Chapter 77 — The Rewriter's War: Birth of Blank Infinity
Silence.
A silence so vast that even concepts struggled to exist.
That was The Blank Infinity a place outside all logic, outside the flow of stories. It wasn't heaven or hell. It was freedom.
Erevan opened his eyes, and his very presence painted the void.
Golden light burned from one side of his form, black lightning crackled from the other rewriting the nothingness into something alive.
> "So this… is what lies beyond," he whispered. "A canvas waiting for will."
He raised his hand, and whole dimensions spiraled into existence stars forming from thought, galaxies swirling around the pulse of his aura.
Every breath of his gave birth to universes. Every step redrew the fabric of existence.
But then
a shadow moved.
Not one many.
Out from the blinding white stepped beings of impossible design gods, demons, humans, even concepts given shape. Each one radiated power that could destroy endless worlds.
And yet, they bowed when they saw him.
> "You're the new one," one of them said, their voice layered with a thousand echoes.
"The one who broke the Core. The one who left the page."
Erevan's gaze was calm.
> "I'm not here to rule," he said. "Only to live without chains."
The beings exchanged glances and smiled.
> "Then you've already started a war."
From behind them, the sky ripped open.
The Narrative Core, now cracked and bleeding lines of pure concept, looked down from the rift.
> "Erevan," it spoke, voice trembling between rage and awe.
"If I cannot control you… I will rewrite you."
Light poured down code, letters, story fragments forming an army of Rewriters entities made from pure narration, wielding sentences as weapons and plotlines as shields.
Each one was designed to undo what Erevan had become.
---
Erevan floated upward, his divine aura exploding like a cosmic storm.
> "So… this is the end of your story."
"Let's see what happens when the script fights back."
He extended his hand and reality screamed.
The Blank Infinity ignited with divine fire and void lightning. Every law of existence shattered as he clashed with the army of written gods.
Each strike erased chapters.
Each movement created new timelines.
Each word from his mouth became a rewrite command that bent reality's grammar.
> "Delete limit," he said and entire armies vanished.
"Insert freedom," he whispered and imprisoned worlds shattered free.
But through it all, one Rewriter descended draped in celestial armor, holding the Pen of Origin.
> "I am Kairos, first of the Core's creations."
"And you, Erevan… are my opposite."
Erevan smiled slow, confident, unbroken.
> "Then we'll see who writes the last truth."
The two clashed a collision so great that it rewrote the meaning of battle.
Worlds turned to ink.
Reality burned to parchment.
And the story itself held its breath.