The situation had crossed a limit that even the primordial gods had never envisaged.
The Anarchetypes were not supposed to intervene in this way — their nature as absolute impossibilities should, in theory, lead to the dissolution of everything before any confrontation could even exist.
And yet, they were there.
Certainly, the primordial gods could survive the total destruction of the Dream.
But they were also its living axioms: those that made the Dream readable, structurable, thinkable.
If the Anarchetypes completed their work, there would not remain just a void…
there would remain nothing that could be called a "remainder."
Despite the catastrophic state of their bodies and essences after the confrontation against the Absolute Resonance,
the Father-God, Mü Thanatos — already on the verge of using his Absolute Blood on all his evolutionary forms —, Munhwan, Oniyurei, Son of God and even Lucifer
were preparing to unite.
Not to defeat.
But to save what remained of the possible.
The Absolute Resonance, it, did not even grant them a glance.
It contemplated the sky of chaos as one observes a visual anomaly —
undesirable things slipping into a field that should never have contained them.
It did not fear them.
None of these entities could escape it.
None could resist it.
None could force it to change.
Then something unexpected happened.
Everything froze.
The Dream…
the Chôrion…
locked simultaneously in total metaphysical paralysis.
The laws ceased to evolve without disappearing.
The impossibilities ceased to mutate.
Even the Resonance seemed to encounter a resistance it did not understand.
The sky became red.
Not a color.
A cosmic visual error, as if the very notion of sky had been wounded.
Then they fell.
They plummeted without falling.
Their forms vaguely evoked humanoid silhouettes —
but none was complete, none was stable, none was the same for more than an instant.
Some advanced on all fours, their limbs too long, too thick, too numerous,
their backs fractured as if verticality was forbidden to them.
Others walked upright, massive, smooth,
their bodies seeming made of compacted cosmic matter,
without face, without gaze, without readable intention.
They were not dead.
They were not alive.
They were not even in the process of being.
With each step, the ground did not break —
it forgot why it existed.
Their procession was silent,
but their mere presence crushed meaning,
as if reality had to justify continuing to exist before them.
They did not seek to destroy the Dream.
They did not seek to defeat the Resonance.
They all had the same objective, inscribed in their impossibility itself:
Stop the Absolute Resonance.
Not by combat.
Not by opposition.
But because, for the first time,
the principle of the All
had become an error
in the eyes of what could not be contained.
The mere presence of the Exentities, animated by an intention of inhuman purity, was enough to render the possible and the impossible inoperative.
As if these notions no longer had the right to be what they were.
As if they were suddenly no longer concerned.
And yet, what was happening still belonged to the domain of the possible.
It was an absurd scene:
the Exentities entered the Dream as one enters a house to party there,
while declaring, in the same breath, that the Dream itself was not invited.
The Exentities, in their indescribable forms, attacked.
But the Absolute Resonance did not flinch.
Their attacks were not repelled.
They were not blocked.
They were annulled.
Their non-actions were annihilated before even understanding why they had ceased to exist.
There was neither resistance, nor counter-force:
simply a total absence of justification for their attempt.
And it was then that the white Exentity, present from the beginning, finally moved.
It knew it had to act quickly.
It possessed an advantage that the other Exentities did not have:
it was a mask of Sakolomeh.
It struck the Absolute Resonance, and the shock did not remain localized.
The combat was immediately projected through the strata of the Dream —
strata already fissured, already unstable,
as if the dreamer himself was beginning to wake from a nightmare that had lasted too long.
Covered in what resembled its mana —
a substance that was neither energy nor concept —
the white Exentity tried to immobilize the Resonance.
The objective was clear:
hold the Resonance long enough for the other Exentities to exploit the tensions they emitted
and definitively freeze the Absolute Resonance.
But the Resonance was too strong.
Too stable.
Too whole.
It seized the tail of the white Exentity
and traversed with it all the strata of the Dream,
projecting it against zones both transcendent and non-transcendent,
trying to sully it, to make it interpretable.
It was not enough.
The Exentity managed to grip the Resonance by the waist —
an instant of impossible balance.
Then the Resonance emitted a rumble.
A single one.
And the Exentity was repelled as if it had been the only one to exist in the attack.
Then the Resonance seized its face
and cracked it like a mere physical object,
as if this mask had never been meant to pretend to anything other than being broken.
The other Exentities regrouped.
They began to stretch tensions of absolute possibility,
forcing lines of stress that even the Metaworld struggled to support.
The white Exentity understood.
If the Resonance was to be frozen,
then someone would have to remain trapped with it.
To sacrifice itself.
To be the fault that never closes.
And the anomaly Exentity was ready to do it.
The white Exentity suddenly saw its faceless face let flow a thick, black, foreign liquid from its non-existent eyes.
It was being destroyed by the Resonance.
It was far too weak to sustain such a confrontation.
But it held.
It was not about defeating the Resonance.
It was not even about wounding it.
It only needed to freeze it.
Gathering what remained of its existence, the white Exentity projected itself toward it once again and seized it.
The Absolute Resonance let it do so.
It looked at it — if one can call it a look — without expressing anything.
No anger.
No surprise.
No readable intention.
— Now! shouted the white Exentity.
The other Exentities did not wait a fraction of a second.
Against an adversary of this nature, the slightest micro-second of hesitation would have been fatal.
The tensions of the empty possible deployed through the Dream,
threatening to constrain the Dream itself to be nothing more than a tension without possibility,
a dead potentiality.
The laws deformed.
Transcendent states of existence erased one after another.
The Resonance felt around it a strange gravity,
a torsion that pertained neither to space, nor time, nor concept.
The tensions began to close in on the Resonance
and on the white Exentity.
The latter felt its role waver.
It was ceasing little by little to be an Exentity.
It was becoming a mere resonance of the empty possible,
an anchor point destined to disappear.
But the Absolute Resonance remained indifferent.
The gaping void of its torso began to vibrate.
A unique vibration, deep, without measurable frequency.
It totally annulled the acts of the other Exentities
and absorbed into itself the tensions of the empty possible.
Nothing could escape it.
Nothing could resist it.
In the same movement, the other Exentities lost their autonomy.
They were reconfigured by the Resonance,
reduced to non-conscious fragments of itself.
The white Exentity felt despair invade it.
There was nothing to do.
Nothing.
No possible outcome against the Absolute Resonance.
And yet…
Just as everything seemed lost, Sakolomeh appeared.
His presence immediately irritated the Resonance.
A raw dissonance, impossible to ignore.
The white Exentity, it, perceived him as a last hope.
The only one.
It released the Resonance
and materialized at Sakolomeh's side.