(POV - ???)
Once upon a ti, in an era so distant that even numbers could not asure its span. A ti when nothing existed—but this "nothing" was not rely an absence; it was sothing incomprehensible, a void without form or substance.
This nothingness was darkness, yet not simply the absence of light. It was a primordial darkness, absolute, where even the concept of ti had yet to erge. A blackness so dense and impenetrable that even what would one day be called light had never been born to pierce it.
There was no ti, no space, no matter as we understand them. Only the void existed—not an ordinary emptiness, but an absolute absence, a paradoxical state of nonexistence. There was neither darkness nor light, for nothing had ever been defined. The laws of physics had not yet been written, and even the notion of "before" held no aning. It was a threshold where reality had yet to dare to be born.
In this infinite void, where absolute nothingness blended with the possibility of everything, sothing manifested. A formless entity, boundless, with neither beginning nor end. It was not a being in the conventional sense, but a living idea, a primordial paradox—an anomaly that preceded existence itself. It had not rely witnessed the birth of the universe—it was the spark that ignited all things, the chaotic and unfathomable essence of creation.
It did not awaken—for there was no ti for sothing to "wake up" It did not decide to create—for there was no thought, no will, no intention. Its re existence shattered the absolute silence of nonexistence, an impossible echo arising where once there was nothing.
Perhaps it was instinct, a need embedded in its very essence, or perhaps sothing beyond comprehension—a primordial force that could not even be nad. But in that indefinable instant, on the precipice between nothingness and being, it exploded—not into fragnts, but into pure existence, overflowing beyond the void that had preceded it.
The Big Bang was not rely an astronomical event but the physical manifestation of this primordial entity's existence. Its imnse and incomprehensible being expanded in all directions, rupturing into a maelstrom of ti, matter, energy, and space.
From the reverberations of its shattered essence, galaxies were born, shaped by echoes that still ripple through the cosmic fabric. The fundantal forces of the universe erged from its disintegrated form, while the first laws that govern reality were etched into its fragnted flesh.
Every particle in the cosmos is a fragnt of its scattered body. Every star burns as a spark of its fractured consciousness, whispering through the distant glow remnants of its ancient unity.
Countless ages ago, everything was created. And yet, to the primordial being, the vastness that stretched before it felt empty, devoid of aning. It was an unsettling paradox—it had shaped existence, woven the fabric of the cosmos, and still, it felt as though nothing truly existed.
This feeling consud it, an unease gnawing at its very essence. If everything had already been created, why did the emptiness persist? What was missing? What did it truly desire to bring into existence?.
These questions beca its only company. And so, the being remained lost in thought, contemplating, reflecting, questioning—for a ti that stretched beyond ti itself—in search of the only answer to its only doubt.
And after an eternity of reflection, the being finally found its answer. If loneliness consud it, then it simply needed to create others like itself.
At that ti, it had no form—nothing that could be seen or touched. It was rely a vague existence, without contours, without matter. But for the first ti, it desired more than simply "being"
It wished to feel. It wished for presence. It wished for warmth. And so, it decided to create others—not just to fill the void around it, but so that it could embrace... and, at last, be embraced.
Driven by this primordial impulse, the being took form—sothing was born where once there was only emptiness. Its presence, impossible to define in re words, transcended the very concept of beauty, as if defying the perception of any observer.
Its skin shimred with an ethereal glow, reminiscent of polished marble under soft moonlight—flawless, untouched by ti.
Its hair, long and silky, was not rely strands but flowing rivers of molten gold or glistening silver, shifting in impossible hues as light caressed them.
There was an innate harmony in its movents, a cadence that seed to defy the laws of physics—every gesture a living masterpiece, as though the very fabric of the universe bent to highlight its presence, molding space around it to exalt its subli perfection.
Its eyes were the true abyss of desire. No matter the color—blazing gold, celestial sapphire, or srizing amber—they reflected not just light but the souls of those who gazed into them. Anyone who looked upon it felt as if their deepest secrets and desires were being gently laid bare—not judged, only understood and accepted.
Its lips, full and exquisitely sculpted, carried a natural, delicate hue, like the petals of freshly blood roses. A re smile could warm the coldest heart or crumble the first convictions. Its voice, when spoken, was an entrancing whisper, an almost hypnotic lody that resonated in the ears like a song that could never be forgotten.
Its body, curvaceous in a perfect balance between the celestial and the earthly, exuded an aura that bewildered the mind, evoking both reverence and desire.
Its wings, delicate yet magnificent, shimred with an opalescent glow, shifting in soft tones that changed with the emotions they stirred in those who beheld them. They were as grand as they were ethereal, oscillating between the soft touch of feathers and the solid presence of a sacred relic.
***
(POV – Protagonist)
Atop the building, I watched the dark mist swirl before , its amorphous shape shifting as if it had a will of its own. As I stared at it, thoughts began to form in my mind.
As I ntioned before, this mist was nothing more than a detached fragnt of my Alter Ego—an extension of myself, yet devoid of individuality.
If you prefer, you could call it a clone of a clone, but unlike , this projection lacked a will of its own. It was rely an empty reflection, a shadow obedient to my command.
In a way, this mist had no consciousness of its own; it simply followed the orders of its creator. And since I was the one who gave rise to the Alter Ego, my will naturally took priority. However, as a re fraction of it, its power was extrely limited.
