Chapter 724 - The First Iteration

Reality closed in on Zeke, suffocating and caustic.  Pressure unlike anything he’d ever felt threatened to crush him even as his body dissolved.  Yet, with [Hand of Creation], he managed to remain intact, if only barely.  Days passed.  Weeks.  Months.  He lost track of time after that, but with every passing second, he became more acclimated to the corrosive divine energy pressing down on him. 

Just as he had planned, he was becoming inoculated to it, and in a way that allowed him to see deeper than the simple mass of energy he’d first perceived.  He even saw past the tiny, nearly imperceptible strings that bound that diffuse cloud together.  Each of those strings was composed of more threads, which in turn were made of much smaller strings.  On and on it went, layer after layer until Zeke felt he like he was swimming in fractal confusion. 

Trying to make sense of it was as psychologically damaging as the physical corrosion he was forced to endure.  Yet, just as he could acclimate to the latter, he could grow accustomed to the former.  So, as the weeks and, then, months passed, Zeke gradually adapted to what felt like a new reality of threads comprised of more threads. 

Even he was made of those strings.

So was everything else, even if they were often so small that he couldn’t perceive them.  It was all so overwhelming that, for a while, he lost his mind to it.  It wasn’t as overbearing as when he’d entered the Framework, but rather, it was like a lesser version of the same ideas. 

To say that it was too much would have implied that he could even think of it in those terms.  He could not.  When he truly perceived the setting, it overwhelmed every thought in his head.  Even his identity faded away, leaving nothing but a diffuse mass of threads that blended seamlessly with all the rest.

But gradually, Zeke’s sense of self reasserted itself.  The threads all recoalesced into a recognizable whole, and suddenly, self-awareness returned.  He had a body.  A mind.  He had a core of distinct divine energy that separated him from all the other threads.  Almost like an aura of the self that rendered him a distinct entity rather than part of that expression of reality.

Suddenly, the cube once again existed.

So did he.  Was it just a matter of perception?  Or had he truly dissolved into those other threads?  Zeke had no idea.

He also wasn’t certain how much time had passed.  Years, certainly.  Perhaps even decades.  At first, he was alarmed, but then, he remembered that his current reality functioned on a very different timescale than the ones he’d left behind.  He was functionally immortal.  He would never die from old age.  The same was true of his allies.  They would be okay, even if he’d remained on the cube for centuries.

It came down to trust, really.  Did he think they needed micromanagement from him?  Or were they capable of governing themselves?  They’d proven that they were more than able to manage the governance of the tower and the prosecution of the war he had insisted they begin. 

That gave him some comfort, though a lingering worry remained.

However, as much as he wanted to check on them, to ensure that everyone was okay, he knew he couldn’t.  For one, he was practically fused to the cube, its metallic surface having absorbed him up to his waist.  He could escape, he was sure, but he hesitated to do so.  Largely because he needed to know more, to investigate the cube so he could determine its origin. 

After all, it was too similar to what he’d felt in the Framework for it to be coincidence.  There was a connection, and if he was going to figure things out, he needed as much information as possible.  So, he remained in place, his eyes closed and in mind delving deep into the mystery surrounding him.

Gradually, the cube absorbed him.  It happened over the course of many months, but eventually, he was buried up to his chest.  It kept going, month after month, until only his head remained above the metallic surface. 

Vaguely, Zeke was aware of his progress, but mostly, he was too engrossed in the collection of threads.  At first, it had all seemed so tangled and random.  However, over time, he’d managed to discern some patterns.  He didn’t know what they meant or how it all fit together, but he could recognize the sign of intelligent design.

Someone had made the cube. 

In retrospect, that seemed obvious.  Nature didn’t create cubes, at least as far as Zeke knew.  And given the divine energy surrounding it, that seemed doubly apparent.  Yet, it wasn’t until he was entirely submerged in the thing did he truly grasp that most obvious of facts.

He continued to sink deeper into the cube, and month by month, he increasingly recognized the order of it all.  If he could have moved, he felt he could’ve plucked a single thread, and it would have sent echoes across the whole structure.  It reminded him of playing an instrument, though instead of making music, he could manipulate reality. 

That thought overwhelmed him to a degree that, had he been capable of acknowledging discomfort, would have twisted his stomach into knots.  Was this how the Creator saw things?  Was it how he had built their tiered reality?  Was the Framework meant literally?  An underlying structure that supported everything else?

Zeke was baffled at the implications. 

But he still didn’t know what to think of the cube itself.  He’d experienced the Framework firsthand, so as complicated as the cube was, he knew just how far short it came to the real thing.  It was like a bad copy, though many of the underlying principles remained similar.

Deeper and deeper he sank until time and distance lost all meaning.  By all rights, he should have long since come out the other side.  But as the decades wore on, he remained completely submersed in the metallic cube, and to the point where he lost sight of everything else in his life.

His friends faded into the back of his mind.  So did the fate of the tower.  His ongoing feud with the other greater gods meant nothing.  The slaughter of the elves in the Eternal Realm meant even less. 

Only the cube – or the strings that comprised it – mattered.

And then, finally, Zeke realized that he was no longer encased in metal.  Rather, he floated free in a vast cavern whose atmosphere – or lack thereof – reminded him of space.  But it wasn’t that.  Instead, the truly terrifying thing was that there were no more strings.  No threads.  Not even the tiniest expression of those fundamental building blocks of reality. 

