Ashborn floated in the void, calmly watching as timelines, parallel realities, and dimensions began to bloom from the reborn universe, all forged from shadow.
"I only need one universe," Ashborn said lightly, sensing how every passing instant birthed infinite shadow timelines, parallel worlds, and new realities all in this one universe, all anchored to their sovereign..
'Wait… I can fuse universes together. So why not gather as many as I can?' Ashborn smirked at the thought, his shadow rippling outward. With a wave of his hand, he created countless clones of himself, each one vanishing into the multiverse. One by one, the clones began to resurrect every universe that had ever died—worlds long lost to time, wiped out in ancient wars, or devoured by cosmic catastrophes.
And there were many. So many that it would be enough to recreate Eternity several times over.
After all, every universe was a single cell within the cosmic being known as Eternity. How many cells had Eternity lost over the eons? How many multiverses had been erased, forgotten, or consumed? The number was vast, so vast that they could recreate Eternity countless times over.
You ask how such a thing was possible? Understand this: A mere human, fragile and fleeting, would shed enough of himself in a century to rebuild his body a billion times over.
What then of Eternity—the boundless titan who cradled infinite worlds within his breast? Each moment, countless universes flickered and died, nameless and unmourned, falling like sparks into the void. It was the nature of all things. Loss was inevitable. Death was inevitable. Until he came. Until Ashborn spoke.
"Fuse." The word was not a sound. It was a command woven into the roots of existence. And reality obeyed.
Every fragment of every dead universe, every forgotten timeline, every shattered dream of existence gathered into Ashborn's endless shadow.
There, hidden from the gaze of gods and abstracts alike, the dead were called to rise. The abstracts themselves, the living principles of reality, were bound in this resurrection.
Eternity fused with every splinter of itself across infinity. Infinity, Death, Life, even the lonely specters of Entropy and Destiny—all merged with their echoes from broken realms, becoming… more.
Mistress Death, the silent keeper of ends, fused with all her fallen shadows, becoming something vaster than the Mistress who once presided over the Omniverse itself.
And so it went: gods reforged, worlds reborn, a new Omniverse woven inside the folds of Ashborn's darkness.
No cosmic scream heralded it. No Watcher dared record it. It was too vast. Too sacred. A new cradle of existence, unseen by all, except by its Sovereign. Ashborn had not merely conquered a world or a multiverse. He had become the womb and tomb of creation itself.
***
Returning to his universe, Ashborn immediately sensed how Supergirl and the others had already begun filling it with life. To truly anchor this reborn world, however, they had needed a Death from another universe to claim this place as her home, along with the gods of death—or risk a flood of zombies overtaking it once again.
Sitting lazily upon the throne of Asgard, Ashborn let his gaze sweep across the empty halls. His voice, carried by the powers of shadow itself, echoed outward, weaving through reality and dragging those hidden in the dark into the light.
"I'm curious… why none of you ever came to speak with me. And by 'you,' I mean all of you," Ashborn said calmly.
In response, the throne room filled with presences—some vast, some subtle, but none able to resist the summons. Before Ashborn appeared, Eternity, Infinity, the Lords of Chaos and Order, the In-Betweener, Entropy, and the many other abstracts who upheld the very workings of this universe.
Yet one was notably absent. Death herself. Had she been here from the beginning, perhaps the whole zombie plague would never have happened.
Other than them, there were also Those Who Sit Above in Shadow, along with many others. But it was Those Who Sit Above in Shadow who drew Ashborn's main focus, for these beings were truly terrifying in strength.
How strong?
To put it into perspective, someone like Galactus, on the grand scale of power, stood beneath entities like the Lords of Chaos and Order. Yet once he evolved into Lifebringer Galactus, he was able to defeat both Lords, elevating him to the level of Eternity himself, not just on a universal scale, but across the omniversal plane.
And yet, Those Who Sit Above in Shadow viewed gods like Odin and the entire Asgardian pantheon as mere playthings. They existed outside of reality, in the Outside, a realm where even Lifebringer Galactus could not endure for long. It made sense, given that these beings were, in truth, the Beyonders, making Rune King Thor's feat of standing as their equal or superior all the more impressive.
"What are you after?" they demanded, struggling against the shadows binding them. But their efforts were in vain. Although Ashborn's powers were still undergoing fusion and couldn't be fully unleashed, he could still issue commands—and the shadows would obey, for he was their sovereign.
