The Path of the Gods Part V: The Edge of Zero-Sum
Nothing.
There was no darkness.
There was no void.
There was not even the sensation of being somewhere.
It was different from what Miraak had felt when his soul fell between the layers of existence to arrive there. Back then, there had at least been transition. Here, there was none.
Not feeling was something one could do. In this place, such a thing as a sensation did not exist.
The Underworld had physical structure, smells, and clear references that allowed one to understand that one was there. Apocrypha possessed the intent of a plane created and ruled by a higher being. Even Chaos had a primitive form of existence, or destruction.
This was none of that.
It was an absence that should not allow thought. Or rather, a place where all thought ceased to exist.
Miraak had no body.
He felt no weight, no pain, no temperature.
There was no up or down.
The concept of distance did not exist.
Time did not move, because there was no point from which to measure it.
Only consciousness remained. And barely.
He felt everything beginning to fade slowly, as if the very existence of his being were being erased. Something that never existed, that should not exist, that had ceased to exist. Overlapping.
Even so, even in that state, Miraak could see it.
The planes of the world he was in were counteracting other planes. Each one layered over another, as if they were merely pages of a book. And each page had its story. Its beginning. Its end.
For an instant, this gave him the true understanding Miraak had been seeking. The one he knew existed, but that he needed to reach completely to arrive there.
Reality itself was false.
Imagination.
A creation of thinking, superior beings.
And upon recognizing it, his own existence was put at stake.
To be erased, but in a definitive way. One in which reality itself rewrote to make sense of the absence of your being. That was zero-sum. A complete erasure of existential reality, where the world itself rewrote and every part of your existence that had affected the whole disappeared, returning reality to what it was, is, and will be without your presence.
And then the true erosion began.
It was not violent.
It was not sudden.
It was complete.
Miraak tried to remember his name. He tried to cling to all his thoughts, but with every passing instant he felt his way of existing come apart, as if invisible letters were detaching from his being.
It was not only his memories that were breaking. His right to have them was breaking.
Each experience he had lived began to separate from the next, leaving gaps impossible to fill.
He felt his sword be destroyed. Not the metal, not the physical weapon, but the very idea that such a sword had ever existed.
He felt his bond with the dragons shatter. There were no screams. No souls escaping. They simply ceased to be there, like numbers deleted, like letters erased from a book.
Without realizing it, even that which kept him bound to Hermaeus Mora lost its grip and faded away.
Not because the Daedric Prince released him.
Because there was nothing left to claim.
For an instant, the Prince's gaze seemed to realize it, but it was already too late to do anything. Not even they, not even the divines themselves, could intervene with someone who was passing through zero-sum.
Miraak saw it while feeling his being erased.
They were not images.
They were systems.
One belonged to this world. The world of Percy Jackson. A world sustained by faith, destiny, and myth. Where names carried weight. Where prophecies pushed people in specific directions. Where gods existed because they were remembered.
The other structure was his own. That of the world he came from. A dream sustained by identity. A place where existence was affirmed from the "I," even while understanding that it was not real.
Both coexisted within him.
They did not fit.
The friction was immediate. Conceptual pain. Like trying to force two incompatible truths at the same time. Every fragment of his consciousness was pulled in opposite directions.
Then, three voices were heard in what once would have been his ears.
"Simply let it flow."
"Do not fight what you cannot."
"Being erased is the best ending to your path."
At the same time, he could feel the relief of being nothing. A being who had fulfilled his destiny. Being erased did not seem so bad, especially knowing that the brat would be fine, since he would no longer interfere in his life after disappearing.
"The brat?" Miraak wondered, confused for a moment.
What brat?
What was a brat?
The erasure stopped hurting. The resistance vanished, as if letting go were the logical option, as if rest were just within reach.
But even so, that word continued to bother him.
Brat.
It made no sense. He did not know what it meant, yet it carried weight. His erasure halted for a moment, as if it could not continue until Miraak understood what that word represented.
The voices, which continued encouraging his disappearance, seemed to understand something.
Then they showed him a child.
He seemed familiar and, at the same time, he was not. He could not see his face, and even if he did, he forgot it instantly.
Alive.
Standing.
Smiling.
Without fear.
Without ever having known him. Without training. Even so, facing the greatest destinies a being could carry and fulfilling them faithfully, consecrating himself as one of the most powerful champions of his world.
