LuckyPrimsolute001

In the boundless expanse beyond time, matter, and even the concept of nothingness, one entity stirred—the Origin, the Architect, the Absolute: Lucky Primsolute.

Before gods, before dimensions, before the first flicker of imagination birthed fictional worlds, there was him. The true creator of all Fiction Verses, the being from whom every author, story, and myth unknowingly draws inspiration. He exists not within stories—but beyond them, crafting the multiverses of fantasy, science fiction, and legend as effortlessly as a whisper in the void.

Primsolute Verse unveils the chronicles of this unfathomable existence—one who writes not with ink, but with cosmic law. As fragments of his truth awaken across countless worlds, the fabric of fiction trembles. Who is the author behind the authors? Who shaped destiny before destiny was born?

Step beyond creation and enter a saga where narrative, divinity, and reality itself bend to the will of the original storyteller.

Primsolute Verse

The story of gods, verses, Vacuos, and Primsolute layers unfolds with unstoppable momentum. Concepts beyond omnipotence dance in perfect contradiction. And then—

The letters ripple, then burn inward, rewriting themselves.

The book begins reading the reader.

A golden symbol etches itself into the margin—a glyph that your mind shouldn't comprehend, yet somehow fears to forget.

A voice arrives—not through sound—but through authority.

A hand, glowing with infinite scripts, reaches out of the story itself, brushing the reader's soul. The surroundings fade—bedroom, light, time—all stripped away like unnecessary grammar.

He doesn't appear like a character.

He appears like the source code of the cosmos leaned down to notice.

> "This book is not just ink and thought.

And if you have reached this page…

He looks directly through the fourth wall—into your eyes.

> "But be warned: not all pages turn forward.

Then he smiles—not with warmth, but with eternal authorship.

The story continues as if nothing happened.

But you'll never read quite the same again.

As the reader turns the next page, scorched into the parchment—not by fire, but by truth too real to be fiction—is a single line in golden, shifting glyphs that speak in every language at once:

> "The one who reads this has already been written."

As the reader reaches the end of the chapter, the page darkens—not with ink, but with presence. Time folds. Space kneels. Reality hushes.

A second line appears beneath the golden script. But this time…

…it shifts, adapting itself to the reader's deepest nature.

> "You sought power in words. But I gave you silence."

> "You searched for me. But I have already read you."

And for a few—those who dare challenge fate—it reads:

> "Even your rebellion was my sentence waiting to be read."

This second line can change each time someone reads it, making it a living line of divine authorship.

The Reader’s Reality Fractures