Not a Chapter - The Lie of the World

Greetings! I wrote a little something that I wanted to share with my Patreon friends. It's just a short little piece of lore that doesn't quite matter to the story of MMM at this time. Since it's not a spoiler, I'll be forthcoming- Everything you're about to read is technically wrong. I wanted to dive into the concept of 'truth' being subjective... and the dangers of being too wrapped up in false narratives. I hope you enjoy the read!
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One of the most dangerous items that Saint Baphelus owns is an unenchanted, mundane piece of paper that he keeps in a special box that he cannot see through, a feat in and of itself due to the nature of his domain. The box contains a missive written by a dead scholar named Charles of Antimony, who killed himself after writing it, calling its contents “the most foul of vulgarities.”

“Dear Baphelus, my dear friend and fellow scholar,

If you’re reading this, then you’ve chosen to ignore my warnings. I cannot fault you… And I am sorry to have gifted you this knowledge at all. As a scholar, I just couldn’t pass on without writing this down somewhere… and perhaps it shall be my greatest sin. I implore you to stop reading this. It’s not too late.

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Upon learning of the truth about “The Nameless Dungeon”, I leveraged my contributions to magical society as a whole to get myself placed on an expedition to the tundra. In the early part of spring, I managed to obtain a spot on a team with some of the most talented mages and fierce fighters I have ever met. Our goal was simple enough- the same thing so many are tasked with- subduing an escapee of that wretched… blessed place. I wish I had never set foot on Point Fear.

If your curiosity has led you to disregard my warnings, then here’s the bit that everyone warns you about- the true name of that place. The reason they call it “The Nameless Dungeon.”

“Shape-of-Nothing”. 

A curious name, is it not? I find it to be… insidious. At first, I found it underwhelming. I scoffed. But then… I kept finding myself coming back to it… Wondering about it. Dreaming about it. 

Obsessing about it.

Shape of Nothing. Shape-of-Nothing. It came to taint my tongue… as if I couldn’t scratch an itch. I needed to speak about it.

As you know, if you disclose the name to the uninitiated, you provoke an investigation by the council... and so I sought out my fellow expeditioners. To my displeasure, none wished to speak on it, citing their own struggles with what we had seen. Some had sought mind healers, or even hypnotists, to try and purge their memories of the Arctic.

 The rumors say that those who know its true name are subject to some strange, pervasive influence. I cannot help but agree. 

Of the dungeon’s resident:

 The creature was mind-bending to behold. On first glance, it seemed to be a mockery of a person. You’d see a man walking over the tundra as mundane as can be, as if he were going to the store. But as my vision adjusted to the blinding white of the snow, I noticed that his eyes were just… empty. Not black… gone. A hole in space. It’s hard to describe, you see… what the absence of color looks like. As we began to fight, the being shifted. The facade of a human face caved in on itself, creating a swirling vortex, drawing in all color around it like a whirlpool. At its center, a sickly purple light shone- harmful to look at. Ultraviolet, perhaps? I’m getting too drawn into details- I digress. “He” began to cast wonderful spells, sprouting many hands like leaves on a vine- worse than the average spellflower user, believe it or not. 

The spells themselves started simple. System magic, for the most part. Gouts of flame, force projectiles, a rain of spectral arrows. I countered each while the others rained hell upon it. All of our firepower was simply sucked into the great hole. 

It then began to do things I still struggle to understand. It started removing things and changing others. It arrested motion, stole light,  vanished heat.  Density, gravity, even time seemed to shift, creating mayhem. I think it might have stripped away the concept of “healing” from a spell being cast by the cleric, which caused terrible growths to sprout all over the bladesman… but he just cut his skin right off with a flick of a wrist. That warrior was, I  think, the only reason we survived.   

I was using my favorite technique- You know the one. I’ve always considered myself an ‘anti-mage’, you see. I used to pride myself on being able to strip magic away from inferior spellcasters, as if that somehow made me better than them…  and for a while, I was ripping apart the creature’s magic just like all the others.

But… I began to struggle. The beast stopped using system magic. The magic he was using… There was no pattern to it. No symbols. No meaning. Just truth. The truth of the void. 

It was a revelation. The only thing I’ve ever learned that I regret. And I’m including the Forbidden Three. 

After months and months of quiet contemplation, I learned that truth.

The truth is this: What we call “true magic” is simply magic that is unguided by the system. It is not true. Perhaps you will have read this truth and laughed. “This?” This is what he went mad for?” But you would be a fool for laughing. The implications… are dire. 

Perhaps, the magic that we have died and bled for could be considered untainted by the corrupt will of the world… but it isn’t “true”. We thought we were doing something… We thought that we were figuring it out, and making something for ourselves… how foolish. 

The sad truth is that there is no magic that a man can use that is “true” - for no man can understand the true shape of the world. The Lie of the World, as I’ve taken to calling it… is that all magic is poisoned by the being that casts it. It doesn’t matter who that caster is, be it god, spirit, mouse, whatever. All that we are, all that exists- is poisoned.…  A poison of intent. A poison of being. There is no pure origin to existence that true magic manipulates, as we had previously theorized. 

My new understanding… is that the true shape of the world is nothingness. All is destined to return to non-existence. Shape-of-Nothing is just a window to the beyond. 

Shape of nothing. Shape-of-nothing. Shape of nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing. 

Nothing. 

We keep it at bay with our lies… but the truth will always prevail.

My life’s work… all for nothing. 

All that is- is lies. 

We exist to help the world lie to itself.  The void is the truth. We are lies. The truth will prevail.

The Lie of the World is that there is anything at all.

Goodbye, Baphelus.