Noah Vance : The Mortal Who Judged a Paradox

"Shall we begin?"

"So, as I'm just a mere mortal with limited time, I'll try my best to come up with an answer," Noah said, his voice steady but his mind racing.

For a long moment, there was nothing. Not silence, not stillness—just an absence.

Then, the god of permission responded.

"Time does not apply here. You will not age. You will not deteriorate. If you desire, I shall grant you the right to exist eternally, free from limits. That way, you may search for the answer without constraint."

Noah exhaled sharply. It was not a question, nor a suggestion. It was an absolute truth, stated as if reality itself had already shifted to accommodate it.

And yet, the weight of it pressed against him. The offer was not given out of kindness. It was not even given with intent.

It was simply law.

Noah's fingers curled slightly. An eternity to think. To search. To understand.

And yet—

"No."

His answer cut through the void, final and unwavering.

"I'll find the answer within my lifespan, while living my normal life on Earth."

The absence deepened. The void did not move, did not react, and yet something shifted—a presence that was not presence, pressing against his mind.

Then, Nothingness spoke.

"Why?"

The question was not spoken as humans understood it. It was not curiosity, not challenge, not demand. It simply was.

Noah hesitated.

Why?

Because deep down, he already understood something these two had overlooked.

Because to live eternally was to remove the very thing that made a choice meaningful.

Because the moment he accepted immortality, the weight of this paradox would no longer matter to him.

Because if he searched forever, he would never truly search at all.

But these were not gods in the way mortals understood them. They would not grasp sentiment, not comprehend meaning the way humans did.

And so, Noah chose something simpler. Something undeniable.

"It's my condition." His voice was steady. "If you won't agree, I won't judge this paradox."

Another absence.

And then, existence itself shifted—not with sound, not with movement, but with something far more fundamental.

A change in absolute truth.

Then, in unison, the two spoke.

"Accepted."

Noah exhaled, steadying his thoughts. He had already refused immortality, had already set his terms. Now, if he was to face these beings on equal ground—at least in discourse—he needed a way to address them.

He lifted his gaze, first to the one who embodied the void itself, the being who erased even the concept of presence.

"A god beyond existence… the embodiment of nothingness itself…"

Noah's voice was quiet, yet certain.

"Nyxil."

The silence did not shift, but something in the void stirred, as if the weight of the name settled into the fabric of whatever this place was.

Then, Noah turned to the other. The god who was the opposite—who was not void, but possibility. Who did not erase, but granted.

A being who defined what could be.

"If permission itself were given form, if creation existed only because it was allowed to…"

Noah narrowed his eyes slightly before speaking the second name.

"Zepharon."

This time, something more than silence answered.

A ripple. A shift. As if the very act of naming them had solidified something intangible.

Nyxil remained unreadable, his presence neither growing nor diminishing. Zepharon, however, simply existed—unchanging, absolute.

"Names are unnecessary for us," he mused, his voice carrying neither approval nor rejection. "Yet you choose to define us?"

Noah crossed his arms. "I choose to acknowledge you."

Another pause. Another ripple.

Then, for the first time, Nyxil spoke.

"…Interesting."

Noah exhaled, his stance unwavering as he set his terms.

"Now, as per my condition, I'll live my mortal life on Earth. So let me out of… whatever this place is—this existence beyond existence. But since I must judge and determine who is superior between you two… you both will have to take physical form and come with me."

A moment of silence. Then—

"Interesting… I allow it." Zepharon's voice carried absolute certainty, as if his words had already shaped reality itself.

And with that, for the first time—before existence itself, before even the concept of reality—Nyxil and Zepharon took physical form.

Nyxil, the embodiment of nothingness, emerged as a frail-looking figure with dark skin, his presence like a shadow barely tethered to reality. Zepharon, the god of permission, manifested with golden hair, piercing green eyes, and warm brown skin, radiating an undeniable authority.

For the first time, the abstract had become tangible. And the gods who had existed beyond form now stood as beings in the mortal realm.

In an instant, the endless void was gone, replaced by the familiar sight of Noah's small apartment.

The sudden change was almost dizzying. One moment, he had been in a place beyond reality itself. The next, he was back in his dimly lit living room, the quiet hum of the refrigerator filling the silence.

Nyxil and Zepharon stood beside him, their presence completely out of place. Nyxil, dark-skinned and almost weightless, looked like he could vanish at any moment. Zepharon, with his golden hair and green eyes, carried himself with an air of quiet authority.

Noah let out a breath. "Alright. Now that we're here, the trial begins."

Noah leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the armrest as he spoke.

"Alright, let's start with something simple. Nyxil, you are the void—the absolute end of all things. If you exist somewhere, then by definition, nothing else can. 'You' are nothingness itself."

Nyxil's dark, almost ethereal eyes met his.

"Correct."

Noah shifted his gaze to Zepharon, his expression thoughtful.

"And Zepharon, you are permission itself. If you allow something, it becomes reality. If you don't, it simply never happens. That's how your existence works, right?"

Zepharon met his eyes, a faint, knowing smile forming on his lips.

"Precisely."

Noah leaned back slightly, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.

"The common thing in your… hmm, what should we call it? Let's say 'power' for now. The common factor in both of your powers is that you decide whether something should exist or not, right?"

Both Nyxil and Zepharon answered in unison, their voices absolute.

"Correct."

Nyxil's voice was calm, yet it carried an undeniable finality.

"But if I decide something to be me—'nothingness'—then it cannot be undone. Once anything becomes part of me, it will never exist again."

Noah's eyes narrowed slightly as he processed that.

