Absolute Being: I Am Nothing-Chapter 86: Dagon

Elsewhere

Library Of Hidden Knowledge

The library was massive. Shelves stretched toward a ceiling lost in shadow, each one crammed with scrolls, tomes, and tablets from centuries past. Dust motes floated in the thin light from enchanted lamps, and the air smelled of old paper and preserved leather.

Mor’vyre ran his finger along a shelf, reading titles written in languages most people had forgotten. He’d arrived a few hours ago, slipping into the city unnoticed, asking quiet questions that led him here. The librarians had been suspicious at first—strangers didn’t usually seek out the oldest sections of the archive. But a few well-placed words about research and historical interest had been enough.

He’d been browsing ever since.

Most of the texts were useless. Agricultural records. Genealogies of minor nobles. Tax collection logs from three hundred years ago. Interesting to someone, maybe, but not to him.

Then he found it.

A small book, bound in leather so dark it seemed to absorb light. No title on the spine. No markings at all. He pulled it from the shelf and opened to a random page.

The script was old, but he could read it. His eyes moved across the words, taking in phrases that made his brow furrow.

Dagon. The Sleeping God. When the shadow falls, he rises. When the tyrant dies, he wakes.

He read further.

Bound by the old magic. Freed by the new. Only the one who is nothing can return him to silence.

Mor’vyre’s eyes narrowed.

"Who is Dagon?" he murmured. "And what does he have to do with Adam?"

"An interesting choice of reading."

The voice came from behind him. Mor’vyre turned to find an elderly woman standing a few feet away. She wore simple robes, the kind the library attendants favored, and her grey hair was pulled back in a tight bun. But her eyes were sharp—sharper than they had any right to be.

"Forgive me," Mor’vyre said smoothly. "I didn’t mean to disturb anyone."

"You didn’t." The woman stepped closer, glancing at the book in his hands. Her expression shifted slightly—recognition, perhaps, or surprise. "That’s a rare text. Very few people even know it exists."

"I’m a researcher," Mor’vyre said. "I have an interest in ancient histories."

The woman studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded, as if coming to a decision.

"That book contains more than history," she said. "It contains prophecy. Warning. Truth that most people aren’t ready to hear."

Mor’vyre raised an eyebrow. "And you’re going to tell me?"

"You found the book. You read the name. You asked the question." She settled onto a nearby stool, gesturing for him to sit. "I think the library owes you an explanation."

He sat.

"Dagon," the woman began, "was once our god. Not a distant deity who watched from afar—he walked among us. He taught us. Healed us. Protected us from the darkness that lurked beyond the borders of the world."

She paused, her eyes growing distant.

"For centuries, he was benevolent. The people loved him. The land flourished under his care. There was no suffering that he could not ease, no wound he could not heal."

Mor’vyre waited.

"Then something happened." The woman’s voice grew softer. "The texts aren’t clear on what. Some say he was betrayed by those he trusted. Others say he saw something in the void between worlds that broke something inside him. Whatever the cause, he changed."

"Changed how?"

"He became wrathful. Not evil, not exactly—but his sense of justice became absolute. He started punishing small transgressions as harshly as great crimes. A stolen loaf of bread meant death. A harsh word meant exile. He saw sin everywhere, and he could not let it go unpunished."

Mor’vyre frowned. "That doesn’t sound like a benevolent god."

"It wasn’t. The people who had loved him began to fear him. They begged him to stop, to remember who he had been. But he couldn’t hear them anymore. He was too far gone."

"What stopped him?"

The woman met his eyes. "The old mages. The first practitioners of true magic on this world. They couldn’t kill him—he was a god, after all. But they could bind him. They wove a spell that put him into an endless sleep, buried deep beneath the earth, where he could not harm anyone."

She gestured at the book. "That text contains the full history. The binding. The conditions of his awakening. Everything."

Mor’vyre looked down at the pages. "Conditions?"

"Three things must happen for Dagon to wake. First, the tyrant who has ruled this land for five centuries must fall. His death unravels the old magic that has kept the world stable."

Mor’vyre’s mind flashed to the Dark Lord. To Merlin. To the battle he’d heard whispers about on his way here.

"The second," the woman continued, "is the rise of a new power. A being who does not belong to this world, whose presence disrupts the natural order. That disruption echoes through the binding, weakening it."

"A new power," Mor’vyre repeated carefully.

"The third is the most specific. A stranger must arrive who gives off no presence at all. No energy. No life force. No aura. Someone who is, for all practical purposes, nothing. That nothingness is the key—it resonates with the void that Dagon fell into, and it calls to him."

Mor’vyre went very still.

The woman watched him. "You know someone like that, don’t you?"

He said nothing.

"The moment the Dark Lord dies—if he hasn’t already—the countdown begins. Dagon will wake. And when he does, he will not be the benevolent god of old. He will be wrath incarnate, and he will judge this world for every sin committed since his binding."

Mor’vyre closed the book slowly. "How long?"

"Days. Maybe less. The binding is old. Once it starts breaking, it breaks fast."

He stood. "I need to go."

The woman rose too, her hand reaching out to stop him. "Whoever this person is—this stranger who is nothing—they may be the only one who can stop Dagon. The old texts say that only one who is nothing can return him to silence. If you know such a person, you must tell them. Prepare them."

Mor’vyre paused. He looked at her for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

"Prepare him?" He shook his head slowly. "If I told you who I’m thinking of, you wouldn’t believe me. But I can promise you this—he doesn’t need preparation. If anything, the universe should be preparing for him."

The woman stared. "You speak as if he’s—"

"As if he’s what?" Mor’vyre’s smile widened. "As if he’s the most dangerous being in existence? As if reality itself bends around his presence? As if he could unmake this entire world with a thought and then remake it because he felt like it?" He laughed softly. "You don’t know Adam."

"Adam." The woman repeated the name. "That’s him? The nothing?"

Mor’vyre nodded. "And if you think your Dagon is a threat, wait until you see what happens when someone threatens the people Adam cares about." He tucked the book under his arm. "I’ll take this, if you don’t mind. Research purposes."

The woman didn’t stop him. She was too busy processing what he’d said.

At the door, Mor’vyre paused. "One more thing. The Dark Lord? He’s already dead. Killed by a boy who controls energy and matter itself. So your first condition is met."

The woman’s face went pale.

"The second condition?" Mor’vyre continued. "That new power? The one who doesn’t belong to this world? That’s the same boy. And he’s currently having dinner with the nothing you’re so worried about."

He pushed open the door.

"If I were you," he said over his shoulder, "I’d start praying. Not to Dagon—he’s the problem. Pray to whatever gods you have left that Adam’s in a good mood when he finds out someone’s trying to threaten his new friends."

The door closed behind him.

The woman stood alone in the stacks, her mind reeling.

The Dark Lord was dead. A new power had risen. And a stranger who was nothing walked among them.

The prophecy was complete.

Dagon would wake. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

And only one being in all of existence might be able to stop him.