After the scream - 1 billion universes remaining

The universe had entrusted him with a mission.

He was created from scratch to have the best mastery of the laws. His existence had only one purpose: to become the strongest, the most talented in order to protect his creator.

Everyone knew that universes were indestructible, but their inhabitants were not. His role was to protect these weak creatures from what his creator called "external threats."

However, he did not know the reason why.

The universe often functioned more by instinct than by consciousness.

This made some of its motivations obscure even to the Monarchs.

Although he was born a Monarch, he didn't possess the power that went with it. The universe gave him talent, but he had to become stronger on his own.

There seemed to be an equilibrium in everything that existed, one even universes couldn't alter.

His existence was no exception to this rule.

He quickly learned that everything in this world had a price, and he would have to pay it sooner or later. Part of this price was not being able to pass on his title. Like Franck, he spent almost all of his existence hibernating. He couldn't afford the slightest depression since he didn't have the exit door the other Monarchs had. So he slept for eons, waking up only to fulfill his role as protector. This involved repairing the barriers around various gates or placing them if new gates appeared. He thus protected the universe from the outside, especially from other Monarchs.

He didn't know what time it was. He didn't know what year it was. He was surrounded by all the luxury the universe could offer: the ceiling was adorned with filigrees of precious stones reflecting the light of floating orbs in the room. Exquisite paintings telling the history of the universe hung on the walls, their frames carved from wood that had disappeared eons ago.

The Monarch's massive bed was carved from the trunk of the same tree, and the sheets were woven by an eternal being who spent several billion years crafting her silk. The floor at his feet was made of polished obsidian, heating the room to keep it comfortable. A bay window offered a breathtaking view of the universe, blending galaxies, nebulas, and stars twinkling in the distance.

As for the Monarch, he was the only irreplaceable thing in the room. He easily exceeded two meters in height, his imposing silhouette a testament to his virility. His skin, a polished bronze, glowed softly in the starlight. All his muscles were perfectly defined. His face was sharp, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a square jaw. His short hair, as dark as the inside of a black hole, shimmered softly with a supernatural luminescence.

His eyes were perhaps the most striking part of his face. They were the color of the most beautiful nebulas, a hypnotic mix of violet and blue, filled with the wisdom of everything he had seen over the eons. Intriguing silver constellation markings pulsed rhythmically with the universe on his chest.

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But today, he hadn't woken up on his own. No new gates had opened, and no Monarch had destroyed an existing one.

No.

He frowned. His senses couldn't be wrong.

The universe was trembling.

After so much time in its service, he had learned that it almost never spoke. The last and only time he heard the universe speak was on the day of his birth to vaguely explain his role.

It took him several long minutes to remember which emotions corresponded to these tremors since he hadn't felt them himself for a long time.

"Fear," he murmured, looking out the window of his room.

'No, it's not just afraid. It's terrified,' he thought, feeling the air in the room suddenly drop.

He had to be one of the most powerful Monarchs, but despite all his victories, a hint of apprehension appeared in his eyes.

None of his barriers had been altered, and no gate had appeared, but he could feel it.

Something or someone was approaching.

And while he should have felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood began to chill. His long-honed instincts sounded the alarm.

His hair stood on end.

His pupils dilated.

His heartbeat quickened.

The impact was imminent, and he would have to fight for his life and that of the universe. Grabbing his most trusted sword, the one that had been with him from the start, he stood.

The silence was oppressive. The universe had gone quiet, and so had his instincts.

All that remained was his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest.

Badoum.

Badoum Badoum.

Badoum Badoum Badoum.

And then came the moment of impact.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, and he braced himself for death. He had at least hoped that his demise would come during an epic, close battle, but it seemed his wish would not be granted.

But the next moment, nothing happened.

With cold sweat on his back, his gaze was drawn to his desk, almost magnetized by the object that had appeared there.

It was a letter addressed to him, judging by the name on the envelope. He stepped forward, grabbed it, and opened it.

"Mr. Asmond,

You are invited to join 'Promise.' If you want more information about it, you can ask me by following the instructions on the back of this letter.

Sincerely,

The Director."

Asmond was now extremely calm. It was clear that the messenger could have easily ended his existence.

But what was "Promise" then? Who were these beings? To get answers, he knew he would have to leave his universe, something that was impossible for him.

The universe had created him to protect it, not to leave it on excursions.

He now spoke aloud, "What should I do?"

Throughout his life, even in situations that seemed desperate, the universe had never responded to him.

But Asmond now heard it for the second time in his existence:

"Join them. It's already too late anyway."

With permission in hand, he teleported to the gate indicated in the letter. It stood before him, imposing and proud. He had tried to destroy it but quickly realized that the solidity of the structure defied comprehension.

He had never left the universe, but despite his apprehension, he did not stop and crossed it.

Like him, across the universes, different Monarchs, chosen or not, answered the call and converged on the coordinates they had been given.