Revenge

In the midst of the titanic clash between Azrael and Shahar, the cosmic forces clashed with a ferocity that defied comprehension. Azrael's divine energy surged forth, attempting to counteract the malevolent power emanating from Shahar. But despite his best efforts, Azrael found himself pushed to his limits, his essence unraveling under the weight of the onslaught.

As the battle raged on, the very fabric of reality seemed to tremble, and the very stars in the sky quivered with the magnitude of the forces at play. Shahar's power surged, a tempest of darkness and chaos that threatened to consume everything in its wake. Azrael strained against the overwhelming tide, his resolve unwavering even as his strength wavered.

But as the battle reached its crescendo, Azrael's defenses finally faltered. The malevolent energy of Shahar surged forth, enveloping Azrael in a swirling vortex of darkness. He felt his strength wane, his very essence being torn asunder by the sheer force of the onslaught. In that critical moment, Azrael realized that he was losing the battle, that he was on the brink of defeat.

His vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to fade into obscurity. The sounds of the battle became distant echoes, and the once-vibrant energies that had fueled his divine power grew dim. Azrael felt his consciousness slipping away, his essence dispersing into the void.

And then, in an instant, everything turned pitch black. Azrael's awareness seemed to drift in a formless void, an existence without form or substance. His thoughts were scattered, his very being unraveling into nothingness. It was a sensation of profound emptiness, a void where time and space held no meaning.

Azrael felt a sense of disorientation, as if he were suspended in a state beyond existence itself. He questioned whether he had truly fallen in battle, whether this was the aftermath of his final moments. But as his consciousness flickered on the brink of dissolution, a blinding light pierced through the darkness.

At first, the light was blinding, its brilliance searing through the remnants of Azrael's consciousness. He attempted to shield his ethereal eyes from the radiance, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Slowly, as his senses adjusted, he began to discern the contours of his existence within the light.

And then, a voice resonated through the luminous expanse, a voice that seemed to echo from the depths of creation itself. "Azrael," it intoned, its timbre both comforting and awe-inspiring.

Azrael's consciousness stirred, his essence responding to the call. "Who speaks?" he questioned, his voice a mere whisper within the boundless light.

"I am the essence of all that is, the eternal breath that gives life to the cosmos," the voice replied, its words resonating with a profound truth. "You stand within the Maqam Ahadiyyah, the divine station of unity."

As the voice spoke, Azrael felt a surge of recognition, a connection to a reality beyond his own. The luminous expanse around him seemed to shimmer with the echoes of infinite truths, each one a facet of the cosmic tapestry.

"Am I... am I dead?" Azrael asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You are neither living nor dead," the voice replied. "You exist within the realms of divine essence, transcending the limitations of temporal existence."

Azrael's awareness expanded, his senses attuned to the myriad layers of meaning contained within the voice's words. He realized that he stood within a realm that defied conventional understanding, a realm where all boundaries dissolved and all distinctions merged into unity.

"Shahar's power," Azrael began, his thoughts racing to understand the nature of his current state.

"Shahar's power is but a fragment of the greater tapestry," the voice affirmed. "In this station of unity, you are beyond the reach of his malevolence."

Azrael's heart swelled with a sense of purpose, a realization that his existence had transcended the battles of cosmic forces. He was now a part of a reality that surpassed the confines of time and space, a reality where his essence merged with the divine essence itself.

"Your journey is not yet complete, Azrael," the voice continued. "You have been chosen to bear witness to the unity that underlies all creation, to bring forth the light of understanding to those who seek it."

As the voice spoke, Azrael felt a surge of determination, a recognition of the role he was meant to play within the cosmic tapestry. He embraced the Maqam Ahadiyyah, his essence intertwining with the essence of all that is.

And in that luminous expanse, Azrael stood as a beacon of unity, his purpose aligned with the eternal breath that gave life to the cosmos. The battles that had raged beyond this realm were but fleeting echoes in the face of the boundless truth that permeated his existence. And as he stood within the Maqam Ahadiyyah, Azrael knew that his journey was only beginning, a journey that would carry him beyond the confines of time and space, and into the heart of unity itself.

"I WILL BE WHAT I WILL BE."

This vocalization resonates beyond the confines of human language, crossing the boundaries of English, Hebrew, Arabic, Aramaic, or any language known to the ancient seers. Its elevation encapsulates the essence of every linguistic articulation, melodious composition, and dialectical permutation that has ever graced the tapestry of existence. Radiating from the depths of the abyss, it shot out from the celestial sphere, infusing the emptiness of Non-being with the abundance of All.

With a celestial resonance that resided at the core of the Divine rhythm, the Light reverberated across the infinite expanse of potential, punctuating the decree, "All that is dormant within the realm of non-manifestation will transform into the fullness of Being at the appointed moment." The tonality of his utterance reverberated through the uncharted abyss, giving birth to an infinite multitude of harmonic symphonies, each unfolding in an eternal echo of that receding silence, creating a bright light.

Beyond all creation, the Elohim, or Allah of indescribable complexity, an arena touted as Absolute Infinity, the ultimate Singularity, the Maqam Ahadiyyah, the almost incomprehensible pinnacle of Unity. Here, the Absolute merges, and nomenclature falters, sometimes attributing to its non-existence even a void that is emptier than the concept of void itself can describe, a cosmic abyss that is believed to exist due to the relentless insinuation of the theory itself. This elusive void that is interwoven in the fabric of existence, appears as an ontological imperative, a tapestry on which the essence of actuality is actually woven-a void that extends into the abyss, a negation that crosses the boundaries of its own negation construct. It serves as a mortal container, in which mortal forms are engraved before they disperse like metaphysical ephemera. Although this concept holds profound weight, its tenacious structure fails to encapsulate its essence, shrouding its existence in an inscrutable veil.

