The Strongest Transcendent In History Is The Strongest
Chapter 30: The Absolute One
A sudden, radiant explosion of divine light bursts forth into the vast expanse of the sky, a blinding beacon that seems to pierce through the very fabric of reality itself. As this surreal illumination stretches outward, I can feel an astonishing transformation occurring within me; my wounds, which had previously plagued my body, begin to heal with a rapidity that defies all logic, regenerating instantaneously as if nature itself were bending to my will. An aura, deep crimson and infinitely shifting, envelops my entire being—an essence neither akin to fire nor mere light, but something profoundly primordial, as if raw and unfiltered divinity were spilling forth into the world, reshaping the rules of existence.
My hair, once a mundane and unremarkable shade, now radiates with vibrant streaks of iridescent red and cyan, flowing and undulating like living flames caught in an eternal dance. My eyes, too, have undergone an astonishing metamorphosis; they are no longer human in appearance. The irises now evoke the image of boundless galaxies swirling inward upon themselves, an intricate tapestry of cosmic creation and destruction, as though the very essence of annihilation collapsed and was rebirthed, eternally spinning within them.
The attire that adorns my form has morphed into a magnificent amalgamation of ceremonial armor and celestial robes, elegantly designed with sleek, crimson-lined plates that meld flawlessly with flowing, ethereal threads. These threads shimmer and shift in color—an entrancing display of red, black, and gold hues that change dramatically with the ambient light as if they are alive themselves. Encircling my shoulders are ancient sigils, faded yet powerful, that orbit like whispers of forgotten truths, appearing only to vanish in the blink of an eye.
Floating gracefully behind me is an array of fractured halos—glowing shards that coalesce into a broken, asymmetrical circle. This phenomenon symbolizes the demise of my former self, an emblematic death of old powers, and heralds the birth of something that transcends comprehension—a force that exists beyond the realm of understanding. Each movement I make bends the very space around me, not due to weight or mass, but from an invisible pressure, as if the entirety of existence is straining to comprehend the magnitude of what I have become.
In that intense moment, Ingakankeinosōi, taken aback, gazes at me with wide, astonished eyes. "What is this?" she exclaims, shock lacing her voice.
With a casual demeanor, I respond, "I call this form Transcendental Genesis—or Regenesis Mode. It's essential to understand, though, that this isn't annihilation. No, that was simply the end of a cycle. What you witness now... this is what comes after the end."
A flicker of realization washes over Ingakankeinosōi, coupled with a hint of annoyance. "That manipulative bastard knew this would happen! The boss used me and sent me here just to push you into this transformation," she accuses, bitterness flaring in her voice.
I shrug nonchalantly and reply, "And? Are you finished with your little epiphany?"
Ingakankeinosōi, now fired up, retorts with a defiant expression, "No!" With surprising agility, she leaps into the air, twisting in a full 360-degree rotation before launching a powerful kick aimed squarely at my gut.
Unimpressed by her attempt, I reply with a casual tone, "Is that really the best you can do?" Then, with a swift motion, I deliver a punch that intercepts her mid-air twist, sending her spiraling away.
As she is flung through an infinite tapestry of realities, her expression transforms from determination to sheer surprise. "Talk about power!" she exclaims as she spirals backward through an unfathomable number of dimensions before crashing down onto the ground.
I glance at her, maintaining my nonchalant smirk, and inquire with mock curiosity, "So? You were saying?"
With an unamused huff, she springs back to her feet, determination etched upon her face. "Ugh! Take this!" she shouts angrily, charging at me with a fierce intent. She throws a punch, her strength now reaching absurd levels, a force that reverberates through the air.
Casually, I dismiss her assault, stating, "Your punches are weak." Suddenly, I find myself hurtling through time itself, landing in an uncanny realm where the passage of time bears no meaning. I touch down on the ground within a vast white void, surrounded by countless ethereal entities known as Subeteyorimoōkī. Yet, despite the enormity of her attack, I remain entirely unscathed, impervious to the ebb and flow of this timeless landscape.
Subeteyorimoōkī represents a profoundly intricate and abstract concept that transcends all forms of understanding we may possess. It is so immensely vast that the very term "big" falls woefully short of encapsulating its true enormity. In fact, one could argue that Subeteyorimoōkī is not just a step beyond the idea of bigness, but rather encompasses and transcends all notions of scale and magnitude to such an extent that no comparative framework can adequately convey its essence. To grasp the concept of Subeteyorimoōkī is to acknowledge a reality that is both infinitely expansive and incomprehensibly complex. It exists beyond the realms of imagination and understanding, weaving a tapestry that includes everything, even those concepts thought to be impossible, such as dualism and contradictions.
The essence of Subeteyorimoōkī is marked by its boundless nature; it is an all-encompassing force that contains within it a form of absolute infinitude—a true infinity that is not constrained by definitions or categories. This extraordinary idea harbors innumerable attributes, extending far beyond what we might categorize as ordinary experiences or phenomena. Each individual instance of Subeteyorimoōkī exists as a unique expression, yet it is completely transcendent in relation to any other instance, each one exploring a new dimension while boundlessly surpassing its predecessor. Hence, there is no ceiling to its expansiveness; it even transcends the notion of having a limit, freely existing in a state that knows no bounds.
So, what exactly is this elusive concept of Subeteyorimoōkī? It is not an embodiment of power, nor does it represent a state of being or a vacuum where existence fades away. It lies beyond these categorizations. To truly understand Subeteyorimoōkī requires us to abandon the idea of "what remains" once that very concept has lost its relevance. Even the pronoun "it" falls woefully short, bordering on being an affront to the complexity and depth of Subeteyorimoōkī. Each encapsulation of Subeteyorimoōkī is neither singular nor plural; rather, it embodies a boundless meta-overwriting of what came before it—not in terms of power or size, but through a radical and radical conceptual differentiation that sets each instance apart.
