2
Long, long ago, before the heavens and the earth took shape, there existed only boundless chaos, Chaos, the creator god of chaos, and the laws born from him.
The vastness and depth of chaos far surpass human conjecture and imagination. Even later gods and Chaos' descendants were unworthy to dwell there. Before the world was created, Chaos possessed only laws, aiding him in creation and upholding them.
But laws possess no emotions.
Laws are absolutely impartial, more like an intelligent system. Until Chaos created life and fulfilled his innate mission, they remained motionless.
Even after Chaos created the world, they remained motionless.
Thus, even though Chaos was not born alone, he still felt lonely. This is the experience of every creator god. They fulfill their mission in the loneliness of day after day, creating a vibrant world.
The difference was that Chaos encountered a fragile soul, a mixture of light and filth, beauty and ugliness, contradictory yet harmonious, small and humble in the shadow of chaos.
The Creator God was omniscient and omnipotent. The fate that a god feared was but a thread toyed with in his palm. He shouldn't have paid attention to a human soul, but he had an intriguing idea.
What was the point of an unchanging fate? A future foreseen from the very beginning was meaningless. Chaos longed for a more interesting, unexpected drama.
How could a human soul survive in a chaos where even gods could not exist? If he hadn't met Chaos, he wouldn't have survived even a second. But meeting Chaos wasn't necessarily a good thing either.
The gap between gods and humans was like a cushion between heaven and earth, insurmountable.
Even Tartarus, who later became nearly heartless and desireless, didn't really want to recall what happened next.
Even at that time, his mood swings were so obvious that he didn't even have to worry about whether he had cut off all emotions or desires. His soul was repeatedly torn into pieces, then reassembled by some inexplicable, profound force. This repetitive torture gradually imbued his once fragile, pitiful soul with the immortal radiance of the gods. His will, once like a flickering flame in the wind, grew stronger and stronger. Human instincts were replaced by divinity, and he could no longer be called "He," but "He."
But the price he paid was the painful collapse of human will.
The human soul vanished completely.
At that moment, the laws generated invisible fluctuations, which they recorded.
Even though the first god had not yet fully arrived, at this very moment, the first threads of brilliant destiny had begun to be woven, and the moment of world formation was approaching.
"He hasn't arrived yet." Chaos' tone was like his nature: neither good nor evil, all-encompassing, all-devouring, and exceedingly dangerous.
"But, as expected," the law said silently, smiling to himself, his heart ultimately filled with joy.
As expected, the one left behind was a god, his future eldest son, the heir to his priesthood and responsibilities, Tartarus, the god of the underworld.
"My child, it's time for you to wake up."
The words of the gods possess power; their words are truth. Under Chaos's power, this unborn god, a mere spirit, regained consciousness. He vaguely conveyed his thoughts to Chaos.
"Father... God..."
"Bang—bang—crack—"
Tartarus finally couldn't help but wake up. The expression on his face was icy and could freeze everything.
Being woken by Chaos was fine; he had no way of striking him. After finally getting a nap, he was woken again. Tartarus, always indifferent but with a strong sense of irritability, was determined to beat the person who woke him to death, regardless of whether it was a god or something else.