"Ahh… interesting."

Noah glanced at the jar on the table, then back at Nyxil.

"So, if you declare that this jar should become part of nothingness… it will cease to exist, permanently?"

"Yes," Nyxil said, his voice as still as the void itself. "It would enter the absolute end—nothingness. Once claimed, it can never exist again."

Noah leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I see…

and Zepharon, if you don't permit something to exist, it simply vanishes—like it was never there in the first place."

Without a word, Zepharon willed it so. The jar disappeared, not shattered, not faded—just gone, as if it had never been placed on the table to begin with.

Noah nodded, then pointed to the empty spot. "Now, approve its existence again."

Zepharon allowed it. And just like that, the jar reappeared, sitting exactly where it had been, unchanged, as if it had never left.

Noah nodded, as if piecing together a puzzle. Then, he pointed at the jar again.

"Alright, Nyxil. Take this jar into your nothingness," he instructed.

Nyxil simply willed it, and in an instant, the jar vanished. But unlike before, when Zepharon had merely denied its existence, this time, it wasn't just gone—it had ceased to be. There was no trace, no memory of its presence, no lingering reality where it once stood. It had been swallowed by the void itself.

Noah exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the table. "Now, you can't bring it back, right?"

Nyxil met his gaze, his voice calm, yet absolute. "Yes. It is now part of the void. Once something enters me—the end of everything, nothingness—it can never exist again."

Noah leaned back, absorbing the weight of those words. This was the fundamental difference between them. Zepharon could permit something's return. But if Nyxil took it, there was no coming back.

Noah chuckled, leaning forward with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Haha, interesting… Your powers are terrifyingly absolute, yet both come with loopholes." He turned to Nyxil first. "If we think emotionally—Nyxil, once you take something into your nothingness, you can never get it back, no matter what you do. Your own power becomes your enemy if you were to act with emotions. If you were to regret, to long for something lost… it wouldn't matter. It would be gone forever."

Nyxil remained silent, his expression unreadable, but something in his gaze darkened, as if Noah had touched on a truth even he had never considered.

Noah then shifted his focus to Zepharon, his tone sharpening. "And you, Zepharon. Your power is undeniably the most flexible. You can allow anything to exist—or refuse it. No limitations, no restrictions. But that's precisely your loophole. If you think rationally, your power is so absolute that it folds in on itself. If you allow everything, does anything truly matter? If you deny everything, then what even exists in the first place?"

For the first time, both gods seemed truly still. Not in arrogance, not in amusement, but in something far deeper—contemplation.

Noah leaned back with a knowing smirk.

"Let's make it simple… Zepharon, allow the jar to exist again."

Zepharon raised a hand, his power surging as he willed the jar back into existence. But nothing happened. No ripple in reality, no sign that the jar had ever been there. His emerald eyes narrowed.

"I'm trying… but it's not happening. It's as if it was never there to begin with."

Noah laughed. Not in mockery, but in satisfaction—he had expected this.

"Haha, I knew it. Zepharon, you can't bring back anything that has been taken into Nyxil." He tapped the table lightly. "Once something is consumed by nothingness, it's beyond even you. It doesn't just stop existing—it was never even a possibility to begin with."

Silence filled the room as both gods processed this revelation. For beings that stood beyond existence itself, the idea that one could undo the other so absolutely was… intriguing.

Zepharon and Nyxil exchanged glances before turning back to Noah. Their gazes, one of creation and the other of oblivion, locked onto him with silent curiosity.

"Haha, but guess what?" Noah leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes. "It can be possible."

Both gods spoke at once.

"How?"

Noah smirked. "That's the catch. If I tell you, then there will be no difference between the two of you." He rested his chin on his hand, his tone teasing yet deliberate. "Still, do you really want to know?"

Zepharon narrowed his eyes.

Noah continued, "Zepharon, if I reveal the answer, then your only advantage—the fact that you hold a better position on the power scale due to your rational nature—will be gone. You'd no longer have the upper hand."

Silence.

Nyxil and Zepharon, entities beyond time, power, and existence itself, found themselves facing something truly rare—uncertainty.

But curiosity outweighed reason, and Zepharon couldn't resist.

"Fine. Tell us how," he said.

Noah smirked. "It's simple. Just grant permission—to Nyxil. Allow him to reclaim anything from the absolute void, to take back what was once erased."

A flicker of realization crossed Zepharon's face, but it was Nyxil who reacted first.

"You're saying... I can retrieve what I've erased if he allows it?" Nyxil's voice, usually void of emotion, held a trace of intrigue.

Noah grinned. "Exactly. Your power isn't the problem—it's the fact that you never had permission to reverse it. But if Zepharon grants that permission, then even the end of everything is no longer absolute."

Zepharon hesitated, as if weighing the consequences. Then, with a slow nod, he spoke.

"I allow it."

For the first time in all of existence—before existence even had meaning—Nyxil's power shifted. The void that was supposed to be final, the concept of absolute nothingness, trembled as it was rewritten.

A moment later, the jar reappeared.

Noah leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "And that, my dear gods, is how you break the unbreakable."

"Haha, now guess what?" Noah leaned back, a sly grin forming on his face. "Right now, you two are the same. Both of you can decide whether something exists or not, bring it back or erase it entirely. But that raises the real question..."

He let the thought linger, watching their expressions shift.

"Who is truly superior? Zepharon, who can turn even the void—the supposed end of everything—into nothing more than a mere joke? Or Nyxil, who, had he taken you into nothingness before you granted him that permission, would have erased even the concept of your power itself?"