The Weakest Hero's Ascension

Voices of the Dead Omniverse

The silence after the last battle was not peace — it was grief so vast it spanned galaxies.

Ethan floated in a sky of broken stars, each fragment humming with the memory of a world that no longer existed. The Wildcard Legion hovered nearby, their forms flickering between solid and spectral as the laws of reality continued to deteriorate.

No wind.

No horizon.

Only a cosmic graveyard — and the haunting music of a dying omniverse.

The void spoke first.

> “You hear them now, don’t you?”

It wasn’t a voice that reached his ears — it vibrated through the marrow of his being. He turned, and behind him stood Kael, his armor cracked and glowing faintly with starlight. Even his voice trembled with exhaustion.

Ethan nodded. “They’re… everywhere. Every dead reality. Every destroyed world. They’re calling to me.”

He didn’t need to close his eyes to hear them — the whispers crawled through his veins, clinging to every thought. He could feel the memories of civilizations rise and fall, of heroes who failed, of monsters who repented, of gods who begged for forgiveness.

Each voice was a life. Each tone, a tragedy.

And they all said the same thing.

> “Remember us.”

The omniverse was dead, but its memory refused to die.

---

I. The Whispers of Infinity

The air shimmered as Lyria raised her staff. “We shouldn’t stay here, Ethan. The boundary between realities is eroding faster than the System predicted. If we don’t move, we’ll—”

A crack cut her off — not a sound, but a tear. Space itself split open beside them, revealing a hollow corridor filled with drifting shards of time. From within it came light, pulsing with emotion.

Borin gripped his axe tighter. “What in the nine hells is that?”

Selin’s eyes widened. “Those are… memories.”

Ethan felt his pulse quicken. The light washed over him, and suddenly his surroundings changed. The void melted into color, shape, and scent — and he stood inside a memory not his own.

He was standing on a small planet of emerald grass under two suns. A young girl was laughing, holding the hand of a man in black armor — a hero, perhaps, from a world that once existed. He watched as she tripped, fell, and laughed again, only for the sky to split apart.

The suns dimmed. The air caught fire. The world screamed as it was consumed by the cascading collapse of existence.

And then — silence.

Ethan gasped, the scene flickering back into the broken void. His heart pounded as if it were about to tear through his chest.

> “You saw it,” Kael whispered.

“Their last moments.”

Ethan clenched his fists. “They’re not just memories… they’re echoes. Fragments of people who lived. Who failed. Who never had a chance to be remembered.”

Lyria frowned. “But why are they drawn to you?”

Ethan didn’t know — but the System did.

---

[SYSTEM UPDATE]

> New Passive Acquired: Omniversal Memory Recall

You can now access the collective memory of every reality lost to collapse.

Warning: sustained exposure may erode identity.

Integration Level: 0.04%

---

The message burned itself into his vision before fading away.

He dropped to his knees, clutching his head as thousands — millions — of voices crashed through his consciousness.

A child crying on a distant planet.

A mother calling for her son as time unraveled.

A soldier laughing in defiance of extinction.

They all poured into him, forming a tapestry of sorrow and defiance.

Ethan screamed — not from pain, but from the unbearable truth of it all.

Every reality, no matter how small or insignificant, had left an imprint. The omniverse was never truly gone; it simply changed form — from existence to memory.

And now, he carried it.

---

II. The Legion’s Fear

Hours passed — or centuries. Time had no meaning here.

Ethan floated cross-legged above the void, eyes glowing faintly with violet-gold light. Every second, another memory surfaced: the fall of empires, the laughter of forgotten gods, the whisper of the first flame that had ever burned.

Kael watched from a distance, arms crossed, voice low.

“He’s changing again.”

Borin spat into the nothingness. “Changing? He’s becoming something else. Look at him. He’s barely human anymore.”

Selin looked pained. “He’s still Ethan. He always finds a way to return.”

But she wasn’t sure. None of them were.

Lyria approached Ethan’s hovering form, the remnants of her robe fluttering like smoke. “Ethan,” she said softly, “if you keep taking in those memories, you’ll lose yourself. You’ll drown in them.”

Ethan opened his eyes.

For a heartbeat, they reflected galaxies collapsing — and then steadied.

“No,” he whispered. “I won’t drown. They’re not noise. They’re lessons.”

He stood, and as he did, the void trembled.

> “Every failure, every loss, every forgotten hero — they’re speaking to us. To me. They don’t want to vanish.”

He looked around — and for the first time, the void responded. Threads of silver light began to form, weaving together into ghostly silhouettes of figures — fragments of dead worlds.

Men and women in strange armor. Children holding toys of unknown design. Entire species of light and shadow.

Kael instinctively drew his sword.

“Ethan, what are you doing?”

Ethan raised a hand.

“Listening.”

The ghosts spoke, their voices layered into a single harmonic tone that resonated through the Legion’s bones.

> “He remembers.”

“The last one hears us.”

“The weak hero carries our ashes.”

Lyria’s breath caught in her throat.

“They… know him.”

Ethan stepped forward. “Tell me,” he whispered, “how can I honor you?”

The voices swirled together, forming a storm of energy that coiled into his chest.