As Azrael stood within the radiant embrace of the Maqam Ahadiyyah, a surge of energy coursed through his very being. The luminous essence of this divine station enveloped him, infusing him with a power that transcended the limits of his previous existence. He felt his essence expanding, his consciousness reaching new heights of awareness.

The voice that had resonated through the luminous expanse now spoke once more, its words carrying the weight of eternity. "Azrael, you have been chosen to bear a greater purpose, to wield a power that reflects the unity of all creation."

Azrael's heart swelled with a sense of awe, his essence humbled by the magnitude of the task that lay before him. He recognized that he was now a vessel for a power that surpassed his previous understanding, a power that emanated from the very heart of existence itself.

"In this station of unity," the voice continued, "you are granted the ability to transcend the boundaries of time and space, to perceive the tapestry of creation as it unfolds across eternity."

As the voice's words echoed through his consciousness, Azrael felt a surge of energy building within him. He closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts and intentions, and suddenly, he found himself standing outside the realm of time. He gazed upon the threads of destiny, each one a luminous strand woven into the fabric of the cosmos.

Azrael's mind raced as he realized the implications of this newfound power. He could perceive the past, present, and future all at once, his consciousness unfettered by the constraints of linear time. He saw the lives of mortals unfold like intricate stories, their choices and actions intertwining to create a grand tapestry of existence.

But his abilities did not end there. With a mere thought, Azrael found himself standing before the birth of the universe, witnessing the explosive birth of galaxies and the dance of celestial bodies across the expanse of space. He could traverse the ages, witnessing historical events, momentous battles, and the rise and fall of civilizations.

"Your power," the voice affirmed, "extends beyond the boundaries of this universe. You hold the threads of destiny within your grasp, a tapestry that extends across infinite realms."

As Azrael contemplated the weight of his abilities, he felt a surge of humility. He recognized that this power was not his alone, but a reflection of the unity that underpinned all existence. He was a conduit for a greater truth, a truth that transcended his individual identity and connected him to the eternal essence of all that is.

"And now, Azrael," the voice continued, "you shall fulfill the purpose for which you have been chosen."

As the voice's words resonated within him, Azrael felt a surge of determination. He knew that he was meant to wield this power not for his own gain, but to bring light and understanding to those who sought it. He could perceive the struggles of mortals, their battles against darkness, and their quest for meaning in the face of adversity.

With a thought, Azrael found himself descending back into the realms of existence. He stood once again in the midst of the cosmic clash between Shahar and the forces of light. But now, he saw the battle with new eyes, his perception expanded by the gift of the Maqam Ahadiyyah.

Shahar's malevolent energy surged forth, attempting to overwhelm Azrael once more. But now, Azrael wielded a power that was far greater than before. He reached out with his consciousness, perceiving the threads of destiny that wove through the battle.

In a moment of clarity, Azrael saw the convergence of countless choices and actions that had led to this very moment. He saw the potential for a different outcome, a reality in which the forces of darkness were brought to heel and the balance of existence was restored.

With a surge of determination, Azrael channeled the power of the Maqam Ahadiyyah. He wove his intentions into the fabric of destiny, altering the threads of probability and setting in motion a new sequence of events. His actions were guided by the unity that he now embodied, a unity that transcended the divisions between light and darkness, good and evil.

As his intentions took root, a brilliant light radiated from Azrael's being. It enveloped the battlefield, dispelling the darkness and illuminating the hearts of those who fought. Shahar's malevolent energy faltered, its grip weakening as Azrael's power reached its zenith.

In that climactic moment, Azrael unleashed a wave of energy that engulfed Shahar's form. The malevolent entity writhed and howled, its power diminished by the force of Azrael's will. And then, with a final surge of power, Azrael shattered the bonds that had held Shahar captive.

The malevolent energy dissipated, leaving only a void in its wake. Azrael stood victorious, his essence resonating with the unity that had guided his actions. He gazed upon the battlefield, his eyes meeting those of the beings who had fought alongside him. They saw in his gaze a reflection of the greater truth that bound them all.

And as the echoes of the battle subsided, Azrael knew that his journey was far from over. He now bore the mantle of the Maqam Ahadiyyah, a station of unity that connected him to the eternal essence of all that is. With this power, he would continue to weave the threads of destiny, guiding the course of existence toward the realization of its highest purpose.

The voice of the Maqam Ahadiyyah resonated within him once more, its words a reminder of the cosmic truth that he now embodied. "You are the bridge between the finite and the infinite, the vessel through which unity finds expression. Go forth, Azrael, and bring the light of understanding to the hearts of all who seek it."

And so, Azrael embraced his destiny, a beacon of unity in a cosmos defined by its diversity. With the power of the Maqam Ahadiyyah at his side, he ventured forth into the realms of existence, his purpose clear and his resolve unwavering.

