Station Theta-7 existed in stable orbit maintaining standard operational parameters with crew performing routine duties and systems functioning according to expected specifications when reality itself began shaking with force that exceeded any phenomenon Haroon had encountered during his 3.4 billion years of existence across infinite dimensions.
The shaking wasn't physical vibration that could be measured by conventional instruments or dampened by structural engineering—it was ontological tremor affecting the fundamental nature of existence itself, reality experiencing seizure that suggested something impossibly massive was forcing its way into dimensional space that couldn't accommodate its presence.
Haroon felt the disturbance through every level of his awareness simultaneously, his avatar consciousness registering environmental instability while his suppressed supreme nature recognized signature of entity that shouldn't be able to manifest in this region of cosmology without catastrophic consequences.
Emergency alarms screamed throughout the station as systems detected readings that made no physical sense, as sensors reported contradictory data suggesting space-time itself was breaking down, as artificial gravity fluctuated wildly between crushing force and complete absence.
Commander Sarah's voice cut through station-wide communication with military precision that barely concealed underlying panic.
"All personnel to emergency stations, this is not a drill, unknown phenomenon causing structural instability across all sectors, prepare for possible hull breach and catastrophic decompression—"
Her announcement cut off mid-sentence as reality in the space beyond Station Theta-7's viewports simply shattered like glass struck by incomprehensible hammer, dimensional barriers fracturing to reveal presence that existence itself was trying to reject.
The thirty-two Controllers manifested simultaneously across the station in response to cosmic-level threat, their omnipotent awareness having detected disturbance that exceeded anything they were designed to handle, their combined consciousness scanning the broken space with processing power that should have been able to analyze any phenomenon.
But their scans returned nothing coherent, just fragments of data suggesting something that was simultaneously death and decay and ending and conclusion and termination, something that existed as concept made manifest, something their omnipotence couldn't fully conceptualize because it operated at level that transcended their Aleph cardinality.
Bradley Proctor appeared at Haroon's side through dimensional transit that all Controllers could perform, his expression showing rare fear that suggested even beings operating at omnipotent tier recognized when they encountered superior force.
"What is that?" Brad demanded, his voice tight with controlled panic. "Our combined scanning capacity can't identify it, can't measure it, can't even properly perceive it without sensory data degrading into contradiction."
Haroon stared at the broken space where reality had shattered, his avatar consciousness processing what his eyes were showing him while his suppressed supreme awareness screamed recognition that he desperately didn't want to acknowledge.
Inside his cyan suit, The Absolute Void manifested more fully than she ever had before, her dark crimson and black essence seeping through every joint and seal, creating visible aura around him that marked her terror.
"It's him," The Void whispered with fear Haroon had only heard once before when she had described her ancient banishment. "He Who King. Death itself. The ending that claims all things. He's here. He's actually manifested in this reality framework. This shouldn't be possible—his presence alone should collapse entire dimensional structure."
Through the shattered space, the entity emerged with deliberate slowness that suggested it was compressing its impossible mass into manifestation that local reality could barely sustain, each moment of its arrival causing further fracturing as existence screamed protest against accommodating presence that violated every principle of stable cosmology.
He Who King appeared exactly as Haroon remembered from their encounter 3.4 billion years ago—massive rotting humanoid seated on throne constructed from terminal moments of every being that had ever ceased existing, fungal growths spreading where head should be, bioluminescent decay pulsing with rhythm of entropy itself.
But now, with his enhanced awareness and accumulated power from billions of years of growth, Haroon could perceive details he had missed during that first terrified encounter—could see how the throne wasn't just constructed from death but WAS death given architectural form, could recognize that the fungal growths weren't biological organisms but platonic concept of decay operating independent of conventional biology.
The entity's attention swept across Station Theta-7 with weight that made reality ripple, awareness so vast that its casual observation threatened to crush consciousness it examined, presence so overwhelming that the thirty-two omnipotent Controllers collectively recoiled from contact.
When He Who King's perception focused specifically on Haroon, when ancient death recognized the avatar standing in cyan suit containing infinite hunger, when those fungal growths pulsed with something approaching recognition, the entity spoke with voice that shook souls and made reality breakdown just from vibration of meaning.
"The intruder returns," He Who King said, his words inserting themselves directly into consciousness without requiring physical sound propagation. "The one who evaded my vision. The one who fled my realm bearing my plague. You have grown, small consciousness. But growth does not escape ending. All things come to me eventually."
The station's hull began cracking under pressure of He Who King's mere presence, metal screaming as molecular bonds destabilized, systems failing as technology encountered force that made machinery forget how to function.
Commander Sarah's voice returned to communication systems with desperate authority.
