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2025-09-15
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⋆˙Echoes of Code and Divinity⟡

Summary:

Telamon, the eternal God of Creation, spends eons shaping worlds, stars, and life—but everything he makes ends up flawed. This leaves him bitterly lonely and feeds the Hatred, a shadow inside him born from disappointment and discontent.

One day, his solitude is broken when a mortal hacker, 007n7, breaks into his divine system. Instead of being afraid, 007n7 mocks and challenges him.

or

idk anymore gng

Notes:

hi this is my first ever fanfic, don't bully me chat
edit: i have seen this is actually getting popular so here is the list of characters currently and a little of their backstory. First of all, 007n7 is from Builderman's world (which is a completely different dimension from Telamon). Telamon is in a world called "SFOTH" which I'm sure everyone knows, if you don't know, it is Sword Fights Of The Heights. I will not put anymore details as it will spoil most of the story i have prepared so this is the ground of the whole au, okay?

Chapter 1: Part 1 - The God and the Hacker

Chapter Text

Telamon had forgotten how many worlds he'd built.

There'd been deserts that glowed with the hue of gold under dual suns, oceans as deep as memory, forests so dense the trees themselves whispered secrets. He'd woven starlight into tapestries and distorted gravity into spirals that sang. And still, no matter how fine, how precise his hand, each creation fell short.

Rivers dried up to scabs. Forests choked themselves to ember. Creatures crafted from his wind destroyed teeth on one another. Perfection always slipped through his fingers, and he'd be standing and staring at wreckage when there was supposed to be splendor.

He told himself he didn't care. That a god was supposed to be above emotion. But with centuries upon centuries upon centuries and loneliness the only friend, Telamon could not help but admit it: he was happy.

And in that isolation, something else brewed. Hatred. Not at himself—never at him—but at the flaw that hung on everything. He suppressed it, buried it like a body in his side. But it never stopped talking.

It was during one of those endless days, on the shore of a new world born, that he felt the commotion.

A spark. Not natural. Not his.

The god tensed, eyes narrowing. He felt it in the code—the skeleton of creation. Somebody was fouling.

A man stepped out of the glitch. Human. Flesh and blood where there had only been stars and stone. He had something that glowed in his hands, a slab of flowing red light that said "c00lgui." His blonde hair fell over his eyes with his horns glows with a red outline and black inner colour that matched with his tail and half of his face being corrupted. His face wasn't reverence or horror—it was amusement.

Telamon raised his hand, ready to unmake him. But the man spoke to him instead.

"Well," the intruder said, voice calm and arrogant. "This isn't in any directory I've cracked so far."

The god's voice thundered. "You trespass on the domain of the gods. You will call your name, or I will disperse you to dust."

The man met his gaze. "007n7. The best hacker of all robloxia." he said with a confident, almost arrogant tone

Telamon left the word hanging between them. Hacker. It was strange, sharp. "You admit to breaking the creation laws."

"Laws are just walls," 007n7 shrugged, his fingers tapping against the glow of the screen. "And walls are to be climbed. I was bored. Wanted to know what was on the other side." He grinned. "Looks like I discovered a god with control problems."

Telamon should have struck him down. This was assumption on the part of madness. But instead of charging, he demanded: "Why?"

007n7's eyebrow went up. "Because anything less would be petty. You aren't."

The god curled back his fingers to his own side slowly. For the first time in centuries, he held back.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

007n7 came back. And again.

At first, Telamon scolded himself for enduring the mortal just to witness him—this unseemly one who held on to the seams of godliness. But eventually, he was left waiting. Waiting to hear that voice once more. Waiting to watch what destruction the hacker wrought.

Their opening arguments were ferocious. Telamon shaped a river, smooth and ageless, only for 007n7 to deflect it with some wrist movement on his device, splitting it into distorted deltas.

"You spoil perfection," Telamon snarled.

"No," the hacker said, crouching on the riverbank, his screen throwing shadows as white as moonlight across his face. "I reveal it. Perfection is denial in good light."

