Silence.
That was the only word that could describe the forest's atmosphere. No animal calls, no whispering wind, no echo of life as usual. The trees stood tall—not with pride, but in submission. As though they bowed to something they could not oppose, something they could not comprehend, but instinctively knew deserved reverence.
In the heart of that quiet forest stood a small wooden cabin. Ordinary in every sense—not too large, not too grand. In front of it stretched a neatly arranged garden. The plants grew in precise rows, as if placed by meticulous hands—but hands without ambition. Everything looked natural… too natural, in fact. As if no ordinary human could have done it.
And within that cabin, he lived.
The one who was never born, never created, yet still existed.
Exafanos.
A name never spoken, never remembered, never recorded in the history of any being. Even if every creator in the multiverse gathered together, they would not recall a being like him. For he could not be remembered—unless he allowed it. He could not be recognized. Could not be touched by any concept: life, death, existence, time—not even by existence itself.
He was not created. He was not born.
He was disappearance itself.
A Fundamental Being, not birthed by any concept, but the only one capable of erasing all concepts and laws.
And that morning, like every other, Exafanos sat quietly on an old wooden chair inside his cabin. On the table before him lay a plate of meat—freshly bought from a small town at the base of the mountain. He cut it slowly, chewing without expression. He could taste it, but hunger did not drive him to eat. Hunger, after all, was a concept that held no meaning for him.
He simply wanted… to live like an ordinary human.
For reasons even he did not know.
Perhaps because solitude had long become his only companion.
After finishing his meal, he stepped outside. His plants still stood, though some leaves had turned yellow. He watered them carefully, one by one. Without rush. Without urgency. As though time had no bearing on him—and in truth, it did not.
It was then that the earth trembled.
Exafanos looked up. Leaves rustled violently, and the ground beneath cracked ever so slightly. The sky darkened, shrouded by a massive shadow hovering just beyond the atmosphere.
Lithanos.
A being larger than the planet itself.
Striding through the edges of dimensions unseen by mortal eyes.
Its gaze—if it could be called that—fell upon the world below.
A world named Wallbert, the creation of a divine being beyond narrative.
But Lithanos was no ordinary being. He bore an eternal concept—one only gifted by the highest of entities: Alpha Omega.
He had not come to play.
His presence radiated absolute destruction.
With a single swing of his limb, continents shattered.
Mountains collapsed. Oceans boiled. The sky itself nearly split.
Across the world, ancient gods awakened from their slumber.
Entities of unimaginable power, usually at odds, now stood united in panic.
They unleashed their might against Lithanos—but it was futile.
Their attacks struck him like wind against stone. Useless.
And yet, amid the chaos, one place remained untouched—
The old cabin in the forest.
Exafanos stood before his ravaged garden.
Some pots shattered, leaves torn apart, soil scattered.
He looked down at a small sprout that had just begun to grow the day before.
Now broken.
And then… he lifted his gaze.
In that instant, Lithanos vanished.
Not killed.
Not destroyed.
Erased.
Gone without a trace.
Not remembered. Not recorded.
The gods who moments ago had screamed, now stood in silence.
Their eyes blank.
None of them recalled the near-catastrophe.
No one asked what had happened.
No one searched for answers.
To them, there had been no threat.
The world was just as it always had been.
Peaceful. Serene.
Lithanos never existed.
Back in the cabin, Exafanos sat once more.
He drank from a clay jug he had made himself.
His gaze lingered on the ruined plants.
No anger.
No satisfaction.
No emotion at all.
For emotion is a concept—and Exafanos did not possess such things.
He paused…
Then rose, and began to replant.
---
Meanwhile, far beyond the bounds of narrative,
In the realm beyond reality,
The observers of the multiverse—those who existed behind the veil—felt something strange.
Something was gone.
But they didn't know what.
Even entities that could traverse all possibilities, timelines, and realities could find no clue.
In a formless white space, the Chronarch, guardian of time across a thousand universes, froze. His eyes—hourglasses turned upside down—stopped shedding grains of time. He nodded slowly, and muttered in a voice that sounded like shattering glass:
> "Something that never existed… has moved."
But even he forgot what he had just said.
For Exafanos not only erases.
He removes the very concept of what he touches.
---
Back on Wallbert, life went on.
The people resumed their daily lives.
The gods returned to sleep.
The powerful returned to their domains.
No one knew they had just been saved from absolute annihilation—
By a being they could not even perceive.
In the middle of the forest,
Exafanos sat beneath the night sky.
The moon glowed faintly.
The stars dimmed—not because of clouds, but because the world itself respected him in silence.
A young child from a nearby village wandered into the forest, lost.
He cried, scared, calling out for his mother.
But the moment his foot touched the forest where Exafanos dwelled, the crying stopped.
Not silenced.
But… calmed.
As if something deep within him felt… safe.
Exafanos turned. He saw the boy and nodded once.
The boy smiled, then turned and walked home—
Down a path that had not been there before.
That is Exafanos.
Neither hero, nor villain.
He simply… is.
And when his will moves,
The universe can do nothing but watch—
Without memory.
Without understanding.
Because when Exafanos acts…
All concepts… vanish.
...
To Be Continued