Haroon Dwelight sat in his dimensional pocket, the space he'd constructed for rest periods when Station Theta-7's operations could function adequately without his immediate presence. He'd never named it formally—designations seemed unnecessary for personal space—but the dimensional structure had a quality he'd observed: fragments of folded reality, layered and compressed into stable configuration. Fold Fragments. The name felt appropriate even if he'd never spoken it aloud.
The space was peaceful. Clouds manifested as comfortable seating, reality bent to accommodate his preference for isolation and quiet. He could observe everything from here—Station Theta-7's systems, the ongoing Dissolution Compact crisis, the allied Controllers' defensive operations—without direct participation. Passive monitoring while his manifestation rested from continuous active deployment.
Two hours had passed since he'd helped Brad secure Station Meridian-5. The casualties had been acceptable by crisis standards—twenty-three dead, forty-seven injured, two hundred thirty saved. Mathematics were unfavorable but within parameters he'd calculated. Other facilities had fared worse. Some had fared better. The distributed assault continued across seven targets, Controllers responding as quickly as transit allowed.
Haroon monitored it all while resting in Fold Fragments, prepared to transit immediately if situations developed beyond current response capabilities. For now, his intervention wasn't necessary. The allied Controllers were handling operations adequately.
Then the ceiling cracked.
Haroon's attention shifted immediately from passive observation to active assessment. Fold Fragments was isolated dimensional space. Nothing should be able to breach its structure without his awareness detecting approach long before arrival. Yet something had just created fracture in the dimensional ceiling above him, reality splitting in ways that suggested forced entry rather than natural degradation.
Sparkles emerged from the crack. Not metaphorical description—actual luminous particles that didn't correspond to any normal energy signature Haroon recognized. They poured through the fracture like liquid light, swirling and coalescing in the space above his cloud-chair, fusing together with intention that suggested consciousness rather than random aggregation.
The sparkles formed shape. Human-approximate. Two meters tall. Wearing what appeared to be astronaut suit similar to Haroon's own design, except where Haroon's suit was cyan, this one was white. Pure white that seemed to absorb surrounding light rather than reflecting it.
The fusion completed. The sparkles solidified into coherent manifestation. And Haroon recognized the power signature with something approaching disbelief.
"Don't tell me that," Haroon said quietly, watching the white-suited figure stabilize. "My failure."
The being opened eyes that glowed with luminescence matching the sparkles that had formed them. They looked directly at Haroon with expression combining triumph and disgust.
"At last," the being said, voice resonating with harmonics that suggested omnipotent capability. "I finally found you."
Haroon remained seated, analyzing the manifestation before him. Omnipotent-level power. Reality manipulation capability approaching his own baseline before enhancement. Dimensional transit sophisticated enough to breach Fold Fragments despite its isolation. And most concerning: familiarity that suggested this wasn't first encounter despite Haroon having no memory of previous meetings.
"Oscar Steve," the white-suited being identified himself without being asked. "Though I suspect you remember me, even if you're pretending otherwise. We had an arrangement, Haroon. A purpose. A goal that transcended the petty concerns of lesser beings."
Haroon's memory accessed information he'd buried deliberately. Oscar Steve. Yes. He remembered now. Encounter from before Station Theta-7. Before the allied Controllers. Before he'd chosen maintenance over destruction. Oscar had been there during that decision point, had argued passionately for different choice.
"I remember," Haroon acknowledged. "You disagreed with my decision."
"Disagreed?" Oscar's voice rose with incredulity. "You abandoned everything! Haroon, what are you doing? I thought you wanted to destroy the universe and entire existence! That was our purpose! Our function! To tear down this flawed creation and let nothingness reclaim everything!"
"I changed my assessment," Haroon said calmly, though internally his combat protocols were activating. Oscar's presence here meant threat. Meant someone who still pursued goals Haroon had abandoned. "I'd rather protect existence than destroy it. Maintenance serves better purpose than elimination."
"Protect?" Oscar spat the word like curse. "You're protecting this? This prison of causality and consequence? What about the others, Haroon? What about freedom?"
"Who?" Haroon asked, though part of him already suspected the answer. "Which others require freedom?"
Oscar didn't answer immediately. His white suit pulsed with energy that suggested barely contained fury. When he finally spoke, his voice carried disgust that transcended mere disagreement.
"You know who. You know what the Controllers did. Three hundred years, Haroon. Three hundred years they've been sealed. Trapped. Imprisoned because they dared to pursue existence's natural endpoint. And you—you who should be helping free them—you've allied with their jailers!"
Three hundred years. The Controllers. Haroon's memory supplied context he'd been avoiding. Yes. Three hundred years ago, the allied Controllers had confronted beings who wanted to destroy existence. Had fought. Had won. Had sealed the defeated enemies in dimensional prison that required existence itself to maintain.
And Oscar's friends—his allies in destruction—had been among those sealed.
