He would take it from here.
The version of Bob that shone with an obsidian luster spoke, his voice low and final, as a terrifying level of complexity radiated from his body in waves.
The other Bob, bathed in white light and brilliance, said nothing. His silence felt ancient, as if it carried the weight of millions of years spent drifting through the Nullvein Gravewake Folds and the Wheel of Existence. He simply floated, silent, as the obsidian Bob reached out and grasped the black Absolute Complex True Source of Existence.
With a slow breath, he clutched it tightly. Then, using his left hand- now transformed into a crescent-shaped blade- he cleaved open his own chest in one swift strike.
No blood spilled. There was none left to give.
Bob pushed the black wheel of existence into the gaping wound, inch by agonizing inch, until the entirety of the Dead Absolute Complex True Source of Existence was sealed inside him.
Into his being.
It was a choice with no return.