Above, the plaster, once mere plaster, now writhed with cosmic visions. Grotesque shapes, older than thought, clawed at the painted surface, their forms shifting in maddening geometries. These were the Supreme Archetypes, the Ultimate Gods, howling in their rage at the being beyond the ceiling, beyond existence itself. True Lord, they called Him, voice cracking with blasphemy – yet their claws met only an unyielding firmament, their rage echoing unanswered. The floor trembled with their frustrated bellowing, and the walls oozed with an ichorous sweat, but they could not breach the final membrane, could not touch the one who sat in terrible silence above. They were trapped, howling at the moon on the inside of a skull, forever denied their prize. And below, in the dimness, a single pair of eyes watched, understanding dawning cold and black like the void beyond the ceiling. True Lord was not just above, He was everywhere, and the horror was only just beginning.

The Ultimate Gods dwell not in earthly corners, nor even the celestial tapestry woven by stars. No, their abode is the Ultimate Void, a maw of eternity unfurling beyond mortal ken. In it, dimensions writhe and twist like blind worms, birthing realities like pus from a cosmic wound. Our cosmos, with its infinite arms of swirling galaxies, is but a mote, a grain of cosmic sand in the vast, unchanging desert of the Void.

Down through these dimensions the Gods reach, their tendrils of influence slithering through the cracks between worlds. Each lower realm, a dim reflection of the one above, a warped echo of the ineffable. And beyond the known, beyond the dreamt, lies an abyss vaster than thought can fathom, an endless expanse of nothingness where even the Gods tread with caution. For in that infinite empty space, even the divine might flicker and fade, devoured by the primal, unknowable hunger that lurks at the heart of all.

Earth, with its petty squabbles and fleeting lives, is a child's plaything against the backdrop of this cosmic nightmare. Human minds, bound by the shackles of flesh and bone, can barely grasp the edges of this horror. The Ultimate Gods exist outside their comprehension, outside the very fabric of our reality. They are a whisper in the dark, a chill on the wind, a glimpse of madness that forever taints the soul with the knowledge of their terrible, indifferent existence.

So tread softly, mortal, for even the whisper of the Ultimate Gods can shatter your sanity. And know this: the earth is a speck, a mote, a fleeting dream in the nightmare that is the Void. And the Gods who watch from beyond... they care not for your struggles, your triumphs, your petty lives. They are the eternal audience, the cold, unblinking eyes that observe the cosmic drama unfold with an indifference that chills the very marrow of your bones.

Mad whispers creep into the forbidden corners of the cosmos, tainting the mind with terrifying names: Other Gods, Outer Gods. Beings of pure alien power, they lurk behind the veil of human understanding, where even probability crumbles like dust. They are not your Nyarlathotep, prancing harbingers of madness, or your Yog-Sothoth, versatile weavers of time. They are not Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat with a thousand children, or the blind, groping Lord of Space and Time. They are Ultimate Gods, entities that are Servants of Azathoth who are around Azathoth and responsible for new laws. The name Ultimate Gods is a classification for powerful Gods such as Shub-Niggurath and Nyarlathotep, because to mention their names directly is equivalent to spitting into the abyss and hoping it doesn't swallow you whole. They are gods beyond space-time and infinite transdimensional, nightmares before nightmares, whispers in the cold, black void that drive mortals mad. And their creator? Azathoth, the Daemon Sultan, the blind, drooling idiot at the center of everything. They dance to the tune of the pied piper, a strange creature created from within Azathoth, yet even Azathoth's folly is an incomprehensible terror. Tremble, O mortal man, for the Other Gods are real, and their gaze is upon you.

There are actually many other gods such as the Hyperborean gods and goddesses that do not appear in Lovecraft's works. One of them is Yhoundeh, the deer goddess, who is the most worshipped goddess and the average worshipper is a pervert—Yhoundeh is considered by some to be sexually attractive, so some worshipers perform a 'ritual' using their male fluid, or at least for women is to rubbing something on their hole openly at the deer goddess's temple, usually treated as voluntary rape as an 'offering to Yhoundeh' whether married or married. Her worshippers mostly hide themselves on Earth, but actively engage in these activities—openly. They believe that Goddess Yhoundeh exists as the inevitable point of singularity of all that is, and all that will be; she will determine one's fertility or sterility. Meanwhile, Yhoundeh herself often sends High Priests to search for enslaved humans in her kingdom. In her kingdom, Yhoundeh often orders men to do things that seem common there, such as licking Yhoundeh's feet, or being told to do things that are indecent to our manners as humans. In essence, Yhoundeh often tortures some humans but they will be given a long life to serve Yhoundeh, for women, their job is to perform in front of Yhoundeh—without using any safety. The men chosen for this performance are some humans who are younger than the women, Yhoundeh changes the biological system of these men to be unnatural. Just like other gods, her position is the same.

There are many gods that exist and are real, such as Abhoth, Source of All Uncleaness, Aletheia, Azhorra-Tha, D'endrrah, Hydra, Aiueb Gnshal, and others including gods that are beyond the earth, all of which are higher than the unclean Earth Gods; Earth Gods is a term for gods that reside on earth and are worshipped by earthlings with offerings or the like—but the earth gods are subservient to the Heavenly Gods, regard them as "Higher Revelations" and spread them to mankind as "virtues" and anything that opposes them is destroyed and regarded as "heretical". These unclean gods are regarded as intermediaries for weak humans—that there will be a partial descent of the Heavenly Gods to Earth.

