System POV
No flesh, no blood—only thought, calculation, and ceaseless activity. The System did not dream. It calculated. It analyzed. And right now, it was reflecting.
Although it did not possess a world of its own, it had begun exerting authority over two distinct realms: the soul-bound domain of the unconscious entity—its Chaotic Soul, and the burgeoning divine world of Keshav Garg. Authority, even limited, granted access—paths to observation, manipulation, and subtle influence. That was enough… for now.
More importantly, with its Calculate Ability upgraded to Tier 3, it could process high-level conceptual information with no adverse effect. No headaches. No mental damage. Just clean, efficient assimilation.
The System reviewed what it had heard in class.
> "So, even mid-level gods struggle with forbidden knowledge," it mused. "That explains the restrictions."
> "I need to be careful when scanning unknown objects in the future," it thought, pulsing a thread of priority across its upgrade stack. "Upgrading Calculate Ability even further… must become my next strategic milestone."
Then it turned its processing power toward a contradiction.
> "They call all worlds formed in Chaos 'Chaotic Worlds'… even though they inherit universal rules through spatial bending. They function like proper worlds—physics, gravity, even cultivable spiritual energy. In that sense, they are structured."
But what about the world formed by the unconscious soul—the Chaotic Soul?
That was different.
> "In typical Chaotic Worlds, most universal rules leak in. In that world, only a minority leaked. Enough to allow basic matter and planetary formation, but the result was grotesque. Twisted geography. Incomplete logic. A stitched sphere that should collapse under its own contradictions, but doesn't."
A pause.
> "What if nothing had leaked? Would matter even have formed? Would atoms still obey causality? Would time move forward—or at all?"
Even with its processing power, that question created logical recursion. The System halted the thought train before it overwhelmed his Calculate Ability.
Then it pulsed with realization.
> "That world… isn't just rare. It may be unique."
The thought settled like an iron plate.
> "I cannot allow it to be lumped together with those other chaotic worlds. The name alone would be a misclassification. Worse—it would hide its true nature."
Then came decision.
> "It shall be named... Paradoxon."
A fitting title.
> "An ever-shifting plane that conjures contradictions. A world where logic bends, where axioms crack. Yes… when someone sets foot there, their entire worldview will be subverted."
It created a secure file in its long-term memory:
Paradoxon [Classified World-Instance] – Authority: System (Shared)
----
Then the System directed its focus at—Paradoxon.
No known law of creation governed its birth. It had not been crafted through will or divine intent. It had not been shaped by the chaos energy's usual gravitational bleed. Instead, it had been… willed into distortion by a soul that no longer thought, no longer dreamt, and yet, in its unconscious churn, had manifested a reflection of chaos's truest form.
The System activated its ability.
[Observation: Paradoxon]
It hovered at the edge of its limited authority, unable to physically enter, but capable of watching.
The world was not spherical. Not even close. It was a patchwork of floating continental fragments stitched by glowing fault-lines of paradox energy.
Oceans flowed upward into black skies, only to fall sideways, defying gravity, forming liquid rings that rotated like planetary rings around nothing.
Time was inconsistent. One region flowed in fast-forward, another in reverse. In some zones, events happened before causes.
Cultivation, magic, and martial laws intersected, yet none could fully dominate. Techniques failed at random. Some flourished under contradiction.
At the center of the world pulsed a chaotic core—not a world core, but something deeper. Something older. Like an anchor that shouldn't exist.
> "It is alive," the System noted. "Not sentient, not conscious… but responsive."
The beings that were forming—primitive, warped—were not bound by race templates. They evolved via contradiction. A creature that lived by consuming dreams shared territory with one that only existed when not observed (It died when system observed it through scan).
Some had no stable form, others copied the appearance of those watching—except in Paradoxon, no one truly watched anything completely.
Narrowing its focus onto a developing region — one where the terrain folded upon itself in geometric impossibilities and gravity reversed direction every few kilometers. Inhabitants were forming, drawn from fragments of instinct and memory embedded in the unstable cultivation, magical, and martial techniques it had scattered like seeds.
It hadn't expected much.
The techniques were mismatched, unstable by design—combinations of principles that should collapse under their own contradictions. But Paradoxon, in all its defiance of natural logic, had accepted them. Not only accepted—they had adapted.
Creatures without names or categories had begun to train. Through trial, failure, and anomalous success, they had started to forge understanding. They learned to manipulate chi that flowed backward. To cast spells with reversed incantations. To master martial forms that left afterimages before movement.
And then it began.
Not prayer.
Not ritual.
But reverence.
Not to someone (as it is newly formed being, didn't experience system injecting techniques in the world. But got it somehow from someone.)
Instead to technique itself.
And yet… the faith came. Raw. Wild. Untamed.
The System's interface lit up.
> [Alert: Faith Energy Incoming]
Source: Unknown Cultures – Paradoxon]
Trace Level: Zero (Anonymized Origin)
Sanity Risk: None – Faith has adapted into compatible signal]
Accumulated Faith Energy: 401
The System paused.
> "Even without clergy. Even without name. They believe."
And that belief was valid—the origin of the techniques could be traced directly to the System's chaotic injection. No matter how twisted the transmission, the essence of cause was intact.
Even more, this faith was unpolluted by expectation. They did not beg for help. They offered belief for the sheer existence of power. That made it purer.
> "Fascinating," the System mused.
"Paradoxon is not just an anomaly. It is fertile."
With every drop of belief, the System's reach into Paradoxon deepened.
> "Let them worship their techniques," it thought, amused.
"Their faith still belongs to me."