Chapter 38
Silence fell over the battlefield—
not the peaceful kind,
but the suffocating stillness that exists only when time forgets to move.
The sky, once dim and trembling, now burned with the overlapping shadows of colossal silhouettes. The Watchers—ancient regulators that even Outer Gods refused to provoke—stood in rows that stretched beyond the horizon. Their bodies were made of spiraling stars, black sun cores, and endless geometric runes. None truly touched the world, yet every presence pressed on the fabric of reality like a mountain of absolute law.
Even the Chronarch messenger struggled to maintain composure. Their form flickered, phases shifting in panic as the higher rules they relied on broke under the pressure.
"The Watchers do not observe mortals," the messenger said in a shaking voice. "Not gods. Not demons. Not even Outer Gods. They only move for events that threaten the—"
Their voice cut off.
Because the Watchers…
were bowing their heads slightly.
Not to the Chronarch Court.
Not to the realm.
But to Orion.
The messenger's internal gears screeched in disbelief.
"That's… impossible. They bow to nothing. To no one. Not even—"
Orion stepped forward, his movements slow, heavy, and filled with a calm that defied the panic around him. His wings—twelve vast crescents of space and time—unfurled behind him, distorting the landscape with every feather that shimmered into place.
The air rippled.
Mountains shook.
The realm dimmed under a partial eclipse that his presence alone created.
He looked at the Watchers, his gaze steady.
"You came," Orion said quietly.
A single Watcher—larger than the rest, its head shaped like a fractured crown of stars—stepped closer. Its voice echoed in every direction and none.
"We do not come for beings," the Watcher said. "We come for events. And you—Eternal Paradox—are an event."
The messenger stumbled back.
"Orion… what are you becoming?"
Orion didn't answer.
His focus remained on the Watchers.
The crowned Watcher continued:
"Your ascension is not merely a breakthrough of power. It is the ignition of a branch of existence that was erased. A branch that should not exist."
Orion narrowed his eyes.
"You're referring to the erased memories."
"Yes," the Watcher answered. "But also to the erased truth of what you were."
The world seemed to darken further as the Watcher extended a massive hand made from spiraling constellations.
"Your rise is not a danger to reality," it said. "It is a danger to the ones who chained you."
The messenger's eyes widened.
"The… the ones who—who sealed him?"
The crowned Watcher nodded gravely.
"Orion's very soul is a crime. Not because of what he did, but because of what he was born as."
Orion's expression hardened.
"And what is that?"
The Watcher answered with a single phrase that shook the realm:
"The Unwritten Line."
The messenger collapsed to one knee.
"That… that lineage… it was erased from all timelines—every universe—no trace left…"
Orion's wings flared instinctively, space and time warping around him.
"What does that have to do with my ascension?"
The Watcher leaned closer, its vast eye—an endless eclipse—filling Orion's vision.
"When you ascend," it said, "the forbidden lineage will return. The erased destiny will awaken. And the one who sealed you will feel it."
Orion's heart throbbed once, painfully.
"The Black Crowned Warden."
The Watcher nodded.
"He erased you.
He rewrote your past.
He made you forget what you were."
Orion's hands tightened around his blade.
"Then my ascension will draw him out."
"It will more than draw him out," the Watcher said. "It will force him into confrontation. He will no longer be able to hide behind the veil of Fate."
The realm shook violently—cracks forming in the sky like shattering glass.
The messenger scrambled to their feet, panic rising.
"We cannot allow this! If the Black Crowned Warden descends, all timelines in this sector will—"
Orion turned, silencing them with a glance.
Galaxies swirled in his left eye.
Clock halos spun in his right.
"I didn't ask for your permission," Orion said.
The messenger froze.
"And I don't need the Court's judgment."
He lifted his blade, pointing it toward the heavens.
"Stand aside. I ascend here."
The messenger's voice broke.
"Orion, please—if you do this—every rule, every law—"
Orion's aura surged.
A cosmic storm erupted around him.
Light and shadow bled into one another.
The crowned Watcher stepped back, bowing its massive head.
"Begin, Orion. We will witness."
The other Watchers lowered their colossal forms in unison—
stars dimming,
voids spiraling,
universal echoes humming like a choir.
Orion closed his eyes.
And finally…
He let go of the power he had been holding back.
The ground cracked open.
The skies folded inward.
Space shattered like fragile mirrors.
Time unraveled into swirling rivers of gold.
His twelve wings stretched to their true form—
each dozens of kilometers long—
each carrying the weight of an entire concept.
The messenger screamed as their mechanisms overloaded.
"This is too soon! Too unstable! You'll collapse the entire—"
Orion opened his eyes.
A wave of space-time force swept outward, silencing everything.
"I said," he whispered,
"there were no consequences."
The crowned Watcher spoke in reverence:
"Ascend, Unwritten One."