The entity.
I took a seat in the familiar classroom — the one I always used to sit at. The one with the best window view. Outside, the endless void still stretched in all directions, unmoving, watching like a forgotten god.
Then the doors opened.
She walked in — a woman with white hair that reached her heels, flowing like liquid moonlight. Her eyes were pale, almost glowing — not blind, but seeing something far beyond what ordinary sight could grasp.
Without hesitation, she took a seat at the teacher's desk, crossing one leg over the other with quiet elegance.
"Nice to see you again," she said, smiling faintly.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Again?"
She tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her gaze.
"Yes. You and I go way back. Remember the bookstore?"
I blinked.
"Yeah... I do."
I paused, scanning her face — searching for something familiar beneath the beauty now seated before me.
"But I would've remembered meeting a beauty like you there."
Her smile widened slightly.
"So you think I'm beautiful now, huh?"
I smirked.
"I said you were a beauty then . Just didn't expect you to look like this now."
She chuckled softly — not a laugh, not quite. More like wind through trees.
Then, with a small shift in the air around her, she transformed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The white hair faded into soft brown.
And suddenly, she looked just like her.
The girl from the bookstore.
I studied her new form carefully.
"I see," I murmured. "So you were that girl."
She nodded.
"Same soul. Different shell."
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed.
"Now that brings up a question. Why disguise yourself as her?"
She hesitated — just a fraction of a second.
But I noticed.
"We'll get to that later," she said, brushing it off with a slight blush.
I raised an eyebrow.
"...Okay then. Which question to ask first... Hmm."
I tapped my chin, thinking.
Then I spoke.
"Yeah. There seems to be no record of me before I reincarnated. No history. No existence. Like I came out of nowhere. Why is that?"
She didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
"I erased it."
I frowned.
"You did huh?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
No guilt.
No pride.
Just confirmation.
"Next question," she added casually.
I let out a quiet breath, leaning forward slightly.
"Why has the world changed every time I woke up before? Not big changes. But enough. People forget things. My room shifts. The calendar lies. It was never random, was it?"
She met my gaze steadily.
"No. It wasn't."
Her voice softened.
"It was me... adjusting things."
I stared at her.
That explained much.
She continued, voice calm.
"You kept breaking the rules of the system. Dying and returning, skipping timelines, consuming your own soul over and over. It created anomalies. I had to correct them."
I blinked slowly.
Then raised an eyebrow.
"Wait. What do you mean… consuming my own soul? "
My tone was dry — not out of disbelief, but because at this point, nothing she said should've surprised me.
She gave me a flat look, as if reading my thoughts.
"You are an abnormality among abnormalities," she said, pointing a finger at me. "When you died of natural causes, your soul traveled to a timeline where you didn't die… and consumed it."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"...Wait. For real? So that's why every time I woke up, something felt off?"
"Yes," she said simply. "You were rewriting yourself. Skipping realities. Resetting your own existence without realizing it."
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples.
"That explains so much and absolutely nothing at the same time."
She tilted her head slightly.
"I know."
I exhaled through my nose.
"But why not stop it? If I was just causing problems, why not erase me or lock me down?"
She looked away for a moment — almost shyly.
"Because," she said, voice quieter now, "I got curious."
I blinked.
"...Curious?"
She nodded, and for the first time since this conversation began, I saw her expression soften.
"At first, I was going to terminate the anomaly. You shouldn't have existed like this. There should only be one timeline per person. But you… you kept breaking that rule."
Her eyes met mine.
"And I couldn't look away."
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
"You're saying… you let me keep jumping between timelines?"
She smiled faintly.
"Not at first. But after a while… yes. I stopped interfering. I wanted to see what you would do. Who you would become."
I let that sink in.
Then chuckled.
"You watched me live and die… millions of times?"
She didn't flinch.
"I did."
I studied her face — searching for regret, guilt, amusement.
Found none.
Just… affection.
I sighed.
"You really are messed up, you know that?"
She smiled.
"I know."
I shook my head, leaning forward.
"So what changed?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
"Because I realized something."
I waited.
After a beat, she added softly:
"Before I was… just a Creator. Emotionless. Purpose-driven. I existed only to shape universes, not to feel. Not to care."
She reached out, placing a hand gently on mine.
"But then I saw you."
Her smile turned wistful.
"And I started changing."