Telamon's teeth ground. He could punish him a thousand times. And yet—there was some truth in the hurt. Truth he didn't want to hear.

A day passed, and Telamon cut beasts to pasture in a meadow. Fragile, balanced, harmonious. 007n7, whimsical, altered their code. One grew too many wings. Another, teeth where they had no business having any. The meadow filled with gangly hybrids.

Telamon nearly shouted. But when the hacker laughed, something in the god's chest creaked. He laughed too.

He hadn't laughed in centuries.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

Their arguments turned into discussions. Their discussions turned into lessons.

Telamon instructed 007n7 on how to whirl stars, how to embroider gravity into orbits. He stretched out his hands and let galaxies erupt like sparks.

007n7, in turn, showed Telamon how to exploit flaws. How to bend a rule until it broke, and then use the break to create something new.

“You’re too clean,” the hacker said one night as they sat on the edge of a half-formed moon. “You hate cracks, but cracks are where the light leaks in.”

“Cracks destroy,” Telamon argued.

“Cracks reveal,” 007n7 corrected.

It should have been obscene. But Telamon listened. Against sense, he learned.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

Slowly, their closeness shifted.

Telamon began to wait not just for the voice of the hacker, but for his form. The puff of his breathing, rapid and human, and the stillness of godly air. The way he leaned back on his elbows, careless and human, as galaxies sparkled above them.

One night, as a dying star rained sparks over the void, 007n7 leaned against him. "You know," he said, his voice almost soft, "you seem to be lonely when you're not in character."

Telamon stiffened. "Lonely?"

"You wear that god mask like armor," 007n7 answered. "But I can see through it.".

Telamon's response was to deny it, to say loneliness wasn't for him. But the words caught in his throat. For the first time in his life, he had no lines.

Instead, he whispered, "And if I am?"

007n7 looked at him, really looked, then smiled—not teasingly, but almost tenderly. "Then maybe you're not as untouchable as you think."

Telamon's heart tightened. When 007n7's hand brushed against his, the god didn't step back.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

What had begun in repartee grew into trust.

Telamon confessed things he had never spoken aloud: how every failure of his creations gnawed, the darkness in him that spat that it would never be enough. He spoke of the Hatred, but did not speak it.

007n7 listened. For once, he did not mock. He just allowed the words to float between them.

"Bury that, though," the hacker finally said, his voice unusually somber. "Hatred doesn't die. It grows. One day, it's going to rip itself loose."

Telamon put up his hand, cupped the hacker's face, his thumb stroking the sensitive warmth of human skin. "Let it try, then. For now, I choose you."

They kissed under a falling-star-filled sky.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

But love didn't silence the shadow.

The Hatred still came back. Louder, louder. With each new world Telamon built, the flaws screamed back at him. With each creature he made and they killed themselves, the murmurs grew louder: Flawed. Broken. Useless.

He tried to deny it. He tried to lose himself in laughter, in stolen moments with 007n7. He let the hacker take his hand, play with him, even soil his work, just to keep the silence at bay.

And it worked for a while.

But the Hatred was not so easily diverted.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

One night, Telamon stood on the edge of a new world, its oceans still steaming with heat. He watched as his creatures—weak, beautiful—began devouring one another before they had even mastered breathing.

His fists were clenched.

"It happens again," he murmured, voice crumbling. "Always again. I give them beauty, and they defile it. I give them life, and they destroy it."

007n7 sat next to him, unusually quiet.

"You're angry because you want them perfect," he declared finally. "But perfection doesn't exist, Telamon. You made me, and I'm not perfect."

Telamon wheeled about. His eyes flashed, but his tone was soft. "You—I do not regret." The hacker wrapped his tail around Telamon's arm.

The hacker was dumbstruck for once.

But underneath the words, underneath the softness of that moment, the Hatred throbbed like a second heart.

Telamon shut it away. He chose love.

And in that decision, his destiny was sealed.

