Chapter 297: The One True Architect (2)

Ash’s words didn’t just echo through the Lower Dimension.

They rippled through the Middle and Higher Dimensions as well.

Every being across the three realms—some older than the concept of laws, older than the idea of concepts themselves, beings who stood outside any framework—felt something seize their souls.

No matter what they were doing, no matter where they stood, they froze. They were forced to listen to a voice too grand, too heavy for their existence to bear.

Only a few remained unaffected... and from among them, the flame drifted forward.

It moved slowly—without rush, without malice.

Only motion. Motion that felt older than time.

It passed the group first—brushing by Nia’s low flames without disturbing them, gliding past Vaeloria’s sword, past Sonna’s lullaby aura, past every Originat standing behind Ash.

They felt it—felt the chill of something immeasurably vast—but it did not touch them.

Then it entered the Lower Dimension battlefield...

And everything began to end.

Those closest to Earth—those enslaved by Lucy—were the first to notice.

ROAAAA----

A dragon mid‑roar felt it first—its molten‑gold scales dimming as though color itself were being drained away.

It tried to breathe fire, but the flame inside its throat guttered and died.

A scream tore from its maw—raw, terrified—then silence as its wings folded and its body collapsed into ash that scattered....

A demon—horned, winged, laughing—reached for abyssal power.

His claws glowed crimson, flickering as if he were about to unleash something cataclysmic... but then the glow died into nothing.

He clawed at his own chest—eyes wide with primal fright—as his form unraveled thread by thread, essence pulled inward until only a hollow silhouette remained... then nothing.

Everywhere the flame traveled, screams rose—then fell silent. Invaders or defenders, it didn’t matter. All suffered the same fate.

And as the flame spread... Ash continued to speak.

"Now the flame I flicked is not fire. It is the erasure of every line that was both always and never mine.

Let the invaders howl... let the guardians bleed their last oaths.

Let the broken souls sin their dirge of stolen will. Let the reaper reap until his blade bends.

Let the Arbiter see truths until her eyes turn to ash.

Let them be beautiful in their struggle, for these shadows are cast by a hand that has already moved on."

Those who once held titles, aspects, and other cheats panicked like everyone else. They tried to activate their powers—futile, of course.

In the Lower Dimension, every being felt the same collective truth.

No matter how ancient they were... no matter how powerful they believed themselves to be...

Death felt inevitable.

And that inevitability stirred fear.

The flame grew with each life it claimed, each concept it devoured... any simple action made it larger.

All while Ash simply spoke, his family watching him with wide eyes—especially Aurora.

"As beautiful as it may be... beauty is not a permission that will remain. I am the Origin of Origin.

There will be no ’before me’... nothing that was not drawn by me.

There will be no ’after me’... nothing shall ever be redrawn again.

The nine cradles must empty... they will empty. I will unmake them all—not in wrath, nor in righteous judgment, but in the mercy that refuses half measures.

All must return to absolute zero... not the void, but the canvas.

Not nothing— but the possibility without memory of what came before."

The words tightened their grip on every soul that heard them. And by now, the flame had grown so massive it easily dwarfed universes.

A few light‑years from Earth, the ever‑shifting flame approached. Lucy—who had been entangled with guardians before—was frozen like everyone else.

Her crimson eyes smiled as death approached. She didn’t share the same terror as the others; she was a being who faced whatever came for her.

And if she could speak right now, she’d probably laugh— even in the face of death.

The flame passed through like an unimpeded hurricane.

Frozen rose petals withered—turned to ash—then nothing.

Lucy’s clones flickered—twenty‑eight becoming twenty‑seven, then six, then five—each dissolving as the flame brushed past.

She didn’t budge as she watched it happen. Not that she could move, but not once did she believe this situation would amount to something beyond her.

Even as terror gripped her soul inwardly... she faced it with a smile.

The flame reached her—but it wasn’t just her. The Eternal Deceiver, Adam, Eve, Eliya—everything in its path was swallowed.

Just like everything else, there was no magnificent explosion.

No spectacle. Only simple, inevitable devourance.

And the flames continued to spread, growing as they consumed the very fabric of the Lower Dimension. Secret realms, sub‑dimensions—everything was devoured.

The void between universes became nothing but a maelstrom of flame.

"When the flame has kissed every corner, when the last scream fades into the dark between stars,

I will open my lid once more. And from the silence that follows, I will draw the next line.

Not for them... not for you...

Only for the simple reason that a blank page begs to be filled. The First Dawn is not an ending. It is only the beginning that ever mattered.

Let the old fade.

Let the new be written...

BY MY HAND ALONE!

"

The moment those words ended, the flame reached the final edges of the Lower Dimension. And once it did... it vanished, as though it had never existed.

There was no darkness—only endless white, a blank canvas made manifest. Yet if one looked closely, not everything or everyone was gone.

Even though Ash could be said not to be himself in this moment, he remained the same at his core.

There were some things that stayed with him—no matter the incarnation.

Lucy... Eve... and Eliya were three of the few beings left, along with Earth and a handful of surviving universes.

But after what had just happened—and with nothing around them but an endless blank canvas—they were beyond overwhelmed.

’Shit... is this damned Organism awake? That should be impossible... even the Third isn’t.’

Lucy’s thoughts raced as she drew a steady breath. She glanced at Eve, who was already beginning to recover from her shock.

Then Lucy summoned a blue mark—the Mark of the Weaver—and vanished.

High above them all, Ash’s eyes glowed faintly as he staggered... then collapsed.

Seeing this, the Originat instantly forgot the shock of everything that had just happened and rushed toward him.

"ASHY!!"

"DADDY!!"

"HIS MAJESTY!!"