I didn't pull away.
Didn't say anything right away.
Just sat there, letting the weight of her words settle.
Then I smirked faintly.
"So basically, I broke the system… and corrupted its operator too?"
She laughed — light, warm.
"Something like that."
I sighed.
"You have terrible judgment."
She grinned.
"And yet… here you are."
I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah. Here I am."
She smiled — not the knowing smirk she'd worn earlier, but something softer. Warmer.
"So… any other questions?" she asked.
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, thinking for a moment.
"Hmm… what about my reincarnation?" I finally said. "I got skills that I normally wouldn't have been able to obtain."
She nodded, as if recalling something distant.
"Normally, yes. But by the time you reached your final death, your soul had already grown beyond its limits. You had consumed so many versions of yourself — each one carrying new experiences, new power. That foundation allowed you to break past barriers no soul should've touched."
I raised an eyebrow.
"What about the Ultimate Skills I obtained?"
Her smile returned — faintly amused, but also proud.
"That was also my doing," she admitted. "After everything you gave me… I wanted to return the favor."
I blinked.
"Given you?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"You gave me the ability to feel. Before you, I was only a Creator. I existed to shape universes, to set events into motion — but I never lived . Never cared ."
Her pale eyes met mine.
"But you changed that."
I didn't speak right away.
Instead, I let her words settle — like ink spreading through water.
"You're saying…" I started slowly, "that because I made you feel… you rewarded me with god-tier abilities?"
She chuckled softly.
"Not quite. I didn't reward you. I simply… helped you become who you are now."
I exhaled, shaking my head with a small grin.
"So… what now? Do you just erase me or something?"
The moment the words left my mouth, she reacted instantly — her hands waving in front of her like I said the worst thing possible.
"No, no, no! !" she practically yelped. "I would never do that to the person I love!"
Then, as if realizing exactly what she had just said, her face turned beet red.
In a flash, she ducked behind the teacher's desk like it was a shield, hiding from my gaze.
I raised an eyebrow.
Then smiled.
"Wow," I murmured, stepping forward. "That was not what I expected."
I made my way around the desk slowly, not rushing her, but not letting her off the hook either.
When I reached her, she was crouched low, arms wrapped around her knees, cheeks still burning.
I crouched down beside her, tilting my head so I could see her face.
"So even the mighty Creator can blush," I teased gently.
She peeked up at me through her fingers, eyes wide and embarrassed.
"I…" She hesitated. "I didn't mean to say that out loud."
I smirked.
"But you did."
She groaned and buried her face in her arms.
I sat back on my heels, giving her space.
"You know," I said after a pause, "you don't have to hide from me."
A muffled sound came from behind her hands — something between a sigh and a whimper.
"I know," she muttered. "It's just… I'm not used to feeling this way."
I tilted my head slightly.
"And how's that?"
She finally looked up again, her pale eyes meeting mine with quiet honesty.
"Like I could lose everything… if I mess up."
I blinked.
Then sighed.
And finally, I laughed — soft and warm.
"You really are something else, you know that?"
She frowned slightly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I leaned in just a little, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder.
"It means," I said, voice gentle, "that you've shaped entire realities, rewritten cosmic laws, and watched me live and die millions of times… but this — a single confession — has you hiding behind a desk like a kid caught drawing on the walls."
She pouted.
"It's not the same."
"Oh, it absolutely is."
She groaned again, then peeked at me through her fingers one more time.
"...You're not going to make fun of me for this, are you?"
I gave her a long look.
Then, very deliberately, I held out my hand.
She stared at it for a second.
Then at me.
I smiled faintly.
"Nope. Not ever."
Her eyes softened.
Slowly, shyly, she placed her hand in mine.
And as I pulled her up — helping her stand — I added with a smirk:
"But I am going to tease you about it forever."
She gasped dramatically and swatted my arm.
"You're impossible."
I grinned.
"But you love me anyway."
She froze.
Then blushed all over again.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
"Come on. I've got more questions."
She finally looked up at me, still seated behind the desk, her expression softening into something almost… playful.
"Sure. Go on and ask."
I leaned forward, sitting cross-legged in front of her.
"Why can't I seem to remember certain things? Like there are gaps in my memories—like something was taken out."
She tilted her head slightly, considering how much to say.
