The silence of the void was absolute, yet it roared in Tian Aoyao's ears or whatever passed for perception in this formless place. The Creator's words still reverberated, not as sound, but as law written into the fabric of his soul. The weakest. The purest. The next god.
Before he could think further, a scream tore itself from him a voiceless, agonized ripple through the cosmos. It was not pain of flesh, but the unbearable violation of existence itself. The Creator's hand had not touched his forehead; it had pierced into the core of his being.
A torrent of raw, primordial energy surged into him, the distilled essence of eons. It was a universe poured into a vessel the size of a teacup. His human form was not merely inadequate; it was offensive to the power now flooding it. His skin blazed with searing white light, as if a star had been ignited inside his chest. The faded red polo and loose trousers he had worn moments ago were obliterated, not by heat, but by the purity of the concept itself.
He was no longer a boy. He was a beacon.
Through the storm of light, he glimpsed the Creator breaking apart. The majestic figure of starlight was fracturing, the web of cracks on his chest widening into abyssal rifts. His body dissolved, his essence spilling into Tian like liquid gold. The fragments of his form scattered into motes of brilliance, drifting away into the black infinity.
"I… I don't know the rules!" Tian's cry echoed across the storm. "I don't know how to be a god! I'll destroy everything!"
The Creator's half-dissolved face managed one final smile, patient and sorrowful. "I know," the fading voice whispered, soft as a dying flame. "That is why… I have left a guide within your mind. A voice of reason… to temper power with innocence. Listen… when the silence grows too loud."
The last spark of the Creator flowed into him. The final mote of golden light winked out.
And then the resistance ended.
The transformation consumed him. The blinding white light above his head condensed, spun, and forged itself into a perfect circle of radiance. A halo. It hovered like a crown of divine authority and unbearable weight.
A surge of energy cascaded downward from it, flooding through his body. His messy black hair, a relic of his ordinary life, drained of color, turning stark white, pure as bone. His vision shifted. The universe no longer appeared as void speckled with stars; it was a living tapestry of energy streams, gravitational currents, and the soundless songs of planets in orbit. His hands glowed, power thrumming within veins that no longer seemed human. His pupils blazed into crimson coals.
The agony ebbed. In its place settled a profound, terrifying stillness.
He was alone.
Utterly, completely alone.
The galaxy below spun on, magnificent and unaware, its stars burning as they had before. Its new god hung trembling in the void, pale haired, red eyed, cloaked in light, yet shaking like a frightened child.
He was now the supreme will of a billion worlds. And he had no idea what to do.
Then a voice appeared within him.
Initiating cognitive synchronization. Welcome, Tian Aoyao. Designation: Supreme Will.
The words were clear, genderless, stripped of emotion. They did not echo in the void; they manifested directly in the heart of his consciousness.
Tian jolted, crimson eyes flaring. "Who's there?"
I am the guide. An imprint of the Creator's logic, fused to your psyche to facilitate transition. You may perceive me as system, mentor, or conscience. My purpose is to assist in understanding and wielding your inheritance.
"A guide…" Tian whispered, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. "Then… what do I do?"
Directive one: stabilize. Your form has undergone rapid ascension. You must learn containment before you can direct power. Observe.
A schematic appeared in his mind's eye, the glowing outline of his body filled with chaotic storms of energy.
The energy you hold is reflexive. Emotions, even subconscious thoughts, now manifest as reality. Fear could snuff out a star. Anger could unravel a system. Your first lesson is control. Breathe.
"Breathe? There's no air here!" Tian snapped, panic rising.
Conceptual breathing. Inhale. Draw ambient energy inward. Exhale. Push it outward. Establish the boundary between self and not self.
With nothing else to cling to, Tian obeyed. He imagined the rhythm of breath. To his astonishment, the storm within him slowed, aligning into a steady current. The suffocating pressure eased.
Well done. The guide's tone never changed. Now you must be informed. The Creator's passing has been logged.
---
Far beyond Tian's comprehension, in a folded dimension between time and eternity, stood the Temple of the Divine Spark. It was not a structure of stone, but a nexus of pure metaphysical order. In its infinite chamber stretched a wall upon which burned the sparks of every Creator-level being across all realities.
The spark of Tian's predecessor had blazed for millennia, a steady flame of gold and azure. At the moment the last mote of the Creator vanished, the flame flickered violently, as if struck by a cosmic wind. Then it shrank, dimmed, and died, leaving only cold darkness on the wall.
A silence fell upon the temple. A silence heavy with mourning.
It lasted a single heartbeat.
Then a new spark ignited in the void left behind.
It did not burn steady. It flared with violent intensity, white fire licked with crimson tongues. It sputtered, wild and erratic, an untamed blaze that refused to be ignored. Unstable. Frantic. Yet brimming with raw, terrifying potential.
Across the multiverse, ancient beings stirred. They felt it the death of the old order and the precarious birth of the new. A Supreme Will had been born, unstable and untested, shaking the balance of existence.
And in the void, Tian's first act as god was to completely, utterly, and hopelessly panic.
"They felt that?" he gasped, horror twisting his crimson gaze. "Other… beings felt that?"
Affirmative. The birth of a Supreme Will is a fundamental event in cosmic balance. Your existence is known. Accelerate acclimatization. Threats may already be assessing your vulnerability.
Tian looked down at the galaxy sprawled beneath him, brilliant and fragile. He looked at his trembling hands, still vaguely human yet now instruments of creation and destruction. He felt the weight of the halo above, heavy as judgment, and the impassive presence of the guide inside him.
The boy who once bought instant noodles was gone. In his place hovered a god, pale and afraid, bearing a universe and a target in the same breath.
"Okay," he whispered into the endless dark, voice trembling with both dread and resolve. "Lesson two."