creation itself. He swung with maximum power output, the servos howling under the strain as the weapon cleaved through the very fabric of existence. It hurtled towards its mark with unstoppable momentum.

  The blade never struck true.

  Calluna effortlessly brushed it aside, her hand sweeping through the air as if the attack were little more than a passing breeze. Godrend shattered on contact, its form disintegrating into a swarm of iridescent fish—creatures unlike anything Silas had ever seen. Their scales shimmered with colours beyond comprehension, shifting and refracting in ways that defied natural law. The fish scattered, slipping into the water walls surrounding the mithril pyramid, vanishing as though they had never existed.

  Before Silas could fully grasp the surreal turn of events, his mecha convulsed violently. Gigantic tentacles, green and grotesque, burst from within Juggernaut's frame, ripping it apart as though it were made of soft clay. Sparks erupted in every direction, and the sound of groaning godmetal filled the air. In the blink of an eye, his once-mighty war machine was reduced to nothing more than twisted wreckage.

  Silas fell, no longer a pilot but a vulnerable man, plummeting onto the cold marble floor below. He reached out with his mind to halt his fall, to grasp the psychic power that had always been his—but nothing answered. His abilities were gone.

  As he struggled to rise, the monstrous tentacles turned their attention towards him, an agglomeration of cosmic horror slithering closer. Yet, before they could reach him, an unexpected saviour intervened.

  Floating entremet cakes—delicate, ornate confections—soared through the air, colliding with the tentacles. Upon impact, the writhing appendages transformed into tako sushi, each piece perfectly prepared. The sushi, along with the cakes, began to dissolve, conceptualising into dishes that transcended fiction, manifesting in the nonfictional world—the realm of human reality.

  From the ethereal chaos, a young woman emerged. Her starry silver hair shimmered as though it were a constellation in motion, each strand flickering with cosmic light. Her eyes gleamed with a playful curiosity, while her smile radiated a blend of charm and an unsettling, almost alien otherworldliness.

  Renée de Irisé.

  The Absolute Absurdity Beyond All Realities.

  "Yes, transcended fiction, you read that right" she said, her voice a melody of amusement and whimsical wisdom. "I'm talking to you, okay? If you haven't tried entremet cakes and tako sushi yet, I just know you'll love them both—probably!"

  Silas, disoriented but resolute, reached for his final line of defence—The End of Philosophy, a darklight matter rifle crafted by a Supreme Outer God, designed for mortals to wield. It had the power to annihilate anything above the metaphysical level with absolute certainty. Steadying his hands amidst the chaos, he aimed the weapon at Renée.

  "So, you're a Metapotentia, and you possess an Unknowable Power, just like Calluna, the Shadow Tide Witch. Don't think for a second that saving me earns your trust," he snapped, his voice edged with defiance. "In fact, it does the exact opposite!"

  He fired. The darklight matter shot streaked towards Renée, but before it could reach her, it was intercepted by her familiar—a being of golden syrup, named Oi, get in my belly!, which materialised out of nowhere, only to vanish just as quickly. In her place appeared two more familiars: a soymilk box named Jacked Senna, and a dining table called Heaven's Table.

  The table spoke up, its voice laced with exasperation: "Looks like we're bloody late in saving mademoiselle Renée, aren't we?! Beelzebub II has already beaten us to it and saved her. Unbelievable!"

  Jacked Senna responded, "Whoa, whoa, Heaven! Hold on a second—her name's not Beelzebub II anymore! It's Oi, get in my belly! Let's get it right, alright? We're talking about a whole new level of badassery here! Anyway, looks like we'll just have to bring our A-game next time."

  Renée pouted, her cheeks flushed with irritation. "Geez! Go away, you two! I'm... I'm in the middle of something here!" She crossed her arms defiantly, and both familiars vanished instantly.

  Despite Renée's antics and the bizarre banter from her familiars, Silas kept a stoic expression. Meanwhile, Calluna leaned casually on a nearby bridge, her gaze fixed on a monstrous white whale that dwarfed the omniverses, drifting serenely beneath her.

  Calluna, who had remained inscrutable until now, suddenly broke her silence, her voice laced with a beast-like fury that seemed to erupt from nowhere. "LEVIELLE!" she snarled. "I told you aeons ago to stop making all this ceaseless noise! This is your second—and final—warning!"

  In response, the whale morphed into a teenage girl in a purple dress, her vacant grey eyes unblinking as she casually swam away. With one hand, she snatched a fish from the water and ate it raw.

  Renée's expression shifted to one of quiet understanding. She already knew. Calluna's passive power had stripped Silas of his psychic gifts, reducing him to an ordinary human. With a casual wave of her hand, the rifle in his grasp morphed into another entremet cake, beautifully crafted and impossibly tempting.