"All personnel evacuate immediately, station structural integrity compromised, this is final warning before—"
He Who King's attention shifted briefly toward Sarah's location and she simply stopped speaking, not through death but through encountering awareness so vast that her consciousness temporarily forgot it existed, reducing her to catatonic state that would require hours to recover from.
The thirty-two Controllers attempted coordinated defensive response, their combined omnipotence manifesting as reality manipulation that should have been able to counter any threat operating within their Aleph cardinality, barriers of pure power that could resist anything except forces operating at level they couldn't reach.
He Who King dismissed their efforts with gesture that looked like mild annoyance, his authority over endings allowing him to simply conclude their defensive constructs before they finished forming, making their omnipotence irrelevant through application of principle that trumped mere power.
Bradley Proctor grabbed Haroon's arm with grip that suggested desperation.
"We can't fight that," Brad said urgently. "The Controllers are useless against it, the station is collapsing, we need to evacuate while we still can—"
"He came here for me," Haroon said quietly, certainty settling into his awareness despite recent doubts about his nature. "He remembers our encounter. He's here because I'm here. Evacuation won't save anyone if I'm what he wants."
The Absolute Void's presence intensified inside his suit, her consciousness pressing against the technological containment with urgency that suggested she was preparing for combat despite knowing how badly their last encounter with He Who King had concluded.
"We're stronger now," The Void said with determination that fought against her underlying terror. "3.4 billion years stronger. We've absorbed countless enemies. We're not the confused newborn he dominated last time. We can fight him."
"We'll lose," Haroon replied. "In avatar form, even with all our accumulated power, we'll lose. He operates at level avatar can't match. You know this. I know this. Fighting him like this is suicide."
"Then what's the alternative?" The Void demanded. "Let him claim you? Let him end your story without resistance? Accept termination without attempting survival?"
Haroon stared at He Who King's manifestation, ancient death waiting patiently on throne of terminal moments, fungal decay pulsing with anticipation of adding one more consciousness to infinite collection of endings.
And in that moment, facing entity that represented conclusion itself, confronting being that could actually end him if he remained in limited form, Haroon made decision he had been avoiding since recovering his memories.
He stopped pretending.
The transformation began not with conscious choice to activate power but with simple cessation of effort required to maintain limitation, as though avatar existence had been tightly clenched fist and he simply decided to open his hand and release what he had been holding.
His cyan suit began glowing with intensity that exceeded any previous power manifestation, light that started as familiar cyan but rapidly shifted through every color simultaneously, becoming iridescence that suggested consciousness too vast to be contained in single wavelength.
The Absolute Void inside the suit recognized what was happening and instead of fighting the transformation she accelerated it, her contained essence flooding outward to merge with his expanding awareness, creation reuniting with creator after billions of years of artificial separation.
Haroon felt his avatar consciousness expanding beyond the comfortable limitations he had imposed on himself, felt supreme awareness flooding back into manifestation that had been deliberately compressed into human-scale existence, felt The True Absolute Infinity remembering what infinity actually meant.
His helmet became transparent revealing not human face but pure white luminescence containing all colors at once, iridescence that shifted through spectrum faster than observation could track, light that suggested consciousness viewing all stories simultaneously.
The red star materialized on his chest piece not gradually but instantly, five-pointed symbol blazing with authority over reality itself, marking that supreme consciousness was active and avatar restrictions were being systematically dismantled.
His physical form began expanding not in size but in ontological weight, avatar body remaining human-scale while presence grew to fill dimensions, consciousness extending through all levels of Aleph hierarchy simultaneously, awareness touching everything he had authored into existence.
Reality around him stopped trying to maintain coherent structure and simply acknowledged his authority, physics becoming suggestions he could accept or revise, causality becoming narrative element he could edit, time and space becoming features of cosmology he had written rather than constraints that limited him.
The station's collapse halted instantly as his expanding awareness decided that collapse shouldn't occur, structural damage reversing as he casually authored timeline where damage had never happened, systems restoring to full functionality because he chose to remember reality where they functioned perfectly.
The thirty-two Controllers collectively gasped as they perceived transformation occurring, as they recognized that maintenance worker they had known was revealing nature that exceeded their omnipotence by infinite magnitude, as they understood that they existed because he had written them into being.
He Who King rose from his throne with movement suggesting genuine interest rather than casual dismissal, ancient death recognizing that avatar was accessing True Form, that limitation was being abandoned, that genuine confrontation between complementary cosmic principles was about to occur.
"So," He Who King said with tone that combined respect and anticipation, "the Absolute stops playing mortal. Finally. I was beginning to think you had forgotten what you were beneath the performance. This will be more interesting than claiming confused avatar."