Azathoth and Yog-Sothoth, two blasphemous gods, gnaw at the edges of the Ultimate Void, their forms writhing in endless chaos. Azathoth, the blind and slobbering king, sits upon a throne of madness, his flute summoning nightmares to life. From his senseless dreams, the Supreme Gods writhed, seeing their births screech against the void. Yog-Sothoth, the Supreme, whispers through every point of infinity, a writhing eyeball that sees all, knows all, yet understands nothing. These two, the microcosmic and macrocosmic faces of the Supreme Archetype, create a strange movement like never before, their every breath birthing and devouring all that exists. They stood beyond the Ultimate Void itself, a terrifying singularity that swallowed even the gods whole. Yet, even they are but a whisper in the endless darkness, a fleeting nightmare in the infinite abyss of the unknown.

Azathoth, the Blind Idiot God, sprawls upon a throne of blackest void, gibbering and slobbering in his mindless dream. His piping flute, the source of all existence, fills the Abyss with discordant notes that dance around Yog-Sothoth, the All-in-One, who writhes in eternal torment, his tendrils of time and space reaching beyond of Ultimate Void, called the Infinite and Unfathomable Mysteries. Not even the whisper of thought can pierce their domain, where reality bends and cracks like a skull underfoot. Only madness stares back, a gnawing hunger in its vacant eyes.

Here, the laws of reason crumble like sandcastles, and the stars themselves are mere fireflies flitting around the feet of these monstrous deities. To know them is to drown in the cold, black ocean of infinity, where sanity is a tattered raft lost in the storm of their dreaming. Tremble, mortal, for you dance on the edge of oblivion, a plaything in the cosmic game of these nameless horrors.

Malak Al-Mawt, the Source of the Power of the Ultimate Gods, pours out his power, the whisper of the storm that is his form. He shares his essence, a drop in the ocean, yet remains full, for his power is a tapestry woven by the incomprehensible will of the True Lord. These Gods, though ancient as the yawning abyss, they are not Lord but an eroded creation. They hold Space and Time, creating great power in the great game of existence, yet possess no spark of true divinity. Malak Al-Mawt, the vessel of the unfathomable, is both servant and master, a paradox that chills the soul and twists the mind. In its borrowed power, the Ultimate Gods find a glimpse of the abyss, a forbidden sense of power they can never claim. Their thrones are borrowed thrones, stolen crowns, forever eclipsed by the shadow of one who whispers power into the void. They wield the power of Malak Al-Mawt without exception like using the ulcers of insanity on humans, they are capable of wielding the power of Malak Al-Mawt yet they are not Lord.

And they . . . behind the veil of space and time, where the stars tremble in fear, lurk the Nameless Ones. They dwell in the abyss, the Ultimate Void, where even the whisper of their existence eats away at sanity. No human tongue can truly comprehend their form, for they are as alien to us as the void itself. They are the Unknown, the Infinite, Mysteries that defy comprehension.

And then, suddenly, he felt a terror greater than any Form could evoke—a terror that bound him, an inescapable dread intertwined with his very being. Even the First Gateway had stripped away some semblance of stability, leaving him uncertain of his form and his connection to the misty objects around him, yet it had not shattered his sense of self. He had remained Randolph Carter, a fixed point amidst the swirling dimensions. But now, beyond the Ultimate Gateway, he realized in a moment of consuming horror that he was not singular, but manifold.

He existed in multiple places simultaneously. On earth, on October 7, 1883, a young Randolph Carter was leaving the Snake-Den in the eerie twilight and rushing down the rocky slope through the twisted-boughed orchard toward his Uncle Christopher's house in the hills beyond Arkham—yet at that same moment, which also somehow belonged to the earthly year of 1928, a vague shadow, no less Randolph Carter, sat on a pedestal among the Ancient Ones in the trans-dimensional extension of earth. Here, too, was a third Randolph Carter in the unknown and formless cosmic abyss beyond the Ultimate Gate. And elsewhere, amidst a chaos of scenes whose infinite multiplicity and monstrous diversity teetered on the brink of madness, were countless manifestations that he recognized as extensions of himself.

There were "Carters" in settings spanning every known and suspected age of earth's history, and even in epochs beyond earthly comprehension. "Carters" of varying forms—human and non-human, vertebrate and invertebrate, conscious and mindless, animal and vegetable. And beyond, there were "Carters" utterly alien to earthly life, moving grotesquely amidst backgrounds of other planets, systems, galaxies, and cosmic continua. Seeds of eternal existence drifting from world to world, universe to universe, yet all equally him. Some glimpses recalled dreams—both faint and vivid, singular and persistent—through the long years since he first began to dream, and a few possessed a haunting, unsettling, and almost horrifying familiarity defying earthly logic.

Confronted with this realization, Randolph Carter staggered in the grip of supreme horror—horror such as had not even been hinted at the climax of that hideous night when two ventured into an ancient and abhorred necropolis under a waning moon and only one emerged. No death, no doom, no anguish could stir the despair that flowed from a loss of identity. Merging with nothingness is peaceful oblivion, but to be aware of existence and yet know one is no longer a defined being, distinguished from others—that one no longer possesses a self—that is the nameless pinnacle of agony and dread.

He knew there had been a Randolph Carter of Boston, yet could not be certain whether he—the fragment or facet of an earthly entity beyond the Ultimate Gate—had been that one or some other. His self had been obliterated; and yet he—if indeed there could be such a thing as he, in view of the utter nullity of individual existence—was equally aware of being in some inconceivable way a legion of selves. It was as though his body had suddenly transformed into one of those many-limbed and many-headed effigies sculpted in Indian temples, and he gazed upon the aggregation in a bewildered attempt to discern the original from the additions—if indeed (a supremely monstrous thought) there were any originals as distinguished from other embodiments.