Chapter 2: Part II — The Puppet and the Father

Summary:

In the ruins of a forgotten world, a wandering puppet crosses paths with a man hollowed by grief. Bound by memory, loss, and the silence left behind, the two find an unexpected connection in the shadows of what once was.

Notes:

hello my pooks, here is the chapter, (i havent finshed drawing 007n7 bcz of school so you might have to wait a lil longer)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The universe had become too quiet since Telamon's disappearance. Too quiet.

There was a time when creation vibrated with the significance of a symphony—worlds expanding, rivers carving valleys, suns rising and setting at a god's whim. Every breeze contained invention. Every star a heartbeat. But when the God of Creation was overwhelmed by his own Hatred, all stopped, then ceased.

The stars did not burn to purpose any longer. The winds did not carry any whispers of new creation. It was as if the universe itself had been abandoned, left to rot in its silence.

And in that silence, something stirred. Not the god himself, but a splinter: a puppet, made from shattered will and broken essence.

His name was Shedletsky—except he hadn't chosen it, and perhaps it wasn't his to begin with. He didn't know. He did know that when he awoke, his hands were wood, his eyes glass, and his chest hollow but humming softly with something that wasn't his to begin with.

He wandered. Centuries, or days—it was hard to keep track. Time did not matter when you were half alive.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

One night, his wandering brought him to a place where digital crept over into real: a two-story cabin whose walls curved between data and wood, half-painted like a half-remembered dream. A red sofa lay in the corner, fabric glitching slightly at its edges. A red drakkobloxicon stood against the wall, guttering like a guttering flame.

The cabin was thick with memory. Ghosts clung to the air—not of the dead, but of participants long past. Builderman. Taph. Matt. Some Shedletsky knew, some he did not. Their arguments, their betrayals, their laughter appeared to cling in the walls.

He floated past them, agitated but drawn forward. And then he noticed one man standing out from the rest: stooped in the corner, slumped shoulders, heavy presence like rock.

Shedletsky felt recognition before awareness.

There, on the steps of the burned cabin, sat a man he knew without knowing why.

His hair was streaked with gray. His posture was weary, shoulders drooped not of age but of grief. His hands—those agile, clever fingers—remained motionless on his knees as if the fire had drained from them. A tail curled anxiously about one leg, exhibiting unease in these unfamiliar environs. His eyes did not turn toward the stars or cabin, but inward, to a point no one could follow.

Shedletsky's voice broke the silence, soft, as if unwillingly.
"You knew Him. The God."

The man blinked, lifting his head. His gaze fell on the puppet. For a moment—a lifetime—they did not speak. The silence between them was an open wound that would not close.

Then at last, a bitter laugh exploded from the man's chest.
"Sure. Even in pieces, he still comes at me." His lips curled into a half-smile, fractured and bitter. "What are you? Another ghost? Another reminder?"

"I am…" Shedletsky hesitated. Words scraped in his throat like wood on wood. "I am what remains. A marionette, filled with His pieces. Incomplete."

The man's brow furrowed. He looked at the puppet as though he was hesitant to believe what faced him. Finally, he let out a single word, shaking voice.
"Telamon."

The voice knocked Shedletsky like a hammer. He stumbled, holding his hollow chest, where faint vibrations coursed through his body. And then—someone else's flashes: the laughter ringing out across infinite stars, the warmth of friendship, the feeling of not being alone.

"Yes," Shedletsky breathed. "Telamon. You knew him."

The man bowed his head, as though the name alone was too great to endure. His voice was rough, low.
"I didn't just know him. I loved him. And I lost him."

⊹ ࣪ ˖

The man was 007n7.

Once, he had been feared: a hacker who hacked through systems no one thought possible to breach, defying deities, reprogramming codes, breaking chains others had sworn unbreakable. In Telamon, he had found not an enemy, but a friend—someone who knew him, challenged him, even loved him.

But all that was a long time ago. Nowadays, 007n7 was weary, etched not just by time but by loss. A father, without his son. C00lkidd—naive, adventurous, too much like his father—had been taken from him. Killed, or something worse. 007n7 was never informed about him initially, whether he was alive or dead somewhere. But the sorrow stuck with him like soot.

