The Ultimate Author

The Leviathan loomed above Dr. Bob, its monstrous, comic-like form towering over the fragmented remains of the ship. Its glowing, unreadable eyes fixated on him for a brief moment, as if studying him—not as a person, but as a piece of a story yet to be finished.

Then, without warning, the creature whipped its tail, slamming it into the Narrative Ocean with a force that sent

a shockwave rippling through reality itself. The sea buckled under the impact, and in an instant, the shattered remains of the ship—planks, splintered wood, and even the surviving pirates—were launched into the air as if the ocean had momentarily rejected them. Dr. Bob felt himself lifted, weightless, before gravity took hold and dragged him down.

But he didn't just fall into the Narrative Ocean

He fell through its many narratives

As Dr. Bob plunged downward, the world around him shifted, his descent turning into something far more unnatural.

The sensation was indescribable. It felt as if he were tumbling through an infinite cascade of pages, each one containing a reality Words, sentences, paragraphs blurred past him, shifting, rearranging, and rewriting themselves in real time. Some were familiar, others completely alien. It was as though he were being dragged through the very essence of storytelling itself.

Then, the pages parted, and he saw it.

The Omniverse, he had heard about it and how it seemingly contains the multiverse It wasn't just one Omniverse. There were countless.

Each one was abstract and formless, existing in ways that defied all comprehension. Some shimmered like distant stars, others twisted like impossible geometry. Some couldn't be seen—only felt. They were not just

beyond human understanding, they were beyond the very concept of reason itself.

And he was falling through them all.

He passed through an infinitely layered multiverse, each multiverse stacked upon another like an endless staircase of creation, descending further and further. Universes unraveled and reformed around him, a constant cycle of birth and destruction, yet he continued to fall beyond them, deeper than he should have ever been able to go.

Then, suddenly, something changed.

A force—a pull, something intentional—yanked him downward at an impossible speed. He could barely process it before he broke through the final layer and saw Earth below him.

The next thing he knew, he was falling towards the ground.

Dr. Bob woke with a violent gasp, his body aching from the impact. His surroundings were unfamiliar—a ruined street, abandoned buildings, a sky that seemed just a little off. His head pounded as he struggled to process what had just happened.

"Where the hell am I?" he muttered, pushing himself up.

Before he could make sense of anything, a loud thud echoed behind him. Another pirate crashed to the ground, groaning as he stumbled to his feet.

"The hell…?" the pirate grumbled, looking around in confusion. His gaze then locked onto Dr. Bob. His expression twisted into rage.

"You… This is all your fault!"

Dr. Bob barely had time to react before the pirate charged at him, his fist clenched, ready to deliver a brutal blow.

"The fuck do you mean it's my fault?!" Dr. Bob snapped, instinctively dodging to the side.

The pirate's punch missed—but it didn't hit the ground either.

Instead, his fist connected with something invisible, something that cracked like fragile glass.

Dr. Bob's breath caught in his throat as the world itself began to break apart.

The very fabric of the narrative shattered from the impact.

And then, everything began to collaps-

Dr. Bob was violently expelled from the collapsing narrative, as if the very fabric of reality had rejected him. He tumbled on a remaining plank

The impact sent a sharp jolt through his body, but exhaustion kept him from moving. His chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven breaths as he stared up at the swirling, chaotic sky above—a sky that no longer belonged to a world that existed.

Slowly, he turned his head. And that was when he saw it.

The narrative inside the Narrative Ocean was crumbling It wasn't burning. It wasn't breaking. It was dissolving—whole cities, vast landscapes, even the grand throne room where he had stood only moments ago—all turning to dust, erased as if they had never been written in the first place.

And towering above the ruins, its serpentine form coiling through the remains of the collapsing world, was the Un-Cannon Leviathan.

Dr. Bob's breath caught in his throat.

The massive entity loomed over the disintegrating kingdom, its vast, shifting body flickering between shapes that defied human comprehension. Its comic-like texture warped and twisted, like an unfinished sketch being constantly redrawn.

Then, without hesitation, the Leviathan moved.

A slow, deliberate turn of its massive head. A gaze that was not cruel, nor kind—simply watchful. The Leviathan casually burned the kingdom down.

Dr. Bob's eyes widened in silent horror.

The weight of it all crashed down on him. The incomprehensible vastness of what he had just witnessed. The sheer scale

of the entity before him