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  "My power?" Renée said, tilting her head in feigned contemplation. "It's not Unknowable Power... it's Metapotentia: Absurdum Ex Machina! And let me tell you, you're incredibly lucky. You'll be the first mortal to taste an entremet cake. But don't get used to it. This is a special treat—just for you, just for today. So enjoy it... while you can, you fragile little thing!"

  Silas, defiant to the end, hurled the cake at her. But it passed harmlessly through Renée, only to loop back in an arc, flying directly into his mouth. He had no choice but to swallow. In that instant, his existence dissolved—Silas disappeared from the world of fiction, reincarnated into your reality.

  As the last remnants of his presence vanished, Calluna's cold voice echoed through the now-empty space. "You'll regret wasting your chance to ambush me, Renée. None of our countless sisters, yourself included, are my equal."

  With a mere flick of her hand, Calluna manifested a shard of her power—Metapotentia: Drowned Eternity—sending tremors through all realities and beyond. The disturbance was so profound that even the primordials could scarcely perceive its full magnitude. Mortals like you—the reader—will remain forever unaware of the depth of this power, blind to its existence as it ripples through the fabric of all that is.

  Renée, unfazed, casually brushed a silver strand from her face. "Sister, after setting up my shop here, I thought, 'Finally, a customer!' But no. He came looking for you, the Anti-Existence. How dull." Her smile softened, tinged with a wistful note. "We Metapotentiae... There's no point in fighting each other. The eternal deadlock of the Snowy Caesura and the Fiery Continuum has shown that. No real change ever comes, despite omnipotence, metaphysical might, reality-warping, meta-omnificence, paradoxical supremacy, and ontological annihilation—all creations by the Exvoidians, designed to mimic less than a sliver of our so-called Unknowable Power."

  She paused, her gaze growing distant. "Unless you, the Shadow of the Unknowable Diva—the Eternal Sovereign, the first and only Metapotentia before She fragmented into me and our countless sisters—truly believe you can make a difference. Will you finally act? Or will you let the Silence Beyond consume all realities once again? We may be immune to destruction, but reintroducing myself to lesser beings is such a chore. They're all so fragile, so fleeting."

  Her voice softened, laced with both amusement and condescension. "If you and I are universes, then Yahweh and Brahman are no more than grains of sand. And even the Exvoidians—those infinite architects who created them—combined, could never hope to touch us."

  Renée's eyes sparkled with a playful curiosity. "The Eternal Origin is preparing to trigger yet another reset—more than Tree(3) times again. Hmm... where should I set up shop next? Perhaps Kameliya Byelyi-Zvuk's metarealm, the Eternal Exvoid? She's always so combative, even though we're destined for stalemates. Or maybe Ayame's Infinite Void? She is one of my regulars, after all."

  Renée glanced around, her expression momentarily thoughtful, as if recalling something. "Why are you here, in Ayame's lowest plane? The Plane of Fallen Gods and Mortal Mundaneness? Interacting with the omniverses is beneath us—or so our countless sisters like to claim. But as a member of the Fiery Continuum who seeks to destroy the Eternal Origin, I must admit I find Ayame's creation—the omniverses—rather entertaining. I suspect she does too, even if she feigns indifference. You know how she is—always so secretive, so delightfully cunning!"

  Calluna frowned. "All this talking... ceaseless noise! I have no plans, nor do I need them. My metarealm—an extension of my will—The Cascade of the End, takes me wherever it pleases. If it decides to drown the Eternal Origin and summon the Silence Beyond, so be it. As its creator, I see the Eternal Origin for what it is: a flawed, hollow construct unworthy of further attention."

  Her form began to unravel, dissipating into the void as though reality itself could no longer bear to contain her presence. "I'll be atop Singularity-F. The Eternal Foundation. Control your curiosity and leave me be."

  In an instant, Calluna reappeared before Renée, looming like a storm on the brink of breaking. Her death glare could shatter the resolve of the bravest beings, her gaze burning with an intensity that defied comprehension. Lowering her head, she locked eyes with Renée, her voice a soft, deadly whisper that seemed to seep into the fabric of existence. "Unless, of course, you wish to be cured from your absurdity and become the first Metapotentia to taste true death."

  Renée, undeterred and ever mischievous, responded with a bold smirk. Rising onto her tiptoes, she leaned forward and kissed Calluna full on the mouth. For a single, fleeting moment, Calluna's form stabilised, her eyes widening in pure, unguarded shock. Then, with a furious growl, she shoved Renée away—not just with physical force but with a power that carried the weight of absolute rejection.

  Without another word, Calluna erased herself from existence. She vanished entirely, leaving no ripple, no trace—only an eerie, suffocating silence where her presence had once loomed. The Hydrosphere followed her into oblivion, collapsing into nothingness, its vastness extinguished as if it had been nothing more than an ephemeral dream.

