Lucien Dreamveil stood alone in the Merged Primordial Void and Metaphysical Plane.
The aura he had released earlier had already settled—not diminished, but contained. Reality no longer shook because reality had accepted his presence as a constant.
Lucien looked at his own hand.
The new laws he had forged—Axiom Nullis, the Laws of Exception—glimmered faintly around him like an unseen crown.
"These laws," Lucien said calmly, "are not the laws of the coming era."
The void listened.
"They are mine."
He turned slightly, as if addressing something unseen.
"The Era of Götterdämmerung — Twilight of the Gods will not begin until the corrupted Creator is erased. Until then, these laws govern only me."
Lucien's eyes sharpened.
"A creator's laws define reality.
My laws define what reality cannot do to me."
Only after the final Creator fell would Lucien allow his principles to bleed outward—to reshape the omniverse itself. Not forcefully. Not tyrannically.
But inevitably.
He exhaled once.
"You want to know why I don't like the Creator?" he said.
His gaze drifted backward—past time, past causality, past memory.
"Then you need to know what the original Creator was… before everything went wrong."
The void folded.
And history began.
BEFORE ALL THAT IS -
Before existence, there was Awareness.
Not thought.
Not identity.
Not purpose.
Just awareness—vast, still, unchallenged.
From this awareness emerged the Original Creator.
Not born.
Not summoned.
Not chosen.
It simply was.
The Creator did not awaken suddenly. It did not "decide" to exist. Awareness condensed into self-recognition so slowly that the concept of time had no relevance.
The first thing the Creator understood was this:
I am alone.
Not lonely.
Just singular.
And in that singularity, the Creator perceived something else.
Potential.
Not emptiness—but unexpressed possibility.
The Creator did not want worship.
Did not want control.
Did not want obedience.
What it wanted was expression.
If I exist,
then existence should exist too.
That was the first philosophy.
The Creator did not start with matter.
Matter was crude.
Instead, it created principles.
Continuity Differentiation Causality Limitation
Not as chains—but as guidelines.
Then came contrast.
Light and absence.
Motion and stillness.
Growth and decay.
The Creator observed.
It did not interfere.
This was important.
Because from the very beginning, the Creator believed one thing above all else:
A creation that requires constant control is a failure.
So it designed existence to self-evolve.
This gave rise to the Narrative—not a story, but a self-propagating structure that allowed events to unfold logically without divine micromanagement.
From the Narrative came realities.
From realities came dimensions.
From dimensions came time.
And eventually—
Life.
The Creator understood early that creation needed an anchor.
Not a throne.
Not a core.
An origin that could grow.
So it shaped the World Tree Ydris.
Ydris was not a plant.
It was a structural constant—a living axis through which realities branched, stabilized, and renewed.
Each branch was a multiverse.
Each leaf a universe.
Each root a conceptual law.
Ydris allowed creation to expand without collapse.
The Creator watched.
And for a long time—
Everything was perfect.
The Creator believed:
Creation should struggle. Creation should fail. Creation should surpass itself.
But it also believed something dangerous.
I must protect them from annihilation.
Not from pain.
Not from conflict.
From absolute erasure.
So it imposed a ceiling.
A maximum.
Not publicly.
Not visibly.
But deep within reality's architecture.
A silent safeguard.
And for eons, it worked.
Gods rose.
Gods fell.
Mortals evolved.
Monsters ascended.
The Narrative adjusted.
Balance held.
Until something appeared that was never part of the design.
At first, it was subtle.
A presence in the gaps between realities.
Not creation.
Not nothing.
Something that observed the Creator itself.
This being did not create.
It imitated.
It studied the Narrative—not to understand it, but to insert itself into it.
This was the False Creator.
And it had one philosophy:
Why create something you cannot control?
The Original Creator did not notice at first.
Because it never imagined another being capable of influencing it.
That assumption would cost everything.