To be honest, I couldn't replicate even a fraction of what I'd be capable of if I were fully in sync with the Alter Ego. At best, I could use the mist to temporarily strengthen my body—and nothing more.
Of course, I’m not complaining. This will be enough. Even though my physical strength is above average, jumping between buildings this far apart is still beyond my reach. If I tried, I’d probably end up repeating that unpleasant scene—my body splattered on the pavent like jelly. No way. I’ll avoid that at all costs. I don’t want to feel that again… at least not anyti soon.
As I still trembled slightly, the vivid mory of my body being crushed ran through my mind like a cold shiver. Before I could pull myself together, Arthur’s voice sounded beside , carrying a casual yet attentive tone: “Looks like our ride’s here”
I subtly turned my gaze to Arthur. He was staring at the mist with a thoughtful expression, his fingers absentmindedly running along his chin.
I blinked slowly, trying to guess what he might be thinking as he watched the hazy landscape. But I let the thought go. Honestly, trying to understand what goes on in the minds of smart people is a real pain.
Pushing that thought aside, I focused on the mist. I didn’t need gestures or verbal commands—it required none of that. At its core, the mist was like a silent, obedient collective mind.
Though it couldn’t communicate back, it picked up on my thoughts with precision, absorbing every command without hesitation. The mont I determined what I wanted, I felt its imdiate response. Moving with an almost imperceptible smoothness, the mist drifted through the air and approached , as if it knew exactly where it needed to be.
Both Victor and Arthur, who were watching beside , took subtle steps back. From what I could tell, they didn’t seem exactly scared, but there was sothing cautious in their movents. In the end, I decided to ignore it.
The dark mist crept closer, and the mont it touched my skin, it began to coil around , sliding over like a living veil. For a few seconds, I felt its cold touch spread across my body before it was completely absorbed. The sensation was strange—not painful, but unsettling, like sothing unfamiliar was rging with .
Was it a little cold? I wasn’t sure how to describe it. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it also wasn’t uncomfortable enough to truly bother . Just... strange. With that thought, I turned back to Arthur and Victor, who were watching closely.
Their curious looks made it obvious they were wondering what I was doing. For a brief mont, they exchanged glances, as if searching for an answer in each other, but neither seed to have one.
Victor just shrugged, shooting an indifferent look before speaking in a casual tone: “What? Staring at won’t help. I gave up trying to understand her a long ti ago. Actually, trying to understand her doesn’t even make sense”
At Victor’s words, Arthur smirked slightly—an expression that carried both amusent and challenge. I, on the other hand, chose to ignore him completely. Without wasting ti, I sent another ntal command to the mist.
In response, it smoothly erged from my body, drifting through the air before beginning to swirl around in a nearly hypnotic motion. Monts later, as if responding to an invisible impulse, the mist stretched, extending toward Arthur and Victor, slowly sliding in their direction.
Both of them watched with confused expressions, but there was no fear. By now, I figured they understood I wasn’t a threat to humans. In fact, it was likely that everyone in the facility knew that—at least, those who had interacted with in so way.
Either way, the mist enveloped them completely, clinging to their bodies without taking on any defined shape. It remained in its natural state—scattered and ethereal, unable to mold itself in any aningful way.
The reason for that was simple: it didn’t have enough strength to cause any real changes. In the end, this mist was nothing more than a fragnt of my Alter Ego—a small, weakened extension that could never compare to the power of the main body.
As I reflected on this, Victor, standing behind , observed the mist with a puzzled look.
“This is... weird” he murmured, furrowing his brows: “I feel sothing holding , but when I try to touch it...”
He cautiously reached out toward the mist, as if expecting resistance. But his fingers passed straight through, eting no visible obstacle: “My hand just goes right through it” he said, perplexed, repeating the motion.
I understood Victor’s surprise perfectly. To be honest, the first ti I witnessed this, I also seriously questioned how exactly my Alter Ego could turn into mist and still maintain a physical form.
After all, normal mist doesn’t exert pressure on its surroundings, whereas the mist exhaled and controlled by my Alter Ego not only had substance but also responded to its will. In the end, trying to make sense of it was probably pointless—after all, an anomaly is still an anomaly, and logic rarely applies to them.
Eventually, while Arthur and Victor were distracted observing the mist around them, I turned, scanning the surroundings carefully. My eyes swept over the foggy landscape until they locked onto the silhouette of the building that was our destination.
I made a quick ntal estimate of the distance—it wasn’t as far as I had initially thought. With that in mind, I took control of the mist once again.
It responded imdiately, swirling gently through the air before wrapping around like an ethereal veil. Finally, it drifted down to my feet, spreading across the ground like a living shadow, waiting for my next move.
At first, I considered using my anomalous ability to move through the shadows, but for so reason, I couldn’t activate it.
In theory, we should be surrounded by shadows—the sky above was completely covered in dark clouds—and yet, every ti I tried to use it, sothing stopped . It was as if an invisible barrier was blocking my power.
I had no idea what was causing it, but the only explanation that ca to mind was that this heavy, dense, and ominous sky surrounding us wasn’t natural. It was artificial.
But that didn’t make sense. Earlier, I had managed to use this ability to save Victor and Arthur. That ant that at so point after that, sothing had changed, and now I was unable to use it. What exactly had happened to cause this limitation? I had no idea.
User Comments
0 comments from readers