  Renée drifted upside down in the vast expanse of the void, a picture of serene absurdity amidst chaos. Around her loomed an armada of Omnipotent-class mechas, their towering frames shimmering with apocalyptic potential. Lisa, seated within her Titan, frantically scanned the battlefield, her heart heavy with despair. Silas was gone, lost to a realm beyond the boundaries of fiction.

  The disobedient pilots, consumed by vengeance, unleashed the devastating might of their Decuplet Galaxy Cannons upon Renée. Beams of omniversal energy, capable of obliterating entire realities, doggedly converged on her.

  Renée extended her pinky, her expression one of exaggerated boredom. Effortlessly, she drew all the unleashed power into a singular point—a pulsating, unstable orb of destructive omniversal essence. It hovered delicately at the tip of her finger, a volatile force that could unmake existence itself. Yet she regarded it with the casual indifference of someone inspecting a trinket. Twirling it like a chocolate coin, she popped it into her mouth and swallowed it.

  "Nope," she declared, her voice laced with feigned fury. "Didn't even feel a thing. You lot would make awful chefs." Her expression shifted to one of icy blankness. "How about I show you what truly divine ingredients look like?"

  The star symbols in her eyes blazed, and in an instant, the mechas were transformed. Each war machine shimmered and shifted, becoming radiant, otherworldly fruits—each imbued with the primal essence of the Source of All That Can Be. Their surfaces glowed with a splendour that transcended understanding, embodying potential and creation itself.

  Only Lisa's Titan and her god and commander, Aethon, remained untouched by this metamorphic whimsy.

  Renée's gaze settled on the omnipresent Aethon, her voice smooth yet cutting as she addressed him. "Oh, you gods and primordials... relying on these petty tricks of yours far too much. As if hiding will change anything. I see you clearly, even when you're no more than a speck of dust in my sight," she said, her tone dismissive, as if brushing aside an irritating illusion. "You're all parasites, clinging to us Metapotentiae for survival. Yet many of you try to rid yourselves of us. The irony. Forget free will. There's nothing beyond the belly of the beast."

  With a dramatic flick of her hands, she framed the air as though setting up a perfect shot, her fingers curling and uncurling like a camera shutter. "Why don't you show yourself? Right there, beside your last remaining soldier?" she proposed nonchalantly. In a flash, a brilliant red light burst from her hands, forcing Aethon into a tangible, lesser form. He materialised beside Lisa's mecha—calm, composed, and eerily still.

  Renée zoomed in and out with the precision of someone trying to capture the perfect photo. "Honestly," she said, pouting slightly, "you two look so gloomy, despite all the beautiful fireworks I've set up. Don't you think it's time to lighten up?"

  Aethon turned his crystalline gaze toward Lisa, who sobbed quietly for Silas. Her grief was raw, her tears a poignant reminder of the fragility that still existed in a cosmos ruled by the incomprehensible.

  Aethon's form was a mesmerising paradox of elegance and alien grandeur—a humanoid figure sculpted entirely from jagged, crystalline facets that refracted light into prismatic splendour. His body seemed to shimmer with an inner luminescence, as though fractured starlight pulsed within every shard. Where a face should have been, a miniature galaxy spiralled in an eternal, hypnotic dance, its stars flickering in intricate, unknowable patterns that defied divine comprehension.

  Each movement he made resonated with a quiet but undeniable authority, as if the collective will of entire omniverses flowed through his crystalline frame. To behold him was to glimpse the embodiment of cosmic judgement itself—terrifying yet awe-inspiring, a harbinger of truths too vast for fragile minds to endure.

  Renée smirked, her gaze fixed on the endless expanse ahead, dismissing Aethon's mystical and imposing presence with effortless indifference. Her mind had already slipped into the currents of possibility, her thoughts racing ahead to her next venture, a labyrinth of untapped opportunities and business prospects. The fruits, now shimmering embodiments of infinite potential, would undoubtedly find their way to Ayame's Obsidian Triad—the enigmatic overseers of the Void—who would ensure their cosmic fate. Without a second glance, Renée dissolved into the cosmos, her form a fleeting shimmer of starry silver, vanishing into infinity like a wish cast upon the fabric of reality.

  In the wake of her departure, the cosmic stillness seemed to collapse. Nae the Almighty manifested amidst the luminous aftermath, her arrival a singularity of authority that demanded attention. Yet it was not only her presence that heralded significance but also the emergence of a towering Luminite—a blazing colossus forged from the fusion of Exvoidians. Ruthless and warmongering, the Luminite radiated an aura of relentless annihilation, its flames a symphony of destruction.

