Unto Godhood

[The_Godslayer]

System: ▓▝▝▝ QUANTUM SUPERPOSITION ▓ ▓ ▓
Location: - tt-rr-321561--▝▁ ▁ ▁ ▁▝ SPACE BETWEEN SPACES

▁ ▁ ▁ ▁ - lb - 88 - 14 - 7C - 04 - ▁ ▁ ▁ ▁

Dunes of white sand stretched on for eternity, broken only by the occasional marble reconstruction of various landmarks half buried in the sands, like abandoned temples. The sky was black and littered with stars. The source of light seemed to be a sun in eclipse; glowing white tongues of fire curled around a black circle. This place was not one that existed, not in any meaningful way. It was a space between spaces, a manifestation of the nothing that stretched between the different realities that every conscious observer created for themselves.

Black fog boiled through a spot in the sand, raising from a pool into a fountain. From the cloud stepped a muscular brute of a man, clad in simply some baggy white joggers and a red ribbon tied around his waist. The ethereal sand bit into his skin, thrown by the same wind that whipped his ribbon about. The fog that he had stepped out of clung to his skin.

The Gardener had done much. He preferred to shift pieces, to make ideas and let others fulfill them. The differences between what others imagined and what actually was gave him tiny morsels of strength. Moving directly, what his new body granted by the Lightmind was made for, was less his speed. Yet, he had done much of that recently. Showing his face to the enthralled pilots, moving physically to capture pieces to play on the board. Assurances, purchased by action. But, with assurance, one can no longer keep his hand hidden. A game of tarot cards came to mind.

It didn't matter at this moment. Being able to touch this space was not necessarily new. He had solidified spaces between spaces for his mind before. Touching all of it, however, was an important step towards his end goal. The black fog clung to his skin like a liquid. The Gardener had known Light. The Gardener had known Darkness. These ideas were merely tools of thought, yet these species waged a war around them. There was a further proof to be had. A Dark that was darker than Darkness. The Deep.

Far in the distance, jutting above the windswept sands, was the white stone effigy of Dur-Shurrikun. Nearby, behind him, was Kaarst Drydock. In the direction of this place's substitution for a sun was a structure he did not immediately recognize. Like an alternative version of Kaarst. The Gardener could guess as to whom it belonged, as he had begun this meditation with only a few people in mind, but he wasn't sure what it was.

In the end, though, it was enough. The shape of his will, that black fog bleeding off his skin, was beginning to pool beneath his feet, biting into the sands of time as if it was hungry. His grasp on other people's futures was to drive them towards their extremes. To uplift the worthy and condemn the unworthy. To cut wide the gap between Light and Dark. To leave behind a world where none can cling to a middle ground. Justice, with all its glory, and all its horror.

There will be no place for the Void. They will slip and fall into Darkness, and from there into the Deep, and with each and every other being bathed in Darkness, they would drown in the Deep. The fog crawled across the sand, away from the Gardener, transmuting it to tar-black obsidian as it went.

There to greet them in the Deep will be all of Humanity that cannot be redeemed. Their loves turned to slavery, their safeties turned to greed, each and every gift the Darkness gives claimed and tainted by the Deep. They will drown in the Deep, a hell of their own making. Spikes of obsidian jutted up from the ground, like the teeth of a beast punching their way up through the desert sands.

To condemn them all, above them, there will be the Light, elevated beyond Light into a brilliant Shining. Every part of them which held back, which resisted the greatest light to ever shine upon the universe, will be cut out, and will join the Void on their fall to the deep. The fog bled from the obsidian, spreading his patch of control in the space between spaces. Not quickly, not in comparison to the sheer vastness of this place. A singularity representing all of space and time in a single plane would not be quickly overtaken by one singular being, no matter how much he knew of the rules that governed it.

He was approaching his own end, but not the end of himself. With a bit more control, he could step beyond these limitations, he could reach further than the chains. If he could just bridge the feeble entrapments of this reality. If he could just grasp godhood with his hands.

But, this much was enough. A slow march still covers ground.

▝▝▝▁ ▓▓▓▓▓

.͈̤̺̼ͣͭ͞҉̘̀ͫ̉.͎̬ͦ̔ͧ̍̾̃̍̇ͣ͝.͕̺̰̘ͧ̏ͥͬ̃.̪͙͕.͏̖͉.̴̯̤̭̟̍ͣ̄.̩̩͖͙̻͓̞̏ͨ̈́͋͒͂͆̃͛͛͟.̙̭̳́̂ͤ̀͘.̲͇̹ͩ̾̆ͨ̀ͫ͘͞.̘͕̮̟̉ͯ̃̒ͮͩ̂͘̚͜.ͅ҉͗.̵̣͕̄.̷̶̩̰̮͖̹̍ͮ̅ͨͤ́̉̎̇ͨ̍.̵̡̦̓̉ͬͅ.̸̬̞͋͂͑ͭͤ̑.̱̉͟.͏̛̳̺̟.̷̝ͩ͛.̜͍̏̒͌͗͢.̪̠̙̩̥̟͑ͬ̑̀́ͭ̾̀--+̸̸̴̣̠̠͍̦̫͂̓͗̐ͨͭ͘+̴̧̻̰̦̯́͊͒͗͌̐ͥͩ̐ͭ̔͟͞+̜̻͙̪̞ͥ̓ͯ̇̀͜͡͝͞+̫+͚̟̝͔̠̙̗̤͛̅̉̿͒̓ͬ͊́̚-̵̘̳̻̫̜̆ͥͯ̏͆̍͝͏̓-͕̰ͬ͂͛-̸̧̯̮̣̙͒ͣͧ̀͗҉̷͉̳̀ͣ̂ͪ͠-҉͓-̮̩̰̪͙̹̇ͪ̆̄͂̈ͧ́́̐́͘--▄▀▀▀

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I'll do something about my superiority complex when I cease to be superior.

"Whatever happened to catchin' a good old-fashioned passionate ass-whoopin and gettin' your shoes, coat, and your hat tooken?"