Date: 6/23/2001 – Time Unknown
Location: The Great Void – The Heart
Perspective: Kaiser Everhart
The throne was not a comfort. As I sat, the history of the expansion flowed beneath me like a river. I saw the first atoms bond. I saw the first extinction. I saw the mechanics of every "Ending" the Void had ever processed.
"If I am sent to Ceres Omega," I began, my voice amplified by the silence, "what happens to the version of me in the decayed foundation?"
"The consciousness will be bifurcated," the Void informed me.
"A replicated awareness will be projected into the system of Ceres Omega. Your physical vessel within the Foundation will remain in a state of suspended sleep. You will be unconscious here until the Sovereign War reaches its conclusion."
"Years may pass. Decades. Time in the expansion is non-linear."
I tightened my grip on the throne. "I refuse."
"Refusal? You requested the participation."
"I cannot abandon Cartethyia," I said.
"If I remain unconscious for years, she will believe I am dead. Her psychological state is already fragile. The Foundation would dispose of me if I became a sleeping body, and she would be left with nothing."
"I will return to her."
I sat in silence for a few minutes. I watched a star collapse in the far reaches of the fog.
"The version of me you send there," I said, "would he know the objective? Would he know he must eliminate the other 9 subjects to win the Quill?"
"No."
"You requested a memory wipe. He would possess only his name."
"Then I wouldn't even fight," I said. I looked at my hands.
"If that version of myself is truly me, he would have no interest in your 'Quill' or your 'Sovereign War.' He would prioritize his own survival and find the path of least resistance. He would live a quiet, average life and let the others kill each other."
"I wouldn't even try to win."
"This produces an impasse," the Void stated. "Without motivation, the anomaly remains stagnant. What solution do you propose that provides drive without a significant advantage?"
I closed my eyes. I need to construct a psychological trap for myself. I needed a catalyst. I needed a reason for an average 16-year-old boy to become a monster.
"I have the solution," I said.
"I will live in this world. I will grow up, I will train, and I will face the challenges of the Foundation. But the version of me in Ceres Omega... he must remain unaware of the Sovereign War until the final moment."
I pointed toward the violet nebula where the ten planets of the contest were hidden.
"When a subject is about to win—when the end of the game is within reach—that is when you trigger the change."
"Return my future memories to him. Not the ones I have now, but the memories of what I will become. In this world."
I leaned forward.
"And at that same moment, send him my knowledge. My skills. The experiences of the 20-year-old Kaiser I have not yet become, but whose potential you can see from this throne. Don't give him the memories of my life, just the tools. The observation. The lethal skills."
"Let a boy who thinks he is average suddenly realize he has the hands of an executioner."
"You wish to remain a civilian until the moment you are required to be a God."
"Correct," I said. "Knowing myself, I will survive in that world no matter the cost, even without powers. But to make me win... I need one more thing."
I looked into the core of the Void, my eyes devoid of fear.
"I want you to gaslight me."
"What?" The Void's voice flickered. For the first time, the word carried the weight of genuine confusion.
"The replica," I said, my voice cutting through the hum of the void.
"It will be my 1-year-old mind in a 16-year-old body. For however many months or years the Sovereign War lasts, he will remain unaware. He will be helpless, a blind variable in a system of predators. Even so, he will survive."
"I know my own nature; I do not know how to quit."
I leaned back, resting my head against the cold light of the chair.
"But when he reaches the verge of losing—when the finality of the game is certain—I want you to gaslight me. Evoke fake memories."
"Memories of what?" the Void asked. Its presence felt static, like a recorded message waiting for input.
"Show him Cartethyia," I said. "Construct a narrative where she has taken care of me since my first breath. Show him a lifetime of selfless devotion, of her doing everything to ensure I stayed fed and safe. Show him that in the entire multiverse, there is exactly one person who loves him for who he is."
I paused, calculating the psychological impact of the next step.
"And then, create the illusion. Tell him that if he loses this war, the world where she exists will be erased. Tell that version of myself that losing is not just death—it is the ultimate betrayal of his mother."
"If he fails, she ceases to have ever existed."
The Void remained quiet. The violet fog slowed its rotation, becoming heavy and still.
"The 9 other subjects have chosen singularities," the Void stated, its tone shifting to a clinical chill.
"They possess powers designed to dismantle civilizations. They have granted themselves the authority of gods to prevail. And you, the one who possesses the source, wish to gaslight yourself?"
"You would waste a wish that could grant you anything on a strategy of memory loss and emotional manipulation?"
I felt a small, dry smirk pull at the corner of my mouth. I was sitting on a throne of my own creation, dictating terms to the void.
"In a war of attrition, I have no rivals," I said. "Power is a finite resource. Conviction is not. A man with a sword is dangerous, but a man who believes his mother's life depends on his next breath is the devil."
I looked down at the swirling abyss of Ceres Omega.
"But even with that drive... I suspect I will still lose. And that is exactly what I want to prove to you. Against ultimate violence and supreme authority, this 'almighty-hood' you claim I possess will be revealed as nothing but scrap."
"I will show you that even the Creator can be crushed by the weight of the mortal world."
"You are a walking contradiction," the Void replied. The voice was fractured, unable to find a stable frequency.
"You describe a plan to win through psychological torture, yet you state your desire is to fail. You seek victory only to validate your own defeat."
"I cannot determine if you wish to prevail or to perish."