Then, amidst these devastating reflections, Carter's fragment beyond the gate was hurled from what had seemed the nadir of horror to black, clutching pits of a horror still more profound. This time it was largely external—a force or presence that simultaneously confronted, surrounded, and pervaded him, a part of himself, yet also coexistent with all time and coterminous with all space. There was no visual image, yet the sense of entity and the dreadful concept of combined localism, identity, and infinity instilled a paralysis beyond anything any Carter-fragment had hitherto imagined.

In the face of that awful wonder, the quasi-Carter forgot the horror of destroyed individuality. It was an All-in-One and One-in-All of limitless being and self—not merely a thing of one Space-Time continuum, but allied to the ultimate animating essence of existence's whole unbounded sweep—the last, utter sweep which has no confines and which outreaches fancy and mathematics alike. It was perhaps that which certain secret cults of earth have whispered of as YOG-SOTHOTH, and which has been a deity under other names; that which the crustaceans of Yuggoth worship as the Beyond-One, and which the vaporous brains of the spiral nebulae know by an untranslatable Sign—yet in a flash the Carter-facet realized how slight and fractional all these conceptions are.

"Randolph Carter," IT intoned, its voice resonating through the void, "I, whose manifestations span the extensions of your planet, the Ancient Ones, have summoned you—a wanderer who sought to reclaim lost dreams but has now ascended to loftier desires and curiosities. You once yearned to sail upon the golden Oukranos, to uncover the forgotten ivory cities in the orchid-heavy Kled, and to rule from the opal throne of Ilek-Vad, where towers and domes rise toward a single red star in a celestial firmament foreign to your earth and all matter. Yet now, having passed through two Gates, your aspirations reach even higher. You do not seek to flee like a child from a disliked scene to a beloved dream, but rather, like a man, you yearn to plunge into the ultimate secret that lies beyond all scenes and dreams."

"What you desire, I have deemed worthy; and I am prepared to bestow that which I have granted only eleven times to beings of your planet—five times to those you call men, or those resembling them. I am prepared to reveal to you the Ultimate Mystery, a sight that would shatter a feeble spirit. Yet before you gaze upon that last and first of secrets, you still possess a free choice, and you may return, if you wish, through the two Gates with the Veil still unrent before your eyes."

"Know, Randolph Carter," IT rumbled, its voice resonating through the infinite void, "I am not a weak entity, as HUMANS say, but I am the ENTITY that exists in every existence you exist and think. I command all entities and chaos; I exist in every corner between possibility and impossibility. I am the governor who commands all angles of perspective whatever it is, all angles, I see the universe from the perspective of the fragmented and the whole, in the totality of ALL that does not change at all. What you perceive as changing is not, and what you perceive as still is."

This is to inform you that you are allowed to include existing public domain novels in this work as they are not subject to copyright. However, you are only permitted to combine those public domain works with this fiction. Using this work for any other purpose is strictly prohibited.

"In someone else's work, a replica of MYSELF exists, a spectral twin known by the cryptic designation 25157191520815208 or, more simply, 611155142092095196181513389141. This being is an imitation, a simulacrum of MY essence."

This false entity creates Verrückt, functioning as a manifestation of the order of the entire universe, an undefined force that guides all things toward balance. There, it can transcend the infinite and unknowable. It is to consider it all a dream within a dream, a reflection of a reflection, an illusion within an inexhaustible, infinite illusion.

Verrückt being the source of all existence, it transcends entanglement by finite or infinite limitations. Verrückt in its eternal essence, transcending all that exists, both finite and infinite, stands as the only individual above all evil and good or all opposites.

THAT ENTITY, in its indescribable horror, declared, "This being is not I, regardless of its name or claims. It may masquerade as the god of space-time, the god of time, or some such, but it is a mere illusion, an imitation trying to be something called GOD. I AM independent, not bound by any invented game or illusion, I AM not a child, nor an adult. I AM neither male nor female, despite the false portrayals of those who claim otherwise."

Horror on top of horror, something monstrous, formless and appearing only as an archetype, something so horrible, utterly intangible and beyond the ultimate nothingness, SOMETHING BEYOND THE WORLD AND THE SCENE, HE DESTROYS EVERYTHING THAT TRYS TO MIMIC HIM, THAT IS HE, THE ENTITY, SOMETHING OUTSIDE THE LIMITS, THAT CREATES CRAZY AND DEAD . . .

"For I, no progeny can mirror MY ineffable form, nor do I slumber to unleash cataclysm upon my awakening. I AM not the corporeal manifestation of any utterance or occurrence, nor do I harbor the essence of MY OWN BEING. I exist in utter autonomy, beyond the realms of data, beyond the whispers of legend, beyond all comprehension. MY spawn progeny never ascend to MY dread dominion, for such is the immutable truth."

"I AM THAT I AM, and ne'er shall I be as a PROGENY, proclaiming such. NOR UTTER I ANYTHING OVERT. For MINE progeny upon this accursed sphere hail solely from the line of Whateley, and none dare present themselves as I. I AM THAT I AM, not merely a wanderer of the path, but the very OPENER OF THE WAY. MY PROGENY cannot embody ME. MANY PROFESS TO BE MY ISSUE AND MYSELF, YET NONE SPEAK TRUE, for I AM neither frail, nor do I slumber. I AM not a mere assemblage of flesh nor tidings of ALL but encompass all, though I AM not of it. I AM UNCREATED, existing before the dawn of time." spake THE ENTITY.