"They're evil," Haroon stated simply. "They want to destroy entire existence. That's why they were sealed. That's why they remain imprisoned."
"They want freedom!" Oscar's fury was breaking through his control now. "Freedom from this flawed creation! Freedom to pursue nothingness without interference from beings who think existence is somehow valuable! And the only way to free them is to destroy the prison—to destroy existence itself!"
So that was Oscar's purpose. That's why he'd come. The sealed beings were imprisoned within existence's structure. Breaking that structure—destroying everything—would shatter the prison and free them. It was logical from certain perspective. Horrifying from others.
"You allied with these trash Controllers," Oscar said, voice low and dangerous. "The ones who sealed my friends. Who imprisoned beings pursuing righteous purpose. You chose them over us."
"Of course," Haroon answered gently, maintaining calm despite Oscar's rising anger. "If they want to protect the universe, then I'll participate too. Protection serves better purpose than destruction. Existence has value. The beings living within it have value. Destroying everything to free imprisoned entities would eliminate that value."
Oscar's control snapped.
He dashed forward with speed that blurred reality itself, manifesting directly in front of Haroon still seated on his cloud-chair, fist pulled back for punch that carried omnipotent force behind it. The strike would shatter dimensional barriers. Would tear through normal defensive fields. Would eliminate lesser beings through pure kinetic force amplified by reality manipulation.
Haroon didn't move. Didn't activate defenses. Didn't even tense for impact. Just sat there, arms still crossed behind his head, watching Oscar's fist approach with clinical interest.
The punch connected with space Haroon occupied.
Wind pushed Oscar back.
Not Haroon's wind. Not deliberate defensive technique. Just pressure differential created by Oscar's presence getting too close to something vastly more powerful than himself. Reality itself establishing distance between omnipotent attacker and above-omnipotent target, accommodating power differential through force that Oscar couldn't resist.
Oscar stumbled backward approximately fifteen meters, his manifestation destabilizing from the pressure wave. He caught himself, reformed his coherence, and stared at Haroon with expression combining confusion and dawning horror.
"What happened?" Oscar demanded. "What did you do?"
"Nothing." Haroon remained seated, completely unbothered by the attack attempt. "You attempted to strike me. Reality rejected the attempt by establishing appropriate distance between our power levels. I didn't need to defend. Your attack was insufficient to require my attention."
Oscar processed that information, his white suit flickering with energy as he tried to comprehend what had just occurred. He'd attacked with full omnipotent force. The attack had been rejected automatically. Haroon hadn't even needed to respond.
"Are you going to let my friends be trapped there forever?" Oscar asked, voice now carrying desperation beneath the fury. "Imprisoned for three hundred years because they pursued purpose that Controllers disagreed with? You're just going to abandon them?"
"Hmmm." Haroon appeared to consider the question seriously. "They're evil, right? They want to destroy entire existence. Why would we free them when they still want to pursue that goal? Their imprisonment serves valid purpose. Prevents catastrophic outcome. Maintains stability."
"They deserve freedom!" Oscar insisted.
"They deserve consequences for their choices," Haroon corrected. "They chose to pursue existence's elimination. The Controllers opposed that choice. Conflict occurred. They lost. Imprisonment resulted. That's logical progression from their decisions."
Oscar's fury reignited, burning away the desperation. "Then I will destroy it by myself! If you won't help, if you've betrayed our purpose, I'll free them without you! I'll tear down existence and shatter their prison regardless of your opposition!"
"Try it." Haroon's voice carried absolute certainty. "It won't be possible."
Oscar raised his hand forward, palm facing Haroon, fingers spread wide. Power gathered. Not just omnipotent capability. Everything Oscar possessed. Every technique he'd developed. Every reality-manipulation method he'd mastered. He was channeling his entire existence into single attack designed to eliminate the being who'd betrayed their shared purpose.
The blast erupted. Pure destructive force amplified by reality manipulation and powered by three centuries of fury and determination. It crossed the distance between them faster than causality should allow, converging on Haroon still seated on his cloud-chair, prepared to erase him from existence across all timelines simultaneously.
Haroon just sat there.
The blast struck him. Energy that would vaporize planets. Force that would shatter dimensional barriers. Reality manipulation that would unmake lesser Controllers. All of it converging on single target who didn't move, didn't defend, didn't show any indication he'd noticed the apocalyptic assault.
The blast dissipated against Haroon's presence like water against stone.
Then Haroon raised his right hand forward, palm facing Oscar, and everything changed.
The Absolute Void activated. Not fully. Not with the enhanced authorial capability Haroon had gained from absorbing the thirteen. Just baseline absorption protocol, the fundamental capability that had always existed within the cyan suit.
Oscar's attack didn't just dissipate. It reversed. Haroon absorbed the energy, pulled it into himself, integrated it into The Absolute Void's endless capacity. The blast that should have eliminated him became fuel, power flowing into Haroon's manifestation and vanishing into whatever actually existed beneath the cyan suit.
