Ethan looked at Gojo's rigid form and blinked as if remembering something. "Oh, first things first." He snapped his fingers with a sharp crack.
Instantly, the invisible weight holding Gojo's limbs vanished. He tumbled forward slightly before catching himself in a crouch, his movement fluid once more. He didn't waste a second.
"What is this, Ethan? Where am I?" Gojo's voice was uncharacteristically strained, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Am I dead? Did Annihilus kill me?"
Ethan shook his head slowly, his expression shifting to something more somber yet strangely reassuring.
"Oh, no. Annihilus didn't kill you," Ethan said, folding his arms. "In fact, you managed to defeat him and push him out of the physical realm entirely. But honestly, Satoru? That's unimportant right now. What is important is that you aren't dead, you're just here so I can finally speak with you."
Gojo let out a long, ragged sigh of relief, his shoulders finally dropping from their defensive hunch. "God, don't scare me like that. I thought I'd finally punched my ticket." He ran a hand through his snow-white hair.
"Alright then, speak to me about what? You didn't pull me into a cosmic waiting room just to say 'hi'."
Ethan's expression didn't mirror Gojo's relief. Instead, it grew heavy, his eyes reflecting a depth of time that made the sorcerer feel suddenly very young.
"Tell me, Satoru," Ethan began, pacing slowly across the invisible floor. "What do you actually know about gods and fate?"
Gojo shrugged. "Not much. I usually find that 'fate' is just a word people use when they're about to lose. Why? Are you going to give me a Sunday school lesson?"
"In a way," Ethan said, ignoring the jab. "Think of Fate as a script. In most realities, once they are birthed, they follow a pre-written path. This 'narrative' generates a specific type of energy, a metaphysical essence that acts as the primary support and nourishment for the gods themselves."
He stopped and turned to Gojo, his shadow stretching infinitely into the white. "And I don't mean the kind of gods you know, my friend. I'm not talking about Odin, Thor, or the local deities of a single planet. I mean the ones who sit above me. I'm talking about the Outer Gods. Entities whose authority begins where the laws of physics and 'normal' divinity end."
Gojo frowned at that. The air in the crossroads felt suddenly thick, like he was breathing lead. "Okay... heavy stuff. But why are you telling me this? I'm just a guy with a nice pair of eyes."
"That's the problem," Ethan countered. "You, my friend, have caused a massive blockage in their supply line. Your very existence has become a knot in the thread."
"How?" Gojo asked, genuinely baffled. "I've just been living my life. I haven't gone around sabotaging cosmic pipelines."
"No, you haven't," Ethan said softly. "But I did. Because of my involvement with you, you have altered the fate of this entire universe drastically. The script has been torn up, the tracks have been derailed, and the Outer Ones are watching their 'nourishment' dry up. But the final straw wasn't just your survival... it was the fact that I committed a cardinal taboo. I interfered with one of the fixed authorities of this universe."
Gojo's eyes widened. His mind raced back to the heat of battle, the overwhelming pressure, and the moment the impossible happened. He felt a chill run down his spine.
"When you stopped him..." Gojo whispered, the name tasting like ash. "Cyttorak."
Ethan nodded grimly. "The Crimson Cosmos is a fundamental pillar. By blocking his influence to save you, I broke the 'fixed' nature of this reality. The Outer Gods have had enough. They are currently trying to boot you out of this reality entirely. They want to purge the 'glitch' which is you and reset the board."
"What?" Gojo stepped forward, his fists clenching. "Boot me out? If they kick me out, what happens to everything else? What happens to the people here?"
Ethan raised a hand, a grim smile on his face. "If you're gone, they'll simply 'restart' the universe to get the script back on track. They'll wipe the slate clean. No Asgard, no Earth, no Satoru Gojo. Just a fresh start where everyone plays their roles properly. They either do that or they'd continue it without you here."
Gojo stared at him for a long beat. He looked at the man who had quite literally defied the laws of existence for him. "But... you aren't gonna let that happen, will you? You've got a plan."
Ethan didn't answer immediately. He stared into the white abyss, his silence stretching long enough to make the air feel thin.
"No," he said finally, his voice oddly flat. "Not really."
Gojo let out a sharp breath, his hand coming up to chest level as he started to relax. "Good. For a second there, I thought you were going to tell me the 'Game Over' screen was already loading. If you've got it handled, then I can go back to—"
"But," Ethan interrupted, his eyes locking onto Gojo's with a sudden, piercing intensity, "there will be unexpected repercussions in the near future, my friend. Drastic ones."
Gojo froze, his smirk twitching. "Wait, what? Define 'repercussions.' Are we talking about a bad haircut or a 'the sun is exploding' kind of vibe?"
Ethan raised a hand, stopping the deflection. "It is out of my control now, Satoru. All I can do is manage the fallout and make sure it doesn't go too badly for you. But the gears are already turning."
"How soon?" Gojo's voice lost its playfulness, becoming the sharp, analytical tone of the strongest sorcerer. "How soon into the future are we talking about?"
"I can't tell you," Ethan replied.
Gojo narrowed his eyes. "Okay... then what exactly do they want to do? If they can't boot you, how are they going to hit us?"
"I can't tell you."
Gojo took a step forward, his eyes pulsing with frustration. "Can't or won't, Ethan?"
"CAN'T," Ethan snapped, the word vibrating through the crossroads like thunder. He softened his tone just as quickly, looking almost regretful. "The moment I speak the specifics of their intent, they'll use the connection to bridge the gap. I'm shielding you just by keeping you in the dark."
"Well, then what's the point of all this?" Gojo threw his hands up in exasperation. "You drag me into the white room just to tell me 'something bad is coming but I can't tell you what, when, or why'?"
"It's a warning," Ethan said solemnly. "You deserve to know that the floor is about to drop. I'll do everything I can to change the outcome, to tilt the scales back in our favor... but for now?" A sudden, mischievous glint returned to Ethan's eyes, a flash of his old self. "For now, you should just keep living like you always do. Go cause some trouble. Have a drink. Try not to piss off a new god too much. I hear you're quite good at doing that nowadays, Satoru." Gojo blinked, a dry laugh escaping him. "Right. 'Don't worry, but also, the universe hates you.' Great advice, Ethan. Really top-tier."
Ethan chuckled, but then his head jerked to the side as if hearing a distant sound. His expression tightened. "Hmm. I need to go. They're knocking on the door."
He turned back to Gojo, his form beginning to blur at the edges. "Oh, and one last thing. You're going to need your full kit if you're going to survive the 'repercussions'."
"What do you—"
Ethan snapped his fingers. "There. That should complete the set."
Then, the white void didn't just disappear, it shattered.
Suddenly, Gojo's brain felt like it was being fed the raw data of a thousand dying stars. His Six Eyes, already powerful, seemed to unlock a final, hidden gear. Information didn't just flow; it exploded. He saw the atomic structure of the air as his eyes shone with a brilliant, blinding azure light that transcended anything he had felt before.
'What the… Before he could finish the thought, a massive, invisible force slammed into his chest, booting him out of the crossroads. The light vanished, the information peaked, and then… nothing.