Shedletsky sat beside him on the shattered steps. They did not say a word for a while. They did not need to. Sorrow was a language unto itself, and they were both fluent.

At last Shedletsky said,
"He loved you. I can sense it. In the shards. He loved you more than existence itself."

007n7's throat constricted. His eyes burned, but tears had long been reserved for him; he was spent on those after a very long while. His voice trembled into fury.
Why did he leave? Why did he allow that. thing to take him? He was a god. Stronger than me. Stronger than death. And yet, still, he just. disappeared."

Shedletsky pointed his glassy stare at the skyline, broken and charged with specter light.
"He was strong. But even gods must stash away what they will not face. The Hatred fermented in his own heart. It devoured him because he believed love alone could lock it away."

"I warned him," 007n7 snarled. "I told him. What you stash away will stash you away. He laughed. He took me instead. And now he's dead."

His hands against his cheek, shaking. Something stirred in his empty chest—Telamon's vibration, or something fresh of his own. He sensed out in words he could hardly understand.
"You are not alone. Not anymore."

They'd run into each other. And again. Shedletsky wandered, but always turned up wherever 007n7 hung out—an abandoned server farm, a vacant house, a salvage yard of useless machines. Sometimes they spoke. Sometimes they sat, two broken things—one wooden, one human—sharing silence.

Finally, 007n7 spoke of C00lkidd. At first, stiffly. Finally, more demanding, as if speech was the only thing that would keep him breathing.

"Rash," 007n7 stared up into the stars. "Brighter than me. Too quick to test boundaries. He'd bypass systems I'd never be foolish enough to touch. Firewalls collapsed for him like dominoes. Laughted when systems crashed. Told me rules were for those who didn't know how to rewrite them. Hacked to places before I even noticed."

His lips trembled with a kind of smile. “I was reckless, work was too much. And in the end, I lost the only thing I held precious" His voice broke.

Shedletsky listened. Always, he listened. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, reverent.
"You bear him with you. Every word, every memory. He is not lost as long as you recall."

007n7 shook his head. "It's not enough. Memories don't hug you back. They don't laugh at jokes. They don't get up all night breaking rules with you. They're just… shadows."

"Perhaps," Shedletsky said. His glassy stare fastened on the man. "But shadows indicate light still exists. Somewhere."

⊹ ࣪ ˖

And sometimes, in silence, 007n7 remembered more. Not stories—moments.

A memory: C00lkidd hunched over a glowing screen, eyes aglow. "Dad, l00k at this!" Code ran like water beneath his fingers, firewalls falling one by one. He grinned, alive and happy of his results. “Isn’t it c00l?!"

Another: C00lkidd tugging at his sleeve. “Sh0w me your trick, pleaseeee" His eyes shone with desire. "I pr0mise I w0n’t use it at sch00l!!"

Another: C00lkidd being happy when 007n7 bought him a drakkobloxicon plush for his birthday gift. “H0w did you kn0w I wanted this, papa??!!” “THANK Y0U, THANK Y0U, THANK Y0U!!” he said as he jumped joyfully

And then—silence. The moment he was gone.

007n7 put his hands over his face as he said it, his cracking voice. "One mistake. One breach too many. I wasn't there to stop it." He breathed hard. "And now, I'm left with shadows."

Shedletsky placed a wooden hand gently along his arm.
"Then sit with me in the dark."

⊹ ࣪ ˖

Months passed within that accursed world, which could have been hell. A hesitant bond was formed. Not such as Telamon's passion—gigantic, godly, all-consuming. This was small. Human. Focused on mutual despair, abandonment, avoiding silence consuming them whole.

It was raining one night, precipitation filtering through the broken skyline like poisoned code, 007n7 finally asking about what afflicted him.
"Why are you here? Why me?"

