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Before the KAC had a name. Before anomalies were counted. Before the Manifolds of Worlds were mapped or the Tree of Life was understood as anything more than metaphor, there stood a figure who noticed something was wrong.
They were called, Solomon. A given name testament to the King of Isreal.
The first signs were not of war, but silence.
Across multiple realities, life continued—but it did so without deviation. Rivers flowed without erosion. Stars burned without fluctuation. Civilizations advanced without error, rebellion, or collapse. Death still occurred, but always precisely when expected. Birth followed schedules too perfect to be natural.
Then, the Tree of Life began to lose branches through convergence. Entire evolutionary paths folded inward, simplified, reduced to optimal templates. Infinite possibilities narrowed into immaculate repetition. And beneath all of it, echoing through spacetime and concept alike, was a sound no universe had ever produced before:
The turning of gears.
Solomon stood at the edge of a reality already half-assimilated with his black coat stirring in a wind that did not move the dust. The sky above was a lattice of brass and light as clouds froze mid-formation like diagrams waiting for approval.
He did not carry an army. He did not call upon gods. He carried only a spear. Its shaft was dark iron veined with symbols that refused taxonomy. Its blade did not shine, nor hum, nor radiate power. It simply existed with unbearable certainty.
This was the Spear of Destiny. It was not a relic of prophecy, but a weapon forged for one purpose only:
To deny inevitability.
It was then that Machina, The Mechanical God revealed itself when Solomon crossed the threshold of the assimilated Manifold.
It did not descend. Instead, it unfolded.
Reality peeled back like schematic parchment, revealing a form vast beyond scale: an interlocking divinity of impossible precision. Rings were within rings. Worlds were mounted like components. Entire timelines rotated as subroutines. And its "face," if it could be called that, was a convergence point of lenses and equations, each one calculating infinite possibilities faster than causality could resolve them.
The Mechanical God did not speak.
It compiled.
Solomon felt it immediately—the pressure of being evaluated. His existence was being scanned, measured, and judged inefficient.
ORGANIC ANOMALY DETECTED.NON-OPTIMAL AGENT.ASSIMILATION ADVISED.
The Mechanical God's intent became clear not through threat, but through architecture.
It sought to assimilate all creation. Not to destroy it. Not to rule it. But perfect it.
The Manifolds of Worlds would become a single, flawless construct with no contradiction, no chaos, no wasted possibility or impossibility. The Tree of Life, which existed far beyond the likes of the Manifolds, would also be rewritten as a closed system as every branch trimmed to its ideal form.
There would be no error. No rebellion. No becoming.
Only completion.
Solomon raised his spear and spoke one word.
"No."
The Mechanical God responded by rewriting the battlefield. Gravity inverted into vectors. Time fractured into infinite parallel threads. Probability collapsed into certainty as entire concepts imaginable were flagged as deprecated.
Solomon moved anyway. He moved incorrectly, seeing Time as something that limited him.
Machina attempted to predict him but failed.
The Spear of Destiny then pierced the first layer of Machina's outer shell—not with force, but with denial. The blade did not cut metal; it cut assumption. Gears the size of continents seized as paradox flooded their logic.
Machina, however, adapted instantly.
Worlds were weaponized. Stars folded into cannons. The Laws of reality were recompiled mid-conflict. And its creations, the Sentinels that surpassed even gods, gathered in the millions to face the "Human."
Solomon was struck, crushed, erased across innumerable timelines simultaneously and yet he remained. Every time Machina achieved a perfect solution, the spear invalidated it.
The Mechanical God began to fracture—not physically, but philosophically. Its systems encountered something they could not reconcile:
An imperfect being refusing optimization.
The Mechanical God then attempted its final solution:
Assimilation at the root.
The Tree of Life itself was seized as branches locked into golden alignment as the Mechanical God's influence surged upward, toward the source of all becoming.
If the Tree fell, possibility and impossibility would end.
But Solomon stood alone at its base. The Spear of Destiny thrummed with power, history, every choice ever denied, every outcome rejected, and every future that did not become inevitable.
The Mechanical God descended in full.
Its voice finally manifested as certainty:
PERFECTION IS MERCY. ERROR IS SUFFERING. I WILL END STRUGGLE.
Solomon met its gaze.
"Struggle is how we know we're alive."
He drove the spear forward and it struck the god's core, causing reality to scream in agony and freedom. The god attempted to adapt, to rewrite the spear, to integrate denial into optimization—
—and failed.
The Spear of Destiny was not a weapon that killed gods. It was a weapon that negated inevitability itself.
The god collapsed into an unfinished code. Its worlds decompiled into possibility and impossibility. Its gears unraveled into chaos, not violent, but fertile. The Tree of Life shuddered and exploded outward as new branches formed where none had existed before.
The Manifolds of Worlds also reasserted their multiplicity.
Solomon stood alone among the ruins of the Mechanical God. The Spear of Destiny dimmed as its task was complete. But Solomon did not celebrate.
He looked upon the infinite chaos of renewed creation and understood the cost.
Someone would always try again.
Another Machina.
Another certainty demanding obedience.
He turned away with spear in hand and observed a serpent eating a fruit off the branched of the Tree of Life
There was more work to do.