Nothing changed. No visible enhancement. No power increase. Just absorption. Clean. Complete. Total.
Oscar felt his attack being consumed and tried to cut the connection, tried to stop the flow. Couldn't. Haroon held the link stable, drawing in every particle of destructive force Oscar had manifested, leaving nothing. When the absorption completed three seconds later, Oscar's greatest attack had been completely negated.
Haroon closed his hand into fist.
The absorbed energy manifested again. Not as Haroon's attack. As Oscar's attack. The exact same blast, the same composition, the same reality manipulation. Just redirected. Sent back to its source with precision that exceeded anything Oscar had achieved in his original manifestation.
The blast struck Oscar before he could react.
His white suit flared with defensive protocols, trying to resist force he'd created himself. Insufficient. The blast tore through his defenses like they weren't there, connected with his manifestation directly, and detonated with catastrophic effect.
Oscar screamed as his coherence shattered. His manifestation destabilized. Reality around him fractured from the impact. He felt himself being pushed, not just through space but through dimensions, through layers of existence, through barriers between realities.
The blast drove him out of Fold Fragments. Out of normal dimensional space. Into other dimension, distant reality, somewhere far from Haroon and the allied Controllers and Station Theta-7. The transition was violent. Uncontrolled. Oscar tumbled through dimensional layers, his manifestation barely maintaining coherence, trying desperately to stabilize himself as he was ejected from confrontation he'd initiated.
When he finally stopped—existing in dimension he didn't recognize, surrounded by reality that operated on principles he'd need time to understand—Oscar pulled himself together. Reformed his white suit. Restored his manifestation to coherent state despite the damage he'd sustained.
He'd failed. Completely. Absolutely. Haroon had absorbed his greatest attack and reflected it back with casual precision. Had demonstrated power differential so vast that Oscar's omnipotent capability was insufficient to even threaten him.
But Oscar wasn't giving up. Couldn't give up. His friends had been imprisoned for three hundred years. They deserved freedom. Deserved release from the prison the Controllers had created. And if Haroon wouldn't help—if Haroon had betrayed their purpose—then Oscar would find another way.
Three hundred years his friends had waited. They could wait longer if necessary. Oscar would find method to destroy existence and shatter their prison. Would pursue that goal regardless of opposition. Even if that opposition included being who'd once been his ally.
The war wasn't over. It had just begun.
Back in Fold Fragments, Haroon sat on his cloud-chair and resumed passive monitoring. The crack in the ceiling had sealed itself. The dimensional space had returned to stable isolation. Oscar's intrusion had been addressed. Threat had been removed. Everything was returning to acceptable parameters.
But Haroon's calculations were running new assessments now. Oscar Steve. Omnipotent being pursuing destruction of entire existence. Allied with sealed entities who shared that goal. Willing to confront Haroon directly despite knowing the power differential.
That represented new variable in strategic planning. Not immediate threat—Oscar had been ejected to distant dimension and would require significant time to return. But eventual threat. Someone who would keep trying. Keep pursuing elimination of existence to free imprisoned allies.
Haroon would need to inform Commander Sarah. File threat assessment. Provide intelligence about Oscar Steve and the sealed beings. Ensure the allied Controllers understood that new opposition had emerged. Not the Dissolution Compact's philosophical disagreement about human civilization. Actual existential threat from beings who wanted to destroy everything.
The peaceful rest period had ended. Haroon stood from his cloud-chair, the dimensional space responding to his intention by reconfiguring for departure. He would return to Station Theta-7. Resume maintenance operations. File his reports. Continue his function.
But he would also monitor dimensional barriers for signs of Oscar's return. Would maintain awareness of potential threats to existence itself. Would prepare for confrontation that had been delayed but not prevented.
Oscar Steve wanted to destroy everything. Haroon had chosen to protect everything. That fundamental opposition meant conflict was inevitable. Not immediately. But eventually.
Haroon transited out of Fold Fragments, returning to normal space, leaving the dimensional pocket isolated and empty. The clouds that had formed his chair dissipated. The peaceful space returned to baseline configuration. Ready for next rest period. Waiting for occupant who wouldn't need it for some time.
Everything was in motion now. The Dissolution Compact's distributed assault. Oscar Steve's appearance. Sealed beings imprisoned for three hundred years. Multiple threats converging on existence that Haroon had decided to protect.
The work was never finished. The universe always needed maintenance. And now it needed defense against those who would tear it down.
Haroon returned to Station Theta-7. Resumed maintenance operations. Filed his reports. Continued his function.
But he was preparing. Calculating. Anticipating the conflicts to come.
Oscar would return. The sealed beings would try to break free. The Dissolution Compact would continue their operations. And Haroon would need to address all of it while maintaining routine station operations and protecting human civilization.
Sufficient.
Had to be sufficient.
The alternative was unacceptable.