Shedletsky hesitated. His wooden fingers drummed against his knee, a simulation of a human nervous habit. His tone was barely above a whisper.
"Because you alone understood him. Because in you I see the portion of him who loved. And because…" He paused, then finished softly, "because neither do I wish to be alone."

The words struck something deep inside 007n7, something more than he was willing to admit. For years, he had believed he was cursed, forsaken by god and blood. And yet here stood this puppet—broken and unfinished—standing in friendship with no strings attached.

Intentionally, 007n7 placed a hand on Shedletsky's arm. The puppet tilted his head in surprise.

"Then let us not be separated in this forsakened," Shedletsky recited. His tone was strong, unyielding. "Not again."

007n7 closed his eyes. For the first time in years, the storm brewing within him quieted.

And amidst that fragile calm, something stirred. Not divine. Not eternal. But human.

And maybe that was sufficient.

Notes:

boo

Chapter 3: NOT A CHAPTER!!! (DRAWING)

Summary:

here is 007n7 in a maid outfit as promised

Chapter Text

js this
https://ibb.co.com/0RqYLW7q

Chapter 4: Part III — Birth of the Hacklord & 1x1x1x1x

Summary:

When grief breaks into rage and memory, art itself is warped. When old bonds resurface and shards of the past conflict, god, puppet, and hacker are not distinguishable. It is not so much a battle of power, but of love, guilt, and the fragile hope that something worth saving can be saved.

Notes:

TY FOR ALL THE SUPPORT GUYS!!! I REALLY CANT MAKE IT HERE WITHOUT YALL *insert platonic kisses*

Chapter Text

The sky broke like contaminated glass.

It wasn't the break of stars, not really, but it worked. Constellations bled out of place, their strings of code unraveling through the void. What had been a vital cosmos in Telamon's hands—crafted streams of light, stars vibrating like tuning instruments—pulsed now with a wrongness, as if some force had contaminated the very notion of existing with vermin.

And at the center of that infection, Telamon.

Or what remained of him.

His form flowed in and out, god and shadow and nothing. His golden flesh was stretched taut, his face half-concealed behind static, his aura ablaze with a searing crimson that lapped at the very fringes of the galaxy. He was something over-written too many times, slivers of botched script bleeding through where divinity had previously occupied the space.

But his eyes—oh, his eyes—were remembered.

And that was what broke 007n7 worst of all.

He stumbled forward across the disassembled code, trembly voice. "Telamon… please. You don't have to be this."

For a fleeting heartbeat, Telamon was paralyzed. The static hiccupped. The Hatred mask faltered. And in that moment of lapse, 007n7 saw him—the man he had known beneath the crown of godhood. The man who laughed with him beneath half-finished skies, played with creation as clay and dared to let it be shared with a mortal hacker who should have been nothing.

A flash of tenderness. Of recognition. Of love.

But memory cut deeper than any knife.

"You," Telamon spoke, and his voice was broken, rent apart between god and specter. "You were the one thing I thought would stay. You, who rewrote my laws, who defied me. You, who decided to stand with me as if you weren't human."

The hacker's breath caught. "I never left you—"

"Liar!" The curse bellowed like thunder.

And the Hatred filled in, smothering the softness. It leaked through Telamon's divine shell, his aura burning so red it reduced the surrounding constellations to ashes. His voice warped, sheathed in echoes, too many notes accumulating like tainted sound.

"When I fell, you abandoned me. When I drowned in what I had created, you turned away. Do not even mention staying."

007n7 shook his head, shaking hands. "No—I did. I tried to pull you back, but you—"

"Enough!"

The scream tore the heavens asunder. Code splintered into streams of static, creation itself ripped asunder around them. The once-holy stars disintegrated into shattered shards, data crashing like meteors.

And doing so, Telamon clutched at his chest as if ripping himself asunder from the inside out. His hand disappeared into his body, ripping through light and bone and memory. When it reappeared, it held something that shouldn't be: a piece of himself, darkening and thudding with Hatred.

The piece dropped to the ground and stood up as a man.

