Chapter 259
Denial (3)
But… denial of what?
As IAM and IAM pondered that question, they had finally reached within an inch of each other—so close their very fingertips trembled in the same pocket of space.
And it was here where reality itself began to unravel.
At that proximity, where two bodies—two existences—tried to occupy the same point in spacetime, the world convulsed. Space didn't just bend—it began to fold. The fabric of the dimension twisted inward, drawn taut like a stretched membrane on the verge of tearing.
Light began to distort. The blue of the sky, the shade of the earth, every color between them elongated and warped as though being dragged into a center that should not exist. The air thinned, stretched beyond what physics could allow. Every particle, every mote of dust, every photon seemed to obey a different law—one that belonged to concept of collapse, the very opposite of creation.
Time began to stutter. A second no longer meant what it did before; moments extended and snapped back. To an observer, it would have seemed like watching two reflections trying to merge on the surface of a trembling mirror—each wave of distortion birthing ripples of gravitational energy that clawed at the world around them.
The closer their fingertips came, the more violent the compression grew. Gravity, if it could still be called that, condensed into an impossible point between them—a miniature singularity, not yet a black hole but it was approaching one. The air shuddered. The sky fractured. Space screamed in silence.
And in that inch between them—where IAM reached for IAM—was the point of denial.
IAM and IAM could feel it.
But what was it?
Why did they reject each other so?
Was it their own doing, or was it the world itself refusing their union? Was this resistance born of instinct or fear?
Could a mind truly face itself without shattering?
Was IAM afraid of what he would see if he truly met himself—every unfiltered piece of who he was?
Did his mind, somewhere deep inside, believe he wasn't ready to accept the totality of what or who he would become?
Or perhaps… it wasn't fear at all. Perhaps the denial came from something more primal—something that refused to let understanding happen.
After all, what happens when the self recognises the self completely?
Does it merge—or does it cease to exist?
Would he even still be IAM?
The two stared at each other for answers their gazes locked, searching deep within their mirrored eyes as if the truth were hidden somewhere behind them. Their thoughts, identical, were asking the same one question.
And then, like a sudden flash from the heavens, lightning struck.
A silent realization tore through them both.
They stretched toward one another, their movements in perfect harmony, and in that instant, they understood.
Denial.
Denial wasn't ignorance. It wasn't blindness. It was the opposite of acceptance.
Denial was the refusal to simply bow before reality.
While acceptance was to see the truth for what it was, to acknowledge its presence fully—denial was to stare back at that same truth and say, I will not yield.
IAM had already accepted his reality. He had accepted that pain would come, that regret would stain, that sorrow would be constant, and that the world would not stop for his suffering. He had accepted that he would fall, fail, and break.
But that didn't mean he couldn't deny it.
He would not deny reality's existence—he would deny its control.
Yes, pain would come, but he would fight.
Yes, regret would follow, but he would fight.
Yes, everything could crumble, but still—he would fight.
Fight for himself.
Fight for what mattered to him.
Fight even for what didn't.
Denial and acceptance—two sides of the same coin, two truths that shaped the soul.
To accept was to understand.
To deny was to defy.
And in that moment, IAM knew.
This was his path.
The path that would define him, guide him, and carry him forward through all things—
to accept his reality, and still deny its power over him.
The moment realization struck—when both IAMs grasped the truth as one—the universe itself seemed to shudder.
A single pulse rippled through existence, deep and resonant, like the echo of a cosmic drum. In that heartbeat, something changed.
Their bodies convulsed, not from pain, but from sheer force. The space around them began to scream, bending, folding, collapsing under the pressure of two opposing truths finally uniting.
The air itself fractured. Colors inverted. Sound died.
Then—silence.
In the next instant, reality snapped.
At the precise moment both entities reached perfect proximity—the space between them began to experience gravitational collapse.
The distortion was immediate and catastrophic. Localized spacetime curvature increased exponentially as their opposing forces—mass, energy, and will—compressed toward a singular coordinate. Photons attempting to pass through the region were drawn into elliptical spirals, redshifting until their wavelengths extended beyond visibility.
Air molecules within the radius began to ionize. The pressure differential between the surrounding field and the point of convergence became infinite. Matter itself was no longer distinguishable; it was reduced to a singular state of energy, curvature, and momentum.
Gravitational lensing occurred next. The background warped—bent light looping endlessly around an unseen center. The horizon of the forming anomaly expanded outward, smooth and perfect, forming what could only be described as an event horizon.
No sound escaped. All vibration ceased. The electromagnetic field inverted polarity for a fraction of a second before collapsing inward, feeding the singularity.