I looked at my reflection in the polished white surface of the throne. My eyes were black, deep and empty.
"Me too," I whispered. "I guess I just want to experience it."
"I want to know what it feels like for the meaning to finally not add up."
The Void went blank.
—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-
The white throne did not just offer a seat; it offered a perspective.
As I sat, the silence of the Great Void changed from darkness into a memory. I was no longer observing the present; I was witnessing the beginning of the emptiness itself.
Before there was time, there was only the Void.
Its first memory was a lack of definition. Emptiness was not the absence of matter, but the absence of intent. It existed as a boundless black expanse without floor or sky, a vastness that preceded the first syllable of creation.
It was everything and nothing simultaneously—the potential for a multiverse that had not yet been articulated.
Then, the static rippled.
A figure was there, floating in the center of the non-existence. He did not occupy space; he defined it. The Void, possessing its first spark of awareness, addressed the intruder.
"What are you?" the Void asked.
"I am me," the figure replied. The voice was neither loud nor soft, but carried the weight of absolute authority.
The Void named it The One Above All, the Architect of the void. It asked for its own definition, seeking the boundary of its existence. The Creator spoke, and his words became the laws of the Void's nature:
"You are everything. You are reality and the multiverse. You possess the capacity to devour planets and end the cosmos itself. You were the first thing that existed and you shall be the last thing that remains in all of space and time."
"Your nature—Void—surpasses every ability, even omniversal."
The Void absorbed this truth. It was the ultimate authority, yet it remained hollow. It asked the Creator why such a destructive vessel had been created.
"I wish to experience tomorrow," the Creator said. He looked at his own palms, his form shimmering with a power that vibrated at 1507/1 seals. Only a single layer of his essence was restrained.
"Being someone is a form of happiness. To not seek meaning, but to live for the sake of it—that is the only reason to build a universe."
"Just wanna have some fun!"
The vision shifted. The Creator's peak strength was a blinding sun of 1507/1 complexity, a state where his will and the universe were a single, seamless thread.
The light of the memory contracted.
The white throne returned to focus. I sat still, my internal narration measured and cold. The Void stood before me, its presence no longer questioning my right to be there, but analyzing my structure.
"Suggestions accepted," the Void whispered inside my perception.
It stared at me. It saw the 1,507/1,507 seals—the absolute state of restriction I had demanded. I was the opposite of the memory.
The Creator compressed into the smallest, most vulnerable point possible.
If the Creator at 1507/1 was the peak of existence, what existed in the silence of my 1507/1507?
"What is beyond the 1?" it asked.
I stood up from the throne. The white light of the chair began to bleed into the cyan liquid of a laboratory tank. The memories of the birth of time were replaced by the smell of antiseptic and the sound of my mother's sobbing.
"You'll find out," I said. "When the game starts."
The Great Void fractured.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thud
The fall was not a descent; it was a compression of causality.
The Void's final words—"Then it shall begin"—shattered the white throne into seven seconds of absolute, simulated reality.
The First Second: Companionship
I was standing in a field of tall, golden wheat. I wore loose clothes and felt the unfamiliarity of a style I did not recognize. Beside me was a man whose face I couldn't quite see, yet whose heartbeat I knew as well as my own.
We were brothers in a world of winners writing history. For the first time, I was not a weapon or an anomaly. I was a friend. The feeling was a calmness in my chest that defied biological logic—a sense that my existence was validated by the simple, quiet proximity of another.
The Second Second: Growth
The gold faded into a permanent indigo. I was in a world where the sun had never risen, illuminated only by the bioluminescence of silver-leafed trees. I sat by a campfire, watching the stars.
I high-fived the same brother who was laughing with me. Then, a softer hand—small and calloused—reached out and pulled me up from the dirt. I felt the sharpness of my own senses returning, a reawakening of the hunter's instinct. I was learning to navigate the dark, realizing that light is not a requirement for vision.
The Third Second: Retribution
The softness vanished. I was kneeling on obsidian glass beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise. I felt the jagged edge of a blade through my shoulder—not an accident, but a calculated betrayal by the same allies we vowed to trust.
The pain was concrete and absolute. I watched a friend I had helped build burn to ash because of a single, selfish choice. I understood then that mercy is a luxury for those who do not know the cost of survival.
The Fourth Second: Legacy
I stood in a city of white clockwork where time moved in visible gears. I carried a heavy, rusted key. Every step I took felt like a debt being paid to a future I would never see. I saw a throne made of bone and refused to sit on it. The weight of the 1,507 seals felt like physical pressure, a cage that I had built to protect the world from myself.
The Fifth Second: Identity
A world of neon and glass. I was a ghost in a system, a data point in a sea of artificial intelligence. I realized the difference between being a person and being a function. I was a weapon that wanted to be human.
The contradiction between all realities.
The Sixth Second: The End
The finality. I was on an ending battlefield where all subjects lay dying. The Quill hovered above the skies, a crystalline feather waiting for a hand to write the last chapter. I reached for it, not out of greed, but out of a desperate need to fix the truth of the universe.
It disappeared…
The war was not over.
The Seventh Second: The Story Ends Here
I was laying flat on my back. The cold rain of a real world hammered against my face, soaking through a simple tunic.
I opened my eyes. The sky above was grey and choked with storm clouds, unfamiliar stars flickering in the gaps of the rain.
"What..." I whispered. My voice was a stranger's—cracked and thin.
"Where am I!?"