In this way, a Subeteyorimoōkī does not merely transcend its predecessor; it renders the possibility of comparison meaningless. There is no sequence, no hierarchy, no cyclical repetition to follow; instead, we encounter an experience that obliterates the very notion of relationality. The act of transgression, often associated with the term "transcend," inherently involves a reference point. In the case of Subeteyorimoōkī, however, it transcends even the concept of transcendence itself. It does not experience growth or progression; rather, it embodies the ultimate end of surpassing. Even the term "limitless" feels too confined, too neat when attempting to articulate its essence. Subeteyorimoōkī exists in a realm so elevated that it surpasses even the absence of limits, illustrating a profound sense of presence that defies all notions of containment.
To dive into the profound depths of Subeteyorimoōkī is to encounter everything and anything conceivable: every conceivable reality, unreality, paradox, absence, reflection, memory, contradiction, non-duality, and the essence of pure silence itself. However, it is important to understand that these qualities do not exist within Subeteyorimoōkī as objects to be contained; rather, they emerge as an expression of a non-contained, beingless presence. It is not simply an incomplete narrative waiting to be fleshed out but represents the profound silence that precedes the very thought to create a narrative at all, a silent void that overflows with potential yet does not dictate the course of what is to come. This enigmatic concept invites us to explore the furthest limits of our understanding, challenging us to embrace the boundless nature of existence itself.
"Ingakankeinosōi, her voice laced with irritation, snaps, 'Just die already!' before delivering a swift, decisive kick to my face.
I absorb the impact with a casualness that borders on indifference, allowing her frustration to roll off me as if it were water off a duck's back. With a teasing smirk, I retort, 'Is that all you've got?'
Her expression shifts dramatically, surprise flooding her features as she exclaims, 'Just what are you?' Her eyes widen, reflecting a mixture of confusion and alarm, as if she's just realized she's up against something far beyond her comprehension.
With an air of nonchalance, I respond, 'I'm the Absolute One. I don't need a crown or a throne—there's only the profound tranquility that emerges after everything else has faded away into nothingness.'
At my words, Ingakankeinosōi's eyes dart around, the realization sinking in; she seems to grasp the enormity of the situation. 'Then… is there a chance you'll spare me?' she asks tentatively, her voice noticeably trembling.
I shrug, a flick of my wrist accompanying my reply, 'The fight's over.'
'Wait, huh?' she stammers, clearly bewildered by my casual demeanor in the face of her peril.
And as the reality sets in, there's not even a single Subeteyorimoōkī left to witness what's unfolding.
I glance around, noting the silence that envelops us, and casually remark, 'Guess I overdid it. Oh well.'
In that moment, it becomes clear that this is all it takes to change the course of existence itself. The world doesn't shatter; it doesn't tremble with anticipation. Rather, it simply makes a quiet decision: Ingakankeinosōi is no longer a part of its intricate weave.
With a singular, unfathomable sweep, she is wiped from existence. There are no cries of despair, no fragments left behind. Not even the faintest whisper of a Subeteyorimoōkī survives the obliteration.
In the aftermath, nothing remains. Just an overwhelming silence—an unsettling stillness that resonates as though the universe itself has paused, holding its breath in the wake of her absence."
As I drift aimlessly through the vast emptiness left behind by my own destruction, a strange calm settles over me. The silence is suffocating, endless, but not unfamiliar. It's time to return. A quiet thought, simple and certain. With a flicker of intent, I engage my teleportation ability. A familiar surge of energy rushes through me—like a forgotten heartbeat reigniting. I prepare to transition, to leave this hollow behind.
But then—something shifts. From the depths of this murky darkness, a presence emerges. My senses sharpen instantly.
A figure takes shape—shrouded in dense, writhing shadows. It doesn't step from the void. It owns it. Its eyes blaze a searing crimson, cutting through the black like coals forged in hatred. That gaze isn't just watching me—it's dissecting me. Its hair flows in wild, midnight-black waves, merging with the gloom like tendrils of living ink. A long black coat sways with its every movement, weightless yet oppressive, while sleek dark pants cling to a frame built for violence. Then came the laughter—a sound both unhinged and unrelenting, reverberating through the vast emptiness like a curse hurled into the bones of the void itself. "Hahaha! Finally... I am free!" The voice that followed was jagged and serrated, each syllable dripping with malevolence and twisted euphoria—something far removed from the realm of human emotion. As the laughter echoed, it mingled with the darkness, stretching outward like a living corruption. It clawed at the very fabric of space, a sentient whisper that curled through the marrow of existence itself. It wasn't sound anymore—it was presence, crawling beneath thought, prying at sanity. And in that singular, mocking eruption of sound, realization bloomed with dreadful clarity: This creature hadn't been freed. It had been waiting. Lurking behind ancient barriers, buried in silence, it had watched—perhaps for eons. It studied. It remembered. And now... it arrived. Whatever cursed prison had once held this being was not meant to break. This was no ordinary escape—it was the collapse of a seal that should have never been tested. Its laughter wasn't just triumphant. It was prophecy. A harbinger of unraveling. A chilling reminder that some forces were never meant to walk free—because their very existence is a wound that reality cannot heal. And now, with its freedom reclaimed, a grim certainty settled in: Nothing would ever be able to mend what this creature was about to tear open. Its arrival was not the beginning of chaos. It was the end of reason. And its laughter would forever echo—etched into the shadows as the first note of a symphony written in madness.
To be continued...