In an area not too far from the Arena.
In a region filled with waves of Paradox and Imnsity, the bodies of THE Weavers were floating above an obsidian-gold sea. The liquid below churned with contradictions made manifest, patterns that should have been impossible coexisting in constant flux.
In front of them was a throne of an Absolute.
Paradoxos the Dual sat upon it.
Or they sat upon it.
The entity defied singular description. Two figures occupied a single space, their forms overlapping and separating in constant rhythm. One face was masculine, carved with sharp features that spoke of cold logic. The other was feminine, softer lines that held warmth that contradicted the coldness of its counterpart. Both faces existed simultaneously, neither dominant, neither subservient.
Their body was half obsidian, half gold, the division line shifting with each breath. Sotis the left side was dark and the right was bright. Sotis it reversed. Sotis both sides were both colors at once.
They wore robes that flowed in two directions simultaneously, fabric that defied the laws of physics by moving with and against gravity in equal asure.
Their eyes were the most unsettling aspect.
Four eyes total, two per face, each one holding depths that seed to look at everything and nothing. They perceived truth and falsehood as the sa thing. They saw possibility and impossibility as interchangeable concepts.
This was Paradoxos the Dual.
Strategos of the Paradoxian Way.
An Absolute bound to THE Agora of Primordial Judgnt.
And they were looking toward THE Weavers with distaste.
Yet THE Weavers remained calm.
All three bodies spoke in unison, their voices layering into sothing that was one and many simultaneously.
"I can understand the hatred of you four toward us all."
Their golden eyes held no concern for the displeasure being directed at them.
"But you still follow the philosophy of Paradox. The one who claid it all can forever put you in his service."
Their smiles were identical across three faces.
"Because how can you deny that which you follow?"
...!
The three bodies of THE Weavers spoke as one.
Golden threads moved all around them, countless strings of fate and destiny swirling in patterns that only they could fully perceive. Two of the three bodies held golden scissors, and they were cutting multiple threads all at once. Snip. Snip. Snip. Each cut severed sothing important sowhere in Existence. Each cut altered the weavings of reality according to their design.
They worked even while conversing.
Even while facing an Absolute who clearly despised them.
Paradoxos looked at THE Weavers with a cold gaze.
Then both mouths opened, and their voice bood out with weight that made the obsidian-gold sea churn violently.
"We can respect and hate with great intensity."
The words ca from two throats as one sound.
"All of us are Absolutes, yet who decided for so of us to be locked while others run free? Who decided that the rest of us had to constantly fight?"
Their four eyes burned with ancient grievance.
"It does not matter either way."
The tone shifted to sothing more businesslike.
"I have sent a ssage to THE Living Paradox that his three ugly little weapons have sohow landed in my place."
THE Weavers’ scissors paused montarily.
"He wanted to tell you that your other little project, Gilgash, is gone."
The words landed with weight.
"You did not manage to protect a good seed, he said. That in itself is a failure."
Paradoxos leaned forward on their contradictory throne.
"And after this, there can be no more. There can be no surprises."
Their voice grew heavier.
"So he asks you... Osmont is not an Absolute, but he is one of THE Four. If you are not confident, step out of the way, and I can take care of it."
The air grew thick with tension.
"Because the glory of THE Four is written in their impossibilities that they perform. Gilgash now lies on that wall of impossibility, and THE Living Paradox would much prefer if THE Weavers did not join it."
Both faces smiled without warmth.
"So he asks again. Are you confident?"
...!
BOOM!
The question was a heavy one!
The three Weavers had their golden pupils spin with a sense of insult and glory! How dare anyone question their confidence? How dare THE Living Paradox himself suggest they might not be capable of handling one being who wasn’t even an Absolute?
They were about to reply when Paradoxos continued.
"This was not a question for you to answer."
Their voice cut through the beginning of THE Weavers’ response.
"He has already answered it on your behalf."
Paradoxos waved their hands.
"He has paid a heavy cost to lend you this from ."
HUUM!
The space before THE Weavers began to distort!
Sothing erged from the contradiction between existence and non-existence!
It held a blinding obsidian light of Paradox that could barely be observed! The radiance hurt to look at, not because it was bright, but because it shouldn’t have been possible to perceive! It was a thing that existed and didn’t exist, a concept given form that defied the very nature of conceptualization!
It was a collection of multiple Fragnts of an Axiom!
And it looked nearly complete!
Paradoxos gestured toward the impossible object.
"An almost complete Axiom."
Their voice held weight that made reality itself pay attention.
"THE Axiom of Absolute Denial."
The na alone made the air grow heavier.
"Its capability is simple, yet it is perhaps the most terrifying of all Axioms that exist, if only it were complete..."
Paradoxos’s four eyes fixed on THE Weavers.
"Whatever the wielder wishes to deny... is denied. Absolutely."
The words were simple.
The implications were not.
"An attack coming toward you? Denied. A Declaration being enacted against you? Denied. The very concept of your defeat? Denied."
Their voice grew colder.
"In its complete form, wielded by an Absolute, it would make the user nigh invincible. Nothing could touch them. Nothing could harm them. Nothing could affect them in any way they did not permit."
The almost complete Axiom pulsed with obsidian light.
"This version is not complete. It has limitations. But against soone who is not an Absolute..."
Paradoxos smiled with both faces.
"It should be more than sufficient."
...!
THE Weavers looked at the almost complete Axiom of Absolute Denial.
All three bodies studied it with golden eyes that spun with calculation and growing excitent.
Then all three smiled eerily.
"Man, now this is just overkill."
Their voices layered into amused acknowledgnt.
"Okay."
They reached out, and the almost complete Axiom flowed into their collective existence. It rged with their being, its obsidian light intertwining with the golden threads that perpetually surrounded them.
With such words, THE Weavers looked at Paradoxos.
They stopped cutting the golden strings around them.
"I believe I have been called."
Their smiles held promise of violence to co.
"See you on the other side."
Then, with a flash of brilliance, she disappeared!
The obsidian-gold sea continued to churn in their absence.
Paradoxos remained on their throne, four eyes staring at where THE Weavers had been with contemplation!
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