There was no strategic mind behind the maddened floor guardian; it was simply an unstoppable force of death. From each of its limbs that sprouted from its ever changing body, abyssal weapons were formed, cleaving through the pillars that held the ceiling. Though Jason maneuvered his way through the chaotic swings amidst isolated time, the same couldn’t be said for the specters he summoned as the blades of the deity swept through them with ease.

Jason sprinted across the room as the clocks painted on his body accelerated, bursting with heightened speed before he leapt towards the unhinged guardian.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Nose spurted from the man’s nose as he glided through the air, keeping his hands clasped together as he closed in on the rampaging deity.

‘Running out of time. Ironic, ain’t it?--’ He thought.

Inside of his chest, his heart beat with such rapidity that it felt as though it may explode, though his smile never faded, almost seeming to widen in the perilous situation. The thoughtless deity howled, catching sight of the Invictus as he closed in, contorting its own body into that of a colossal maw.

It was as if staring directly into the very gateway into death; a pitch-black swirl that inspired only emptiness.

“You’re a bit too wild, so I’m going to need to take you away from my comrades,” Jason said, keeping his palms pressed together as crimson fluid dripped over his lips.

[“Akashic Record Recall: Utopia”]

Strands of light encircled the man of colorless hair, expanding and stretching out with images imprinted on them, moving not like paintings, but as glimpses into sceneries around the world altogether: fields of luscious grass, stretches of ashen ground and volcanic mounds, and even boundless seas.

The imprinted memories of distant lands continued to expand before Jason reached his hand up, grasping one such representation, “This’ll do.”

Even the deity presiding over death fell still in utter confusion as the scenery of the dark, dreadful temple was overridden by a void of white light, quickly replaced by a new sight altogether.

It was only himself and the entity, now standing upon a field of emerald grass in a region swarmed with trees far too big, each of them dwarfing any man made architecture.

“...What?...I am…free?” The guardian looked around with eyes that existed only as darkened swirls, finding a scenery of colossal trees of pale, sapphire leaves towering around them.

Jason stood across from the entity that stuck out like a sore thumb in the bright, tranquil territory, though stumbled somewhat as blood squirted from his nose and ears, huffing. The “One Consigned to Oblivion” stood there, multiple meters tall with a body that could hardly be described as humanoid, only of blackened flesh with an animal skeleton clinging to its shape. It reached its hand out, watching as if in a trance as one of the azure leaves swayed in the air, descending upon its hand.

As soon as the frond made contact with it, the gentle extension of nature crumbled away into nothing but dust to be carried away by a soft breeze.

“...Ah…” The sanity-depriven deity let out a sad noise, watching the leaf fade away.

The man lifted his goggles, breathing out with a smile as he used his thumb to wipe the blood away from his nose, “Free? Don’t get the wrong idea. I brought you here because I wouldn’t be able to do what I’m about to do with the others there–I’ll see for myself if a god of death can die.”

Once more, the memories of the universe were tapped into as the man brought his bloodstained hands together. His own memory manifested itself into a tangible glance; a stream of images, fragments of the powerful comrades he fought alongside and their fantastical abilities, alongside even the enemy he faced.

‘One day…No, I need more–the past week. I’ll recall everything from in the past week–every attack I’ve witnessed,’ he resolved.

In the fabricated sky, colossal seals of bright, white light were etched into the air, spreading out in over a dozen spots around the illusionary battlefield. Though the deity looked like a frightened beast, unknowing of its opponent’s plan, it attempted to lung towards Jason.

“Ahh–” The death deity was flung back by an unforeseen collision with a solid blow.

Intercepting the bestial deity were phantoms of time; the musclebound Invictus of Hercules held his fist out, having been the one to knock the godly figure back with his fist.

Jason stood tall as blood leaked from his nose and ears, soon dripping even other pores, forcing himself to remain on both feet as his body trembled.

‘...Come on…’ He thought.

Around him, reels of the points in time he recalled flashed by: the blazing wrath of Beowulf, the peerless strength of Alcides, the uncaring aim of Vanya, the electrifying power of Sirius, and even the inescapable end of the death deity.

All of their attacks he had witnessed, etched into the archives of time, were reminisced by the universe, called into reality once more, into a single point guided by the hand of the Invictus.

Jason inhaled as veins pressed against his bleeding body, pointing his index finger towards the perplexed entity across from him as the complex seals each slid into place in front of his vision.

[“Akashic Record Recall: Singularity”]

In his hand, a sphere of perfect light, far too bright to look at, shined with a sublimity beyond comprehension. Off of it poured the fragments of recreated memories; embers of fire and strands of lightning.

It was the culmination of every attack he recently witnessed, the raw energy of those abilities merged into one point.

