Chapter 715 - Subjective

Oberon’s domain was no longer safe.  If someone like Simeon could violate its borders, then certainly, Aja or Oda could.  Or worse yet, Shar Maelaine.  So, he’d gathered all of his people and loaded them into the tower.  In the meantime, Zeke dismissed the gates and headed to the one place where none of the other greater gods could attack him – the Ways.

When he arrived, his entire population in tow, Zeke was once again awed by the network of bridges.  However, he was far more concerned with how much clearer the Void was.  The last time he’d used the Ways, it was only vaguely perceptible.  But now, he could practically feel the threads on the other side of the gray barrier. 

Not quite, but he suspected that he’d only need to gain a little more power in order to make the leap.  With that in mind, he took a look at his status:

The readout flickered slightly when he summoned it, though of late, that was not an uncommon occurrence.  According to Oberon, the Framework would find it much more difficult to quantify his progress as he gained more power.  The reality was that it simply wasn’t made to deal with Primordials like Zeke.  Instead, it was focused entirely on the normal route to power, which ended with greater godhood. 

By comparison, Zeke was an outlier.

One day – maybe soon – the Framework would cast him out altogether.  He couldn’t imagine that would be pleasant, but it was necessary if he was going to accomplish his goals. 

As he traversed the Ways, he considered those goals.  By all rights, he should have recognized that he was insane.  The very notion of exceeding godhood and dealing with the creatures whose sole purpose was to unmake reality was ridiculous.  Hubristic.  Crazy. 

But Zeke knew that was his fate.  Not only that, but he suspected that he’d soon be at odds with the Creator himself.  After all, he’d been the one to build the entire Framework.  Zeke meddling with it was not likely to pass by unnoticed. 

Still, as far as Zeke saw it, he didn’t have a choice.  It fell under the same umbrella as his justification for starting the war in the Eternal Realm.  Reality was broken.  It would eventually collapse.  Probably soon, too.  Zeke’s every decision was aimed at ensuring that at least someone survived.

Or that was what he told himself.  However, he was honest enough to admit that, at least in part, he was motivated by a need to prove himself against the most powerful creatures in existence.  He sought power as much as anyone else, and he wasn’t immune to the draw of being the strongest person around. 

But it was mostly for the good of all.

He paused, half expecting Eveline to chime in.  Of course, she was still inside the tower, where she’d taken up residence after Zeke had kicked her out of his mind.  Since then, she’d claimed that she understood and accepted his reasoning, but he knew that she resented the choice. 

It was just one person he’d disappointed, and he suspected that she would not be the last.  Already, Jasper had joined those ranks, and it wouldn’t be long before everyone else did.  It was practically inevitable. 

Suddenly, he was hit with a wave of realization about just how lonely his future would likely become.  A shudder went up his spine, but he quickly suppressed it.  If he could go through a thousand years of hell – subjective though his perception of time had been – he could endure anything.

With that in mind, he continued along, passing through one hub after another.  As he did, he noticed that his reputation seemed to have preceded him.  Unlike the first time he’d been through the Ways, no one attempted to bar his way.  Most wouldn’t even look at him.  Instead, they scurried away, clearly afraid that he might take even a glance as an insult.

No one wanted to chance that against a guy who’d already killed three greater gods. 

Soon enough, Zeke sensed a presence following his every move.  Still, it was nearly an entire day before the Waymaster decided to make contact.  Just like the last time, he did so via one of his drones – a featureless metal humanoid that could act autonomously but could also channel the Waymaster’s presence.

“You have been busy,” the drone said, falling in beside Zeke.

“I guess.”

“I mourn Terra.  He was a just god.  His people loved him.”

“He was in the way,” Zeke stated.  “It was nothing personal.”

“There is no more personal endeavor than killing a person.  Especially an immortal,” the Waymaster said through his drone.  “Do you grasp what you have taken?  Infinite potential.”

Zeke shrugged.  “Like I said, he was in the way.”

“I believe that is why greater gods are required for you to progress,” the creature went on.  “That’s what drives us forward.  Potential.  You take it from your enemies and repurpose it for yourself.”

“Pretty sure it’s more complicated than that,” Zeke said.  Indeed, kill energy – or experience, as some called it – was more about a creature’s history than its future.  The more energy someone had accumulated, normally via levels, the more rewarding their deaths would be for their killer. “Wait…”

“You have had a revelation, have you not?”

“What happens to the energy of a creature that dies of natural causes?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“The Creator gets it.”

“It is his reality.  Of course he would benefit.  How else could he have held his ground for so long?”

The sheer scope of it was mind boggling.  Zeke had already known that their reality was huge.  It contained the entire population from all of human history, and they were just one planet.  There were other races as well – more than he could count – and each one had their own long and storied histories.  Then there were the animals.  Monsters.  Beasts that had gained sapience. 

Each time one of them died of natural causes, the Creator got the experience.

“Does he get a cut no matter what?  If I kill someone…”

“Of course,” the Waymaster stated.  Then, he once again added, “It is his reality.”

