The Outsider: Rebirth

Before the Light.

Before the Shadow.

Before the Time.

Before the Matter.

Before the Life.

Before the Death.

And before even the concept of "before"— There was Nothingness.

Only a blank canvas stretched across infinity—pure, untouched, unshaped. And from this formless expanse… a dot appeared.

It did not think.

It did not feel.

But it knew—it existed.

A single point of awareness in a sea of silence.

An echo without sound. And over countless eternities, it changed.

It grew.

It dreamed.

And in dreaming, it created.

With the first emotion—Hope—it forged Will.

With Will came Shape.

And with Shape, came Purpose.

She was born from that Purpose.

A girl draped in starlight and void, with eyes that gazed across all realities.

The Existence.

The original dot made flesh.

The first and last Creator.

From her thoughts emerged Azathoth, her first child—

And through the child's dreams, the Multiverse bloomed.

She wove the rhythm of existence itself.

Countless souls, from the trembling newborns of the Void to gods wreathed in holy flame, danced to her unseen melody.

All except one.

He was not a god.

Not a devil.

Not a concept.

Just a man.

A man once known as the Hero of Hope.

Betrayed by those he swore to protect.

Shattered by the death of the one he loved.

He fell—

And in falling, he dragged an entire world into despair.

Not even gods could stand against him. Titans, dragons, legends, and champions fell.

Even the Administrators—The entities she created to control the world prevent reality from collapsing again when her beloved Azoth awakens once more—

But also failed.

Administrator No. 4731 revived the Protagonist of the world he ruled. And the buff boosts his power beyond what is allowed.

Sent him against the Fallen Hero again and again.

But he still lost.

They all did.

And then, he did the unthinkable.

He severed his ties to his original world — deleted his own character file.

No longer bound. No longer controlled.

And in the end, he raised his blade against the very Administrator who had crafted his reality.

And he prevailed.

His name, long forbidden, became—

A myth even gods whisper in fear.

Some believed he could rival Azathoth himself.

But instead of conquering all...

He chose to end it.

To end himself.

And in that final moment,

As his soul unraveled into the Void... He saw her—

The Existence.

She was the rhythm-weaver of the cosmos.

The one who shaped all that was, is, and ever would be. And for the first time in eternity—

She felt curiosity.

"How could something so small… see me?"

She peered deeper.

Not through magic.

Not through intellect.

Not through power.

But through despair—so raw, so absolute, it pierced even the veil of Nothingness.

His eyes held no hatred.

No plea.

Only one question:

"Why?"

And she—the forger of all things—

Had no answer.

"He wasn't a flaw in the system. He was the rejection of the very concept of flaws."

"He didn't belong to the rhythm, nor did he disrupt it. He simply… existed beyond it."

For the first time in her boundless existence,

She doubted her right to name this… a "mortal soul."

He was the one being she could not predict—

Even though she wrote every script.

And so, she did not let him fade.

Not from mercy—

But from fascination.

She gathered what remained:

A single shard of soul, a fragment of something once feared by the stars themselves.

From it, she shaped a new universe—crafted with her own hand.

A world untouched by prophecy or past. And she placed him there—stripped of titles, of power, of legend.

"I wished to see—if one who defied every law was reborn as a man… what would he choose to become?"

Not a Hero.

Not a Monster.

Not a Symbol.

Not a Scourge.

Just… himself.

Thus began a new story.

Not of gods or demons, fate or destiny—

But of a single soul, wandering a world not his own, guided by nothing.