“This is the strength of humanity–alone, our efforts may not be enough, but together…that’s when it all starts making sense,” Jason claimed with a smile, holding the coalescence of destructive memories above his fingertip, “I’m not special. All I do is bring it all together. That’s why I was brought here, to this faraway era.”

The entity of the end lunged itself forth, releasing any semblance of a coherent form as its body expanded and warped, contorting in every direction as it howled with a range of tones.

“Freedom! You can’t keep me there any longer–I will be free!” The deity’s voice screamed, rippling through the false wind like that of a storm.

Jason maintained his composure as crimson fluid leaked from his orifices, guiding the coalescence of divine energy forth through the rotating seals of magecraft that acted like that of an amplifying barrel, “Freedom? Sure thing.”

As the riptide of abyssal force tore away at the fabricated fields, uplifting chunks of soil as the scattering limbs of the deity burrowed forth, the Invictus of Chronos felt himself being lifted as the ground beneath his feet broke apart and bulged upward.

With a snap of his fingers, he released the culmination, allowing it to erupt into a peerless flash of light. A blinding radiance, yet through that veil of white brightness, the will of those whose strength was recalled was unmistakably felt.

Blazing heroism, shocking pridefulness, unending bloodlust–the emotions of those that unleashed such force permeated through the recalled power, surging forth as a rampaging storm of eradication.

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There were no screams of agony that could be heard from the entity as the ray of ever-shining light ripped through the fabricated territory; only the rumbles of the false world filled his ears, quivering beneath the colossal quake of power.

As the man guided the unrefined flood forth, blood spewed from his orifices as if being squeezed out of him, yet he forced himself to remain standing, seeing it through.

Everything.

It was everything he had; more than just his own strength, but that of his comrades as well, condensed into that single attack as the false territory crumbled away like glass to a hammer. The magnificent light faded, nothing left to be seen of the harrowing entity.

“...Hff…”

Jason wobbled, finding his vision blurred as his eyes were dyed with his own blood, his face drenched in the crimson fluid that seeped out. The tattoos on his skin peeled away like ash to wind, his clockwork eyes returning to their normal gaze. He stood in the abyssal temple, surrounded by the sight of his fallen comrades once again, however–

“...What a joke…” Jason mumbled.

Before him, he saw it: a mass of blackened flesh, as small as a marble, yet rapidly expanding and bulging out from various points. The walls of the guardian’s abode crumbled away, revealing only a boundless darkness that stretched on forevermore.

Death itself; the wicked, empty domain of the forgotten god, lost to time, unknowing of worship. In that void, it was everywhere; the presence of the malevolent entity, devoid of rationality or mercy. It felt as though a pressure as cold as ice pressed down upon him, looking down at his hands; his fingers began to wrinkle, starting from the tip and slowly traversing down the middle.

“I see. So, that’s how it is,” he mumbled.

The unavoidable concept of death weighed down, aging even the tiles that made up the floor.

Lonesome in his stand, he looked around, seeing even the most reliable of his comrades succumbing to the end of their journeys. Those devoid of the highest blessings were reduced to nothing but bone, soon to ash, within moments, while the Invictus’ lost all color in their body, sapped of all life.

Jason could feel his body aging, even against the bubble of time that protected his flesh. He slid the visor from his head, letting them drop onto the ground as he stared at the boundless void before him.

‘It’s no wonder the gods locked something like this away–but then why entrust us to overcome it? Were we ever meant to win? It’s impossible,’ He thought.

As the dreadful sight filled his view, as utter dread etched itself into the boundaries, a small, shaken smile somehow appeared yet again on the man’s lips as he placed his hand over his heart. The tempo of his core organ weakened; its beat that once drummed with life was now that of a muted whisper.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“...It’d be impossible, if I wasn’t here,” he claimed to himself.

Once more–

Once more, disregarding his flesh–

Once more, beyond the means of his heart–

“Chronos!”

The divine moniker was torn from his throat as if his body wanted to squelch the name. Through his body, the radiant power reawakened as if ignited but by a fleeting spark. Blood immediately lunged from his interior, spat out as he placed his hand over his heart.

It felt as though a hand squeezed it from within his chest, restricting it even as it began thumping with an unmatched tempo.

“Akashic Record…Open!” Jason commanded with a voice slurred by the blood in his mouth, lifting his hand above his head.

Amidst the overwhelming darkness that swallowed all hope, a new light arose; rays of light that extended from the last man standing, extending outward and upward like the branches of an everlasting cedar.

‘I am merely the librarian, observing and calling upon what has been written…But, just this once, I’ll write it myself–my perfect win,’ he thought.

The archive of the universe; the fundamental foundation of reality–its branches revealed the boundless possibilities among bounded happenings. Jason held this opened source as the language of time spoke to him, and he spoke to it, moving his hands as he guided the streams of pale-white, silken eras across his fingertips.

