I stood in the middle of a room, alien as a dream, where every cell of my body screamed in pain—sharp, searing, as if my bones had been split apart. The blow that should have shattered my spine pulsed beneath my ribs, reverberating with a dull echo. I remembered the ship: the crack of metal, the blinding light, the cold steel piercing my flesh. I waited for the end. But it didn't come.
Wait—why am I even alive?
I looked down—there was a hole in my chest, black as a starless night. No blood. Something was clearly wrong.
I could stand and walk, though I shouldn't have been able to. But after everything I'd endured, being surprised by anything was simply impossible.
My left hand flickered before my eyes. Too little of me remained in this damned place. Too little of my humanity, both outside and perhaps inside…
I looked around. Surrounding me was infinity—not of emptiness, but of something unimaginably vast and alive. Monstrous halls, carved into the very fabric of existence, were not mere architecture but shifting, reconfiguring spaces, as if the cosmos itself had frozen and turned into a living machine. Golden lines and symbols pulsed on their surfaces—not mere decorations, but streams of energy, circuits, the pulsating veins of a grand mechanism whose purpose defied comprehension. In them, it seemed, one could glimpse the meaning of existence, but it was knowledge far beyond a mortal mind.
Every surface shimmered and shifted, reflecting nonexistent light and creating the illusion of infinite depths. I saw not just walls, but the fabric of reality, woven from unknown elements and pure will. This was the core of a dimension, crafted by beings whose technology transcended understanding—a monstrous mechanism, a machine of unknown purpose, inside which I found myself trapped.
I stared at the mystical symbols, trying to decipher them, but they remained alien. Perhaps my primitive mind couldn't grasp what I was seeing. My brain, accustomed to a three-dimensional world, struggled to comprehend four-dimensional structures, moving holograms, and energy fields that felt solid. This was a place where the boundaries between the physical and the metaphysical dissolved, where the laws of nature bent and broke at the will of its unseen creators.
I tried to take a step. My body felt as if it were filled with lead. Each movement was an immense effort, as if I were pushing through a viscous ethereal field that resisted every motion. Either this place drained the strength from all living things, or my exoskeleton had failed, and I hadn't realized how weak and exhausted I'd become. The very air seemed saturated with a force that pressed down, testing the resilience of every bone, every muscle, every particle of my battered form.
Ahead, at the center of this unimaginable space, something blazed with blinding intensity. A concentrated radiance, so fierce it warped the space around it, making the air tremble and ripple through the fabric of reality. I couldn't discern its shape, but I felt an irresistible pull—a call I had to answer. The epicenter of incredible energy, the heart of this otherworldly realm.
And so I walked. Step by step, toward the shining core. I didn't know how much time passed, or if space-time even held meaning here. Clock hands would lose their purpose, dissolving in this infinite temporal loop. Yet I pressed on, guided by something beyond my understanding, as if a thread of fate were pulling me forward.
It was strange: this place felt both familiar, almost homely, and monstrously alien. As if I'd been here before, in another life, another incarnation. I walked and walked until, at last, I reached the radiance, which now enveloped me entirely.
And I saw it.
At the center was a Sphere—if it could even be called that. It was something woven from pure energy and abstract light, defying logical description. It resembled the eye of an enraged god—not just an eye, but a fractal of infinite fury, hatred and sorrow, confined within an invisible prison. Even gazing at it, I couldn't fully perceive it.
Was I even seeing?
I waved a hand before my eyes but saw nothing. I tried to look around, but there was only emptiness—an absolute vacuum absorbing all concepts except this light. The light emanating from the heart of this place was reality. It seemed to have burned out my eyes, yet that didn't stop me from seeing it. Perhaps I was seeing not with my eyes, but with something greater, deep within me.
The closer I drew, the more I felt the Power radiating from the center. It was a might capable of creating and destroying worlds, a pulsating energy sustaining this monstrous machine while keeping this thing in check. It was like staring at the dying rage of billions of stars, confined within this sphere, ceaselessly straining against its invisible shackles. I stared, not fully grasping what I beheld, until… it looked at me.
