Cosmic Ruler - Chapter 535

Chapter 534: Nihlus XIV
A force greater than anything he had ever felt slammed into him, sending him careening through the void. His arms trembled as he stabilized, his sword vibrating from the force.

The Herald’s form flickered, shifting into countless possibilities. They were no longer bound by a single existence—they were every version of themselves across all realities.

Aiden realized it instantly.

They were attacking him from every possible future.

And yet—

His body moved before his mind.

—𝘍𝘞𝘖𝘖𝘖𝘚𝘏—!

His sword shimmered, golden and abyssal light weaving together into something new. Something beyond mortal comprehension.

His blade did not just cut.

It denied reality itself.

—𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘏—!

The Herald hesitated.

And in that moment—

Aiden saw his chance.

He surged forward, his sword cleaving through the infinite layers of fate that protected the divine warrior. He was no longer just resisting fate.

He was rewriting it.

The Herald’s head tilted, as if recognizing something impossible.

A voice—not his own, but one deeply ingrained in his soul—whispered.

“You are no longer merely an outlier, Aiden. You are the beginning of a new possibility.”

His sword flared.

His body burned.

And with a final, decisive strike—

—𝘚𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘏—!

The Herald of Annihilation fell.

The golden sea trembled.

And fate itself began to collapse.

The golden sea trembled.

And fate itself began to collapse.

Aiden staggered, his breath ragged as he beheld the impossible—fractures of reality spiraling outward from where the Herald had fallen. Time and space unraveled, splintering into cascading rivers of golden light and abyssal shadow. The infinite futures that once bound the Herald now collapsed in on themselves, severed from the grand design.

A voice, distant yet omnipresent, echoed through the void.

“You have undone the cycle. The Loom of Fate frays.”

Aiden clenched his jaw, gripping his sword tighter. The weapon, now thrumming with the remnants of annihilated destiny, pulsed as if alive. He could feel it—an awareness beyond time, beyond perception—pressing into his mind. It was not merely a blade anymore. It was the fulcrum of change, an instrument that had severed the divine order itself.

The fragments of the Herald’s existence shimmered, flickering between being and non-being. Their form, once an immutable truth across countless realities, was now an echo—adrift, disconnected. Their many voices spoke as one.

“This should not be possible.”

Aiden stepped forward, his boots pressing against the unstable fabric of the golden sea. “And yet, here we are.”

The Herald’s gaze, for the first time, carried something resembling emotion. Not anger. Not despair. But… curiosity.

“Who are you now, Aiden? What have you become?”

He exhaled slowly. He could feel the weight of countless timelines pressing against him. The possibilities—the divergences—the fractures he had created. He was no longer bound by fate, but neither was he free.

The choice was his alone.

His sword pulsed once more.

And then—

The golden sea shattered.

Light and shadow wove together, cascading into an abyss of formless potential. Reality itself screamed as the cycle crumbled, as the forces that had governed existence for eons collapsed into nothingness.

Aiden did not fall.

He ascended.

Aiden ascended.

Or perhaps, he became something beyond ascension.

The golden sea no longer existed—only a boundless expanse where past, present, and future unraveled into threads of potential. The remains of the Herald scattered like dying stars, their divine essence dissolving into the nothingness that stretched endlessly before him.

Yet, despite the infinite void yawning in all directions, Aiden did not feel lost.

He was the axis now.

The center upon which reality would turn.

His sword pulsed in his grip, no longer a mere weapon but something far greater—a concept made manifest. It no longer cut in the traditional sense. It rewrote, carving possibility where only predestination had existed before. With it, Aiden was not just an anomaly. He was the new beginning.

A whisper slithered through the formless expanse.

“You have become the Unwritten. The Architect of the Unknown.”

Aiden turned.

A figure loomed at the edge of perception, neither shadow nor light but an absence that defined existence itself. Unlike the Herald, this being did not shift between possibilities—it was possibility, limitless and boundless.

A concept beyond gods.

Beyond fate.

Aiden narrowed his eyes. “And you are?”

The figure remained silent for a moment, as if the question itself was irrelevant. Then, in a voice that was neither male nor female, neither kind nor cruel, it spoke:

“The Watcher. The last observer of what was, and the first witness to what comes next.”