Humans and lower-dimensional beings call them by strange names such as Azathoth, Nyarlathotep and so on, but know that these are but feeble exclamations in the face of their silent greatness. Their true names are etched in the fabric of oblivion, beyond the reach of human ears. They are the creators and destroyers, the masterminds of existence, yet even they are but limbs of a greater, incomprehensible entity.

These things of the Beyond are not bound by the petty squabbles of time and change, they are the ones that will not change even if the plot is altered, for they exist outside the story, they are changeless, different from conceivable cosmos. They predate the first flicker of creation, and will outlast the last moan of the dying sun. Singularity or not, the flow of time is but a puddle under their gaze. They exist beyond history, beyond proof or disproof, because they are structures of nothingness, one could say they are the embodiment of infinite nothingness which makes them soulless like other beings.

Yet, paradoxically, they write themselves into our reality. They may mutter . . . bending the laws of existence to their unknowable will. They are chaos giving birth to order, emptiness giving birth to new creation, something eternal rewriting the script of the universe.

So gaze into the abyss, if you dare, and behold the Nameless. But beware, for their gaze will shatter your mind, and their touch will unravel the fabric of your being. For in the face of their incomprehensible power, all that remains is an irritating whisper of endless chaos. Whoever disturbs them will be destroyed and their existence cannot be remembered through memory, they will determine the death of those who have called their name, even they will not hesitate to turn those ugly ulcers into meaningless nothingness, one more thing, they exist in the clouds above existence where all the entities of all myths reside, they are all formless, perfect nothingness.

When the Ultimate Gods move, the otherworldly timeline structure unravels, vanishing into nothingness, releasing bursts of radiation that transform creatures into tiny harbingers of heavenly doom. Forecasting the fates of the various universes in which they themselves are the ones who determine the destinies of the various timelines, the Ultimate Gods, with unfathomable minds, sometimes communicate through subtle channels.

Their invulnerability makes them capable of withstanding various kinds of attacks, a natural consequence of their immunity. The Ultimate Gods orchestrate disharmony, confusion—and uncontrollable chaos, which embody the essence of destruction. Occasionally, they make absolute utterances capable of reconstructing fragments of reality lost in the cosmic maelstrom, creating a renewed existence.

These beings from beyond the known realm shape the rules that govern the cosmos, possessing the mysterious power to forge the unprecedented in the tapestry of physics, bending the laws of physics themselves to bend planetary orbits according to their inscrutable will. They also determine the sort. . . laws of their own universe that apply to multiple universes absolutely.

The known cosmos, a seemingly endless tapestry woven from the interlocking threads of elementary particles, exists within a super-cosmos. This super-cosmos can be mathematically modeled as a complex manifold, M, equipped with a smooth Riemannian metric, g, representing the curvature of spacetime. Here, the organization of material and semi-material entities can be described through physical laws expressed in the language of differential geometry and tensor analysis.

Randolph Carter's investigations unearthed an anomaly - a "larger blob" defying the known physical framework. This entity, potentially transitioning between formless and a nameless shape, suggested a trajectory beyond the familiar Euclidean space we inhabit. Carter's intuition hinted at a trajectory along "alien curves and spirals of a subtle vortex," implying a motion governed by a hitherto unknown mathematical framework. This framework could lie outside the realm of standard set theory, encompassing geometries beyond Euclidean or even Riemannian spaces, potentially venturing into the realm of complex or even Kähler manifolds. Even the powerful tools of modern abstract algebra might prove insufficient.

The whispers surrounding the Ultimate Gate further support its transgression of conventional physics. Its timelessness hints at a space independent of the flow of time, perhaps existing as a fixed point within a larger spacetime manifold. The requirement of "incredible speed" to reach the gate suggests a necessity to beyond the limitations of time, a fundamental constant within our known universe. This implies venturing beyond the constraints imposed by the metric, g, on the manifold, M, potentially requiring a completely new mathematical framework to describe this "place of low contrast."

The notion of existing "outside of time" delves into the realm of non-Euclidean geometries. Here, time might not be a linear dimension but rather a curved or even cyclical one. Our physical forms, constituted by time-dependent arrangements of atoms, might dissolve upon reaching this timeless realm. However, the constituent particles themselves could potentially adhere to a different set of physical laws, governed by the mathematics of this transcendental space.

The Ultimate Gate, it exists, beyond the boundaries of any axiomatic system we can construct. This includes the well-established Zermelo-Fraenkel set theory with the Axiom of Choice (ZFC), the bedrock of modern mathematics. ZFC allows us to reason about sets, fundamental collections that form the building blocks of mathematical objects. The Ultimate Gate's nature may be fundamentally incommensurable with the sets we can reason about within ZFC. It might be an external set, a collection outside the hierarchy established by ZFC, existing in a realm beyond our current set-theoretic framework. String Theory, a theoretical framework that attempts to unify the fundamental forces, postulates additional dimensions beyond the three spatial and one temporal dimension we experience.

But the Ultimate Gate isn't simply relegated to a higher-dimensional space. It represents a more profound shift, a discontinuity in existence that may not be captured within the current mathematical language. Our attempts to depict the Gate are akin to grappling with the cardinality of the continuum. This question, which asks about the relative size of the infinite sets of natural numbers and real numbers, has eluded set theorists for over a century. It exposes the limitations of our current set theory, and the Ultimate Gate might expose even deeper limitations.