And even if they had possessed the strength to break free, Ashborn still held the ultimate trump card: the full might of his Shadow Omniverse waiting to be unleashed.
"I don't like outside influences meddling with my domain. So tell me—are we allies? Or should I pay your domain a visit and start a bloodbath?" Ashborn asked with a relaxed, almost lazy smile.
"You're not with those aiming to destroy Eternity, are you? Why would we destroy our own source of power?" one of them—seemingly their leader—replied.
To that, Ashborn simply nodded in understanding. He knew exactly what they were: parasites feeding off Asgard itself.
The realm of Asgard existed in an endless cycle of death and rebirth, and Those Who Sit Above in Shadow thrived on the energy released by Ragnarök, ensuring the cycle continued just so they could keep feeding.
"They were not born as Beyonders. They were created by the stories of the Asgardians—myths that eventually became reality," Eternity said calmly.
Ashborn glanced at him for a moment before releasing him from the shadow binding the Abstracts. "Is that true?" Ashborn asked, his expression curious.
Though clearly unwilling, the five nodded in confirmation. "So long as the Asgardians exist, we shall exist," their leader explained. "That is why we tried to convince the other Beyonders to abandon their plans. We are not their allies—we were born here. Our fate is bound to Eternity itself."
Ashborn fell silent, thinking deeply about their words.
"Why do the Beyonders want to destroy the omniverse? And what exactly are the Beyonders in the first place?" Ashborn asked.
"The Beyonders were created by the Celestials," the leader of Those Who Sit Above In Shadows said calmly. "From the First Firmament to now, they have overseen everything. In fact, the reason Earth became the center of so many cosmic events is because of them. When the First Firmament sent some of its Aspirants to invade the Seventh Cosmos, the Omegas developed the reality-warping Concordance Engines to draw 'miracles' to Earth—so that the resulting superheroes could defend against the Aspirants."
"Aspirants?" Ashborn asked, a confused look flashing across his face.
"They're also called the Dark Celestials," Eternity added, to which Ashborn nodded in understanding. The Dark Celestials were those who had sided with the First Firmament, while the Celestials everyone knew sided against it.
'How the hell were the Beyonders able to defeat the Living Tribunal then? I guess I'll just have to see it for myself,' Ashborn thought to himself.
"As for why they want to destroy Eternity…" the leader continued, "it's because the current Eternity isn't strong enough to face the danger that's coming. They hope that by destroying him, the Eighth Cosmos will be born stronger."
Eternity frowned at those words. He hadn't known this. As the Seventh Cosmos, he was the strongest incarnation compared to those that came before him.
"Who is it?" Ashborn asked with genuine interest.
"Enigma," the leader of the five said. "A being who transcends even the likes of Eternity… and most importantly, even we, the Beyonders, cannot stop it. Its rise is inevitable. This is a being who fuses Magic, Science, DNA, and Cosmic Power together to achieve something it calls Dominionhood, and it's something that can't be stopped from being born."
Ashborn's eyebrow rose in interest. Hearing that something like Dominionhood existed within Marvel genuinely intrigued him.
"Enigma Dominion existed even before its own creation," the leader continued. "And even now, it is pulling the strings across the timeline to ensure its birth. Its clones, scattered through time, each pursue one of the four paths — Magic, Science, DNA, and Cosmic Power. Once all four are obtained, Enigma will act freely upon Eternity itself."
He paused grimly before delivering the next part.
"Its first step would be the destruction of the Phoenix Force. Even weakened by us, the Phoenix would die, and not a birth it came back from. After that… there's a very real chance all of creation could end."
Everyone stood silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. None had expected something so vast, so devastating, to be lurking just beyond their understanding.
"How does this thing compare to something like the Black Winter?" Ashborn asked with genuine interest.
What was the Black Winter? It was essentially Galactus, but on a far bigger scale. While Galactus devoured planets, the Black Winter devoured entire universes. It was known as the true Death, the very end of the Omniversal second cosmos.
"What?" The leader of the five couldn't help but laugh slightly, amused by the comparison.
"The Black Winter is but an angry jelly baby compared to Enigma," he said. Ashborn simply sighed, waving the five away, uninterested in wasting more time.
"So," Ashborn said, voice low and calm, "one side fights to prevent the end of creation… and the other — you five — would rather cling to your own survival, no matter the cost." His smile sharpened into something cruel, the mockery in his eyes unmistakable.
"You should leave," Ashborn said, his tone dropping to a lethal softness. "Before I kill you where you stand… and claim your shadows as my own."