Aiden exhaled. The weight of his actions pressed against him, not as chains, but as an awareness that stretched far beyond anything he had known before. He had shattered the predestined path. He had slain the Herald of Annihilation. He had unmade the very foundation of reality’s cycle.

And now, he stood at the precipice of creation.

“The old fate is gone,” the Watcher murmured. “Something must take its place.”

Aiden looked at his sword, at the raw, untamed power that pulsed within it. Within him.

Choice.

True choice.

Not the illusion of destiny, nor the dictates of gods.

For the first time, he understood.

This was not the end.

This was where everything truly began.

Aiden raised his sword—

And reality bent to his will.

Reality bent to his will.

The shattered remnants of fate swirled around Aiden, neither rejecting nor accepting him, but waiting. The golden sea had collapsed, the cycle had been undone, and yet the universe had not unraveled into oblivion. Instead, it lingered in a state of pure potential—an unwritten story waiting for its first words.

Aiden clenched his sword, feeling the pulse of creation itself thrumming beneath his fingertips. He was no longer simply a warrior, no longer merely a defier of destiny.

He was the one who would decide what came next.

The Watcher observed in silence, their presence vast and unknowable. Though they had no eyes, Aiden could feel their gaze upon him, measuring, evaluating. Not as an enemy, not even as an ally—simply as a witness to the impossible.

“You stand on the threshold, Aiden. You have cut away the chains of predestination. Now tell me…”

The formless void rippled.

“What will you create?”

Aiden hesitated. It was a question unlike any he had ever faced, heavier than any battle, greater than any foe. He had always fought against something—a tyrant, a prophecy, a force beyond his understanding. But now, he was no longer the rebel. He was the architect.

And he understood the weight of that power.

The sword in his hand shimmered, golden and abyssal light entwining like twin serpents. He could feel it, the limitless paths spiraling before him. He could restore what was. He could rewrite existence into something entirely new. He could erase it all and embrace the unknown.

Endless choices.

Limitless potential.

He exhaled slowly, his grip steady. “I won’t be the one to decide alone.”

The Watcher tilted its head, the void shifting with its presence. “Then who will?”

Aiden turned his gaze outward, beyond the fragments of time and space, beyond the formless void. He saw them—countless souls, lingering at the edge of oblivion. The remnants of those who had been shaped by fate, by destiny, by forces they never understood. Some had fought. Some had suffered. Some had lived without ever realizing the weight of their predetermined paths.

He would not become another god, another dictator of existence.

“They will.”

The sword pulsed, and a single ripple spread across the void. Like ink upon a blank page, reality began to take shape—not as a command, but as an invitation. A world where fate did not bind. Where choice was not an illusion. Where every soul could carve their own path, free from the weight of a preordained future.

The Watcher observed in silence. Then, for the first time, they spoke not as an overseer, but as something almost… amused.

“Interesting.”

Aiden lowered his sword. He was no longer a pawn of destiny, nor a warrior against it.

He was something new.

And so was the world he had begun to create.

The world unfolded.

Not as a singular event, but as a ripple—a slow, deliberate breath in the void, stretching outward, shaping something new. It was not dictated by divine hands nor crafted by an unseen will. It formed, raw and unshackled, responding to the countless souls now awakening within it.

Aiden stood at the center of it all, his sword still gleaming with the remnants of shattered fate. The weight of his choice settled upon him, but he did not waver.

This was not a burden.

This was freedom.

The Watcher remained at his side, their presence shifting between visibility and formlessness. They did not interfere, nor did they guide—only observed, as was their nature.

“A world without fate,” they mused, their voice rippling through the forming expanse. “A dangerous idea. Most fear such chaos.”

Aiden exhaled, watching as landscapes took shape—mountains rising, rivers flowing, stars beginning to flicker into existence in the vast sky above. It was unlike any world before it. There were no predetermined stories here, no divine scripts dictating the fates of those who would walk its surface.

Only possibility.

“Chaos?” Aiden echoed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No. This is something far greater.”

The void trembled as more souls stirred. Those who had once been bound by fate now awoke to something unfamiliar. Some hesitated, uncertain in a world where no destiny guided them. Others embraced it, stepping forward with new purpose.