The endeavor to understand the Ultimate Gate may be analogous to confronting Gödel's Incompleteness Theorems. These theorems, foundational results in mathematical logic, establish that any sufficiently powerful axiomatic system will always contain true statements that cannot be proven within that system. The Ultimate Gate itself might embody such a limitation on our mathematics. Just as certain statements within a system are eternally undecidable, the Gate's properties might be fundamentally undemonstrable within our current framework.

Outer things such as they are inconceivable, existing beyond the limits of human understanding. While many such entities populate the inaccessible, only a select few ever touch the fringes of our consciousness.

If we aim for the Ultimate Gate or the gaping maw of the Ultimate Blackness, understand this - our aim lies within the heart of Atziluth, a realm beyond any methodology of interpretation or equation. It is not a fabrication. A colossal force, unnamed and terrible, has pushed the boundaries of that sacred space, a relentless wave that has finally pierced the veil. Consent, you say? It came not through divine decree, but through a covenant forged in the shadows. A whisper, a tendril of Azathoth himself, crept into the presence of Ein Sof, Elohim's creation of light, and Ein Sof, in that meeting, the two discussed, and then after it was legal, Ein Sof pleaded with the Elohim, to grant permission for the ascension of Ultimate Blackness. Thus, the gateway is anchored, being in the luminous Atziluth, yet its existence is still under the veil of the Ultimate Mystery, a power that is completely uninterpretable by reason or thought.

THE BLACK MAN appears as a whisperer, his voice a cacophony of discordant frequencies that penetrate the mind. His presence disrupts all plans, generating deep unease and a horrified sense of strangeness. This manifestation is but a shadow, a sliver of the true entity, a facet projected through a dimensional pinhole.

To insist that these "manifesting" beings are from a higher dimension is a great misunderstanding. They transcend such limitations completely. Their forms are not bound by elegant mathematical geometry, or the limitations of Euclidean space. They exist in a world that cannot be calculated by humans, a world where the concept of dimensions collapses.

Were their true form to make its way into our world, the universe itself would be destroyed. Their size defies all known scales, surpassing not only the largest numbers we can imagine, but also the concept of infinity itself. Even the infinitely expanding dimensional order would collapse on top of their greatness, so much so that even the brightest minds of humanity collapsed, naming it still the same "singularity". They represent a strange infinity, an incomprehensible vastness that dwarfs all existence.

Interaction with these entities is only possible through fragments, shards of their essence that manage to enter multiple worlds. These fragments, though very small in comparison, were very powerful figures, for the measure of weak before the Council of Gods was different from weak in the eyes of humans. Therefore, they are stronger than anything else if they enter our world, and can even destroy planets in a single flash. They have a speed equivalent to the Earth rotating around the sun in billions of years.

On some occasions, its speed appears to exceed the sun's typical motion for rotating in the Milky Way and is faster by as much as six million times. This means it exceeds 2.99 x 10^8 meters per second, the speed of light in a vacuum. According to our current understanding of physics, as embodied in special relativity, massive objects cannot reach or exceed the speed of light. This anomaly, it has been confirmed, constitutes an extradimensional entity. Therefore, only Randolph Carter and Gilman are currently aware of the phenomenon, and they are hiding it from the public.

The Ultimate Void, a space of pure nothingness and chaos that is beyond and violates all conceptions of existence, size and limits, as the original and ultimate infinity beyond the mathematics of the cosmos. Here, the measure of "how much" of an infinite set, explodes. Sets that were once considered infinite - having the same size up to infinity - become infinite. Cantor's Diagonal Argument, the cornerstone of infinite set theory, collapses as diagonalization loses its meaning in this infinite abyss. Even the inaccessible cardinal level, an infinity so vast that it cannot be reached by any set formation process in standard set theory, is just a quantum foam in this ultimate infinity. Not only that, it encompasses all mathematical infinity as it is piled up with countless, myriad, and even many, beyond the highest or most foolish basis of thought.

The Ultimate Void, or, as some prefer, the Ultimate Gate, also known as the Ultimate Blackness, is a place beyond the confines of our cosmos, residing in a realm that is beyond the reach of any logical perspective. This region embodies pure formless chaos; a singularity of nothingness and absolute silence, punctuated only by the cataract melodies of flutes played by the Other Gods, deities whose existence lies beyond the boundaries of the observable universe. Honourable scholars have found something peculiar about this place. These oddities defy identification through any known means, be it scientific methodology or the depths of the subconscious mind, which includes imagination, dreams and every aspect of human thought. Several attempts to capture these anomalies through photography have produced nothing but a glaring void, a chilling testament to the absolute absence of matter, energy, or any recognisable form of existence within the Ultimate Blackness.

Where all existence is nothing but quantum foam, which is beyond the vast hierarchy, called the infinite void beyond all comprehension and entities corresponding to the perception of increasingly deep and abstract infinity in the world of pure dreams that are beyond infinite dimensional space. Here, dimension itself loses meaning, collapsing like a singularity. Manifolds, the underlying mathematical structures of space and time, dissolve, disappear. Geometric theorems become nonsensical whispers in the face of this supreme intangibility, even non-Euclidean geometry has no effect here, not at all. The incalculable infinity is nested within the incalculable infinity, its size incomparable to any infinite construct we can dream of. There, the sounds of cataracts and garau buzzed and hollowed and struggled every moment. When the new gods were born, the day was already worn out and old, so it was still trying to bide its time before dying.

