⚡ Chapter 61 — "The Paradox That Shouldn't Exist"
The Boundless Empire thrived countless worlds orbiting the heart of creation, all born from Erevan's will. His presence alone kept balance, his mind rewriting flaws before they even appeared.
But then… something shifted.
For the first time since becoming the God of Rewrite, Erevan felt resistance.
A faint distortion rippled across the edges of the Boundless Empire a vibration that didn't belong to anything he'd written.
He turned his gaze beyond infinity.
There, where existence faded into pure absence, a shape began to move.
No name.
No color.
No law.
Just paradox.
Reality bent around it. Space folded, time forgot itself. The concept of "what" collapsed trying to describe it. It was a being that should not exist, yet somehow did.
Erevan narrowed his eyes.
> "Something my power cannot define…?"
He raised his hand rewriting commands rippled through the cosmos. "Erase," he said.
But the paradox laughed.
It wasn't sound it was the collapse of logic, the cracking of reality's code.
The word Erase unraveled midair. His command was rejected.
The paradox spoke through a thousand voices:
> "You, the author of creation… were written too."
Erevan's eyes flared gold and black.
> "Then let's see who holds the pen."
He stepped forward and the void itself shattered. Galaxies spiraled like dust as the two forces collided: Rewrite vs. Rejection.
Erevan unleashed his divine arsenal rewriting laws, summoning storms of concept-energy, bending existence to strike the impossible. But each time, the paradox rewrote his rewrites. A reflection that defied control.
For the first time in countless eternities… Erevan bled.
Golden energy dripped from his hand burning holes through creation where it fell. His eyes blazed harder, his tone unshaken.
> "You are a mistake that forgot its author. Let me remind you."
He pressed both palms together, summoning the Prime Script, the origin code of reality. The paradox screamed, twisting through infinite forms god, demon, void, light all collapsing under the weight of his rewriting.
Reality imploded.
Then silence.
When the light faded, Erevan stood alone again, his breath steady but his eyes showed something new.
For the first time… uncertainty.
> "If I was written once…" he murmured, looking into the void,
"…then who rewrote me?"
The paradox was gone but its final whisper echoed through existence:
> "The story writes back."