In a region of Star Sea Beta-13, trapped within the imperial purple veil that smothered light-years, the laughter of Nar'Thyss echoed.

Elara, the central Level Zero Scale Nar'Thyss, drifted forward slightly, her world-sized butterfly form eclipsing the dying stars. Her voice, a narrative decree that resonated through Achilles's very being, was laced with amused contempt.

"Va'thos, Xylar… stand down," she commanded, addressing her blood-red and cerulean blue companions.

"This little spark of defiance is mine. It's been eons since I've had the chance to personally extinguish an insect that dared buzz too loudly. Let me show this…insect… just how insignificant its struggles truly are."

Va'thos, the embodiment of war's Fable, cackled. "As you wish, Elara. Do try not to crush it too quickly. Its Fable has a certain… desperate charm."

Xylar, the blue Nar'Thyss of cold logic, remained silent, its very stillness an assessment of Achilles's negligible threat.

Achilles remained within his shadowy, void-shrouded form.

He watched Elara approach, the sheer weight of her Tier 1, Level Zero existence pressing down on him like a collapsing universe.

This was not the contained, calculated power of the Tier 9 entities he had faced. This was raw, untamed authority, the power of an author who could rewrite the very laws of physics their story operated under.

Elara smiled, a gesture that spanned solar systems on her immense face. "Insects," she declared, her voice weaving itself into the fabric of local reality, "are most interesting when they squirm. So, the first thing I shall do is ensure you cannot even move. Let us see how brightly your defiance burns when trapped in absolute stillness."

HUUM!

Purple seas of invisible pressure smashed down onto Achilles. It wasn't gravity, not electromagnetism, not any force he could easily name. It was narrative weight.

It was the story of immobility being imposed upon him with the force of cosmic law. His shadowy form, which had moved like a phantom through battle, was anchored in place.

He felt space itself solidify around him, each quantum probability freezing, every potential movement becoming an impossibility.

His void-shrouded face looked up, and though his features were hidden, the sheer, unadulterated rage in his presence was palpable, a silent scream against the oppressive authority.

Elara laughed, the sound making the purple veil around them shimmer. "Oh, is the little insect angry? Does it not like being pinned under the author's thumb? Struggle. Please struggle. Your futile resistance makes the narrative so much more… flavorful."

Achilles felt the crushing weight, the absolute suppression. He tried to fight back. He reached for his Regulations.

He called upon Quantum. He tried to exist in superposition, to be both here and not here, pinned and free. But the probabilities felt sluggish, thick as tar. Elara's authority wasn't just stronger; it was more real.

It dictated the baseline reality upon which his probabilities had to operate, and that baseline screamed immobility.

His quantum states struggled to form, collapsing under the narrative weight before they could fully manifest.

He grasped for Spatial Tension. He tried to fold space, to make the distance between his atoms and freedom infinitesimally small. But the framework felt brittle, stressed to the breaking point.

Elara's authority permeated the very structure he sought to manipulate, making the space around him stubbornly, agonizingly present. The invisible scaffolding of existence buckled under her narrative, refusing his commands.

HUUM!

He invoked Inevitable Entropy. He tried to age the purple pressure, to make the story of his confinement decay into irrelevance. But the authority pushing down on him felt timeless, eternal. Entropy found no purchase, like trying to weather a concept. Her narrative simply rewrote the rules of decay in her immediate vicinity.

Even The Void, the power of absolute negation, felt… distant. He could sense it, could feel its potential to erase the oppressive authority. He could even glimpse the possibility of using his Existential Authority of Fables, rewriting Elara's narrative decree of stillness.

But the cost… his consciousness reeled from the calculation. To exert either Authority against the direct suppression of a Level Zero Scale entity would require nearly all the Units he possessed. He would be drained, vulnerable, likely unable to follow up even if he did break free for an instant.

It would be a pyrrhic victory at best, trading temporary freedom for utter exhaustion.