‘I’ve never considered myself a hero. I really dislike most people, truthfully. Even less, the people of this era aren’t my own…I’m a stranger here. Still, I’ve got people I care about in a time far away from right now, but they won’t get to laze around if the top of Yggdrasil isn’t eventually reached. Somethin’ lurks up there, beyond that fake sky. That’s all I know,’ Jason thought.

It was a scenery that resembled a tranquil winter snow, as the droplets of time resembled that of flakes, raining down gently, woven into something anew by the one who guided time. Among the fragments of space around him that reflected the unbound time he looked into, he could see himself; his childhood years, his unruly time as a teen, and even a point which not experienced, a version of himself covered in wrinkles and aged.

Refracted by the gentle waves of time, he found himself looking at a beloved sight: a young woman with illustrious, silken hair of a dark-brown shade, with eyes that resembled sapphires.

Jason only smiled as crimson fluid wept from his body, looking up at the abyssal ceiling, “I always wished for that day to come, where I could return to your side–a time where we could grow old together and we could watch the sunset together.”

With little strength left in his body, his arm, wrinkled by the flood of death, reached out before his fist shut close.

[“Akashic Record: Set”]

The moment he set in stone the reality in which the archive of time was recorded, a hum sang within his body, feeling a weightlessness take hold of him. It was what he knew was coming; the expected result of his actions.

Altering the Akashic Record was the grandest taboo for a keeper of time, a fundamental abuse of universal balance. In accordance with such an act, the exhausted man slumped down, watching as his fingertips began to fade away into nothing.

Jason looked over at the man that laid lifelessly across the chamber, holding a fading smile, “You better not waste this, Sirius. This is my wager on your success.”

Once more, he closed his eyes as the color in his body was whispered away, crumbling like a dandelion to a soft breath.

[“I’m just sick of witnessing it. Even if it’s a faraway miracle to dream upon, I’ll push it along with my meager wish–let this cycle of heroes end.”]

The miserable scenery of death was one no longer; only a time now forgotten by the memory of the archive. A mere nightmare, forgotten forevermore.

–

Sirius’ own nose began to leak blackened blood, dripping from his ears as well, yet his smile remained unfading as he allowed his original creation to be flung forth. Its brilliant form from the union of two gods filled the hollow room with a radiance.

[Zeus ⚪ Hyperion: Fulminating Lance of The Burning Star]

“Let’s see–does death fear death?!” Sirius announced with a wild smile, infused with how unparalleled belief in his own strength, his hair blowing in the heated winds.

The Invictus of Zeus tossed his arm forth, guiding the magnificent creation towards the forgotten deity. There was something that added weight to his boot as it slammed against the ground, turning his shoulder as he tossed the majestic unison of fire and lightning.

“Death will!--”

There was no opportunity for the elusive entity of the end to launch its own counterattack, as guided by traces of a will forgotten, but not gone, the divine lance burned with a greatness like that of a shining sun.

[It was by [-----] that a single, undeniable truth was etched into the universe’s soul: “Sirius will win.” Even if the spear must bend the world in half to reach its target, even if it should crumble before the deity’s presence, even if it should burn eternally, that truth would be reached.]

Abyssal waves were cast away by the scathing light, the frail attempts to stop it were crushed by the pressure of the evolved attack, leaving only one outcome:

“Grrruuah!--”

A shrill scream that shifted between high and low pitches howled from the maw of the forgotten deity–the unstoppable spear pierced through its chest. For the first time, a look of worry manifested on the lapsed entity’s mind, attempting to grab at the ethereal lance that pinned it to the wall.

The strands of radiant lightning electrified it, the swirling flames burned it from the inside out, its form being resolved to decrepit ash.

[The flaming, lightning-engulfed spear struck the one who presided over death itself with the very concept it embodied. That was the will of [-----]: the Akashic Record’s truth.]

For a moment, even the peerlessly confident man found himself surprised by the fact that the burning spear of unstable lightning thwarted the deity. More than just burning zeal infused the divinity-slaying bolt; Sirius felt it, but more a mere moment–the will of one he could not remember.

He looked over his shoulder, for but just a split-second seeing an unknown figure with snow-white hair and standout goggles. Sirius opened his mouth to say something, as if he knew the name of the stranger, though no name came to mind.

Nobody stood there.

“I…” Sirius stopped for a moment, looking at his glove.

“You did it!”

A heavy, musclebound arm slung itself around the victorious adventure’s shoulder, coming from the one blessed by peerless strength–Alcides.

[For the first time in history, the thirtieth floor of the Tower of Yggdrasil has now been reached. By some miracle, not a single adventurer lost their life. Though to the one crowned the hero of the expedition, Sirius felt as though something had slipped away.]