Jazzz

In the endless cosmos, where celestial empires rise and fall, an ancient prophecy speaks of a Sovereign who will decide the fate of the multiverse. Orion Vale, a war orphan turned relic hunter, unwittingly unlocks a forbidden power hidden within a shattered world. This power, the Astralis Core, binds him to an eternal struggle between cosmic forces beyond mortal comprehension.

Hunted by interdimensional warlords, secret orders, and eldritch deities that lurk beyond reality, Orion embarks on an odyssey across galaxies and lost civilizations. With allies both human and inhuman, he must master his growing, uncontrollable abilities while uncovering the truth of his lineage.

But the multiverse is dying. The Eclipse Dominion, an enigmatic force from the abyss of time, seeks to consume existence itself. As Orion’s power awakens, so too does a voice within the Astralis Core—whispering promises of absolute dominion.

Will he become the savior of creation or its ultimate downfall?

The Last Astral Sovereign

As Lyra inscribed burning sigils into the strands above, the multiverse itself seemed to flinch. Entire realms—once static echoes—shifted with new breath. Boundaries twisted into shields, and threads once fraying curled into living glyphs.

Yet still, the Null-Touched advanced.

They moved like thoughtless inevitability—anti-patterns in motion. Their limbs bent in forgotten geometries. Their arrival cracked the symmetry of space.

Kael stood before them at the edge of the breach, blade drawn, eyes blank with focused rage. He was the wall they had never encountered, and never would understand.

"You hunger for what has no name," he muttered, stepping forward. "But I am what eats the unnamed."

Kael did not strike with steel but with absence. His blade erased—not just bodies, but intentions. Each slash did not kill; it reversed. Enemies blinked into a time before they meant to exist. Screams devoured themselves mid-birth.

Beneath them, in the Weft, Orion walked without sound.

The Weft was not a place, but a concept—a hidden layer beneath all stories. It pulsed now with green and white, shaped by the Sprout he carried. Vines grew from his spine. Light twisted around his form, and his shadow stretched the wrong way.

He was becoming something… else.

And even the Null-Touched felt it.

From their breach, they paused. Some retreated. Others howled—not in fear, but recognition.

They had consumed billions of timelines. But this one, this thread, was rejecting them. Not passively. With venom.

Orion whispered into the root-veins of the Weft. "You fed on the quiet of the dead."

A hundred stars bloomed from his fingertips.

"But I carry what grows in silence."

Above, the Sprout unleashed a pulse.

And every Null-Touched touched by it remembered for a moment what it was like to be part of something—before their shapes shattered, unable to contain the memory.

Orion rose from the Weft, cloaked in blooming thorns and fractal shadows. His eyes were stars collapsing inward. His voice, when it came, was layered in multitudes.

"I will grow what has never been."

And in that moment, he was no longer Orion.

And even Lyra—flame-wrapped and glowing—stepped back.

Because whatever he had become, it no longer answered to names.

When the Lattice Burns