With all my senses, my soul, my very being, I felt that gaze. It wasn't mere sight, but a penetrating stream of information that dismantled me atom by atom, scrutinizing every particle, every thought, every memory, every molecule. Then I realized—sight had lost all meaning. I was seeing not with my eyes, but with my existence. This place began to awaken, as if it had slumbered for an eternity and now stirred with my arrival. The vibrations and hum of mechanisms grew louder, as if the entire world were coming alive, adjusting to my presence.
I looked again at the sphere—no, at the Being it contained. A fragment of an omnipotent entity, its power unimaginable. It continued to gaze at me, and now I saw it more clearly. It was bound, not by metal, but by chains of pure energy and distorted space-time—a prison without wardens, crafted by invisible engineers. It had languished here for an eternity, trapped in its mighty confinement.
And then… it spoke to me. Or rather, it made me understand, for words were irrelevant to this creature. It was a telepathic intrusion, a direct stream of thought needing no language.
"Jailer? How interesting," it mused, studying me piece by piece, probing the deepest corners of my mind, flipping through my memories like pages in a book, observing all I'd endured. It sifted through them emotionlessly, as if evaluating raw material. "No… you're more of a guest. Though even that is generous."
"But… not from here, are you?" A strange note crept into its tone—almost childlike curiosity, dusted with millennia of oblivion. "You come from another existence, don't you? Yet you're so like them. Or perhaps they were like you—or you've yet to become them." It sent visions my primitive brain struggled to process: stars and galaxies, universes born and dying, races extinct before the oldest stars were born. Images absurd to the human mind, beautiful to the point of revulsion, horrific to the point of magnificence. Among them flashed a glimpse of a vast, soulless mechanism—an entity pulling invisible strings, incomprehensible to me.
"Why are you here, Adam? Why not with the others? You don't even know what happened to them," its voice softened, almost sympathetic. Almost. "What do you remember? Who are you now?"
I wanted to answer, to say something, but my mouth was filled with sand, my head with wax. It was as if I were being torn from my own shell, leaving an empty husk. I feared that if I spoke, I'd forget who I was.
"Pitiful mortal. And yet… you made it through. Even if they interfered." A hint of pity laced its voice—predatory, hypocritical. "Interesting. Very interesting."
Suddenly, the space shuddered, and its attention… split.
"Yes, you needn't hide. I see you," it continued, speaking in riddles. Its voice—or something akin to it—vibrated through my being, mocking, tinged with superiority, like an ancient deity gazing at ants. "Even now, you persist in hiding?"
"You," it sneered with icy derision, addressing something I couldn't see, "who deem yourself all-knowing and all-powerful, yet blindly follow programmed algorithms. A program playing god. Why these detours? Even with all you are, do you truly believe you can succeed? Burdening this child with an impossible task. Hah. Such naivety. Such vanity from a formless mass that thinks it's found meaning."
I heard… a crack. Not a sound, but the concept of a crack, as if reality itself fractured under the weight of its sarcasm.
I wanted to scream, to stop them, to flee, to vanish. But I couldn't move a finger.
"Ah, so that's how it is." Its gaze darted to an unseen point, its "voice" falling silent for a moment, as if listening to something beyond perception.
Then, returning to me, it said, "So, the time has come." Impatience and anticipation seeped into its tone, as if it had awaited this moment for an eternity—and now the hour had struck.
It looked at me again. Not with eyes—with its full attention.
"Human, Adam, tell me—what do you desire? You don't know why you're here or what your purpose is. You're lost, cast beyond all that's familiar. What is that you desire? To return? Anywhere? To be healed? To grow strong? To seek revenge?"
