It didn’t take a genius to realize that neither the Father nor the Mother had ever learned proper techniques when it ca to fighting.
For them, power was as natural as the air mortals breathe.
From the mont they ca into existence, they had already reached the absolute pinnacle of strength within their soon-to-be-ford cosmology.
The very idea of fighting was rely a concept born from the countless creations crafted by their inhabitants.
With both the Father and the able to reshape reality with nothing more than a passing thought, the idea of engaging in combat in any traditional sense had simply never crossed their minds.
Beyond that, at such an unfathomable level of power, every being could interact with the Greater Narrative itself, and these two Primordial entities stood at the very pinnacle of what Ash called the ta Road.
This ant that, in theory, those who could wield the Greater Narrative might battle for entire cycles without so much as lifting a finger or taking a single step.
Well... that was the usual state of things—at least, whenever Ash wasn’t directly involved.
----
"Honestly, it’s a bit pathetic. For soone who’s supposed to be one of the three strongest beings in this cosmology... you really have no idea how to fight, do you?"
Ash’s words hung in the air like a deliberate provocation.
The Father’s silhouette darkened further. His head tilted slightly, as if the very concept Ash had spoken of was sothing alien to him.
"Fight..." the Father repeated slowly, his voice layered and distant. "This notion of clashing with fists and blades... it is beneath my stature. It is a crude thod born from lesser beings."
He stared at Ash with genuine confusion mixed with growing irritation.
"Is that what gives you such confidence? The belief that you can overpower through sothing as primitive as combat?"
The Father raised his hand once more.
HUMMMMM!!!!
This ti, his manipulation of the narrative was far more deliberate. He reached into the very foundation of the story and began to erase a complete notion.
This ti, it wasn’t about Ash wielding Divinity or the use of his very own existence essence within the Father’s domain. Instead, it was the sheer concept of engaging in physical combat in this space that stood out.
SHRRRRRIP!!!
To Ash’s evolved eyes, it was as clear as day.
Another page of the novel was violently torn out.
The concept of "hand-to-hand combat," "physical movent in battle," and "fighting with one’s body" was being completely removed from the current narrative layer.
The rules of engagent were being rewritten in real ti.
Ash watched it happen with a growing smile.
He could feel it — the space around him shifting.
The usual thods of fighting were rapidly becoming irrelevant.
The very notion of throwing a punch, dodging with one’s body, or engaging in close-quarters combat was being stripped away from existence within the Primordial Expanse.
Yet instead of concern, Ash felt excitent.
’Hmm, I’m pretty sure this is the extent of how he fights’... Ash thought, his reddish-purple eyes narrowing with interest.
It was obvious that hand-to-hand combat was seen as sothing inferior, and every action was carried out through manipulation of the Narrative.
But unlike those who might add to the story or tweak small details, the Father specialized in erasing notions entirely.
He lowered his hand, his voice ringing coldly through the void.
"Now then," he said, "let us see how you fare when the very act of fighting has been rendered nonexistent."
The mont he finished speaking, the narrative itself began to attack.
HUMMMM!!!!!
It wasn’t a physical attack in the traditional sense.
The Father stood utterly still, his figure rising tall and unmoving against the infinite black of the Primordial Expanse.
He made no gesture, took no step, and uttered no word.
With nothing more than the force of his will, it happened. The darkness began to stir, shifting and breathing as though it had awoken.
From the void surrounding Ash, tendrils of pure Nonexistence began to manifest.
They didn’t charge in recklessly—every movent was deliberate, chillingly exact, as though the very idea of erasure had been given life.
So manifested as enormous, taloned hands stretching toward Ash from all sides, their reach impossible to fully avoid.
Others gathered into sleek, spear-like projections of pure nothingness, each one honed to strike straight at his core.
So even morphed into more abstract shapes—waves of "absence" that aid to erase his presence from the current layer of the story altogether.
