Absolute Being: I Am Nothing Chapter 62

Plane Of Destiny And Fate

Bolt stood before the vast screen, his hands clenched into tight fists. The images were clear, undeniable. The two figures—Aurelion and Veloris—were preparing their final move. His home. Velar.

"He’s just... letting them," Bolt said, his voice low and rough. He wasn’t asking. He was accusing the empty air. "Varel. He’s just going to stand aside and let them wipe my world off the map. Why? He could stop them."

The only answer was the soft, rhythmic squeak of a chair spinning. Sarah, Absolute Being of Destiny and Fate, twirled idly in her seat, her eyes half-lidded as she watched the screen over Bolt’s shoulder.

"What did you expect him to do?" she asked, her tone light, almost bored. "Your planet’s story was written a long time ago. Its destruction is a fixed point. A necessary one. He already interfered more than he should have by getting you and your people out. Asking him to fight a war to save a rock that’s already condemned? That’s not a stretch, kid. That’s a fantasy. Let it go. Let destiny run its course."

"You are destiny!" Bolt snapped, turning to face her. The pleading broke through his anger. "You can change it! You just said it! You write the stories. So rewrite this one. Help me."

Sarah stopped spinning. The chair came to a halt with her facing him directly. Her expression wasn’t cruel. It was patient, in the way a teacher is patient with a student who refuses to understand a simple lesson.

"I can’t," she said, her voice firm now. "You play a crucial role in what’s coming. A vital one. The destruction of Velar... it’s part of what forges that role. I can’t pull that thread without unraveling everything after it. You were supposed to be the only survivor. The lone martyr. Varel cut a deal with me. He bargained, called in a favor, to let you evacuate most of your people first. I allowed it. Against my better judgment. So be content with what you have. You got more than the story originally gave you."

Bolt began to tremble. It wasn’t just fear. It was a boiling, helpless rage. These Absolute Beings. They were all the same. The one who shattered the Night Regalia like they were glass. The Chaos girl, Kahdijah, who treated entire civilizations like toys. And now this one, who talked about his home’s annihilation like she was discussing the weather. They sat at the top of a mountain nobody else could climb, and they looked down and saw nothing but insects.

"You all think you’re at the top," he whispered, the heat in his voice rising. "You think nothing can touch you."

Sarah tilted her head. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. "We’re not at the top, Bolt. We are the top. The food chain ends with us. And there is nothing you, in your current state, can do that would so much as scratch us. Let me be clearer, since you seem to need it."

She leaned forward slightly. "That power you have. The Concept of Motion/Speed that chose you? I let it choose you. I placed it on your path. I can take it back. Just like that." She snapped her fingers. The sound was soft, but in the quiet room, it was as loud as thunder.

"I’ve already written your story," she continued, her eyes holding his. "I’ve written a dozen versions. Some where you become a king. Some where you die a hero. Some where you live a long, quiet life. And some... that have no ending at all. Which one you get is, ironically, up to you. You want to make an enemy of the Absolute Beings? Go ahead. Pick that path. I hope for your sake the ending is swift. Or, you can respect the scale of things. You can be smart. If you’re on our side, you might just find your story doesn’t have to end at all."

The breath left Bolt’s lungs. The fight drained out of him, replaced by a cold, sinking dread. She had seen every possible move. She hadn’t just predicted his anger—she had authored it. Every thought of rebellion, every plan for vengeance... she had already cataloged it, weighed it, and written its consequence.

He took a mental step back. A silent, internal vow to tread carefully. To hide every real thought.

Sarah watched his face, saw the defiance shatter and the calculation take its place. She smiled, a little warmer this time.

"Good," she said.

Then she kicked off lightly with one foot, sending her chair spinning gently once more, her attention drifting back to the endless, unfolding tapestry on her screens.

"You don’t have to scare the kid like that, Sarah."

The voice was calm, familiar. Varel appeared beside them, his presence quiet but immediately filling the space. He gave Bolt a brief, appraising look, then turned his attention to the screen showing the dying world.

"He’s reacting," Varel continued, his tone even. "Anyone would. It’s his home."

He pulled up a simple, plain chair and sat, leaning forward to study another screen—this one showing a blue-green planet labeled Earth.

"Some sacrifices," Varel said, speaking more to Bolt now, "are necessary. I know that’s a cold thing to hear. I’m sorry your world has to be one of them. But it serves a purpose. A greater one. From its end, something new will be born. An Absolute. That’s all you need to know for now."

Sarah didn’t look away from her own displays. "You know he can see us, right? Watching him. The only reason I can even pull these feeds is because he allows it. He knows we’re here."

Varel let out a slow sigh and nodded. "Fortunately, he’s on our side. I try not to think about what would’ve happened if he wasn’t."

Both of them fell silent for a moment, their eyes fixed on a particular screen. It showed a man—Adam—walking beside Kahdijah. They were talking. Then Adam said something, and Kahdijah threw her head back and laughed—a real, unguarded sound. Adam smiled, a quiet, knowing thing.

Bolt watched them watching him. He saw the way their bodies were still, the focused stillness in their eyes. It wasn’t just observation. It was reverence. The kind of quiet awe someone might have when looking at a force of nature they respected but didn’t fully understand.

This... confused Bolt. He’d been in Adam’s presence. The man hadn’t seemed particularly grand. He was calm, sure, with a way of making threats sound like casual conversation. His only notable trick was that strange ability to shut down other powers—to make Concepts and magic just... stop working. That was impressive, sure. Dangerous, absolutely.

But to earn this kind of quiet respect from beings like Varel and Sarah? Beings who talked about writing destiny and bending time? It didn’t add up. Adam didn’t glow. He didn’t warp reality around him like Kahdijah did. He just... was.

What am I missing? Bolt thought, his anger cooling into wary curiosity. What did he do that made gods look at him like he’s the god?

He kept the question to himself. He’d already learned one lesson today: in this room, it was better to listen.