In the heart of an ancient, infinite expanse, beyond the reach of stars and time, beyond the idea of reality and space, even beyond the idea that the term 'existence' truly existed and that 'ideas' are truly ideas, sat two pure white colossal doors with intricate patterns.
The patterns consisted of a white snake with a golden apple held between its two fangs, displaying its unfathomable and unparalleled beauty and a lustrous aura of mystery.
Merely the ethereal smooth silver doorknobs on each door—shaped like a triangle with a circle inside, seeming to sink in forever—were the size of Mt. Everest.
Yet their firmness made even Everest seem no more than a child's broken toy—nay, something much, much more insignificant to an infinite, atomic degree.
The two doors were not in a specific location; they were everywhere yet nowhere. No matter how many gods searched the voids, worlds, planets, universes, and even multiverses with the help of divine beasts and their powers, the doors were not impossible to find. It wasn't even hard to find them; the existence of them did not exist in the first place.
As such, the doors went by the name they had made up—
The Distant Lands of the Graveyard, also known as The End Beyond the End.
No one knew what was beyond the doors. No one had reached, nor dared to; something no one would ever—not ever in the infinite loop of time—would reach, as in the first place, the concept of it was paradoxical. Too complicated to fathom. Too easy to understand.
Tales of gods who heard the name existed, but were forgotten—the sanity of such beings disappearing forever, never to return again.
.
.
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In the heart of an endless flat land, under a pitch-black, abyss-like sky, snowflakes slowly descended, drifting lazily through the air like frozen whispers.
Small, bright white snowflakes slowly descended, covering the entire lower realm in snow. It slowly accumulated over an unknown amount of time—had time existed in this plain white, flat land of surface.
Here and there, strange, gnarled trees emerged from the earth, their branches twisting in unnatural shapes, as if torn from a world that no longer existed.
They loomed in the distance, their bark dark and spectral, contrasting against the void of the sky.
An abandoned kingdom lay in tranquil silence, as if frozen in time, with its grey, stable houses standing like monuments to forgotten lives—showing the neat and amazing architecture that once roamed the realm, stamping its existence as a long-forgotten medieval kingdom.
The stone structures were weathered and cracked, their windows hollow, like empty eyes staring into an abyss.
At the kingdom's heart was a cathedral—grand, yet forsaken—shooting into the sky with its gothic design. Its towering spires reached for the dark, infinite sky that was devoid of any signs of color or clouds.
The doors were wide open, inviting nothing but the sound of distant echoes and nostalgia, with the empty rows upon rows where priests once sat, praying to their savior.
Inside, the church's bell tolled steadily—its resonance unnatural, almost rhythmic, like a heartbeat lost in the void, stirring nothing but emptiness in this forsaken land.
However, if there was one thing to note that was more horrifying than the profound emptiness and silence that could not be rivaled elsewhere in the universe...
It would simply be how the snow covered the flat land beyond the walls surrounding the once-vibrant kingdom, with not an inch of green to be seen.
At a certain point, the white, plain surface simply ended at a black point where black fog resided. Nothing could be seen beyond it—only the color black past a certain point.
Amidst this frozen desolation, in the middle of the white land, a massive white door materialized from nowhere, as if summoned by the oppressive silence.
The door, originally no larger than a normal one on Earth, began to increase in size.
At first, the magnificent door grew at an average pace, slowly increasing in size.
However, at one point, it grew larger and larger until the ground beneath it cracked—forming a spiderweb of fractures that reached the abyss-like sky. It pierced the heavens, entering a liquid-like realm beyond, where everything was filled with a colorless liquid.
Had this been on Earth, the door would have pierced the clouds and continued until it reached space.
Suddenly, the door stopped growing.
Its white and silver, smooth surface gleamed faintly, untouched by the falling snow. Its edges were sharp, defined, contrasting starkly against the barren expanse. The carving of the snake with the golden apple in its mouth slowly came to life, slithering downward until it reached the door's center.
The snake, still with the two-dimensional apple in its mouth, suddenly dropped it.
Miraculously, the apple shone for a moment before slowly entering the door as if it were transparent like water—completely disappearing from view.
The door stood alone in the empty, limited plains, as the snake's size increased tenfold, transforming into a titanic serpent.
Its eyes shone gold as six fangs appeared in its lower jaw. The snake spun rapidly in place, biting its own tail and tearing off half of it with dagger-like teeth before swallowing it.
Then it twisted into a symbol resembling infinity—except incomplete due to the severed tail.
What occurred next was even stranger.
A red blood circle appeared on the door without warning, with the incomplete infinity symbol in its center. The red slowly seeped, as if blood tainted the snow, flowing until it reached a threshold.
KASSSHHHHHHHIINNNNK!
At that moment, rainbow-colored glowing chains erupted from inside the door—as if the door were transparent like water. Quadrillions—nay, more—burst out, firmly clutching the doorknobs as if to stop them from opening. A white lock with three keyholes appeared.
In mid-air, three large keys materialized, each with a unique appearance.
The first key was red, slightly curved, and ended in a triangle. The second was green, straight like an arrow, ending in a square. The third was disfigured, glowing dark blue, and ended in a circle.
Slowly and steadily, the keys inserted themselves into the lock and twisted—guided by some invisible force.
Contrary to normal doors, there was no familiar click!—no sound at all. As if nothing had changed.
Once inserted, the lock and chains dissolved into particles that flowed through the transparent-like door.
BOOM.
A heavy pressure descended on the realm. Trees were uprooted, flung into the abyssal sky, never to be seen again. The kingdom was torn from the land, flung upward with a deafening rumble, the church bell still ringing—as if to warn of something ominous.
Ding! Ding!
All the land began to uproot itself, flying into the abyssal, liquid sky—never to be seen again.
SHHHSHHHSNKSHKSHHSH!
Only the door remained, standing on a patch of snowy ground, as the frozen white flakes fell endlessly from the abyssal sky, where no clouds could be seen.
It was then the door slowly opened.
Instead of a creak, a sound of violent static resounded. Reality twisted into black-and-white static, like an old television screen gone mad.
The static overwhelmed everything, devouring the realm at its roots. Any being unlucky—and lucky—enough to witness it would have lost their mind and committed suicide for reasons unknown.
☀ ☀ ☀
After an unknown time, the violent static began to fade.
The door stood wide open—opened for the first time since it had existed, if it had ever existed at all.
Inside, there was...