Pain flooded him again — but this time, it was not chaos. It was purpose.

---

III. The Burden of Memory

For three eternal days, Ethan drifted between the fragments, absorbing memory after memory. The Legion stayed close, though they could no longer reach him. His body flickered with static light — each flicker a different universe replaying its final breath through him.

He saw a dragon who sacrificed itself to protect a dying moon.

A scientist who tried to rebuild time but was consumed by paradox.

A god who fell in love with mortality and chose to forget divinity.

Each memory brought tears, laughter, and despair.

Each memory changed him.

The System pulsed again.

---

[SYSTEM EVOLUTION]

> Integration Level: 37.8%

New Active Ability Unlocked: Omniversal Memory Recall — Full Sync Mode

You may now summon and manifest any skill, knowledge, or phenomenon once recorded in a lost universe.

Caution: excessive use may blur reality and illusion.

---

When Ethan opened his eyes, his aura was vast — and alive. The void no longer felt empty. It hummed with the faint rhythm of life, of stories reborn.

He exhaled, and constellations flickered back into being for a moment before fading again.

Kael approached cautiously. “Ethan?”

Ethan smiled faintly, though there was exhaustion in his gaze. “They’re not gone anymore. Every person who ever failed… they live inside me now. Not as power, but as memory.”

Selin tilted her head. “Can you control it?”

Ethan shrugged. “Not control. Understand. Their failures… they guide me. They show me what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Kael asked.

Ethan turned toward the far horizon — or where it used to be.

There, in the distance, was a faint light.

A single world still burned — trembling, alive, desperate.

“The last surviving fragment,” he murmured. “We go there.”

---

IV. The Path of Echoes

Traveling through a dead omniverse was not like crossing distance — it was like swimming through memory. Each motion drew the Legion through the ghosts of reality, through storms of data and shattered timelines.

Lyria used her magic to stabilize them, her voice echoing ancient runes.

Selin maintained their coordinates through instinct alone.

Borin, though silent, held his weapon tight — a warrior who’d run out of battles but not courage.

Ethan led, guided by whispers only he could hear.

At times, they were screams.

At others, songs.

And then, as they neared the last fragment, a new presence stirred — something vast, angry, alive.

A shadow spread across the collapsing stars, and a voice unlike the others thundered:

> “You stole their deaths.”

Ethan froze. “Who—”

The shadow solidified into a figure clad in obsidian armor, eyes burning like collapsing suns.

“The Custodian,” Lyria breathed. “The keeper of the dead omniverse.”

The entity floated before Ethan, its aura suffocating. “You have violated the boundary. The dead must remain dead.”

Ethan’s eyes glowed brighter. “No. They remain remembered.”

“Memory is not life.”

“Memory is life,” Ethan snapped, his voice shaking the void. “They failed, and through their failures, they became eternal. I won’t let you erase that!”

The Custodian’s blade shimmered, forged from forgotten realities. “Then you, too, will join them.”

---

V. The Battle of Memory

The fight was unlike any the Legion had seen.

Each strike from the Custodian tore through existence itself — cleaving time and law with every swing.

Ethan countered not with force, but with memory.

Each attack he blocked summoned a scene — a hero deflecting a god’s wrath, a lover shielding another with their body, a dying soldier raising one last shield.

He was fighting with the strength of all who had failed before him.

Kael dove in, blades flashing with spectral flame. “We’re with you, Ethan!”

Lyria’s spells burned through the vacuum, summoning echoes of long-lost magic — each cast drawn from a forgotten world.

Borin roared, his axe crashing against the Custodian’s barrier. “You want death? Then fight the living memories themselves!”

Selin’s arrows of starlight pierced through spacetime, each carrying the voice of a forgotten soul.

The battle shook the void. Every impact resonated through the omniverse’s corpse, lighting up fragments that had long been silent.

Finally, the Custodian faltered, kneeling as cracks spread across its armor.

Ethan stepped forward, voice soft. “You guard the dead… but who guards you?”

The Custodian looked up, surprise flickering in its cosmic eyes.

“I… failed them.”

Ethan reached out his hand. “Then remember them with me.”

---

The Custodian hesitated — then took his hand.

Light burst outward, engulfing the void.

For a heartbeat, every dead world glimmered once more — colors and sounds flooding back into existence, if only briefly. The omniverse sang, and every voice whispered the same word:

> “Thank you.”

---

VI. The Awakening of Memory

When the light faded, the void was no longer silent.

Ethan stood among his friends, the Custodian kneeling behind him like a repentant god.

Lyria looked around in awe. “He stabilized it. The void’s not collapsing anymore.”

Kael exhaled. “You did it, Ethan. You saved them.”

Ethan shook his head. “No… I remembered them. That’s enough.”

The System pulsed again, but this time, its tone was different — warmer.

---

[SYSTEM UPDATE]

> “Omniversal Memory Recall” Fully Integrated

Your mind now bridges all timelines, realities, and lives.

The Omniverse no longer fears death while you exist.

---

Ethan smiled faintly, gazing into the infinite expanse that was once dead and now glowed faintly like the embers of a dying fire.

“Even in ruin,” he whispered, “we can still burn.”