The Rewriting

Part One: Origin

The explosions of light followed one another. Runic chants screamed through the air, millennia-old artifacts vibrated to the point of breaking—and yet… nothing.
Zerøn did not advance.
Zerøn did not retreat.
Motionless, Zerøn did not bleed.

He watched. He waited. As if every blow dealt was nothing more than a breeze against a mountain.

Starlight rose one final time, creating a vortex of stellar energy around her. Shadow Claw leapt through the shadows, his claws tearing fractures in the space around the entity. But Zerøn raised a hand—a simple motion—and everything fell silent.

The ground crushed under pressure. The heroes’ bodies were thrown to the ground, breathless, bones fractured, will broken. One knee down, Starlight lifted her head, panting. Her gaze, battered but still alive, settled on the entity at the center of the collapse.

“Why…?”

Her voice trembled, but did not break.

“Why are you doing this? What do you even want?”

Zerøn didn’t respond right away. The world seemed to hold its breath. Then he stepped forward, slowly, inevitably. And for the first time… he spoke.

Zerøn’s Monologue: The Monopoly of Nothingness

“You speak of ‘will,’ of ‘protection,’ of a so-called ‘future.’ You, little beings made of dust and pride. You believe the world revolves around what you love. You fight for the light because you're afraid of the void.
But I am not darkness. I am what comes after.
I was born of a mistake. A forgetting.
The day the Architects created light… they had to balance it. But they did more than reject me.
They denied me.

I am the shadow of a perfect world. The cost of the miracle. I am the child of all that you erased to feel safe.”

He paused, his abyssal eyes fixed on Starlight, then continued.

“I don’t seek domination. I don’t seek destruction.
I want to return the universe to zero point.
A world without law, without memory, without ego.
A world where no one needs the light… because nothing remains that depends on it.
What you call chaos… is simply the purest form of freedom.”

He extended a hand. And in his palm, the void pulsed like a beating heart.

“I am Zerøn, the Nothingness, and this world does not belong to you.”

Part Two: The Zero Vector

An absolute silence followed his words. No breath. No flutter of wings. Not even an echo. Only… weight.
The weight of an unbearable truth. Of a vision so radical that even the cosmos seemed hesitant to reject it.

Starlight gritted her teeth, her fingers digging into the shattered earth. Her legs trembled, her astral thread burned at her wrist, unable to draw even a spark of light.

“You… call this freedom?! Is that your ideal?! An empty world?!”

She stood, wavering. Her eyes shone with a pure light—not of power, but of conviction.

“You think the absence of pain erases the value of life? That erasure is healing?
You’re wrong, Zerøn.
You’re just… tired of existing.”

A long silence. Then… laughter. But it didn’t sound. It resonated, deep in their souls.

“You are the first to understand. And yet… you still refuse,” replied Zerøn.

A portal of shadows opened behind him. No—it was not a portal. It was a fractured mirror of reality. Behind it… a black gleam, in the shape of an inverted spiral, turned slowly.

“The Eclipse is coming. This world won’t need to be conquered.
It will erase itself.”

Starlight staggered. She saw visions. Versions of herself—dead. Collapsed timelines. Worlds where she never existed. Futures where nothingness triumphed—not through war… but through forgetting.

Shadow Claw stepped in, claws outstretched.

“I swear to you, Zerøn…
Even if the universe abandons you, we will be your fracture.”

A shiver. A crack in the silence.

And then, Zerøn lowered his hand.
Space folded.
The sky contracted.
The ground opened like a cosmic wound.
A black light engulfed the heroes.

They fell.
But there was no gravity.
No direction.
Only… a descent beyond the world.

And when they finally stopped… it was in the perfect silence of an impossible place.
A sky with no stars. A ground with no texture. Air with no breath.
And yet… everything pulsed with primal energy.

Starlight opened her eyes. She instantly knew—this was no longer Earth. Not even the known universe.

“Where… are we…?”

Shadow Claw stared at the horizon.
There was none.

“It’s not a trap. It’s a tactical erasure. He… exiled us.” He turned to Starlight.

“The Zero Vector,” said Starlight.

A chill ran through her voice.

“A sealed dimension. Outside the flow of time. Beyond natural forces.
This place doesn’t destroy… it deletes causality.
As long as we’re here… we can no longer interfere.”

Starlight stepped back, breath short.

“He… removed us from the game.”

“No,” replied Shadow Claw. “He ripped us from the world,
so he could rewrite it without distractions.”

Starlight clenched her fists.

“Then we have to get out. Now!”

But in the empty sky, a figure rose.

Not Zerøn.
Someone else.

Someone who had been waiting here… for a long time.

Part Three: The New Verb

Earth’s sky was no longer blue. It was frozen. Pale gray. Silent. As if the planet itself was holding its breath.
And at the center of that silence, Zerøn floated. His feet did not touch the ground. His arms were open. His eyes closed.

Around him, the atmosphere vibrated to a rhythm even the angels could not grasp.

“They’re out of the game.”

His voice rose—without echo. It printed itself in the air like a truth being written.

“The old world was built on the lie of light.
The fear of forgetting.
The need to exist.”

He extended a hand and a translucent sphere appeared—the Original Weave.
The fragile core of all that is: memories, natural laws, species’ histories, star pulses.

“It’s time to summon the new Verb.”

Ancient words rose from his lips. No tongue could contain them.
It was the language before language—the one used to give form to chaos.
And Earth… began to change.

The oceans stopped. Waves hung in arcs above coasts.
Mountains flattened. Continents fractured into geometric forms.
Biology itself seemed to unlearn its purpose.
Trees no longer needed roots.

Birds didn’t fly—they floated, motionless.
Humans…
Some dropped to their knees. Their minds couldn’t comprehend what they saw.
Time was no longer linear. Causality had failed.

In some streets, children were never born.
In others, elders conversed with their adolescent selves.

And at the center of it all: Zerøn.

His body radiated black light.
His shadow no longer fell to the ground—but rose toward the sky.
Behind him, a ring of spinning symbols: the Alphabet of Nothingness.

“Each existence is a useless memory of a dysfunctional world.
The Zero Cycle begins.
The only one… that never starts.”

And while he wrote, line by line, the foundations of a world without light…
In the Zero Vector…
An unknown entity opened its eyes.