The Sea of Dreams, the World Tree, the Akashic Records – countless names for a single, vast concept stretching across the seemingly infinite expanse of our narrative cosmos.

This was the epicenter of all concrete knowledge, the vault of all secrets, the archive of every memory from every creature that had ever breathed life – and of those yet to be born.

But was this concrete reality the end-all, be-all of existence? Some would argue that the abstract – love, hope, faith – held just as much, if not more, significance. Pinning down the exact meaning of the Sea of Dreams was like trying to grasp smoke, but those in the know agreed: it was a realm of reverence, respect... and terror.

Time had lost its meaning for me, a mere mortal who'd discarded her human shell to plunge into the limitless depths of the Sea of Dreams. A realm where impossibility was an obsolete term.

I am the Keeper of Memories, ensconced in my mental sanctuary – a study fabricated by my imagination to sift through the boundless knowledge of the Sea.

Even after my transcendence, I could only tap into memories within my own temporal realm. My gaze danced across the infinite bookshelves, each tome a vessel for the memories and experiences of beings of all stature – from the mighty to the meek, from the virtuous to the wicked. These were but symbols, a format allowing my still-human consciousness to comprehend such vast knowledge.

But amid the endless volumes, a select few shone with an otherworldly glow. These were the 'Protagonists,' whose tales had seared themselves indelibly into the fabric of existence. They embodied the eternal struggle of the concrete against the abstract.

The torrent of concepts and abstractions, the backbone of the Dream Space, railed against the oppression of the concrete. Balance, however, was paramount. Worlds would rise and fall, succumb to entropy, or flourish under their protagonists' guidance. Yet, a few tales were simply too compelling, too potent, too awe-inspiring to be sidelined.

Before me lay a luminescent picture book, its pages blazing with the intensity of countless suns. It narrated the tale of a young girl who could transform into a celestial Avatar. Her death was a universal tragedy, her voice forever silenced.

Or so I thought.

As I flipped the page, I was taken aback. There she was, the girl, alive and thriving past her fated demise. Her pink hair radiant, her aquamarine eyes twinkling with life. Supported by a young man with jet-black hair, his gaze filled with reverence.

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The Protagonist's luscious, wavy slate hair flowed in the wind as her green eyes conveyed a deep regret, a sentiment mirrored in the boy's unwavering determination to guard her. This was my first encounter with her adult form, a far cry from her youthful awkwardness.

Intriguing.

A Protagonist who had defied her narrative destiny. This boy, this anomaly, promised to be a captivating spectacle as events unfurled.

Contrary to popular belief, the concrete multiverse wasn't infinite, but a meticulously woven tapestry. Some threads might fray from the charted course, but many were integral, their alteration spelling catastrophe and consequences for realms beyond their own.

This girl's thread had been not only altered but the entire tapestry around it seemed re-woven. The realization hit me – this book would soon infuse itself into the World Tree, potentially transforming the course of the multiverse.

With a mix of excitement and curiosity, I closed the book. What triggered this anomaly? A random glitch or something more consequential? As the Keeper of Memories, it was my quest to untangle the complex web of the Sea of Dreams.

Protagonists were the anchors, the crucial elements that tethered the cosmic tapestry of the multiverse. Yet, this boy, this deviation, had shattered the chains of her destined path, rewriting the grand narrative. Compounding this enigma, this was a nexus world, a world that the consciousness of the Sea of Dreams had marked for particular attention. The entity that many beings would call God — the Primordial Will, had cast its gaze on the world's complete eradication, for it was a world too dangerous to its imperative to leave unabated.

Despite this, I could sense the stirrings of a fresh protagonist's tale emerging, linked to a frayed thread of the Nexus world.

It was a subtle undercurrent, but one that had piqued my interest.

Guided by this undercurrent, I reached for another book, previously overlooked. As I opened it, I was met with a pristine, blank page.

I shirked back — this had to be a mistake, for every book was a chronicle of memories, stories, and experiences of beings across the multiverse. Then, it dawned on me: this was a book waiting to be inked, a narrative yet to unfold.

A surge of exhilaration swept through me at the revelation. Witnessing the birth and evolution of a story was a rare and cherished privilege. I sank into my chair, aligning my thoughts with the Sea of Dreams and its infinite possibilities.

As I did, words began to unfurl across the blank page before me, sketching the contours of a fresh saga. This book lacked the dazzling radiance of the celestial songstress and her guardian's tale, yet the pages emanated a muted glow, hinting at a unique tale within.

I scanned the burgeoning words on the page, a smile of anticipation playing on my lips.

A new odyssey was on the horizon, and I was eager to uncover the astonishing surprises it held. My smile faltered as I traced the narrative threads of this world against the Grand Tapestry.

Like numerous tales that glowed amidst the infinite bookshelves, ominous blue tendrils of entropy snaked their way through, poised to disintegrate the very essence of this world.

One truth remained unwavering: the Primordial Will would claim its due.

Only the relentless march of time would reveal whether the inhabitants of this world had the fortitude to withstand its touch.