Absolute Being: I Am Nothing Chapter 75

Cansas

The castle loomed above them, all dark stone and sharp angles, designed to intimidate rather than inspire. Two guards stood at the entrance, their armor polished, their spears crossed to block the path. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered, watching the confrontation with nervous curiosity.

Kahdijah stood before the barrier of spears, her arms crossed, her expression one of theatrical boredom. She’d dressed down for the occasion—simple dark clothes, no glowing aura, nothing that screamed ’cosmic entity.’ Just a woman with an attitude problem trying to enter a palace.

"Lass," the taller guard said, his voice carrying the practiced authority of someone used to being obeyed, "we can’t let you walk inside. You’re not authorized to enter the palace. If you try to force your way in, we’ll be compelled to use lethal force. That’s not a threat. That’s a promise."

Kahdijah looked at him. Then at the other guard. Then at the spears. Then back at the first guard’s face.

"You know," she said, her voice light, almost conversational, "if you actually knew who I was, you’d be on your knees right now. Begging to serve me instead of the cheap imitation of a Dark Lord you lot follow. I could obliterate your master. I could flatten this entire kingdom down to bedrock, and there isn’t a single thing anyone here could do to stop me."

The crowd went silent. The guards stiffened.

"And yet," Kahdijah continued, "here I am. Walking peacefully up to your door. Offering to come inside. You know why?" She didn’t wait for an answer. "Because I heard something interesting. People who hate your Dark Lord’s guts—and there are more of them than you think—they keep whispering about a savior. A chosen one. The son of prophecy, coming to save them all."

She smiled, sharp and amused. "And here’s the thing about prophecies. In my experience? The son of prophecy always wins. Always. It’s boring, honestly. Predictable. So I thought to myself, ’Kahdijah, why not make things interesting? Why not join the winning team before the final battle?’ And now I’m here, offering my services to the chosen one. And you two are standing in my way with pointy sticks."

She leaned forward slightly. "You really don’t want that combo. Me and the prophecy kid? Against your Dark Lord? That’s not a war. That’s a cleanup operation."

The guards exchanged a glance. Sweat beaded on the taller one’s forehead. The shorter one’s hand trembled on his spear.

"You dare," the tall guard croaked, then found his voice, forcing it to strengthen. "You dare slander the Dark Lord? How dare you! Slander and threats against the Dark Lord will not and must not be tolerated! I hereby sentence you to death on the spot!"

He drew his sword, the metal scraping against the scabbard. The blade came up, pointed directly at Kahdijah’s heart.

The crowd gasped and stumbled back. The shorter guard raised his spear, ready to strike.

Kahdijah didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Her smile just widened.

And then—

"Stop."

The voice came from inside the gate. A figure stepped forward, pushing through the shadows. Young. Maybe late teens. Dressed in the simple clothes of a palace messenger, but there was something in his bearing that didn’t match the uniform.

"Stand down," the young man said, walking past the guards as if they weren’t there. He approached Kahdijah and inclined his head respectfully. "Miss Kahdijah is a special guest of the Dark Lord. The invitation was... delayed in transmission. My fault entirely."

Kahdijah’s eyebrows rose. She studied the young man’s face, searching her memory. Then recognition flickered.

Bolt.

The speedster. The Concept of Motion she’d encountered during that whole mess with Adam and the Night Regalia. She’d given him advice once, pointed him in a direction, and apparently, he’d followed it right here.

She kept her expression neutral, but inside, she was already calculating. This was unexpected. And unexpected was delicious.

The guards stared, their weapons lowering uncertainly. The tall one sheathed his sword with a shaky hand. "A guest? Of the Dark Lord himself? But she was—she threatened—she said—"

"She said what she needed to say to get your attention," Bolt interrupted smoothly. "The Dark Lord values... unconventional thinkers. Miss Kahdijah’s reputation precedes her. Now step aside and let her pass. Unless you’d like to explain to the throne why you delayed an invited guest?"

The guards scrambled to move, their spears clattering as they pulled them back. They bowed deeply, murmuring apologies that Kahdijah ignored completely.

She swept past them, falling into step beside Bolt as they entered the castle’s main courtyard. The heavy doors closed behind them, cutting off the murmurs of the crowd.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the guards, Kahdijah turned to Bolt, her grin returning full force.

"Well, well, well. Look who grew up." She nudged him with an elbow. "Undercover in the Dark Lord’s palace. Very dramatic. Very spy thriller. What are you up to, kid?"

Bolt kept his voice low, his eyes scanning the corridor ahead. "Honestly? I don’t even know anymore. You Absolute Beings... you’re not easy to comprehend. Any of you."

Kahdijah’s grin flickered, replaced by genuine curiosity. "What do you mean, ’any of you’? You met another one? Besides me and Adam and the others?"

Bolt hesitated. Then nodded. "Two, actually. Vrael. And Sarah. They’re... they’re the reason I’m here. They have a plan. I’m just a piece on their board."

Kahdijah stopped walking.

She stared at him for a long, incredulous moment.

Then she burst out laughing.

The sound echoed off the stone walls, bright and chaotic and utterly inappropriate for the dark, serious castle. She bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath between peals of laughter.

"You—" she wheezed, "—you met another Absolute—two of them—and you’re doing what they—" She couldn’t finish. More laughter.

Bolt waited, his expression a mix of embarrassment and resignation. He’d learned, in his time among cosmic powers, that laughing at them was usually a bad idea. But being laughed at by them? That was apparently just part of the job.

Kahdijah finally straightened, wiping a tear from her eye. "Oh, that’s good. That’s really good. You went from chasing Adam to working for these Vrael and Sarah. And you still don’t know what you’re doing." She patted his cheek affectionately. "I like you, kid. You’re entertaining."

"I’m glad my cosmic confusion amuses you," Bolt said dryly.

"Immensely." Kahdijah started walking again, gesturing for him to follow. "Alright, fill me in. What’s the play? Why am I suddenly a ’special guest’ of the Dark Lord, and what do Varel and Sarah want with this backwater tyrant?"

Bolt fell into step beside her. "The Dark Lord is more than he appears. He’s connected to something bigger. Something that predates this world. Sarah showed me fragments. Visions. He’s not just a local villain. He’s a symptom of a larger rot."

"And let me guess," Kahdijah said, "they want me to stir things up. Create chaos. Make him reveal his hand."

"That’s the general idea." Bolt glanced at her. "They said you’d understand. That you’d ’appreciate the assignment.’"

Kahdijah’s smile softened into something almost warm. "Those two know me well. Or at least, Sarah does. I’ve never met her, but she’s been watching. They all have." She shrugged. "Fine. I’ll play along. For now. But when this is over, I’m having a conversation with your new employers. Anyone who uses me as a piece on their board owes me a drink. At minimum."

They rounded a corner, entering a grand hallway lined with tapestries depicting the Dark Lord’s victories. At the far end, massive doors led to the throne room.

"One more thing," Bolt said quietly. "The prophecy child. Merlin. He’s here. In this world. And he’s not just a chosen one. He’s an Absolute. Energy and Matter. Newly awakened, but fully realized."

Kahdijah’s eyes lit up. "Another one? Here? On this backwater death world?" She laughed again, softer this time. "Oh, this is going to be fun. The Dark Lord has no idea what’s about to walk through his front door."

She straightened her clothes, composed her expression into something resembling polite neutrality, and nodded at Bolt.

"Lead the way, messenger boy. Let’s go meet a tyrant."