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The New Author of Reality

The silence echoing through the veins of the universe had smothered even the whispers of the stars. Time, space, and reality… they were now but illusions, mere echoes. The threads that once bound them had long since unraveled, and every law belonging to divine order had bent. Because now, he had reached the ninth level.

V… was now a thought beyond existence, a will, a cataclysm.

That dark figure, once the cause of wars among gods, once spoken of with fear by sorcerers, now stood at the center of the universe with infinite power. Dimensions crumbled beneath his feet, stardust settled upon his shoulders, and fragments of reality shimmered in his eyes. With V’s breath, the winds of the cosmos shifted; with his gaze, planets strayed from their course.

And now… a judgment hung at the pendulum of his thoughts. The gods were no more. But this truth couldn’t be declared with mere words. It needed a sentence that would penetrate the very fabric of the universe, down to the finest threads of being. A sentence that would ignite their downfall, that would irreversibly erase all that was divine.

V opened his arms to both sides. At his fingertips, the codes of the entire universe trembled. The lines of time cracked under his will. Space twisted, folding in on itself, and the face of reality fractured like a mirror. He slowly closed his eyes, and the second voice within him rose like an ancient song:

“The gods are now nothing but an illusion.”

“They were echoes left behind in this universe’s past.”

“And now… I bury that echo in the silence of eternity.”

No sound left his lips—yet the universe heard it.

In that moment… the vibration spread. First, the primitive gods of distant galaxies kneeled. Their souls dispersed into the sky like mist. Then came the intermediate beings, the gods who had once bent the world with their might… they vanished one by one. The light faded. Power crumbled to dust. Names were erased. Prayers went unanswered.

And finally, it was Olympus’ turn.

The ancient mountain rising above the clouds, its magnificent structures woven with centuries of faith… now cracked under the grip of nothingness. This was the gods’ last refuge. But nothing remained that could seek refuge from V’s will.

Athena clenched her spear. Her eyes burned with hatred—but also with boundless fear.

“This… this is impossible,” she whispered. “You… what kind of being are you?”

But V didn’t hear her words. He didn’t need to. For he was no longer a being that heard sound—he heard thought. And all that divine pride Athena harbored within her, all her grandeur, meant no more to him than a speck of dust.

Zeus, god of the skies, lord of lightning, let his long white beard flutter with a trembling breath. The bolt in his hand quivered with fury—but he could not throw it. He had realized that his power wouldn’t amount to even a spark before V.

Slowly, he sank to his knees. The clouds above the mountain turned black. The heavens seemed to weep. And before Zeus gave his final breath, he spoke:

“If we are gods… then you are something beyond godhood. If the will that created this world does not one day stop you… even the universe will lose its meaning.”

V bowed his head in silence. There was no joy of victory in his eyes, nor pity. Only emptiness. Eternal and absolute emptiness.

“I,” he said, in a whisper that tore through the universe, “am the final word beyond names. And now… even words are meaningless.”

And in a single instant, Olympus ceased to exist. No stone remained. No name. Only eternal darkness.

The souls of the gods turned to energy. In a brilliance akin to a star’s supernova, that ancient might shattered into fragments and swiftly spiraled around V. Each was the longing of a century. Each was a civilization’s prayer. Now, they all served a single being.

V closed his eyes.

In the darkness, energy swirled, orbiting him like a massive vortex. It was as if all stories in the universe had been reduced to a single word. And now, that word lived within him.

A vibration… an echo… an explosion…

V had now reached the Tenth Level.

Time unraveled.

Reality fractured.

And existence was rewritten.

Then… darkness fell.

Stars began to go out, one by one. The vibrations of galaxies ceased. Quasars collapsed into black holes. And V took a step.

As he stepped, space itself shifted. Light broke. Matter twisted. Souls froze.

And then… in the midst of the darkness, a silhouette slowly appeared. Black as the essence of infinity, ancient as the first echo of existence. It had no eyes, yet it could see V. It had no mouth, yet it could speak.