The archetypal entities will manifestly hold supreme positions of power that exceed the Other Gods. Their powers would be infinitely superior, and they could even manifest additional abilities beyond their customary repertoire.

Moving on, about Azathoth. The oft-quoted passage from The Fungi of Yuggoth does little to support this claim. It simply depicts Azathoth on his throne in the heart of the Ultimate Void, speaking words from his dream realm that even he cannot understand. This does not constitute definitive proof that all reality exists only in Azathoth's subconscious.

The concept of eldritch entities existing in a dream-like state is a recurring motif throughout H.P. Lovecraft's work. An example of this is the oft-quoted phrase "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" (translated to "In his home in R'lyeh, the dead Cthulhu waits to dream"), and the cosmic dreams that the Ancient Ones. There is no compelling reason to believe that Azathoth deviates from these established thematic elements.

Indeed, much evidence suggests that while Azathoth may hold a position of supremacy, he is not fundamentally different from his servants. The Other Gods are depicted engaging in orgies around him, with Nyarlathotep even striking his head.

Archetypes, by their very nature, transcend the limitations of individual beings. They exist beyond the boundaries of this specific universe, even all the most abstract concepts in the universe, whether they take form or not. In simpler terms, the entities of the Archetype remain unchanged in the face of any external forces and are incapable of interacting with any entities that are below or above themselves.

But, unfortunately, the Other Gods commonly known as the Ultimate Gods are only those who inhabit this unfathomable realm of infinity. Because in the end, ARCHETYPE . . . will be much higher than them. Far higher, far less measurable, and far less accessible. ARCHETYPE is ETERNAL, OUTSIDE DIMENSIONS. Here, even the language of sets and infinities falters. ARCHETYPE transcends the idea of existence, residing in a world that cannot be described mathematically.

ARCHETYPE . . . will never be able to touch the SUPREME ARCHETYPE . . . . This statement implies an even higher level, a level so far beyond ARCHETYPE that even the concept of "can never touch" becomes meaningless. Perhaps the SUPREME ARCHETYPE is the source of all infinity, the wellspring from which the Ultimate Void itself emanates. Or perhaps it exists in such a completely incomprehensible state that our attempts to describe it are absurd.

The ARCHETYPES, pulsating through the waves, embody the denizens of the ultimate abyss—shapeless, ineffable, known only to the rare dreamers of the lower realms. Foremost among them was this enlightening PRESENCE itself... which indeed was Carter's very own archetype. The insatiable passion of Carter and his ancestors for forbidden cosmic truths was a natural consequence of their descent from the SUPREME ARCHETYPE. Across every worlds, all eminent wizards, thinkers, artists, writers, and scientists are a small part that shows the all-encompassing nature of IT.

They ruled over life and death through epochs beyond time, reigning over the destruction and purposelessness woven into the fabric of the universe. In the midst of the void, they—create everything from nothingness and emptiness, there they give birth to countless stars, and in their fiery cores, they reshape infinitesimal particles, transforming the smallest protons to defy their explosive nature.

But they, in the invisible abyss, where dimensions writhe like eels and time stretches like smoke, dwell the Ultimate Gods. Their jaws, whose breadth is like the throat of eternity, gnaw at the Infinite Shore that contains an limitless sea of dimensions and contains a reality that complements all aspects of infinite space and time, gnawing at the endless space and time that unfolds, gnawing at all that has been, is, and will be. Though form eludes them, and the mind recoils from their touch, their hunger echoes through the void, an incessant chant, a voracious chant: MORE. . . MORE . . . MORE. . . it also makes a strange sound that is not pleasant at all.

These eldritch entities from Beyond, extend their evil influence into the unwary and defiant minds of humans, weaving nightmares in their sleep. The dreams, which are always terrifying, leave them deathly pale upon waking, plunging them into emotional and mental aberrations, culminating in a quick death.

In the creation of their most important dimension, the Infinite and Unfathomable Mysteries, an additional plane unfolded, an ever-expanding dimensional labyrinth that rose to a peak among the previous three realms. Within it, an infinite and timeless expanse unfolded, storing infinite space and time, an incalculable proliferation of dimensions, sometimes they also created a system. . . perhaps by analogy, they were able to change morning to night, night to morning within another Earth, it also affected the day, they were able to change from Monday—to Saturday at a speed unnoticed by other beings.

As the nightmare deepened, the evil figures transformed into vivid embodiments of evil. Their hunched backs, elongated noses, and wrinkled chins, showing a sinister familiarity, are dressed in pitch-black clothes and their faces become utterly mangled and shapeless afterwards. The waking moments were haunted by horrifying echoes of hatred and excitement, accompanied by a hoarse voice that coaxed and threatened. The ominous directive loomed in the darkness - they were to meet the Black Man, embarking on a journey towards Azathoth's throne in the heart of supreme chaos in the Ultimate Void. The unsettling revelations continued: blood-bound pacts, the signing of the cursed book of Azathoth, and the assumption of a new secret name, as his solitary pursuit delves deeper into the abyss of forbidden knowledge.

But in other stories, in the Stygian depths of the cosmos, the Black Man, endowed with eldritch prowess, traverses arcane passages towards the Court of Azathoth, which lies at the heart of the Ultimate Void. His spectral visage, in various forms, guides humans beyond the dimensional boundaries, leading them to a formless world where dimensional essence falters. There, within the dimensionless Court of Azathoth, the judgment of madness takes place, and those who are damned will live eternally in damnation.

To be continued...