Ash stood rooted to the spot, his body still frozen by the Father’s earlier rewrite of reality.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t dodge in any ordinary sense. But just as the first surge of attacks was about to crash into him—
Ash blinked.
In that instant, he activated the power of the Unseen.
HUMMMM!!!!
A faint, nearly invisible barrier suddenly appeared around him.
It wasn’t crafted from light, force, or any recognizable energy—no, it was just there, existing as a thin veil of unreality that set Ash apart from the flow of the scene.
The mont the attacks touched it, sothing strange occurred. They didn’t crash together, they didn’t explode— they just... stopped, as if they had never existed at all.
The clawed hands of Nonexistence reached for Ash, only to pass straight through where he stood — as if he wasn’t there at all.
The spear-like constructs of void pierced forward, yet they struck nothing, continuing harmlessly into the distance behind him.
Even the conceptual waves ant to erase his existence from the story failed to connect, dissipating into the black expanse like mist hitting an invisible wall.
The Father’s attacks, despite their overwhelming nature, were hitting sothing that shouldn’t have been there.
Sothing unseen.
Ash stood calmly within the barrier, his reddish-purple eyes fixed on the motionless silhouette of the Father.
His lips curved into a small, intrigued smile as he watched the Father’s attacks harmlessly pass through the unseen barrier surrounding him.
"Well, that was pretty anticlimactic, huh?" he remarked, his tone carrying a clear note of mockery.
The Father’s silhouette deepened into an even darker shade, the air around him heavy with a strange tension.
The power of the Unseen was exactly that—utterly invisible and even more mysterious than anything known to exist within the Expanses.
It wasn’t just rare; it was sothing that didn’t even make its way into the Narrative at all.
HUMMMM!!!!!
A deep frown etched itself across his blank, featureless face, and the pressure in the Primordial Expanse surged with sudden intensity.
Without uttering a single word, he lifted his hand once again, and this ti, the strikes ca with a far more direct and undeniable force.
Thousands of massive spears made of pure Nonexistence manifested around Ash, each one radiating an overwhelming intent to erase.
They didn’t simply aim to restrict or suppress him — they were designed to end his existence outright.
The void itself seed to scream as the spears shot toward him from every direction at once, moving with terrifying speed.
Yet once again.... just before they could reach him, the unseen barrier once again nullified every single attack.
The spears of Nonexistence dissolved the mont they touched the invisible layer, as if they had struck sothing that existed outside the current narrative.
Ash remained standing in the sa spot, completely untouched.
However, while his body stayed still, his mind was racing.
’Hmm, I think this would make a perfect ti to create sothing new for Pantheos.’
Truth be told, Ash was facing no real restrictions at this point.
The aspects the Father had previously stripped from the Narrative ant nothing to him. With just a blink, he could reset everything to its original state.
Yet, there was a reason he let this charade continue.
He simply didn’t want to be forced into fighting in a particular way.
Sure, he was obviously stronger than the Father... but what if he wasn’t?
What if the Father’s changes had been permanent? That would an he’d have to fight solely within the bounds of the Narrative. Not a bad option, but where was the freedom in that?
When it ca to battle, Ash craved the sa kind of freedom he’d gained from mastering the Narrative.
The freedom to fight however he wanted—whether that ant using his fists, wielding his sword, unleashing raw power, or doing sothing completely absurd—and still erge victorious.
He refused to be bound by rules, constrained by the Narrative, or limited by whatever abilities his opponent decided to erase or enhance.
If he was going to beco the strongest fictional character ever written, he had to fight entirely on his own terms, no matter the circumstances or the opponent standing his way.
And with that line of thought, a new idea began to take shape in his all-knowing mind.
’If I’m not mistaken, Nux Leander from Supre Harem God System learned sothing called a Battle Style from his wife,’ he mused.
Then, in the blink of an eye, it simply happened.
[A/N: Lol, literally.... with a blink of his eyes.]
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