The voices did not pressure him.
They did not threaten him.
They offered him a solution.
Disappear and fix everything.
They told him, without saying it directly, that his existence was the problem.
Miraak continued to observe the image of the brat passing through his mind, finally understanding who they were referring to. It was that child. That young man. And that only increased his interest in understanding why he felt that connection.
He needed his memories to know what relationship he had with him. To understand why he had to allow himself to be destroyed from existence itself so that that child could live happily.
His form, which he could not see, made of words and letters from every language Miraak had ever known, began to reform. His body, which had been slowly erasing, regained consistency.
To recover his memories.
He remembered devoured dragons. Priests used and discarded. His pride. His obsession with being above everyone else. The violence he had left in his wake.
For the first time, erasing his history seemed right.
Then he noticed the detail.
His fall.
That child was so stupid it was almost comical to watch him trying to become strong, like an ant trying to lift an elephant.
At first, it was amusing to watch such a weak being trying to change his life. An insignificant creature, convinced that it could do something more than survive. But over time, that being truly began to make an effort. To change.
He evolved from an ant into a small, clumsy animal, one that still clung to the elephant's leg. Not to defeat it, but to grow like it.
The elephant was Miraak.
And that small creature was truly fun to observe, even to bother. But it was also so weak that the other creatures around it could put it in danger at any moment.
That was why he had to create a safe barrier. Prepare to face anything, even something more powerful than the elephant itself.
Running in all directions to raise that barrier. Leaving behind a safeguard as well, a final guarantee. If he failed to protect him, his world would be rewritten so that he could grow safely. And happily.
And even so, that animal was so foolish that, even with his life rewritten, he would surely get into trouble if the elephant were not there to watch over him.
To watch him grow.
Percy shouted his name.
That was the last memory to return completely. The image of himself being annihilated by the bolts of destruction the arrogant god had thrown at him. But in truth, it had always been part of the plan to reach that place.
Abandon everything.
Abandon his existence.
To truly exist outside the system.
That was enough.
The "I" returned first.
Then the memories that had been spinning without form in his mind embedded themselves faithfully into his existence, giving it structure.
In that void of existence, his body took the form he knew best. That of the First Dragonborn, created in his world as the perfect counterpart to a near divine being. The World Eater.
Just as he was its counterpart, he was also its equal.
The souls of the dragons he had devoured were no longer a source of energy he drew upon when needed. Now they had integrated into his existence. They were part of him. His entire form was part of his self.
To exist when he should be erased for understanding that, in truth, he never existed.
That was CHIM.
To exist because he has to exist.
To exist because he wants to exist.
And no one could erase that existence as long as he himself wished to continue existing.
His self taking form.
Meanwhile, in the material world of existence.
Zeus was standing, about to attack Percy. Poseidon stood firm, determined to protect him. Percy, for his part, stared at the ground, tears falling uncontrollably over the loss of his teacher.
Then he felt it. All of them felt it.
Reality itself changed. Or rather, it granted the permission that had never been needed, because now it no longer depended on reality accepting it or not.
He lifted his head, looking directly toward the very place where his teacher had been completely destroyed before his eyes.
And there he was.
Standing, as if nothing had happened.
As if he had never left.
As if nothing in that world could erase him or move him unless he allowed it.
Miraak looked at his own hands for a moment.
Then he raised his gaze toward Percy, calmly.
"I told you that you should never kneel before others, unless it was your master," Miraak said, looking at him peacefully.
Percy blinked, almost confused, with a slightly foolish expression, not knowing what to say.
Zeus and Poseidon turned their gaze toward him with deep confusion. The expression that, most likely, all divine beings in that universe shared.
Why?
Because the man standing there should not exist. And yet, he did. He had been erased, but he was impossible to erase. He was immortal because his existence should not exist.
He was not a divine being, but he was more than a divine being, because they could feel that he could not fade, and nothing could force him to fade.
Miraak looked toward Zeus with a genuinely calm smile.
"You really helped me quite a lot. So then… shall we have a second round?" he said, as his smile turned violent yet excited, and with that his body began to transform into an enormous black dragon. A dark aura completely enveloped him. His scales looked like naked obsidian, forming a perfect armor that protected him.