Chapter forty five: the world fabricator
Strictly speaking, why was Caelum creating these constructs in the first place? The answer was straightforward.
"I want Dharti, or even the entire painting space to stand on its own and evolve without me constantly creating and maintaining it's functions."
The tesseract-like construct pulsed with black-white energy.
"Besides pushing for my breakthrough, having this place function independently of the quill would be ideal." He sorted through his thoughts while watching the energy swirl.
He could shape any kind of extraordinary system through the quill, but that meant he would have to build new systems again and again. But even though he wanted to burn through his willpower each time it recovered, repeatedly crafting entire power systems of extraordinary power felt like a tiresome cycle, rather than meaningful progress.
That same reasoning was what led him to create the world stabilizer and the world observer; one to maintain the laws of the world, the other to let the painting space and dharti grow on its own.
"Let's give it a little more to work with." With that in mind, Caelum raised the quill toward the tesseract-like construct and added another definition.
"As long as someone can conceive a path, imagine a system, and have enough madness to chase that imagined path, it will take form through the all-encompassing energy it produces."
Once that final characteristic was defined into it's core, the construct felt complete.
Caelum studied it with a sense of satisfaction. "Since it is defined to bring any extraordinary concept into reality, much like the quill itself. It should be called… the world fabricator!"
With that, the last piece of his plan clicked into place.
The world stabilizer to enforce the laws of the world. The world observer to keep the world growing. And now, the world fabricator, ready to give shape to any power system born from Dharti's people.
"Now I just have to wait. Before long, new extraordinary paths will sprout one after another, like bamboo after a storm." With that thought, Caelum slipped out of the white room, then out of the painting space entirely, returning to Earth with his willpower drained for the day.
After he disappeared, time inside Dharti surged ahead as always, racing far beyond the pace of the outside world.
Years rolled by quickly
Humans had grown far bolder in hunting now. Mutated beasts had become the quickest route to extraordinary physical strength, and that alone pushed people to chase them with renewed certainty.
But some old beasts, those that had breathed in the concentrated extraordinary energy of the Sersikar Forest for long enough, began to show sharper instincts than before. Sensing danger, they retreated deeper into the forest's heart, wanting nothing to do with the human hunters who now scoured the edges of their territory.
Human cities became increasingly advanced. Proper castles rose where wooden fortifications once stood, stone-paved roads replaced dirt paths, and daily life grew steadily more refined, moving away from the crude early medieval era.
Not long after, a new child was born to the current chief ruler.
By all logic, that child should have inherited every glory humanity could offer. Born of the ruling bloodline, he should have carried authority, reverence, and the unmistakable mark of divine favor.
Yet he did not.
"What is this?!"
The chief ruler's furious shout echoed throughout the chamber, reverberating against stone walls and heavy pillars.
The small infant lay cradled nearby, with dark eyes.
A child of the golden-eye bloodline should have been born with eyes bearing that unmistakable golden hue, just like every ruler before him. It was a trait passed down without exception, a symbol of their bond with the creator god.
But this child possessed none of it.
No trace of gold gleamed within his eyes. It was as though he had not been blessed by the creator at all.
The child was later named Leon.
As he grew, torment followed him everywhere. Within the family halls, among distant relatives, and even among ordinary people with no ties to the golden-eye bloodline, he was never treated as one of them.
He was different from other golden-eye people, which invited cruelty.
Verbal abuse clung to him wherever he went. Some spoke openly, others behind his back, but the meaning never changed. Leon was seen as a flaw sent by the heavens.
Children avoided him, adults stared at him. Some looked at him with pity, some with unease, and a few with thinly veiled contempt.
He was perhaps the first being to be a victim of social discrimination within the painting world.
Even the chief ruler, his own father, kept his distance. There was no warmth or acknowledgment. To him, Leon was a reminder of shame.
Only his mother stood between Leon and complete isolation. She argued on his behalf, shielded him when she could, and stayed beside him when the weight of others' curses became unbearable.
But protection had limits. Years passed, and the walls of the palace began to feel smaller.
Eventually, Leon reached his limit. And one night, he left.
He slipped away from the family, from the bloodline that rejected his existence.
-----
Leon blended into the crowd and never looked back.
Beyond the outer districts of the city, he found a small, weathered hut standing alone near the outskirts. It was barely enough to shelter him from wind and rain, but it was his. From that day on, he labored for every meal, taking whatever work he could find, trading strength and endurance for food.
He abandoned his old name. From then on, he called himself Len.
He cut off all his hair until his head was bare, leaving nothing that might remind others of his origins. He kept his face lowered, hiding everything below his nose with a black piece of cloth, careful never to meet another's gaze for too long. He learned how to move without drawing attention, and how to exist without being noticed.
No one suspected him.
As Len, he met new people; Simple folk, laborers, travelers, those with no interest in bloodlines. He worked beside them, spoke with them, and slowly formed connections. For the first time, he lived without whispers following his steps.
Life settled, yet something inside him never rested.
Whenever warriors passed through the city, Len found his eyes drawn to them. Their bodies were hardened by battle and extraordinary power, their presence was commanding. Weapons glanced off their skin, blades failed to cut deeply.
He wanted that strength, he wanted a body that could not be broken so easily. But desire alone was not enough.
He could not pursue such a path openly. He was, after all, the disgrace of the golden-eye bloodline.
If anyone discovered the truth, everything he had built would collapse.
He could not allow the world to remember Leon. He had to remain Len.
With those thoughts weighing on him, he forced himself to suppress his longing for the supernatural and continued living as he always had.
Days passed, weeks passed, months and years passed.
But even after ten years later, the need did not fade, it only grew.
The more Len tried to ignore it, the stronger the yearning became. Each time warriors passed through the outskirts, each time he heard of hunts and victories, the desire pressed deeper into his mind.
The warriors had bodies that endured wounds that would have crippled ordinary men, their strength placed them beyond fear. That kind of difference became heat within him.
Without Len realizing it, his yearning began to twist.
What began as admiration transformed into obsession. Thoughts of power invaded his labor, his conversations, even his rest. A madness took hold, settling deep within his heart.
Ten years passed.
For ten years, Len watched warriors leave for hunts and return bearing beasts of varying strength. For ten years, he remained on the outside, untouched by the extraordinary he desired so deeply.
Eventually, nothing else mattered.
Food, shelter, companionship, the fragile relationships he had built for himself, all of it lost meaning. Power became the only thing left worth chasing.
He fell into a frenzy that eclipsed simple insanity; he was on the verge of attaining the very madness required to tap into the all-encompassing energy of the World Fabricator.
One night, Len abandoned his life.
The hut became empty, the name he had lived under faded into nothing.
Leon was gone and even len was gone.
Somewhere beyond the city, he vanished in pursuit of strength, walking toward a path he no longer feared, driven by a single, consuming purpose.