Elara's taunting laughter continued, echoing in the space her authority had defined.

"See? This is the difference between a character and the author, little insect. You operate within the rules. I am the rules."

He couldn't move. His Regulations were suppressed. His Authorities too costly. He was pinned, helpless, a bug under a cosmic boot.

So amidst the taunting, when he seemingly could do nothing…

Silently… within the core of his trapped Dream Body…

'Assimilate.'

He whispered the command only to himself. He wasn't targeting Elara's body, wasn't trying to consume her vast narrative power directly as he couldn't.

He targeted the very thing that held him captive: the crushing, oppressive, magnificent aura of a Level Zero Scale Nar'Thyss.

…!

The sensation was like trying to drink a supernova through a straw. The sheer purity, the overwhelming density of the authority flooding into him was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

It wasn't just power; it was information, it was understanding, it was the very essence of a higher scale of existence!

OOOH!

He gritted his teeth, his shadowy form flickering violently as the influx threatened to tear his Dream Body apart. It was agony, but it was also… fuel.

Like a sponge thrown into an ocean of pure potential, he began to drink. He absorbed the purple pressure, the narrative weight, the very story of his own immobilization, and made it part of him.

'She thinks she's crushing me,' his internal thoughts raged, cold and focused despite the cosmic pressure.

'She thinks this is punishment. She doesn't understand. This isn't suppression. This is nourishment. I will drink her power, understand her scale, and use her own arrogance as the catalyst for my ascension. I will assimilate this until I break free, however long it takes!"

BOOM!

He felt it. A loosening. A slight reduction in the crushing weight as his assimilation began to process the incoming authority.

He could lift his hand now, maybe. But he didn't. He only twitched the fingers of his shadowy hand, a barely perceptible movement. Then, slowly, defiantly, he turned his void-shrouded head upward, his unseen gaze fixed on the world-sized entity above him.

The gesture was unmistakable: I can still move.

Elara felt it. The flicker of resistance. The insolent twitch. The defiant turn of his head. Her laughter stopped.

Her many eyes narrowed. Disrespect. From an insect!

Her authority, which had been a crushing weight, intensified, becoming an absolute, suffocating presence. The purple seas of pressure became a solid block of narrative law.

"You dare?" her voice thundered, no longer amused, only furious.

But Achilles kept drinking. The increased authority wasn't crushing him further; it was just… more. More fuel. More understanding. He felt his Dream Body straining, cracking at the edges, but the core held firm, the assimilation process accelerating, greedily absorbing the higher-scale power.

Prompts materialized in his consciousness, blazing against the purple darkness!

|You are Assimilating an extremely pure form of Existential Authority from a Higher Scale of Existence (Level Zero, Tier 1).|

|Due to the purity and intensity of this Authority, you can sense the Shackles binding your core Existence to its current Scale (Level Null).|

|Sufficient Assimilation of Higher Scale Authority may provide the necessary force to forcefully break these Shackles and initiate advancement towards the next Scale of Existence.|

…!

Achilles looked at these prompts, and his hidden eyes shone with fierce, predatory light.

Shackles? He focused his perception inward, past the Dream Body, past his Regulations, toward the very core of his being. And he saw them. What he couldn't see before, what had been utterly invisible, now shimmered into view under the influence of the Level Zero authority he was consuming.

Countless chains. Ethereal, shimmering chains made of solidified probability, narrative constraint, and perhaps even law itself.

They emerged from all directions, from the fabric of the Null Scale Existence, binding themselves onto his very Existence, anchoring him, keeping him down!

Chains designed to keep beings within their designated Scale!

He stared at them, and a terrible, brilliant realization dawned. Elara, Va'thos, Xylar… they weren't just his captors. They weren't just his enemies.

They were the blade.

They were the force he needed, the external pressure required to shatter the chains that held him back. If he could use their terrifying power, assimilate enough of their higher-scale authority… he might just be able to cut himself free!

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