My Taboo Harem System

Denzel stepped through.

For one second, there was nothing.

No ground.

𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

No sky.

No sound.

He simply existed between two places.

Then gravity returned.

His feet struck smooth white stone.

Denzel staggered once and caught himself.

He looked around.

The First World was gone.

So were the seven founders.

So was the child.

There was only an endless white platform stretching beneath a sky filled with worlds.

Not stars.

Worlds.

Thousands of them floated across the distance, each one separated by thin strands of silver light.

Some were enormous.

Some were barely larger than moons.

Others looked almost identical to the world Denzel remembered.

Almost.

He stared at them.

Then he noticed the figure standing several meters ahead.

Older Denzel.

Blood covered the left side of his face.

His clothes were torn, and the Crown rested loosely in one hand.

He looked exactly like Denzel.

Except for the eyes.

Those eyes had seen too much.

Denzel studied him.

"You’re me."

The older Denzel smiled.

"Unfortunately."

Denzel glanced at the Crown.

"You kept it."

"I couldn’t destroy it."

"Why?"

"Because I tried."

Older Denzel looked down at the Crown.

"And it killed three worlds."

Denzel’s expression hardened.

"Three?"

"Three that shouldn’t have existed."

"That sounds like something you’d say to make yourself feel better."

"It isn’t."

The older Denzel tossed the Crown onto the white stone.

It landed without making a sound.

Denzel didn’t approach it.

"What is this place?"

"The space between worlds."

"And you?"

"I’m what’s left."

Denzel frowned.

"That doesn’t answer anything."

"It will."

Older Denzel turned and began walking.

Denzel followed.

The white platform continued ahead without an end.

As they walked, worlds drifted past them.

Denzel recognized some.

Others were completely alien.

One was covered in endless oceans.

Another had two suns.

A third was nothing but a massive forest wrapped around a black sphere.

He stopped at that one.

"I’ve seen this."

Older Denzel stopped too.

"No."

"I have."

"You’ve seen its death."

Denzel looked at him.

The older version pointed toward the world.

"That’s what it became afterward."

Denzel’s eyes narrowed.

"After what?"

"After you opened the gate."

Silence followed.

Denzel looked back at the countless worlds.

"So this has happened before."

"Many times."

"How many?"

Older Denzel laughed quietly.

"You still count things when you’re nervous."

Denzel didn’t react.

The older version smiled.

"Some habits survive everything."

They continued walking.

Eventually, the platform widened.

At its center stood seven empty thrones.

Denzel stopped.

"The founders."

"They were never founders."

Denzel looked at him.

"They called themselves that."

"They weren’t the first."

"Then who was?"

Older Denzel pointed at the seventh throne.

"You."

Denzel stared.

"No."

"Yes."

"I never sat there."

"You don’t remember sitting there."

Older Denzel walked toward the throne.

"You created the first seven."

Denzel followed slowly.

"They were supposed to protect the worlds."

"They were supposed to protect you."

Denzel’s brow furrowed.

"From what?"

Older Denzel looked directly at him.

"From yourself."

The answer sat between them.

Denzel looked at the empty thrones again.

"That makes no sense."

"It didn’t then either."

"So why did they betray me?"

"They didn’t."

Denzel’s jaw tightened.

"They imprisoned me."

"You asked them to."

"They erased my memories."

"You ordered them to."

"They split my existence."

"You demanded it."

Denzel stared at him.

"Why?"

Older Denzel’s expression became serious.

"Because you discovered something."

"What?"

"The Silence wasn’t invading the worlds."

Denzel waited.

"It was escaping."

The words landed differently.

Denzel looked toward the floating worlds.

"Escaping from what?"

Older Denzel pointed beyond them.

Far beyond the worlds was a thin black line.

It stretched across the entire horizon.

Denzel hadn’t noticed it before.

"What is that?"

"The original boundary."

"The one I opened?"

"No."

Older Denzel shook his head.

"The one you built."

Denzel stared.

"You built the worlds to keep something outside."

Denzel’s eyes slowly narrowed.

"And the Silence?"

"It was the thing outside."

The black boundary trembled.

For the first time, Denzel heard it.

A sound.

Not a scream.

Not a roar.

A whisper.

His name.

Denzel.

He turned toward the sound.

Every world around him flickered.

Older Denzel grabbed his shoulder.

"Don’t answer."

Denzel looked at him.

"It knows my name."

"It always has."

"Then why couldn’t it reach me?"

"Because you were the gate."

Denzel’s gaze dropped to his chest.

The door remained open.

But nothing had come through.

Not yet.

Older Denzel released him.

"You weren’t the prison."

Denzel looked at the older version.

"You said that already."

"I was wrong."

Denzel’s expression tightened.

Older Denzel looked toward the open door.

"You weren’t the weapon either."

"Then what am I?"

The older Denzel’s eyes darkened.

"The lock."

The worlds suddenly shook.

One of the silver strands connecting them snapped.

A distant world began falling.

Denzel instinctively moved toward it.

Older Denzel stopped him.

"Don’t."

"It’s dying."

"Yes."

"We can save it."

"No."

Denzel pulled against his grip.

"Why?"

"Because that’s what you did last time."

The falling world disappeared into the darkness beneath the platform.

Denzel froze.

Older Denzel stared at the empty space.

"You tried to save every world."

"And?"

"You succeeded."

Denzel waited.

"For a while."