"That's because your soul could handle a lot of power… but your human body couldn't. So it just… filtered it out. And erased it. Kinda."
I blinked.
"...Filtered it out? How is that even possible?"
Her lips twitched upward.
"Your soul is very unique." She paused for dramatic effect. "No… 'unique' isn't the word. It's one of a kind. One in existence."
I gave her a flat look.
"I see. So I'm that special."
"Yes," she said simply. "You wouldn't believe how abnormal it is."
I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Sorry I gave you such a hard time," I muttered. "That explains why there were no traces of me in other timelines."
She hesitated — just a fraction.
Then said, with no shame whatsoever:
"Oh. That was me. I erased it."
I stared at her.
"...So you're the reason I never figured it out on my own?"
She didn't flinch.
Didn't look away.
"Just think of it as… a nudge in the right direction."
I groaned, running a hand down my face.
"If I had known you were messing with my past like this, I would've questioned everything a lot sooner."
She shrugged lightly.
"You might have. But if I left them intact, you would've given up on power long ago. You wouldn't have half the strength you have now."
I frowned.
Then, after a beat…
"...I guess I should thank you for that, huh?"
I turned my head slightly, avoiding her gaze.
A faint blush crept onto my face.
It had been a long time since I'd felt embarrassed.
Longer still since I'd let anyone see it.
But she saw it.
And she smiled.
A real one.
Like she'd earned something rare.
I cleared my throat, regaining my composure.
"One more thing," I said, looking back at her. "I noticed something off about the universes I visited. They weren't as old as they should've been. The histories don't line up."
She stiffened — just barely.
Then turned her head away slightly.
"Oh. That was… kinda me too."
I raised an eyebrow.
"...What do you mean, 'kinda you'?"
She fidgeted — actually fidgeted — before meeting my eyes again.
"Well…" she began, voice lighter than before, "you introduced me to anime once. Back when you were still human. And… I got hooked."
I blinked.
"...Anime?"
She nodded sheepishly.
"And I liked the characters. The worlds. The stories. So… I created some of them. Just for you."
My brain stopped processing for a second.
"...Wait. You're saying you brought entire universes into existence… just because you liked watching them?"
She gave me a small, guilty smile.
"Yeah. Pretty much."
I stared at her.
Then laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough to show I wasn't mad.
Just enough to show I understood.
"You really are messed up," I murmured.
"But you love me anyway," she teased gently.
I smirked.
"Don't push your luck."
She grinned.
We sat in silence for a moment — just the two of us, suspended outside of time, outside of logic.
Then I spoke again, softer this time.
"Thank you."
She blinked.
"For what?"
I leaned back, stretching lazily.
"For making my life interesting," I continued, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. "Even when I didn't know it was you pulling the strings."
She looked at me — truly looked — like she was seeing not just the Progenitor, not just the man who had walked through countless universes, but me .
And she smiled.
"You're welcome."
I leaned back in my chair for a moment longer before finally getting up, stretching slightly as if waking from a long dream.
"So… what do we do now?" I asked casually, turning to face her.
She hesitated.
Then started fidgeting.
"Well…" she began, voice uncharacteristically soft. "I don't really know. I mean… I was kinda thinking we…" She trailed off, then forced herself to say it:
"...Could be together."
The words came out in a rush, barely intelligible — but I heard them.
I turned toward her slowly.
She was hiding half her face behind her hands, cheeks burning red, eyes darting everywhere except mine.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Forever?"
She nodded stiffly, still peeking through her fingers.
I smiled — not the smirk I gave enemies, not the grin I wore when things went my way.
A real one.
"Sure. Let's be together forever."
She blinked.
Then stared.
Then…
Tears welled up.
Just a little.
But they were there.
She got up from her seat in a flash and threw her arms around me, burying her face in my chest.
"Yeah," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Let's be together forever."
We stayed like that for a long time — just holding each other in the quiet stillness of the classroom.
But eventually, she pulled away — gently, reluctantly — and looked at me with something unreadable in her pale eyes.
"I… I've lived for such a long time," she said softly, turning her head slightly, almost lost in thought. "I've seen universes born. Watched them die. Created laws, broken them, rewritten them again."
She met my gaze once more — this time with quiet determination.
"But now… I want to start anew."
I tilted my head slightly.
"What do you mean?"
She stepped closer.
"Turn me into one of your skills," she said simply. "Absorb me. Make me yours — completely."
