Harry wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes fixed on the delicate formation of runes he'd been carving into metal for the past hour. His workshop smelled faintly of hot steel and sweat, the air humming with magic as he worked. He was focusing on finishing his ongoing project, the homunculi. He was almost done with the work, the core was already done, but he was putting some last mintue runes to help it perform better. It was while he was doing this that his package finally arrived, cutting through the silence of his deep focus.
He was focused, deep in the flow, until a familiar hoot cut through the silence.
A white blur shot in through the window of his workshop, moving with a speed that only a magically enhanced creature could manage.
Hedwig.
But not just Hedwig, Hedwig with a carefully secured small wooden box tied to her talons.
Harry's heart leapt. Finally. With but a thought, the workshop shifted, moving everything he was doing and making space for him.
She dropped the box on the table with a proud flutter and perched on the back of his chair, ruffling her feathers as if demanding immediate praise, and he gave her that as he patted her head.
Harry didn't even try to hide the grin spreading across his face.
He knew exactly what this was. He tapped the box as it expanded, turning larger.
He'd left Hedwig with Draken, A blacksmith Evelyn introduced him to when he had said he was looking for one to help me with something. Evenlyn had said the man was talented, and Harry had gone and checked it out, and he indeed was, so good that Harry hadn't given it a second thought as he decided to ask the man for what he wanted.
Harry could forge anything using an Authority. Of course, he could simply will what he wanted into existence. But those creations were temporary. Constructs of power, of his authority. They vanished when his focus broke, or when the divine energy sustaining them naturally dissipated.
What he needed was something real, something permanent, something that could withstand the raw and untamed power of a Godslayer and yet remain.
Something that he could use to tether, that would be strong enough to serve as an anchor for him.
He had personally supplied Draken with the materials, using his King of Earth Authority to locate and pull specific composite ores from the deepest parts of the earth, metals that naturally resisted magical dissolution and were strong enough.
Harry tore the box open.
Inside were nine beautifully crafted daggers, identical in shape, a clean, elegant leaf blade with a simple, balanced hilt. The steel had a smoky, obsidian-like sheen that absorbed light rather than reflected it. The designs were basic, but that didn't matter to him.
He picked one up, admiring the balance, the terrifying edge, the perfect, reassuring weight in his hand.
"Looks good," he muttered.
He swung it experimentally, smooth, effortless, the blade whistling softly through the air.
Then his smile sharpened.
"Good, good… now let's see how much you can take."
He inhaled, gathering his power, channeling the vast, divine reservoir of his power into the blade. Slowly at first. Then more. And more. And more. He wanted to see where the limits are, how much it could take before it started to crack and fail.
The dagger glowed instantly, white, then gold, then a violent orange, transitioning from mere illumination to an incandescent, furious light. The metal began to vibrate, emitting a high-pitched, resonant whine that threatened to burst his eardrums. The air around it turned brittle.
Harry stopped just as he sensed that the blade was about to shatter, pulling his power back in a rush.
"Hah. Guess that's all it can take," he murmured, letting the light fade and the blade cool almost instantly.
But he was grinning.
Because the amount of concentrated, destructive divine energy he'd poured into that single blade... was enough to turn a small mountain range into dust in an instant. The fact that this small dagger hadn't simply vaporized was the real victory. It had a limit, yes, but that limit was higher than the ceiling of even his previous Authority-forged constructs.
Maybe it was the metals he got and gave to Draken to use.
He brought out all the others and tested them just to make sure, ensuring every single dagger held the same threshold. Draken had delivered perfectly.
Harry scratched Hedwig's head, earning a happy nibble on his fingers.
"Seems we picked a good smith, girl. The best, I dare say, because he was not the first blacksmith Harry had asked to forge something like this. There were others before, but none could actually do it, even with the same materials he gave Draken.
He sat down and pulled out a thin metal stylus, His perfect tool, itself reinforced with magic, for what came next.
'Okay, it was time.' He sighed, steeling himself for the inevitable agony, then activated his Authority, Odin's Wisdom.
His vision blurred, pupils shifting instantly into the dreaded symbol of the Valknut.
Knowledge, raw, burning, choking knowledge, the weight of a thousand years of observation and divine truth, flooded his mind. Memories that weren't his. Techniques. Formulae. Runes. Ancient arcana that would shatter a lesser mind. The information didn't just appear; it was shoved into the biological processing center of his brain, threatening to overload and short-circuit his nervous system.
He ignored the blinding flash of pain and dug the tip into the first dagger.
He carved enchantments in a furious, precise blur, Indestructibility, Summoning, Channeling, Trace, the last and most important rune, a perpetual locator spell that would allow him to feel the dagger's location, no matter how far it's away from him..
His hand moved impossibly fast, his movements precise to fractions of millimeters. Nine daggers, dozens of runes. Thirty minutes of living hell.
And then—
The blood started. First, a warm trickle from his nose. Then a hot, sharp spill from his ears. Then his eyes felt like they were weeping liquid fire, but he pushed through the pain until he finished.
When he finally deactivated the Authority, the Valknut symbol receding with a wrenching snap, he collapsed to one knee and immediately vomited crimson onto the workshop floor. The sudden absence of the divine torrent was almost as painful as its presence.
"D–damn… that hurts every single time…" he gasped, coughing out blood.
Odin's Wisdom was powerful, but every use was a brutal reminder that Campiones, for all their power, were still technically mortal. The human brain was not built to hold the mind of a god. It was like shoving the entire Library of Alexandria, digitized and amplified a thousand times, into a single, fragile modern computer chip. The system would crash every time, and only his Campione vitality kept him from dying instantly.
He could manage for a few minutes, but the longer he kept it up, the more painful it became until....well, you just saw.