In that infinitesimal gap between IAM and IAM, spacetime broke symmetry—imploding inward faster than light could react.
A black hole was born.
It was not vast nor celestial, but infinitely dense—a microcosmic singularity formed by collapse. Everything within its reach stretched and compressed simultaneously, converging toward zero distance and infinite mass.
As its edges shimmered with prismatic distortion, devouring even the concept of time. It shredded everything nearby into streaks of light as if the world were being rewritten in a single, unstoppable stroke.
And through that devouring singularity, IAM and IAM fell.
They entered as two—one flesh and one phantom—and as the darkness consumed them, the universe itself seemed to breathe out.
Inside that endless collapse, their forms twisted, merged and fused. Thought became memory, memory became instinct, instinct became one.
For a fleeting moment, even the void trembled with light—an explosion of white radiance so blinding it tore through the dark.
And from the heart of that cosmic Wonder, IAM emerged—whole.
…
IAM's eyes snapped open. The world rushed back in a flood of color and sound—he was lying once more upon the bed of flowers. But this time… he was whole.
Every piece of him that had been scattered had returned. His thoughts no longer in fragments; they were his again. Memories—painful, precious, impossible—flooded through his mind in an unbroken wave.
Above him stretched the same infinite blue sky, calm and serene as if nothing had happened. The black hole was gone—erased without a trace—but the calm was a lie. The world itself was collapsing.
He could feel it beneath him. The ground trembled softly, then violently, as cracks tore through the meadow. The air shimmered like broken glass, bending light in unnatural angles. Flowers that once seemed eternal were now twisting, shrinking, curling into themselves as if begging for mercy.
IAM noticed then—the flowers beneath him were trying to hold him down. Their stems wrapped desperately around his wrists, his legs, even his chest, their roots tightening like pleading hands. They didn't want him to leave.
But IAM only smiled.
It wasn't a cruel smile. He reached down, gripped the vines, and with a single steady motion, tore through them. The sound was sharp as the flowers recoiled and withered away.
He stood.
The collapse was spreading fast now. Behind him, the once-endless field was folding in on itself, collapsing into a pit of nothingness. Petals, soil, even the air itself were being dragged down, swallowed by the same abyss that had tried to take him before.
IAM turned his gaze toward it—his deep, unfathomable eyes reflecting both the ruin and the sky above. He said nothing. There was no need.
He understood what he had to do.
He had to move.
He had to escape.
Because if he didn't—he too would fall.
But where?
His gaze swept across the disintegrating horizon, searching for anything that wasn't being consumed. The world was tearing itself apart—the sky folding into earth, earth into darkness—but amidst the chaos, something remained.
There it was.
The marble building.
The Sacrificium Sanctum.
It stood untouched in the distance, gleaming faintly beneath the fading light—immovable, eternal, as if the laws of collapse dared not touch it. It had always been there, IAM realized. Even through all his trials, even through his descent, it had never once vanished.
A strange mix of emotion settled in his chest. His expression grew solemn.
This was a place he knew he would one day have to go to—a place that waited for him far beyond this illusion. Yet here it stood, conjured once again before him.
IAM's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
"…While this may not be the real thing," he murmured, "it doesn't hurt to take a look… right?"
And with that, he ran.
The flowers bent and tore beneath his feet as he sprinted toward the marble sanctuary. Behind him, the world gave way—entire fields of color collapsing into the roaring abyss, devoured by the void that followed him like a tide.
But IAM didn't look back.
His eyes were fixed forward, locked on the radiant steps of the Sacrificium Sanctum, as the end of everything nipped at his heels.
IAM ran with everything he had.
Each stride felt faster than the last as the earth beneath him quaked and fractured, waves of collapsing soil chasing his heels. The once-gentle breeze now howled, tearing through the field like a storm of ghosts, scattering petals and shards of marble skyward. The ground rippled beneath his feet, splitting open into ribbons of blackness that tried to swallow him whole.
He pushed harder. His lungs burned. His heart thundered with the falling world. Every step was a battle against gravity itself—his body leaning forward, almost flying as he sprinted toward the marble steps that glimmered just ahead like salvation. The Sacrificium Sanctum loomed closer and closer, divine and unreachable all at once.
Then, without warning, the ground gave way.
The flowers, the earth, the air—everything vanished beneath him. IAM's footing dissolved into nothingness, and he plummeted, the marble temple stretching infinitely above as darkness engulfed him. The roar of the collapsing world echoed around him like distant thunder.
But his face held no fear.
As he fell into the abyss, IAM's lips curved into a calm, almost tender smile.
"Maybe not today…" he whispered, voice fading into the void,
"…but someday."
It was unknown what exactly he was talking about...