He leaned back in his throne, his gaze like a blade. "Mark my words. Set foot in my domain without permission… and you will not leave alive."
"…W-wait, since you'll have one of everyone from across the omniverse living here, we could survive too — so long as you bring the Asgardians here," one of the five said desperately, causing the others to turn their hopeful eyes toward Ashborn.
"Why on earth would I help selfish fools like you?" Ashborn replied coldly, his gaze sharp. "You see yourselves as more important than life itself… I don't. Low-lives who judge worse than those you feed upon. Thor, Odin, the others — beings who could face death with a smile and pride. How on earth did they give birth to trash like you?"
Ashborn leaned back slightly, his disdain clear. "What do you even have to offer me? Power? I have more than enough. I don't need anything from worms like you."
"We offer our loyalty," they said, lowering their heads.
The act caught Ashborn off guard for a moment, but after a brief pause, he nodded slightly, accepting their submission. He then turned his attention toward the gathered abstracts of the universe.
"Why isn't the Living Tribunal among you?" Ashborn asked, his voice calm but firm. "Wasn't there supposed to be a Living Tribunal overseeing every universe?"
"Not this one. Otherwise, the zombie outbreak would have never happened," Eternity said lightly. "Without the embodiment of the cosmic laws here, everything fell into chaos.
Ashborn frowned slightly, studying them. "Why are you all acting like this?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. It wasn't just Eternity—every abstract present seemed unusually obedient, almost as if they already saw him as their sovereign.
"You have conquered this universe. We are simply giving you the respect you deserve," Eternity said calmly.
Ashborn raised an eyebrow. If things kept going like this, wouldn't his ego explode to unmatched heights? He couldn't help but wonder… why hadn't the system given him any reward for conquering this universe yet?
Just as Ashborn fell deep into thought, he suddenly sensed something shifting. The Death that Raven and the others had brought into this universe was bonding with it, restoring the concept of death itself. At the same time, the abstract entity of Life, which had previously perished, was also being reborn.
Once all of the abstracts were restored, bringing balance back to the universe, Ashborn sensed the formation of the universal Living Tribunal. With its emergence, new laws were established—laws that all abstracts were now bound to follow. The cycle of life and death was reestablished, and with the Living Tribunal overseeing everything, the abstracts began working seamlessly together, ensuring the universe operated smoothly.
{Congratulations, host, on becoming the Ruler of the Universe. You have been rewarded with a new title.
Title: [Sovereign's Domain]
Title Effect: Within your domain, your strength is vastly enhanced. Just as Odin holds greater power in Asgard, or Dormammu reigns supreme within his dimension, the same applies to you. Within your universe, your strength is increased by 100 times. You hold complete control over all abstracts within your domain.}
Ashborn shuddered as the surge of power crushed into him, a weight unlike anything he had ever carried. His universe bent around him, his will woven into every corner of existence. One by one, the abstracts froze as if time itself had halted their breath, their chains to their higher selves severed.
They were no longer concepts. They were part of his will. But before Ashborn could even savor the overwhelming authority he now held, a whisper crawled along the edges of reality—an instinct beyond thought. His head snapped upward, sight piercing through the multiverse itself, and what he witnessed froze even him.
A slaughter beyond comprehension had begun.
The Beyonders, those aberrations that existed outside even Eternity's reach, moved like silent executioners. They ripped through the universal abstracts, tearing down the skeletal framework of reality as if it were paper.
Each strike erased not only a being but the very laws that being represented. Gravity, light, time, life, death—gutted and consumed. Whole multiverses trembled and collapsed under the Beyonders' advance, the omniverse bleeding from a thousand wounds invisible to mortal minds.
The Living Tribunal rose. Not with the might of law reborn, but with the hollow weight of duty clinging to a broken frame. It knew, oh, it knew, that its time had passed. That the wound cut into the omniverse could never be mended by its hands.
Yet it moved. Not because it believed it could win, but because it must stand. For it would create a path for the heroes, those small ants that seemed extremely weak, yet always find a way to save creation. It would go down fighting, leaving the rest to them…
The Beyonders converged, drawn not by fear, but by necessity. Even weakened, the Living Tribunal's presence was a storm, a verdict, a blade waiting to fall.
The Tribunal did not expect victory. It did not expect survival. It was only expected to fulfill its final obligation: To stand against madness, even when standing meant nothing at all. And so it did. As the omniverse wept, the last judge raised its empty hand to a sky already lost.