"Yes," Axiom manages to mutter. "Yes."
He stretches his arms, the wave of particles surging out to meet the vortex. The blades cut and stab, and slowly start to force past the particles.
Axiom gasps, the muscles on his arms straining violently to maintain the particles. More surge out from the "angel's" form, building up the wall as the blades cut deeper. The metahuman lets out another sound, a roar of two voices.
"CREATOR YOU SAY YOU ARE, BUT CONSUMED WITH DESTRUCTION."
"YOUR MANDATE CANNOT PASS."
Something rises above Axiom, something shining bright and cold and hideous. Something with the colors of a thousand dying stars all turned hollow.
Something that cannot exist, and yet does.
A string of glimmering un-matter rises, and then another and another. More rise, until a whole figure stands, hovering in mid-air a foot behind his left shoulder.
In between the flickering, one could almost see something like a person.