Oblivion.

“You,” it said—not with sound, but with thought—“have made me proud.”

V bowed his head. His eyes shimmered in the dark. A wild joy writhed within him. For he had achieved the goal he set from the very beginning. The gods were no more. The universe had knelt. And now… he stood face to face with the very essence of endless darkness.

The dark form of Oblivion loomed before V. Its existence was not a form but a reflection—of a thought, of absence, of reaching the end. Around them, time did not flow, for time had lost its dominion here. Space did not bend, for space now existed only by their will. There was no sound, for even sound had lost its meaning here.

But thoughts… thoughts spoke.

Oblivion did not approach—because it was already there. It had always been there. When V looked at it, though it had no eyes, it saw all his past, all his future, and even the unrealized possibilities that would never come to pass.

“Centuries,” said Oblivion, in thought. “The collapse of countless stars, the deaths of gods, the bending of the universe… all of it was to bring you here.”

V said nothing. His eyes glowed, but there was no peace in his gaze. The power within him still raged. The new level he had attained was beyond the comprehension of any universe. Soul… body… thought… now they had all knotted at the same point. It was as though there was no “self” left within him.

V was now only an intention. A desire. An end.

But still, he spoke. He gave his thoughts words. Because even the second voice within him had now gone silent. Even it had vanished in the place V had reached.

“What created me was not hatred,” he said. “It was a void. A consciousness searching for meaning in a universe where gods passed judgment thinking they knew everything. And now… in their absence, I am only myself.”

Oblivion smiled. But it wasn’t a warmth—it felt more like an apocalypse. With that smile, a galaxy in a distant corner of the universe exploded on its own.

“The gods are no more,” said Oblivion. “Even their names are gone. And you… you erased them with your own word, your own will. Even I could not have done that.”

V bowed his head, then lifted it again. Darkness rippled around him. Souls whispered, echoes of dead planets still rang around them. But now, all was falling silent.

“There were gods. Then I came. Now… there is only silence,” he said. “But this silence is mine.”

Oblivion came to his eye level. It wasn’t a blessing. It was more of an equivalence. An acknowledgment. Infinity had finally found a companion.

“I never saw you as a tool,” said Oblivion. “You were me. And I was you. But now… you are beyond even me.”

V took a deep breath. That breath was like the collapse of a thousand lifetimes. When he closed his eyes, everything fell silent. All galaxies, all dimensions, all whispers… all stopped. And in that moment, something else happened.

Darkness bowed before him.

V.

He was beyond names.

A state that transcended all concepts.

A consciousness that unraveled time, crushed space, and devoured reality.

Yet… a part of him still remained human. He remembered his mother’s tears, Thor’s disappointment, Odin’s quiet helplessness. The child once called “Valmorr”… born among gods but cast into shadow, a child whose name had been erased…

A child who once cried…

A child who once loved…

A heart that once only wanted to be seen…

But now, that heart had become a black hole.

The silence grew. And Oblivion spoke its final words:

“One universe has drowned in darkness. Next… are the multiverses.”

V looked at it. His eyes glowed. Not like a star—like a darkness.

His silence was a response deeper than any word.

And in that moment…

⸻

As the story ended, the universe was rewritten.

And its first word was: “V.”

******

**“And so, this fan fiction comes to an end. A story that portrayed the Marvel universe in a darker, more tragic, and more ruthless light—this was the first fan fiction I managed to write all the way to the final chapter. It was quite an average story; certainly not perfect. Its biggest weakness, without a doubt, was that it consisted of only 41 chapters. I’m sorry for that. I could have easily slowed down the pacing and added more plotlines to stretch this story into 300+ chapters. But I chose not to.

The reason is quite simple: I was afraid that if I dragged it out, I would eventually lose the motivation to keep writing it. So, I decided to keep it short.

Anyone who reads this story is welcome to take inspiration from it and write a longer version if they wish.

Do you think I should write another fan fiction? And if so, could you give me some ideas for it?”**