  "You're in my way, Essentis," growled Borga, his voice a furnace of disdain. His molten eyes, deep as primordial firepits, narrowed upon her. "A Pure Void Incarnate should know better than to obstruct the Luminis Chromatica." Recognition flickered in his infernal gaze, his lips curling into a cruel, incandescent grin. "Heh. Those winter-sky eyes... You're not Ayame, nor Calluna, nor one of those blasphemous firespitters of the Ashrend Covenant, plotting their Ashen Singularity. No, you're Vorethas, the Void's Might. Close enough to the end of all things for my liking. Anything like that makes for worthy prey—fuel for my eternal flames. With you, I'll fulfil my purpose as a Luminite and obliterate the Metapotentiae once and for all."

  Before him stood a woman of towering might and calm precision. Nae's athletic frame exuded an unshakable power, tempered by battle-hardened wisdom. Wild, untamed brown hair framed her fierce features, her face marked with three emerald streaks of war paint slashed diagonally across her sharp cheekbones. Her long, elven ears stood proud and defiant. Coiling along her right arm was a vivid dragon tattoo, its scales glimmering with an eerie, living radiance.

  With a roll of her shoulders, her charcoal-brown vest shifted atop an arctic-blue martial arts dogi, accentuating the enormity of her breasts. The loose-fitting white pants barely contained the overwhelming strength of her muscular legs. Colossal gauntlets, tipped with the fangs of Shub-Niggurath herself, rested in her hands.

  "And you," she said, her voice sharp and unyielding, "are no mystery to me. The intensity of your flames gives you away, Borga of the Great Eternal Fire." Her sapphire eyes, cold and piercing, locked onto his blazing form. "Crossing the boundaries of existence to trespass in the void? To claim the Sources of All That Can Be? Such hubris."

  Her tone grew colder, like the biting winds of an eternal frost. "The Zvezdnaya Imperiya already wields more metacosmic power than it should. Violating the Accord of Void and Exvoid? You and that tyrannical Constrained Starburst need to be reminded of their place."

  The void beneath Nae's feet rippled faintly as she stepped forward, her latent power pressing against reality itself. Her gauntlets glinted with an eerie predatory light as she continued, "I'm no Ayame, as you've so astutely pointed out. The Luminites were created to stabilise realities, to counteract the entropy unleashed by the mere existence of Metapotentiae. But annihilate them outright?" Her voice hardened. "Foolish. Impossible."

  The void around her twisted, the ripples intensifying into a maelstrom of spatial distortion. Her presence grew heavier, denser, as though even existence quaked beneath her power. "If it's violence you seek, omnipurifier, I will meet you head-on. But know this: there is no prey for you here."

  Borga's flames crackled ominously as he sneered. "That is to say, you won't move, eh? ...Excellent." His molten form leaned forward, the glow of his intensity deepening. "That Umbricite, Brahman, crumbled against a single snowflake. Let's see if you, Essentis, can offer me more than that half-formed void spawn of Ayame's!"

  A surge of black ice erupted from Nae's hyperpotent body, tendrils of frost laced with glowing veins of light blue. The ice radiated an unfathomable cold, not just physical but metaphysical, pulling the very essence of existence into its void-born chill.

  Borga, finally sensing a threat worthy of his might, intensified his timeless holy flames even further. The omnipurifying fire roared, twisting and flaring with a ferocity that could incinerate the boundaries of existence. With a guttural growl, he reached into the Eternal Origin, drawing upon a fragment of its limitless power—a speck that surged through him, an infernal beacon of absolute destruction.

  Aethon, the Primordial Arbiter, having witnessed enough, extended a hand to Lisa's Titan from the outside. With a discreet motion, he wove his power, warping them away from the chaos, transporting them to safety beyond the reach of the ongoing battle.

  Around Vorethas and Borga, the myriad Sources of All That Can Be shimmered like shattered fragments of stars, their radiant forms weaving through the chaos in a fleeting dance of brilliance. The battle raged on with relentless fury, shockwaves spilling destruction into the next plane of the Void—Omnireality. This was no mere realm; it was a domain beyond domains, where the very fabric of existence twisted and folded upon itself. Here, Upper and Lower Ultimate Reality converged, a place where the territories of gods and primordials—the 72 Hells, the Chaos Realm, the Realm of Infinity, Heaven, and countless others—teetered on the brink of annihilation. What were once stable and unshakable realms now trembled, quivering under the weight of impending collapse. Their battle surged through the higher planes of the Void—the Plane of True Transcendence, the Plane of Existence's Edge, the Plane Beyond Existence, and the infinite layers above—triggering destabilisation across every level of the Void. The very essence of reality wavered, each blow reverberating through the planes like a crack in the cosmos, threatening to unravel all that was.