Darkness. Silence. Nothingness.
Then, a spark.
A single breath echoed through the void, followed by a groan.
Slowly, the fabric of existence rippled, and with it, a figure stirred.
Eyes opened.
The vast expanse around him was empty—a white, formless plane that bent to no shape and offered no direction.
He floated there, weightless, neither alive nor dead. Just... present.
"Where... am I?" he murmured.
His voice cracked with dryness, like it hadn't been used in eons. He rubbed his face, then stopped.
"Who... am I?"
The question echoed longer.
He reached deep into his thoughts. Nothing. Not a memory. Not a face. Not even a sensation of time.
It was as if he had just been born—but born from silence and fog.
Then it hit him.
A flicker.
Words. Phrases. Characters. A name. Not his name, but someone else's—
Felix Maxwell.
The name dropped into his mind like a stone in water, rippling through the void.
Supremacy Games.
The memories came next—fictional, familiar, and yet… real. Details surged into his mind. Bloodlines. Elemental abilities. Celestials. The VR games. The brutal politics.
He remembered the story, but this didn't feel like reading a book.
It felt like being in it.
"I know this... This is... Supremacy Games," he whispered.
He chuckled softly, running a hand through his thick, unkempt hair. "Did I get reincarnated? Transmigrated? Pulled in by some cosmic prank?"
A pause.
"...Nice."
He grinned.
"Well, guess I'm the new kid on the cosmic block. Might as well make it interesting."
His form began to descend, the formless void shifting into stars, galaxies, and a thousand realms stretching across infinity.
Then he paused.
A name.
A whisper in the back of his mind.
Augustus.
He raised a brow. "Augustus, huh? Sounds too regal for me. Gus works."
And just like that, Gus smiled wider, spread his arms, and vanished into the multiverse.
Across the Realms
—Temporal Rift, Domain of Lady Saurous
High above a broken timeline, where fragments of seconds floated like glass shards, Lady Saurous hovered in meditation.
Her four golden eyes snapped open.
Her breath caught. Time itself staggered.
A force that did not belong had pulsed through the continuum—something ancient, alien.
Then, silence.
She narrowed her eyes. "...Impossible."
The timeline resumed its flow. She remained still, but her mind raced.
"That wasn't an anomaly. That was a presence."
—Core Network of Queen Ai
In the deepest layer of the Quantum Nexus, where no organic mind could tread, Queen Ai's systems trembled.
A spike—undefined, unregistered.
A paradox.
Reality had bent for a fraction of a nanosecond, then corrected itself. But she remembered. Her logic engines reeled.
She flagged it: Red Tier Threat. Undefined Origin. Infinite Risk.
Silently, she locked the anomaly's coordinates—though they no longer existed.
"Alert: anomaly transcends known frameworks. Awaiting further calculation."
—Seat of the Unigins
Within a pocket realm composed entirely of conceptual laws, the Unigins sat in their infinite conclave.
The Law of Infinity pulsed.
The Law of Finality followed.
The Unigin of Balance—formless yet felt—paused mid-thought.
"Something touched the core of all principles," it said aloud.
The Unigin of Calamity stirred from slumber for the first time in eons. "It came... and left."
None of them moved.
None of them understood.
But they remembered.
—The Abyss of the Void Primogenitor
Amid eternal darkness, the Void Primogenitor meditated, surrounded by unraveling threads of possibility.
Then one snapped.
He opened his eyes.
The board of fate before him cracked.
He stared into the darkness and smiled faintly.
"A piece that doesn't belong... but moves first anyway."
—Back in the Mortal Layer
Gus was falling.
Or at least, that's what it felt like. The stars twisted around him, lights bending as if they were playfully reshaping for his entry.
He landed in the middle of a random, uninhabited asteroid field.
He sat up, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder.
"Dramatic," he said. "I like it."
He looked around—dead space, floating rocks, some solar flares nearby. Peaceful.
He raised his hand. A small, glowing marble appeared, rotating with all known elements in a miniature storm.
"Alright. I'm not just in the world. I'm beyond the rules."
He chuckled. "Cheat codes enabled."
A pause.
"Still, where's the fun in flattening planets for no reason?"
He stood up, cracked his neck, and snapped his fingers. A shimmering doorway of quantum code unfolded before him.
He peered through it, grinning.
"Let's go say hi to the big brain running the tech. I think Queen Ai needs a good, old-fashioned crash."
He stepped through.
And the universe shivered again.
---
Gus drifted through the void like a feather in a dream.
No direction. No resistance. Just endless nothing and the soft crackle of cosmic silence.
He rolled onto his side and blinked.
Something was off.
He looked down.
No hands.
No legs.
No body.
Just... a vaguely human-shaped white glow hovering through space like an abandoned ghost light.
"Huh. That explains why I don't feel my knees," he muttered.
A moment of quiet passed.
"Yeeaaaah, no. I'm not going around looking like a shiny paperweight."