Older Denzel turned toward him.

"Every world you saved became another crack in the boundary."

Denzel’s eyes widened.

"The more worlds survived..."

"The weaker the boundary became."

Denzel looked around.

"How many worlds did I create?"

Older Denzel didn’t answer.

"How many?"

"All of them."

Denzel went still.

"The worlds weren’t natural."

"No."

"You created them."

"Yes."

"For what?"

Older Denzel looked toward the black boundary.

"To give existence somewhere to hide."

The whisper came again.

Denzel.

This time, closer.

The older Denzel looked at him.

"It knows you’re here."

Denzel’s hand tightened.

"What happens now?"

"The same thing that happened the first time."

"And what happened then?"

Older Denzel picked up the Crown.

"You opened the boundary."

"And?"

"You met the Silence."

Denzel looked at the darkness.

"What did it show me?"

Older Denzel smiled sadly.

"The truth."

Denzel waited.

But the older version didn’t continue.

"What truth?"

"That you were never fighting it."

Denzel’s expression hardened.

"Then what was I doing?"

"Running."

The black boundary split.

A thin line of white appeared inside the darkness.

Then another.

Then thousands.

Something was opening from the other side.

Older Denzel stepped backward.

"It’s here."

Denzel didn’t move.

"What is?"

Older Denzel looked at him.

"The place you were running from."

The boundary tore apart.

There was no explosion.

No sound.

The darkness simply folded outward.

Behind it was another world.

Not one of the countless worlds Denzel had created.

Something older.

Larger.

Endless.

A vast white landscape stretched beyond the boundary, covered with ruins that looked impossibly ancient.

At its center stood a throne.

And someone sat on it.

Denzel stared.

The figure looked like him.

But unlike the older Denzel beside him, this one looked untouched.

No scars.

No blood.

No exhaustion.

He wore the Crown.

And behind him stood seven people.

The founders.

Alive.

Denzel’s breath caught.

"They’re alive."

Older Denzel shook his head.

"No."

The figures on the throne stood.

The seven founders lowered their heads.

Then the figure wearing the Crown smiled.

Denzel recognized that smile.

His own.

The figure raised one hand.

Every world stopped moving.

Every silver strand froze.

Even the older Denzel became motionless.

Only Denzel could still move.

The figure looked directly at him.

"You finally came back."

Denzel stared.

"Who are you?"

The figure smiled wider.

"You."

Denzel’s chest tightened.

"No."

"Yes."

"I’ve already seen you."

"You’ve seen what you became."

The figure stepped down from the throne.

"I am what you were before you divided yourself."

Denzel said nothing.

The figure continued walking.

"You wanted to destroy the Silence."

Denzel’s eyes narrowed.

"But you couldn’t."

"You wanted to protect the worlds."

"You couldn’t do that either."

"You wanted to escape."

The figure stopped.

"So you created me."

Denzel looked toward the older version.

The older Denzel was still frozen.

"You’re saying..."

"I am the part of you that remained."

Denzel stared at him.

"The part I removed."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The figure’s smile disappeared.

"Because you were afraid."

Denzel’s hands curled into fists.

"Afraid of what?"

The figure looked toward the black boundary.

Then beyond it.

Something moved.

The entire white landscape trembled.

"The Silence isn’t what you should fear."

Denzel followed his gaze.

"What is?"

The figure looked back at him.

"You."

Denzel didn’t understand.

Then the door in his chest moved.

Not opening.

Closing.

The figure smiled.

"Now you remember."

Denzel’s eyes widened.

The memories came rushing back.

Not of the Silence.

Not of the founders.

Not of the worlds.

Of himself.

He remembered standing before the original boundary.

He remembered what had been on the other side.

He remembered why he had created the worlds.

Why he had divided himself.

Why he had erased his memories.

And why he had begged the founders to stop him.

Denzel whispered the words.

"I wasn’t trying to keep the Silence out."

The figure nodded.

"No."

Denzel looked at the countless worlds.

"I was keeping myself in."

"Yes."

A crack appeared across the white ground.

Then another.

The seven founders behind the throne began disappearing.

The older Denzel finally moved.

He looked terrified.

Denzel turned toward him.

"What happens if the door closes?"

Older Denzel looked at him.

"You die."

Denzel glanced at the figure wearing the Crown.

"And if it stays open?"

The figure answered.

"You return."

"To what?"

The figure smiled.

"To everything you were."

The black boundary began collapsing.

Worlds started disappearing one after another.

Denzel stood between the two versions of himself.

The man he had been.

The man he became.

And somewhere beyond them, the Silence waited.

Denzel looked down at his chest.

The door was closing.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

For the first time, he understood what his choice actually meant.

He could close it and remain Denzel.

Or he could open it completely and become the thing that had once stood beyond the worlds.

The figure wearing the Crown extended his hand.

"Come home."

Denzel stared at it.

Then he smiled.

A small one.

Tired.

Almost amused.

"You really think I’m going to choose either?"

The figure’s expression changed.

Denzel stepped backward.

The older Denzel looked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

Denzel looked toward the collapsing boundary.

"Making a third choice."

The door in his chest stopped moving.

Denzel placed both hands against it.

And for the first time, he wasn’t trying to open it.

He wasn’t trying to close it.

He was going to break it.

The figure wearing the Crown finally looked afraid.

"Denzel."

Denzel smiled.

"Let’s see what happens when there isn’t a door anymore."