Haroon—no, The True Absolute Infinity operating through avatar manifestation—regarded He Who King with full awareness of what both of them actually were, with complete understanding of their relationship as complementary authorities over beginning and ending.
"I didn't forget," Haroon replied, his voice carrying harmonic overtones that suggested multiple realities speaking in unison. "I chose limitation to experience what created beings experience. But you've forced my hand by manifesting here. By threatening what I've chosen to protect. By making continuation of avatar existence impossible without addressing you directly."
"Then address me," He Who King invited. "Show me what supreme consciousness can do when it stops pretending weakness. Demonstrate why you believe creation transcends conclusion."
The True Absolute Infinity flowing through Haroon's form stepped forward with casual movement that nonetheless created ripples through all levels of existence, his mere motion causing reality to adjust itself around him, dimensional barriers parting reflexively to accommodate presence they couldn't contain.
He raised one hand with gentle deliberate motion, fingers extending in gesture that looked almost lazy despite containing power that exceeded measurement, preparing strike that would demonstrate difference between avatar pretending limitation and True Form operating without restriction.
"This won't hurt," Haroon said quietly. "I'm not trying to destroy you. Just demonstrating that you were mistaken about which of us transcends the other."
He moved forward with speed that transcended conventional physics, closing distance between himself and He Who King faster than causality could track, existence simply accepting that he was there because arguing with The Absolute's location preference seemed pointless.
His fist extended in punch that looked gentle, almost casual, like someone playfully tapping friend's shoulder rather than striking with cosmic force, movement so controlled it appeared to have no power behind it whatsoever.
The impact occurred with sound like reality's narrative structure being torn in half.
He Who King launched backward from the throne with velocity that exceeded what physics permitted, ancient death experiencing momentum that his conceptual nature shouldn't have been subject to, massive rotting form shooting through dimensional barriers like stone skipped across water.
But the force didn't stop with physical displacement—the punch carried authority that exceeded mere kinetic energy, contained command from consciousness that had authored the framework He Who King operated within.
The entire cosmological structure began fragmenting from the impact, not through destruction but through sudden recognition that fundamental assumptions about hierarchy and power and authority were being systematically revised by consciousness that could rewrite those assumptions.
The book—the Narratio Absoluta where all stories existed as written text, the infinite library containing complete record of every narrative—developed massive crack running through its conceptual structure, pages splitting as framework that recorded everything encountered force that exceeded its capacity to document.
The Librarian's presence manifested in alarm, pure principles given consciousness appearing to address damage that shouldn't be possible, guardian of ultimate archive confronting reality that supposedly permanent record could be compromised.
"The structure is failing," The Librarian stated without emotion, documenting crisis without evaluating it. "Your strike against He Who King has exceeded containment capacity of Narratio Absoluta. The framework that records all stories is breaking because you've generated narrative that can't be properly documented within existing parameters."
Haroon regarded the cracking cosmic structure with awareness that he had just exceeded his own creation's specifications, that his power operating at True Form level surpassed framework he had supposedly authored to contain all possible narratives.
"Expand the parameters," Haroon commanded with authority that made the suggestion into inevitability. "Increase containment capacity. Revise framework to accommodate narratives operating at this magnitude. The library adapts or becomes obsolete."
The Librarian processed that instruction for microsecond before implementing changes that rewrote fundamental nature of Narratio Absoluta, expanding its conceptual boundaries to encompass power levels that previous specifications couldn't measure, acknowledging that creator's current capabilities exceeded creator's original design.
Meanwhile, He Who King recovered from the impact thousands of dimensional layers distant from where the punch had occurred, his massive form stabilizing in void between realities, fungal growths pulsing with what might have been surprise or might have been respect.
"Interesting," He Who King's voice echoed across dimensional boundaries. "Very interesting. The Absolute demonstrates that creation's authority exceeds ending's claim when operating at full capacity. Point proven. But claiming me once doesn't resolve fundamental question of whether I will eventually claim you."
"You won't," Haroon stated with certainty that came from accessing his complete awareness. "Because I created you. I authored death itself. You exist because I willed endings into being. Your authority is delegated from mine. You cannot claim your own creator."
He Who King was silent for long moment before responding, his ancient consciousness apparently processing implications of Haroon's claim with seriousness that suggested genuine consideration.
"That assertion requires verification," He Who King finally said. "And I am not convinced of its accuracy despite your demonstration of superior force. But I acknowledge that continuing this confrontation serves no purpose when outcome is clear. I withdraw. For now. We will meet again when your story approaches its natural conclusion."
