Me: "'Too?' You never looked acceptable in that yolk form either! Everything about it is wrong!"
It was talkative. Too talkative. But why?
The System enforcers that appeared earlier in my brief existence as a Singularity never spoke or showed anything resembling intellect. They were lifeless constructs, machines crafted solely to erase and destroy—but this being was different. It didn't resemble those silent, merciless entities. It was too talkative to be like them, yet too naive, too impulsive, to resemble the System itself.
The System was far-sighted and endlessly calculating. It wouldn't waste energy transmitting idle thoughts or meaningless chatter.
Then… what exactly was this thing?
??: "You're in no position to talk about appearances!"
Its attacks intensified. A lance grazed my event horizon, shredding away at its edges. Each strike grew stronger and wider, distorting reality itself, making them increasingly difficult to evade.
Me: "You speak boldly for a newborn. Yet you don't even grasp the Creed you're wielding! Pathetic."
Its lances surged in intensity, some spanning multiple light-years, warping and rupturing the fabric of reality itself. Paradoxically, however, they also generated space in their wake, maintaining the fragile balance of the universe even as they tore it apart.
I needed another approach.
It was still exploring the boundaries of its own Creed—still discovering its capabilities and limitations. If I allowed it to fully grasp its power, I'd be annihilated instantly. I had to prevent it from reaching its potential.
??: "Creed? What nonsense. Unlike you, I was born wielding this Creed! There is nothing you can teach me—nothing I cannot uncover myself!"
Manipulating such an entity—one that might rival the System itself, the very entity that governed the multiverse since time immemorial—was no small feat.
To manipulate a being, you must first establish a shared foundation of logic—an inherent common sense you can shape. You carefully reshape their reasoning, subtly shift their perception until they unconsciously accept your imposed reality.
By the time they notice, their minds have already been molded, neatly arriving at conclusions precisely aligned with your design. They become their own jailer, imprisoning their own potential, while you merely watch from afar.
They become lost in a maze of their own creation.
Me: "You think you truly understand the World Creed?"
Then, I did something reckless. Something I never should have considered.
But there was no other way. To win this battle, I had to become relentless. Ruthless.
I allowed one of its reality-warping lances to approach me head-on, making no attempt to evade it. For the first time ever, I tapped into my secondary core—a choice I'd never have made in any other circumstance.
The World Creed flooded through me, testing if I was worthy of its power. My event horizon shifted instantly, trembling violently as my very essence recognized the new Creed's presence. The Singularity Creed erupted furiously, trying to tear apart the invader the moment it surfaced.
Yet I subdued it.
The Singularity Creed fought like a wounded beast, withdrawing into the depths of my being, angrily crackling as it recoiled from the World Creed's dominance. Then, in a brilliant surge, the Creed within me shifted—transforming from pitch-black chaos, crackling with destructive energies, into a blindingly pure white radiance, as though every light in existence had emerged from within it.
I shone brighter than ever before. The cosmos ignited in my presence.
With absolute authority, I commanded the World Creed to erase the approaching lance completely. Drawing even deeper from my secondary core, the Creed obeyed effortlessly, overpowering the defiant Singularity Creed, mocking its resistance as if it meant nothing.
The lance vanished entirely.
For the second time, I felt joy—true happiness. It felt like the universe itself adored me, recognized me, acknowledged my authority.
Newborn froze, utterly stunned. This outcome must have been unimaginable to it—impossible even in its wildest speculations.
But my joy wasn't from Newborn's shock.
My joy came from this Creed—the power I had stolen from the Hound and the Reaper, now wholly mine.
This… this was true power. To embody the World itself yet remain uniquely myself. Nothing else in existence could rival it.
But then—something stirred within me.
The Singularity Creed, sensing the profound shift within my essence, surged violently, rebelling against my reckless use of the World Creed. In my euphoria, I'd unknowingly begun fracturing my very foundation—the Singularity itself.
Quickly, I regained control, forcing the World Creed back down.
Creeds could never coexist. It was in their nature to resist cooperation—to reject harmony.
As I suppressed the World Creed, clarity returned. It hadn't tried to dominate me on its own. Rather, it was impossible to wield multiple Creeds simultaneously without losing sanity. Each Creed had its own will—its own distinct essence—and to wield one was to reshape your own identity accordingly.
No sane being could master two conflicting Creeds equally.
I resolved never again to wield the World Creed unless my life depended upon it—a final resort, a last measure when all else had failed.
Now stabilized, I fixed my gaze back on Newborn.
It hesitated—for the very first time, uncertainty crept into its movements.
Newborn: "How… how do you possess that Creed? Even the Arbiter couldn't explain how you devoured the Hound. It never indicated you had the same power as me! How is this possible?!"
What better way to utterly defeat an enemy than to allow them to build their own stable sense of reality—only to shatter it completely, leaving them broken, defeated, and lost.