“Are there other realities?”

“At least one,” the Waymaster stated.  “Where else would the adversary originate?  It is completely incompatible with our concept of existence.  Outside the Framework is a vast void that is neither explorable nor understandable by the likes of us.  Even the Creator cannot know what is out there.”

Zeke suddenly realized that he’d stopped in place and was staring out at the gray cloud that encompassed the bridge upon which he’d been walking.  “Have you seen it?” he asked.

“The true void?” asked the Waymaster.  “I have.  It drove me made for ten thousand years.  I still struggle with it.”

“And the Creator?”

“He has seen it as well.  That is why the Framework exists.”

“How did he make it?”

“How? I haven’t the faintest idea.  I can tell you the sequence of events, though,” the Waymaster stated. 

Then, he began, “When we were but primitive people toiling in the dirt, our reality was a simple one.  We were inoculated from the truths of the void.  Too weak to even realize how close to being unmade we truly were.  The Adversary ignored us because we lacked the power to attract its attention.  That changed when we started to ascend.  I do not know how those first gods came to be.  Without the Framework, it must have been incredibly difficult.  Impossible, some might say.  But divinity finds a way, and slowly, our awareness of our own reality increased.”

He went on to explain how, for a while, everything worked precisely how it was meant to.  People gained power, usually by devoting themselves to one of those first gods, and the they began to explore the next realm.

“That was just to reach the Eternal Realm, mind you,” the Waymaster added.  “It took much longer to reach the Ethereal Realm.  And even longer after that to peek behind the curtain.  Generations of gods came and went until, at last, one rose above them all.”

“The Creator.”

“Indeed.  He was phenomenal, even amongst gods.  A Primordial, just like you.  And he rose so high that he began to look behind our reality.  That was when he attracted the Adversary’s attention,” the Waymaster stated.  “A battle ensued, and entire realms were lost.  The Creator managed to beat back the Adversary, but he knew the creature would return.  It had no choice.”

The drone suddenly looked at Zeke.  “And return it did.  However, when it came, it found its way barred by the first iteration of the Framework.  At that time, it was nothing more than a tangled labyrinth.  It did not resemble the Framework of today.  But it slowed the Adversary enough that the Creator managed to send it back the way it had come,” he explained.

“These battles,” Zeke said. “How long did they take?”

“Centuries?  Millennia?  Eons?  Time means so little for someone like the Creator.  He is more than immortal.”

Zeke let out a slow breath as he considered the passage of time.  At what point would he start to disconnect from people? Had it happened already? 

“I remember when I was first reborn,” Zeke said.  “Back then, a single hour seemed like a long time.  But now?  A decade can pass in the blink of an eye.”

“Time is subjective,” the Waymaster stated.  “Especially without an anchor.  He had none.  No one could approach his level of power, and he was – he is – all alone.  I have tried to speak to him, but…I fear that communication is no longer possible.  Perhaps it never was.  I suspect that he was lost well before I was even born.”

“You mentioned other Primordials.  What happened to them?”

“Most died before they could reach their potential,” the Waymaster said.  “Only one managed to reach the Creator’s level.  She progressed to The End, then joined him some time later.  They collaborated on the current version of the Framework.  She was brilliant – just the catalyst necessary to perfect the cage – but just as they verged on completing their work, the Adversary attacked, and with more vehemence than ever before.  They fought, pushing it back, but it kept coming, over and over again until, at last, it pulled her into the Void.  She was lost.  Dead, likely.  And that was the last step for the Creator’s complete disconnect from our reality.  You were the first person to hear his voice in millions of years.”

“I thought you spoke to him.”

“I…do not.”

“What happened to the other one?  The woman?” Zeke asked, though he feared the inevitable answer. 

“She is gone, never to return.  Even if she somehow made it back, she would no longer be the person she was when she was taken away.  Of that we can be sure.”

Zeke looked away.  “So, what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Do?”

“Yes.  Why are you telling me all this?” Zeke asked.

The Waymaster answered, “Because you deserve to know.  Your task has been attempted before.  Many sought to save our reality.  No one has succeeded.  At best, you will simply give the Creator some respite.  You cannot fix the problem.”

“And what is that?”

“We are not meant to exist.  Our reality is a bubble of offense in a sea of calm.  If you fight, you will attract more like the Adversary.  If you refuse to resist, our reality will collapse and be consumed.  We cannot win.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?  How should I approach this problem?” Zeke asked, a little frustrated.

“Make peace with those you love.  Enjoy the time you have.  For it is limited.”

“I thought you wanted me to –”

“I want nothing.  I merely offer advice.  You can choose to do with that whatever you wish, Ezekiel Blackwood.”

Then, the drone disappeared, leaving Zeke to wonder what he was meant to take from the meeting.  In the end, he decided that he’d learned nothing that would dissuade him from his chosen course.  So, with that in mind, he continued on, already thinking of how he was going to attack the next greater god.