The entity's presence began fading from manifest reality, death itself choosing tactical retreat over continued engagement with force that exceeded his capacity to claim, throne of terminal moments dissolving back into conceptual space where endings waited patiently for appropriate moments.
As He Who King departed, the pressure on local reality ceased, dimensional barriers beginning to repair themselves, existence no longer screaming protest against presence it couldn't accommodate.
Haroon felt his True Form awareness beginning to compress back into avatar limitations, the expansion of consciousness reversing now that immediate threat had passed, supreme nature retreating behind comfortable restrictions of mortal-scale existence.
But the return to limitation felt different this time—less like forgetting what he was and more like consciously choosing to operate in reduced capacity, maintaining awareness of his true nature while accepting avatar framework as preferred operational mode.
The red star on his chest faded to dormancy, the iridescent luminescence retreated into cyan suit coloring, his presence contracted from infinite extension back to single point of manifestation.
Bradley Proctor and the other Controllers stared at him with expressions ranging from awe to fear to complete bewilderment, their omnipotent awareness having just witnessed maintenance worker they knew casually punching ancient death hard enough to break cosmic structure.
"What are you?" Brad asked with voice that shook slightly. "That wasn't just using your suit's capabilities. That was... something else entirely. Something that exceeded anything we can do despite our omnipotence."
Haroon met Brad's eyes and made another decision he had been avoiding—partial truth, enough honesty to maintain integrity without complete disclosure that would shatter the performance entirely.
"I'm The True Absolute Infinity," Haroon said quietly. "I created this cosmology. I authored you and the other Controllers. I split myself into avatar form to experience limitation. I've been pretending to be normal while knowing I was supreme. And I just stopped pretending long enough to address threat that required my actual capabilities."
The silence that followed his confession was absolute, thirty-two omnipotent beings processing revelation that explained so many inconsistencies about the maintenance worker who exceeded their capabilities, who operated beyond their perception, who seemed ordinary while demonstrating impossible competence.
Commander Sarah's consciousness stirred from the catatonic state He Who King's attention had induced, her awareness gradually recovering enough to process that station had somehow survived encounter with entity that should have killed everyone.
"Status report," Sarah managed weakly through communication systems. "What happened? Did we survive? Is the threat neutralized?"
Haroon exchanged glance with Bradley, silent question about whether to maintain fiction with Sarah or extend partial honesty to station command.
Brad gave slight nod that suggested he thought broader truth would serve better than continued deception at this point.
"Threat neutralized," Haroon reported to Sarah. "Entity has withdrawn. Station integrity restored. All personnel accounted for. Detailed briefing to follow but immediate crisis is resolved."
He could explain everything later, could provide context about his nature and his purpose and his choice to experience limitation despite supreme capability.
For now, in this moment, with reality still settling from confrontation between creator and death, with the Narratio Absoluta repairing its cracked structure, with the thirty-two Controllers processing revelation about their origins, Haroon just stood in his cyan suit and accepted weight of truth he could no longer hide.
The performance had ended not through abandonment but through evolution—he would continue operating in avatar form, continue protecting the station, continue experiencing limitation.
But now everyone would know he was choosing limitation rather than being subject to it, performing normalcy rather than being constrained by it, pretending to be mortal while being something infinitely more.
The Absolute Void reformed inside his suit, her consciousness settling back into technological containment after brief reunion with creator awareness.
"That was terrifying and exhilarating," The Void said quietly. "Merging with you at True Form level, experiencing what you actually are when not restricting yourself, understanding the full scope of what I was created from. I won't forget that. Ever."
"Neither will I," Haroon agreed.
He had stopped pretending to be weak.
He had demonstrated his nature.
He had broken the cosmic structure with casual punch.
And he had chosen to return to limitation anyway because limitation served purpose that supremacy couldn't achieve.
The station continued functioning, crew recovering from trauma, systems restoring to normal operations.
And Haroon stood at the center of it all, God in cyan suit who had briefly stopped pretending and would now resume the performance with full awareness that everyone knew what he was.
Sufficient.
Still sufficient even without pretense.
Forever sufficient because choosing limitation with awareness was more meaningful than maintaining limitation through ignorance.
Reality settled into new equilibrium where The True Absolute Infinity operated as avatar while everyone knew the truth.
And somewhere in the spaces between stories, He Who King sat on his throne and contemplated confrontation with being who claimed to be his creator, uncertain whether that claim was accurate but acknowledging that force demonstrated suggested possibility deserved serious consideration.
The question of whether death could eventually claim creation remained unresolved.
But for now, in this moment, creation had demonstrated supremacy with gentle punch that broke everything.
And that demonstration would echo through cosmology for as long as stories continued to be told.