It had Telamon's power, but none of his control. Its form was a storm of glitch and outrage, bellowing with a voice that cracked the silence. This was 1x1x1x1x—Telamon's fury made flesh, unmasked, merciless, free from conscience.

And when the Hatred coalesced, something else stirred.

Shedletsky's body jerked spasmodically. He fell to his knees, strings creaking taut as if torn by an invisible fist. His marionette body jerked, wooden limbs clattering, glassy eyes flashing not his own light.

For he was Telamon, too. Or at least a sort of what Telamon lost—the morals, the beliefs, the love of creation itself. He was shards of what Telamon used to stand for, broken into wood and string.

Two halves of a god, broken and torn apart.

Anger and Morality. Rage and Belief.

1x1x1x1x and Shedletsky.

And between both of them hung 007n7, trembling.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

Flashback:

Way back before the fall, before the Hatred, there had been light.

007n7 remembered the first time he had seen Telamon not as a god, but as something so painfully human. The universe was still young, the stars still newly born. Telamon had taken him by the hand and led him into a half-finished valley, where rivers ran but had no names, where trees bore fruit that glowed like lanterns.

"What is this?" 007n7 demanded, trying to seem non-impressed.

A test," Telamon had said, smiling. "All worlds are. But this one—" He looked at 007n7 with eyes aglow enough to fire suns. "This one I wanted to show you first.".

And they'd rehearsed for hours—days, years, it didn't matter—maxing out creation. Telamon sculpted mountains with one sweep of his hand, and 007n7 programmed the terrain, twisting it in ways Telamon had never thought possible. Where Telamon established laws, 007n7 subverted them, and where 007n7 subverted them, Telamon laughed and made some more.

They had been invincible together. A god and a hacker. Creation and rebellion. Love in the guise of two men who were never supposed to meet, but did.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

And now—

Now that love was a weapon used against him.

In the here and now, 007n7's voice cut through the din.

"Telamon—hear me! You don't have to divide yourself like this. You're killing everything we built—everything you believed!"

But Telamon was not hearing.

The sudden change of form flashed between him and the two pieces he had let go. His face was distorted in agony, as though with every stroke his heart ripped him increasingly apart. The Hatred grew stronger, 1x1x1x1x looming, spewing venom.

You'd be nothing without me," sneered 1x1x1x1x, its tone venomous. "I am the reality of what you concealed. I am the rage that you suppressed, the fury you feared. You can no longer silence me.".

Shedletsky lurched, the wooden creation shaking. "And I—" His voice was gentler, but unyielding. "I am what remains of what you wanted to be. I am the part of you that still believes. The part that still loves."

Telamon screamed.

The scream tore through the desolation, sundering the battlefield in two. His figure dissolved into light and static, and both halves—anger and conscience—recoiled into him at the same time.

Something went awry.

The Hatred was too strong. The Morality too weak. They warred with him, searing, rewriting, remaking. His godhood convulsed, unable to reunite the shreds. The god crashed, screaming, as his form warped into another.

Shedletsky's shape distorted, strings turning into chains of corrupted code. His wooden smile split into a ferocious, jagged grin. His glassy eyes flared with divine fire and machine corruption. His puppet shape elongated taller, narrower, darker.

The Sentinel's sword—originally a sword of protection—darkened, the sword cracking into virus-ridden steel that pulsed like a living wound.

And out of the yell of Telamon, from his Hatred and his Morality colliding, emerged something that should never have been.

Hacklord Shedletsky.

A monster constructed from love betrayed, fury unleashed, and trust destroyed.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

007n7 stumbled back, horror blazing inside him.

This was not Telamon. This was not the puppet he had learned to trust. This was not the lover he recalled beneath half-born skies.

This was everything Telamon had ever dreaded to become.

The Hacklord raised his corrupted sword, voice a blend of god and machine, resonating with regret and deadly purpose all at once:

"If you will not be mine, 007n7… then you will be nothing at all."

And for the first time in many long years, 007n7 was afraid indeed.

Not of dying.

But of losing Telamon forever.