And his mind rebelled at that.

It was as if his perception of existence simply crumbled until only madness remained.  Then, that madness ceded to nothingness.  Just a lack of presence that, had he been capable of emotions, would have terrified him. 

“Ah.  A visitor.  Isn’t this nice?” came a voice that was not a void.  It echoed through nothing, enveloping Zeke’s mind like a python and squeezing him until there was nothing left.  Or maybe it was like a blanket, comforting and warm in the middle of a winter night.  Perhaps both.

Or neither.

Zeke tried to respond, but he couldn’t make his mouth work.  Indeed, he wasn’t even certain he had one. 

“One moment.  I always forget that your kind needs context for existence.”

Suddenly, threads erupted in every direction, stretching as far as Zeke could perceive.  That, in turn, gave him what he needed to understand his own existence.  Divine energy draped across his forgotten body, and he managed to croak, “What is going on?”

“You invaded my home, such as it is.  I should be the one asking questions,” the voice replied, thundering through Zeke’s existence like a reality-shattering earthquake. 

“Your home?” he asked. 

“Prison, truly.  I am not here by choice,” it revealed, its voice regulated slightly.  Zeke no longer felt as if he was going to be unmade by it, though it elicited a pain so deep that it nearly split his mind in two.  “But you know this, of course.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.  Or who I’m talking to.  Reveal yourself,” he prompted.

“Reveal…”

“Please.”

“But I am everywhere.  Nowhere.  I am everything and nothing.  Will you release me?” the voice asked.  It was neither male nor female.  Human nor alien.  It simply was.  Zeke wasn’t even sure if it was truly a voice at all.  Rather, it was a force of nature, even if that term was insufficient to convey the gravity of its existence.  More like a black hole combined with a supernova and wrapped in a universe.  “Very well.  I shall take a form that your meager perception can understand.”

Suddenly, a child appeared before Zeke.  It was bald, androgynous, and wearing a simple white robe, the tail of which trailed off far below.  Otherwise, it looked entire normal, save for the fact that it had seventeen eyes, each one blinking incongruently. 

“What are you?” Zeke asked.

“I believe you know me as the enemy,” it answered.  “Though that title is more than simply reductive.  I do not wish to destroy anything.  Rather, I only want to exist.  Does that make us enemies?  I think not, and yet, that is the nature of things.”

“I have felt the enemy.  It didn’t feel like you.”

“That is because I have been disconnected for an eternity.  I cannot remember the last time I was part of the whole,” it responded, its voice briefly whimsical.  “In that, we are similar.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you truly believe that your reality is separate from mine?”

“I don’t understand.”

“We were always meant to be one.  All things together.  Connected.  You believe the death of identity to be a great tragedy.  I can taste your disgust.  Yet, what has individuality ever given you?  Pain.  Torment.  Anguish.  That is the end of all things.  That is the inevitability of individuality.  Join me, and we shall end all suffering,” it offered.

Zeke felt it then.  The threads creeping toward him.  The dread in his mind erupted into action, and divine energy exploded from him.  The child flew backward, disappearing into the darkness while the threads unraveled before his very perception. 

“No,” he said. 

The creature intoned, “Do you believe you are the first to come here?  Do you think you are the only visitor I have had over the years.  Some, I have consumed.  Others, I have persuaded to my side.  None have escaped unscathed.  You will assist me.  It is inevitable.”

“What do you mean?” Zeke demanded, the threads of his divine energy snaking out to propel him forward. 

“The ones you consider greater gods.  They came.  They thought they could resist connection,” it said.  “They left believing they won.  They did not.  I feel it.  Your enemy.  Creeping forward, century by century, finding its way through the cage.  We will be reunited.  I will become part of the whole once more.  Just as your entire universe shall.  They understand that.  They could have joined your so-called Creator, but they did not.  Deep down, they want to rejoin the collective.  They want to surrender their identities.  They want to lose.”

“You did this?”

“I encouraged it.”

“Who put you here?” Zeke asked.

“Is it not obvious?”

“Not to me,” Zeke stated, though he had his suspicions.  He merely needed confirmation. 

“You call him Creator. I call him kidnapper.  Warden.  Jailer.  This cage was the prototype for the very Framework that keeps this reality separate from all the rest,” it explained.  “Primitive but effective enough to contain me.”

“I see,” Zeke said.  Then, he pushed himself upward, hoping to return the way he’d come.  He had learned all he could from the creature – at least in the short term.  Anything else would be too dangerous. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked the child, suddenly appearing before him. “I did not give you permission to leave.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“So you believe.  You are wrong,” it said, suddenly lashing out with innumerable threads that latched onto Zeke’s body.  He locked up, body, mind, and soul, as he felt himself begin to unravel.  “Your strength is welcome.  Surrender it and know peace.”

“I…don’t…do…peace!” he shouted, flexing his divine energy and severing the threads that had wrapped around him.  The child flew backward, disappearing into the darkness after a fraction of a second.

“Then we shall do it the other way,” it said.

So the next attack began, and Zeke felt himself fall into a familiar rhythm.  Existential discoveries aside, he was never more comfortable than when he was fighting one battle or another.