Cosmic Ruler - Chapter 555

Chapter 555: Outer Gods VII

And stared into the abyss.

“You are the seed,” the voice finally echoed—inside his bones, not his ears.

“Chosen not by fate… but by defiance.”

Aiden’s jaw tightened. “You know me.”

“We do not know,” it said. “We remember.”

The throne leaned forward. The chains rattled without sound.

“You are not of this place. But you wear the echoes of many truths. Pride. Grief. Rebirth. Purpose.”

It lifted a finger. Or perhaps it simply imagined it.

And space rippled.

“You seek to stop us.”

Aiden nodded once. “Yes.”

“To what end?”

“To protect those I love.”

The faceless god tilted its head.

“A noble lie.”

Aiden took a step forward.

“I’ve seen what your kind does to worlds. You eat stories. Burn dreams. Twist memories.”

The air around him trembled with rising pressure.

But he didn’t stop.

“You think mortals are weak. That we break too easily.”

He raised his hand.

Summoned the Reaper Scythe—its blade now black with galaxy flame.

“But you forget something.”

He vanished.

Reappeared just above the throne.

“They fight anyway.”

And he struck.

The throne didn’t block.

It didn’t move.

But just before the blade touched it—reality folded.

Aiden was thrown backward, crashing into a memory of a battlefield he’d never seen. Corpses of gods. Suns weeping blood. A screaming moon frozen mid-cry.

He stood again, panting.

The Faceless One floated before him, untouched.

“That is your strength,” it said.

“But also your curse.”

Aiden wiped blood from his mouth.

“I’ll take it.”

The thing paused.

Then nodded.

“Trial One,” it said.

“You may pass.”

And then the throne shattered.

Not violently.

But like a thought gently dismissed.

Aiden blinked.

The sky had changed again.

Now it looked like glass stretched thin over darkness. In the distance, something was howling—a sound like broken promises and rain.

Ahead of him, the path continued.

He took one more breath.

And walked on.

The path no longer felt like stone or air.

It was sensation.

Cold one moment. Warm the next. Then numb.

Aiden walked on.

Behind him, the void throne was gone—as if it had never existed.

Before him, the world changed again.

This one had gravity.

A sky that bled silver.

Mountains made of salted glass, piercing the heavens like forgotten spears.

And in the center of it all: a lake.

Still. Silent. Too perfect.

Its surface was a flawless mirror.

Aiden approached, his boots crunching softly against pale sand that flickered with stardust.

When he reached the edge, he paused.

His reflection stared back.

Except it wasn’t him.

The figure in the mirror had his face.

Same white hair. Same eyes—though theirs glowed a darker gold, almost molten.

But the aura… it was off.

It rippled like a coiled storm.

And then it smiled.

Aiden didn’t.

“Another test?” he asked quietly.

The reflection stepped forward.

Its motion didn’t ripple the water.

It simply emerged, climbing out of the surface like peeling paper from a wall.

No splash.

No distortion.

Only silence.

Now they stood face to face.

The other Aiden looked amused.

“I remember when we still doubted ourselves,” it said.

Its voice was identical to his. But smoother. Colder.

“What are you?” Aiden asked.

“A possibility,” it replied. “What you could become if you embraced the truths you’ve hidden even from yourself.”

It stepped closer. The world darkened. The stars above dimmed.

“You call it love,” the other said, voice silky. “But it’s fear. You cling to people because you’re terrified of being alone again.”

Aiden narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t make it false.”

“No. But it makes you weak.”

Aiden summoned the Reaper Scythe again.

Its nebula-flame curved across the blade with a silent hum.

The doppelgänger summoned one too.

Identical.

Down to the smallest crack.

“Do you really think you can kill me?” it asked, tilting its head.

Aiden stepped into stance.

“No,” he said. “But I can accept you.”

That made the other freeze.

For just a breath.

Aiden moved.

Their blades clashed.

And the mirror-lake exploded upward into infinite shards of glass, hanging in the air like frozen memories.

Strike.

Counter.

Spin. Parry. Dash.

They moved with perfect symmetry—except for one thing.

Aiden didn’t fight to win.

He fought to understand.

Every swing, he read deeper into his twin. Into himself.

He saw the scars he’d buried.

The guilt of those he failed.

The anger at gods who played with fate.

The fear of becoming like those he defeated.

The other Aiden struck hard—aiming not at his body, but at his resolve.

“You wear titles like masks,” the doppelgänger spat. “Lord of Pride. Lone Traveler. What are you underneath?”

Aiden didn’t reply.

Instead, he dropped his blade.

The echoing Aiden lunged.

And Aiden opened his arms.

The blade stopped.

An inch from his heart.

The mirrored Aiden trembled.

“Why?” it whispered.

“Because I’m not afraid of you anymore,” Aiden said. “You’re me. Every weakness. Every fear. Every truth. But I’m still here.”

He stepped forward.

And embraced his reflection.

There was no light.

No explosion.

Just… stillness.

And when it passed, he stood alone again.

No blood. No weapon.

But something had changed inside him.

The Scythe had grown heavier—richer.

The flames within it pulsed in two colors now: red and indigo.

His threads of destiny shimmered with a new luster.

He had accepted not just the strength—but the flaws.

And in doing so, he had grown.

A soft breeze touched his face.

The world had changed again.

In the distance, he saw a tower rising from the mist. It pulsed with symbols even his Akashic Insight couldn’t read.

Something old.

Something alien.

And something… waiting.

The Outer Gods weren’t just testing him.

They were watching.

Because one of their own had just whispered:

“He might actually be the one.”

The air grew denser as Aiden approached.

It wasn’t gravity.

It was memory.

With every step toward the tower, echoes whispered through the fog.

Not in words.

In feelings.

Fear. Regret.

Despair so ancient, it felt like the first sorrow ever born in existence.

The tower itself… wasn’t made of stone.

No, it was built from concepts—folded time, fractured reality, truths turned inside out.

It throbbed like a living heart.

And at its base, a single doorless arch awaited him.

Dark.

Welcoming.