When Ash first arrived, Erosence and Contradiction weren’t the only trans-concepts he unleashed.
He had also called upon Finality and Wantlessness, simply waiting for the perfect mont to use them.
HUUMMMMM!!!!!
In that instant, a pitch-black essence coiled around the white chain. From his shoulder, Creara’s black and golden eyes glead as she prepared to do what she did best—manifest her master’s desires.
Ash moved, and the chain erupted into a white storm of death.
WHIP-CRACK!
WHIP-CRACK!
WHIP-CRACK!
He moved like a blur through the living fortress.
Wherever his chain hit, Finality erased things for good—no rebirth, no Strata fix, no conceptual return. Sables just stopped existing, and now... Ash was in the sa Layers as them if not higher.
Which ant every attack landed true...
A pack of Early Hyperversals burst from the do wall, chests splitting open with Cruciblance lances.
Ash didn’t even flinch.
He walked right through them.
Creara waved her hand, and in that instant, every attack vanished the mont it touched him.
The lances dissolved into harmless sparks, while the Sables scread as their very concepts turned against them—Finality erasing their existence layer by layer.
"Impossible—our Concepts backed by our Strata should be more fortified than this" one roared, voice cracking with terror as his body began to unravel.
"It... it doesn’t matter what layer we use—he’s operating all the way up to 94 Layers!" another cried, scrambling to escape into a higher-dinsional fold.
Ash’s chain lashed out, coiling around the second Hyperversal’s torso.
|Sever|
The Sable’s entire upper body disappeared in a single, perfect slice—Finality making sure the wound would never heal, never return, never be undone.
The third Hyperversal, the one who had cast the first Molten Bind, charged ahead in desperation, eye slits blazing with every concept he possessed.
"You will not—!"
In an instant, Ash was there, appearing before him.
One hand pressed firmly against the Sable’s chest.
A black essence washed over him, covering his entire form.
The Hyperversal froze mid-motion, feeling his very existence unravel with nothing he could do to stop it.
His Strata burned away first, like paper curling in fire, followed by the slow unraveling of his concepts of Moltenanance and Cruciblance, one after the other.
His eye slits dimd quickly as the shadow of near-death edged closer.
The commander entered the Do, his towering twenty-foot fra stretching to thirty as he released every concept he possessed in a single burst.
"ENOUGH!"
Perched on Ash’s shoulders, Creara and Elysia laughed together.
Creara gave a lazy wave while Elysia teased, "Big guy, drop the act. We can see how scared you really are."
Before her words even faded, every living being in the Do felt their link to reality shatter in an instant.
If Ash wanted sothing to end, it simply would. Before, he didn’t focus on using Wantlessness because these beings could shield themselves with higher layers of protection.
But now, at the Mid Hyperversal Rank, he could command up to 95 Layers—just enough to surpass these, Sables.
Ash chuckled at the spirits antics and simply willed a talent into use.
|Absolute Genesis - Rescind|
The do froze the instant it ca to life.
His boundless mana sense swept across the entire Sable Dynasty in a single pulse—touching every Sable, every ancestor, and the Patriarch and Matriarch still lost in deep cultivation at the realm’s core.
In that mont, he stripped away every trace of their bloodlines and their entire race.
He was the Origin of all Races, and with a re thought, he could erase it all.
CRACK!
The do shattered like glass.
Across the domain, far beneath the central spire, the Patriarch’s eyes snapped open mid-cultivation—his massive tal fra shuddering as his entire race vanished as if he never possessed it.
"What... what is this...?" he rasped, voice empty, hands clutching his head as his form dulled and decayed with alarming speed.
Beside him, the Matriarch jerked upright, her once-molten veins now a dull gray.
"My power... it’s gone... I feel... like a mortal..."
In hidden ancestor vaults, ancient Sables awoke screaming as their massive bodies shrank, tal softening into frail flesh, their overwhelming strength stripped away until they were nothing but ordinary, powerless beings.
"No—NO! What’s happening—!"
But it was already over.
Across the dynasty, thousands of Sables collapsed where they stood, their proud tallic forms reverting to plain, fragile mortal bodies.
The glowing orange sigils vanished.
The living fortress crashed down into heaps of iron rubble.
The commander, mid-charge, stumbled as his thirty-foot fra shrank, power draining in an unstoppable tide.
His eye slits flickered once... twice... then went dark.
"You... what have you done...?" he murmured, voice weak and human.
Ash stood at the center of the shattered plaza, chain hanging loose at his side, golden eyes steady.
"I told you," He said softly.
"You booked an exclusive ride to the Abyss."
[Morgana’s Affection 97%]
"And... looks like soone enjoys watching you all die," he said, tilting his head.
"So, sayonara."
|Umbral Primavus Abyss (???)|
The instant the words left his mouth, all sound vanished.
Ash’s body began to co apart—not in flas or a violent blast, but through a smooth, graceful transformation. His form dissolved into pure nothingness, an absence that swallowed every bit of light, every sound, every fragnt of reality nearby.
The black-and-red tattoos across his chest deepened to pitch black before disappearing altogether. In his place stood only a flawless outline of emptiness—void made flesh.
The transformation set off a deadly chain of events as the Sable Dynasty faded away in silence.
No screams broke the air, no last roar of defiance — only the quiet, inevitable unraveling.
Above Ash, a sphere of pure darkness took shape, and from it, endless voids spread like silent black flowers.
Each one replayed every strike Ash had dealt in this battle, across countless branching tilines all at once.
Sables who had already fallen were forced to die over and over in parallel realities, their deaths stacking endlessly as paradox trapped their souls in layers of eternal decay.
Once a mighty warrior but now just a mortal man, he foolishly threw a punch—only for a thousand versions of Ash’s chain to strike from different points in ti.
His body was endlessly torn apart, his soul caught in a never-ending loop of destruction.
The commander tried to step forward but the void tendrils coiled around his soul.
He experienced his own erasure a million different ways at once: lting, severing, dissolving, never existing. His eye slits widened in pure existential horror before they too were devoured.
Across the vast Sable Dynasty, the sa fate played out.
Back within the central spire, the Patriarch—now nothing more than a mortal—trembled as endless voids of darkness blood around him.
Even as a Mid Hyperversal Weaver, he was powerless, watching his own arm disintegrate into nothing while simultaneously sensing himself vanish in ten thousand alternate realities.
Beside him, the Matriarch reached out, her hand passing through her own fading form. There was no anger on their faces. Unlike their ancestors who had fought back, they smiled, as if freedom had finally arrived.
"...Finally."
The voids swallowed them whole — Patriarch, Matriarch, every ancestor in their sealed chambers — erasing the race’s power, history, and even the very idea of their existence.
When the final trace of the Sable Dynasty faded — when even the mory of the Sable race began to unravel — the darkness withdrew.
Ash stood once more in his physical form, shirtless, a chain draped loosely around his forearm. Not a speck of dust or drop of blood marred him.
He stretched with ease, rolled his shoulders, and stepped forward through the empty air as though wandering a quiet street.
A light, carefree whistle escaped him — a simple, cheerful tune carrying across the barren wasteland where a proud dynasty had once reigned.
Without glancing back, Ash soared higher into the sky, still whistling, drifting toward the next domain as if he’d just wrapped up a leisurely morning stroll.
Behind him, there was nothing at all. No ruins, no echoes, not even the faintest hint of what had once been.
Just pure, uninterrupted silence.
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