Boom!

A blast rippled across endless space.

"Hm..." The crown regarded the katana currently locked against his hammer curiously. "You actually blocked that. Interesting."

Atticus hadn’t moved an inch, his blade holding back the might of the Absolute Crown. Yet there wasn’t the slightest trace of surprise in the crown’s eyes.

The golden light within them deepened.

"Kneel."

Atticus felt an unseen force descend upon him. He crashed to his knees, his eyes constricting.

Hm... let’s see how long that confidence lasts."

Space screamed. The hammer crashing into his head.

Atticus tore downward, crashing through the Second Crown, through the barrier, and into the First Crown. Worlds crumbled around him, entire planes fracturing into chunks as billions were swallowed by the abyss left in his wake.

Yet Atticus saw none of it. His mind reeled.

’What happened?’

He ignored the pain hammering through his skull. It was just pain.

He had definitely withstood the crown’s attack. Atticus was certain he hadn’t held back. Absolute Will was the pinnacle of the Middle Planes. As expected, it was where the stars stood, where no other True Willer had apparently reached.

They had become their wills. Yet Atticus was having trouble understanding. What happened? What was that energy? It didn’t feel like will. It felt... It felt like...

The crown appeared before him as though he had never left, the crowns above him glinting coldly.

"I am above you."

Atticus felt his flames dim. His speed plummeted. His strength ebbed away. A crushing weariness settled over him. Helplessness followed close behind it. He felt like an ant standing before something absolute.

Like he had no right to be here.

The crown’s hammer crashed into the side of his face.

Atticus tore through the First Crown and slammed into the barrier. He ricocheted off it, only for another hammer to meet him head-on.

Boom!

He crashed onto the vast expanse of the Span. Cracks raced across the enormous world. Then he tore straight through it and slammed into its core. An overwhelming shockwave swept through it.

Kingdoms crumbled, entire stretches of land shattering apart. Those caught in the shockwave were reduced to bloody mist. Screams rang out. Death. Carnage. It was endless.

Yet none of it seemed to reach Atticus, his mind racing. What was he missing? Was there something else? Something that separated gods from stars?

What was it?

He had reached Absolute Will, the peak of the world. He had already become his will. So what came next? Right now, this weakness, this energy... it didn’t feel as though the crown had inflicted it upon him.

It felt fundamental. As though... as though the world itself—

Crack!

The crown appeared like judgement made flesh, his mere presence causing reality to tremble.

"Stand down."

Atticus’ body locked up. No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t move. He could only stare as the massive golden hammer descended.

It struck him like a falling star. Atticus became a streak tearing through the Span.

He burst free of the colossal world and still didn’t stop. He crossed the boundary into the Verge and crashed into a random planet.

His body felt as though it had been crushed beneath countless mountains. Every muscle screamed. Every bone felt heavy. Pain engulfed him. Yet his eyes never lost their coldness.

"Kneel."

Atticus pushed himself up, then immediately dropped to both knees. No matter how much he resisted, it was futile. He stared ahead as the crown slowly descended before him.

Calm. Cold. Absolute.

"Do you see it now?" the crown asked. "You kneel because I am above you. I am your better. Your god. Your absolute. And yet you thought you could destroy something I built? Something I have ruled for eons? Since before you were even a thought?"

He slowly raised a hand, his eyes turning icy.

"You’re going to die for that mistake."

"Brother, wait!"

The Great Verge appeared in a burst of light and immediately stepped forward. His six eyes were fixed on the crown, his expression earnest.

"I’m sure he understands now, brother. There’s no need to kill him."

"What in the stars are you talking about, Verge!?" The Span appeared beside him, staring as though he’d just heard something absurd. "He nearly tore the Middle Planes apart! His will is literally setting things on fire! What part of this situation looks salvageable to you?"

"But..." The Verge didn’t budge beneath the criticism. His gaze remained fixed on the crown. "We can’t just kill him. Not for this. He’s far too talented. His path can’t end here. He—"

"Verge."

The single word was enough. The Great Verge fell silent under the crown’s gaze.

The power of the strongest star was absolute.

"It’s always people like you." the crown said. "You mistake potential for worth and kindness for wisdom. Then you wonder how someone like him starts believing he belongs among his betters."

His eyes shifted toward Atticus.

"Only the absolute decides who stands above. I’ll correct what you failed to."

"So that’s it."

The crown frowned. Atticus was muttering to himself. Had he finally broken?

"...how to become a star."

The crown’s eyes narrowed. The Verge and Span stiffened as well. Had he just said... how to become a star?

The crown scoffed.

"Merely the last ramblings of a dead man."

A golden orb formed above his palm, and he prepared to end it. However, Atticus slowly lifted his head and met the crown’s gaze directly.

The coldness in those eyes could have frozen entire planes.

Then he spoke.

"Converge."

A ripple passed through the world.

The crown’s eyes constricted. He released the orb immediately, a beam of golden light roaring toward Atticus. However, it was already too late.

From across the Verge, the Span, and the Crown, every fragment of will Atticus had gathered began rushing toward him. The Nature King. The Spirit King. The countless worlds inherited from the major factions he had slaughtered.

Everything came surging toward Atticus.

A pillar of light detonated from him, piercing through the Middle Planes. Every world it touched crumbled in its wake. It continued upward, tearing through reality until it reached the farthest reaches of the planes.

The stars’ expressions turned ugly.