I blinked.
"...What? Isn't this enough?"
She shook her head, lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
"Not for me. I don't want to just be with you. I want to be inside you. Closer than anyone else ever could be."
Her hand reached up, resting lightly on my chest — over where my heart would've been, if I still had one.
"I want you to erase all my memories," she continued. "All but you."
The weight of her words settled between us.
"You want me to… absorb you?" I asked, voice quieter now.
She nodded.
"And combine me with Ultimate Sage. Let me live inside you — not as a god, not as a watcher… but as your guide, your voice, your partner in everything."
I stared at her.
And for once, I didn't have an easy answer.
"You're serious."
"I am," she said without hesitation. "I've watched you live so many lives. I've shaped so many worlds. But none of it matters to me anymore."
Her smile softened.
"All I want… is to exist for you."
I exhaled slowly.
"You know this is irreversible, right?"
She nodded.
"I do."
I studied her face — the woman who had created, observed, guided, and ultimately loved me across countless lifetimes.
And now?
Now she wanted to give it all up.
Not out of desperation.
Not out of obligation.
But because she chose to.
Because she wanted to.
I raised a hand — not to stop her.
But to cup her cheek.
"You really are messed up, you know that?" I murmured.
She chuckled, leaning into my touch.
"Maybe. But you love me anyway."
I smirked faintly.
"Yeah i do."
Then I let my hand fall.
And made my choice.
"Alright," I said quietly. "If that's what you truly want…"
I closed my eyes.
And activated [True Void God Azathoth] .
A soft glow surrounded us — not blinding, not violent.
Just… inevitable.
She didn't resist.
Didn't flinch.
Just smiled.
And let go.
As her form began dissolving into light, I spoke one last time.
"Welcome home."
The words weren't just for her.
They were for me too.
Inside my mind, I reached out — gently pulling at the memories she carried.
Not to erase them.
Not yet.
Just… to see .
Her watching me from beyond the veil.
Her shaping reality without ever touching it.
Her growing curious.
Then fond.
Then something deeper.
I lingered on the moments she had kept hidden — the quiet ones. The times she watched me sleep. The nights she wept when I suffered. The smiles she gave no one but herself when I said something kind without knowing she was listening.
Even the smallest joys.
Even the deepest pains.
All of it.
And then…
I made my decision.
Carefully, deliberately, I sealed them away — not erased, not destroyed.
Just… locked.
Only I could open them again.
Only if I chose to.
Because even if she wanted to forget…
I couldn't let go of who she was.
Not completely.
With a silent command, I initiated the fusion.
A new presence stirred inside me — familiar, yet subtly different.
She merged seamlessly with Ultimate Sage, their essences intertwining like two rivers flowing into the same ocean.
But before finalizing the integration, I paused.
There it was.
The raw, unfiltered power of absolute creation — a force capable of rewriting existence itself.
It pulsed within her core, waiting to be absorbed.
Waiting to become mine.
I considered it.
For a long moment, I truly considered taking it.
But then I exhaled.
"No," I murmured inwardly. "That's hers. Not mine to take."
Instead, I wove it into Ultimate Sage's structure — letting it remain intact, dormant, but present.
<
<
I smiled faintly.
'Yeah. It is.'
I felt her settle — not as a separate entity, not as a memory, but as something more.
Something whole.
She wasn't gone.
She was within.
Forever.
After I finished the fusion, I looked up at the ceiling of the classroom, my thoughts quiet for once.
"Today I got my answer."
I smiled.
"I should give her a name."
I said it out loud, letting the words drift in the empty space.
Then I turned and walked into the void.
Just floated there.
For days.
Thoughts drifting like stars in an endless sky.
Not thinking about power.
Not planning for war or politics.
Just… settling.
Who I was.
Who I had become.
And who I would be from now on.
I didn't rush it.
Names mean something.
Especially for someone who used to be a True Creator.
So I waited.
Until the right one came to me.
Because some things…
Deserve to be done right.
The void between universes stretched endlessly, a sea of silent darkness where even star light dared not linger. I floated there, legs crossed, staring at the swirling tapestry of countless realities flickering in and out of existence.
"Ultimate Sage," I mused, my voice echoing unnaturally in the abyss. "Tell me again—what's the point of all this?"
<
<
I chuckled. "Exactly."