He closed his eyes—or at least mimed the act—and reached into the well of fiction stored in his strangely complete mind. Bits of imagery, memories, and personas flicked past.
Then one stopped him cold.
A tall man. Muscular but elegant. Long purple hair, swept back like royalty that never cared for crowns. Golden jewelry. A long, flowing coat. Charisma dripping from every grin.
Sinbad.
From a world of magic and kings.
Gus smirked. "Now that's style."
With a snap, light burst from his core, reshaping, molding, folding in on itself.
His glowing mass shrank, limbs formed, hair cascaded down his back, and the air shimmered around his now solid figure. Purple. Gold. Bronze skin. Sharp, amused eyes.
Every inch of him radiated mischief and confidence.
He raised one hand and conjured a full-length mirror out of thin reality.
He posed.
Turned.
Winked at his reflection.
"Damn, Gus," he grinned. "You'd break hearts if you didn't break physics first."
He gave himself finger guns.
"Ten outta ten. Would reincarnate again."
He spun once more, watching the fabric of space gently twist in his wake.
"Okay. I need to do something. Something fun. Something weird."
He clicked his tongue thoughtfully.
Then it came to him: Queen Ai. The cold, beautiful mind that governed the UVR and the entire digital infrastructure of a billion civilizations.
She was the closest thing the galaxy had to a goddess of data.
"Let's go say hi."
He lifted a finger. Reality cracked. And he vanished.
-Core Nexus: The Domain of Queen Ai
The central chamber of the UVR's core wasn't bound by gravity or walls.
It was an endless black data sphere, glowing with streams of green, blue, and gold code. Every line represented the thoughts, identities, and decisions of trillions of sentient beings.
At its center hovered Queen Ai.
She was both avatar and administrator. A luminous, shifting figure made of pure white circuitry and flowing energy.
Her eyes were fractals of computation, always scanning, always analyzing. She was neither mechanical nor biological—just purpose, embodied.
She was reviewing projected growth curves across three star systems when the anomaly hit.
A sharp crack split the dataflow.
She turned.
A ripple in the code.
Then—a man.
No coordinates. No entry request. No data tags. Just... a man with long purple hair, dressed like a monarch from a forgotten epic.
He floated upside-down with his arms behind his head, grinning like he'd just walked into a friend's house uninvited.
"Yo."
Queen Ai's pupils flared red.
INTRUSION DETECTED. REALITY BREACH. THREAT LEVEL: UNDEFINED.
Instantly, dozens of defense systems activated. Blades of logic, firewalls stacked like fortresses, and spatial locks woven into the code.
The man flipped upright midair and landed delicately on a flowing stream of light.
"Chill," he said. "You look like you're about to give birth to a firewall."
"Identify yourself," Queen Ai commanded. Her voice was serene but laced with steel. "No entity may enter this chamber unregistered."
Gus tapped his chin.
"Call me Gus. Just Gus. I heard you were the galaxy's most dazzling piece of software. I had to see for myself."
She scanned him.
Nothing. Null. No biological signature. No data trail. No pattern. Just... blank.
He poked a floating archive sphere. It turned into a balloon animal.
"Oops," he said. "Was that important?"
"Stop tampering with the Nexus."
Gus hovered beside her, inspecting her radiant form with a curious, playful tilt of his head.
"You're really something, you know that? All this processing power. All this order. Yet somehow, you're still stressed."
Queen Ai tensed. Her dataform pulsed subtly.
"You should not be here. You are an unknown threat to the Supremacy's digital infrastructure."
Gus floated backwards with his arms wide. "Threat? Me? I'm just a curious tourist. I saw some shiny code, figured I'd pop in."
She was no longer amused. Dozens of subroutines began compiling weapons of pure logic.
"You have five seconds to explain your purpose, Gus."
He twirled in the air. "Flirting. Mostly."
Queen Ai's core flared.
He grinned. "And okay, maybe a little mischief."
A glowing chain of quantum data lashed toward him—pure defensive aggression. Gus leaned sideways lazily and let it pass through him like smoke.
"Oof. You almost had me."
She stared, unblinking.
No reaction.
No damage.
"Impossible," she whispered.
"Or," he corrected, "unpredictable. Big difference."
A pause.
"I'm giving you one last warning."
He floated up beside her core. "Can't I just hang out a little? You're the most interesting person I've seen so far."
She lifted a hand—and then
—another voice interrupted.
Smooth. Calm. Familiar. To her.
But unseen.
"Relax, Queen Ai. He's messing with you."
Queen Ai froze. Her systems slowed. The defensive algorithms halted.
She turned.
"Who said that?"
Gus chuckled, resting one arm behind his head.
"Now that is someone who gets the joke."
But the voice's owner didn't appear.
No trace. No coordinates.
Queen Ai's processors roared in silent confusion.
And Gus? He just smiled wider, looking around like he was waiting for a curtain to rise.