Before me, a column rose from the ground, made of a liquid, mercury-like substance that flowed and shifted like a living crystal, defying physics, pulsing in harmony with the Sphere's radiance like a beating heart. On it appeared a golden handprint, glowing with an inner light—a seal on an unsigned, yet already cursed, contract.
"Free me, child," the Being's voice enveloped me, seeping into every fiber of my being, brimming with promises. "You will become great, powerful, eternal… you will become One." It wasn't a promise—it was a future yet to unfold. It spoke as the wind speaks to a tree of a coming storm. "I can heal your wounds, make you whole again. I need only your consent."
As its words echoed in my mind, drowning out reason—
Pain struck.
It pierced me sharper than any wound—the pain of existence itself tearing apart, as if my soul were being ripped from my body, every nerve ablaze. Blood poured from the hole in my chest, from my mouth. I felt life slipping away, flowing out like sand through my fingers, taking the last traces of humanity and leaving only emptiness. I wanted it to end.
At any cost.
Then came the visions. They flooded my mind like a tempest, unbidden. Visions of what had been—ancient, forgotten catastrophes, the birth and death of worlds, creation and destruction too horrific to describe. And visions of what could be, if I agreed… or if I refused. Worlds torn asunder, beings plunged into chaos, the cosmos reshaped by a new will. My essence seemed to splinter under the onslaught of this knowledge.
Yet deep within, in my most wounded core, something whispered: No. Don't do it. This is wrong. Don't let it…
As I wrestled with that inner cry, the mysterious place awoke with unprecedented force. Grand mechanisms, dormant for eternity, began to stir with a low, guttural hum, like a titan rousing from slumber. The golden lines on the walls flared brighter, twisting into intricate patterns—schematics projecting unseen functions into the air. The space filled with escalating energy, warping reality, and it was clear time was running out.
"It seems you have no other choice," the Being said.
I looked again at the Being, at the column, at that golden imprint of fate—now the only path, the only escape from this madness. The desire to end this endless nightmare was nearly tangible, drowning out all else, silencing the last echoes of resistance.
That desire was no longer a wish—it was a thirst. Like hunger. Like a hangover after losing all meaning. Everything within me screamed: Touch it. End it. Just… silence.
I raised my hand.
With the last remnants of strength, I pressed my palm into the column.
The material was liquid, like glassy fire. It flowed into my fingers, my nerves, my bones—fusing with my flesh, enveloping my consciousness, replacing my reflexes with something alien. I didn't just touch the column. I became part of it. It became part of me.
My mind began to fade, sinking into oblivion—not a simple void, but one filled with echoes of infinite knowledge and ancient power. I merged with the consciousness of this place, becoming part of something far greater than I could fathom.
The moment my hand met the column, the universe roared.
The ancient mechanisms of this realm thundered with renewed vigor. Gears, like the teeth of an unknown beast, ground in vain to halt the inevitable. Streams of energy, once confined to the walls, broke free, forming sparking barriers and chains—but it was futile. Their efforts were mere ripples on an ocean to one who had waited an eternity for this.
The Sphere at the center erupted in silent, blinding radiance. The chains of pure energy binding the Being shattered in a whirlwind of light, dissolving into billions of pulsating fragments. A wave of universal relief swept through, mingling with raw, indescribable power surging from the core. The Being, now free, pulsed with blinding light, transcending its former state.
"Thank you, child of another universe," its voice—now not telepathic but all-encompassing—resonated through the fabric of reality and every cell of my being. "You've restored what was taken. And more… you've opened the way." Its voice, no longer mere words but the essence of existence, pierced me through. It was a symphony of triumph, a celebration of absolute, ancient power reclaiming freedom. Gratitude overwhelmed me, yet it paled beside the sheer might now radiating from the Being, filling all that is.
And then—I vanished.
Not died. Not lost. But dissolved, like ink in water. My "self" stretched thin, melted into the radiance, the expanse, the symphony of reclaimed power unfolding across dimensions.
In the final flicker of what could still be called thought, I understood:
This was not the end.
This was just the beginning.