After resting for a good fifteen minutes, he wiped the blood from his face, feeling his regeneration already doing the bulk of the repair work, and looked at the finished work.
The runes glowed a soft, ephemeral gold.
Then they dimmed… and vanished, leaving the blades looking deceptively ordinary once more.
He lifted one, opened the window, and threw it with all his strength.
It broke the sound barrier instantly, leaving a faint, lingering vapor trail, and vanished beyond human sight.
But Harry could feel it.
A tug in his mind. The direction, the distance.
He felt the dagger soar for hundreds of miles before settling, its Trace rune clear as if it lay in his palm. It felt like it was halfway across the country, yet he could still sense it clearly.
He nodded. 'Good,' he thought. Then he opened his hand—
FLASH
—and the dagger reappeared instantly, bathed in a momentary green light.
He exhaled shakily, unable to restrain the giddy tremor running through him.
"Preparations… all done."
Now came the real test.
He walked to the empty space in the center of his workshop. He stood still for a long moment, breathing in. This wasn't like tearing through space in his world, he normally did.
The problem with omniversal travel was that when he wanted to go somewhere in his own world, the location provided a missing 'piece', just an image and he could portal there, but having never been to another world he didnt know how to pinpoint that, with his world just having a picture is enough the world will someehow fill in the missing link in his mind, a subconscious coordinate that made the tear stable and targeted.
When tearing open the void, there was no such piece. He had memories of places like the Grand Line or the Fairy Tail Guild, but a picture in his mind meant nothing in the face of the chaotic reality of the space between worlds.
What he needed was to know the exact place, but since dimensions don't really stay in one place, that was not possible, so he needed to find a way to get that missing piece to help with the jump or an anchor.
"I am the Great Predator unchained, whose jaw knows no limit and fears no binding! I demand the weapon that cleaves the invisible and fractures the absolute! By the iron teeth of the World-Eater, let Law be broken, let Form be nullified, and let all Reality beneath my strike be Rend!"
He chanted as he activated Fenrir's authority.
His claws formed, glowing white-hot, radiating the terrible power of the world devouring wolf.
With a swift, downward motion, he tore space open.
And the world split.
But instead of a location, the typical destination showing just after the portal, there was only A black void.
With distant, shimmering lights like stars drowned in ink, each light blinking in and out of existence. He could see Colors that hurt the eyes, hues that the human visual spectrum wasn't built to perceive.
A space that was not space.
The Omniversal Sea. The endless Void of Reality and Non Exsistance.
This… was the problem. This was why he'd waited years. This was what he needed to conquer. Just jumping in could land him anywhere, or nowhere at all, with no way to navigate or stabilize his tears. It was just a foolish gamble, but even that didn't really scare Harry all that much.
No, the true terror was the inability to return. If he left, would he be able to come back? That was the core issue the daggers were meant to solve.
He stood there in front of the open void and pictured what he wanted to find, focusing on concepts rather than coordinates.
'Magic. Humans. Earth. Civilization'. Worlds that won't stray too far from what he was used to
He activated Anansi's Authority—the Weave.
Silver threads appeared in his vision, shimmering lines of possibility and reality, extending through the workshop.
He tied one of the silver threads directly around the dagger's hilt. The weave was an authority that allowed him to manipulate the strings of well, everything, think of it as the fate of everything, but he could not simply just do everything with them just enough.
Then, in a final act of utter recklessness, simply because he wanted to understand the void and increase his chances of success, he called upon Odin's Wisdom again.
And pain lanced through his skull instantly, white-hot and tearing, amplified tenfold by the concurrent use of Fenrir's power. His body and mind threatened to disintegrate as he called upon two of his Authorities at once, gazing into the blackness.
Hell, even Godou took a while before he started using two authorities in the light novel, and he said it hurt like hell.
He ignored the agony and threw the dagger into the void with his full, divine strength, guided by the knowledge he briefly got from Odin's wisdom as the strings of weave vanish before the naked eye.
And the tear snapped shut with a soundless thud.
Harry collapsed instantly on his back, chest heaving, body trembling from the physical and mental strain.
'Now we wait,' he thought, as he lay down on the ground to rest. Right now, he couldn't navigate the void, which was why all this was necessary, but he was sure it would get easier later on.
He let his mind drift, resting and recuperating from the massive magical hemorrhage. He slowly returned to working on his earlier project as a way to ground himself.
It was about an hour later, as he was finally done with the core and putting it in the body of the homunculus he had designed, that he felt it.
The dagger stopped moving.
His breath froze.
He felt the thread, thin but unmistakable, like a tripwire pulled taut, leading somewhere beyond his universe. But the important part was that he could still sense it, he could feel both the dagger and the string.
And that's when the corner of his lips twitched up.
A giggle escaped him.
A stupid, childish giggle.
Then—
"HAHAHAHAHA, IT WORKED! IT ACTUALLY WORKED!"
He shot up like a firework, sprinting out of the workshop, all but forgetting about what he was working on.
He didn't care. He ran around the manor like a madman, his boundless joy overriding all composure.
He didn't even hear Tonks enter the living room, returning from her arduous day at the Ministry. Or Daphne coming down from her room. Or Anya, too, coming from her room..
They were greeted by the sight of Harry Potter, Godslayer, Tyrant King of Britain, Slayer of Gods, jumping around like an overexcited child on Christmas morning.
"IT WORKED! I DID IT! HAHAHA, IT WORKED!"
"IT's ready! IT's ready! HAHAHA finally!!!"
Tonks blinked, her tired lavender hair shifting to a chaotic rainbow of confusion. Daphne stared, her cool Slytherin mask momentarily shattered. Anya sighed, rubbing her forehead.
And all three thought the same thing:
"Oh, Merlin. What has he done now?"
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