Walking Through Dissolution
Aeren walks through nothingness. As he walks, all past dissolves behind him. There is nothing to see, nothing to walk on, nothing to remain—yet Aeren walks forward with purpose. He does not create a path beneath his feet. He does not create emptiness around him. He simply moves, and nothingness accepts his movement.
Aeren reads the lies within nothingness and turns every lie into a stepping stone toward creation—toward whatever nothingness allows to exist. Nothingness creates within itself, and Aeren walks through those creations without needing to manifest them himself. He becomes a conduit between the void and manifestation.
Aeren sees all his futures ahead of him—an endless cascade of possibilities. Nothingness has already created every version of him that could exist—millions, billions of Aeren spread across the void in front of him in eternal stasis. All of them exist as presents waiting to be inhabited, waiting to be chosen, waiting to be lived.
After understanding nothingness itself, understanding its nature, grasping its mechanism, Aeren now walks here without needing to create anything at all. He moves forward. He approaches a new creation forming in the distance.
The Birth of Consciousness
A universe forms close to him—its shape unstable, its structure incomplete. Aeren stands near it as the universe breaks through its Universe Awareness Realm, the moment when consciousness awakens within it. He does not interfere. He does not guide. He does not stop it. He simply watches.
He lets the universe break through its realm and observes the scene with his Eyes of Emptiness. The void reflects the birth of consciousness, and Aeren remains still, watching creation happen inside the lie of nothingness, watching something come alive where there was only emptiness before.
Aeren witnesses as the universe gains consciousness—but the universe does not stop there. It immediately creates another Main Realm—the Universal Structure Control Realm—and its expansion begins happening infinitely within itself. Stars reshape. Galaxies rearrange. Worlds move into perfect alignment. Aeren only watches. He bears witness to the creation of two Main Realms forming naturally inside the newborn universe without external guidance.
As the breakthrough happens, Aeren notices a dramatic change: Almost two-tenths of the universe turn colorless, matching nothingness itself. Its shape stabilizes into a perfect sphere. It does not take a human shape like G1 does. It does not take a mountain form. It creates its breakthrough without creating any distinguishing shape of its own—pure function, pure being, pure emptiness with consciousness.
Aeren reaches out slowly and places his hand on the universe. He lifts it carefully and holds it in his palm. The universe is small enough to fit in his hand—vast beyond measure, yet simultaneously contained. Silence spreads through nothingness. Emptiness fills the void with profound chill.
The universe shudders as Aeren holds it, feeling the touch of something beyond itself. Inside the universe, structures begin forming faster. Creation accelerates. The probability for a third breakthrough rises rapidly. But the universe is held still—trapped in Aeren's hand, unable to move freely, constrained by something it cannot comprehend. And Aeren remains silent, watching with infinite patience, observing what the universe becomes when held by something that understands nothingness itself.
The Creation of Art
Aeren looks at the universe resting in his palm. He watches the stars inside it spin and evolve and dance. He creates a realization:
'What if this universe becomes the heart of my creation? What if emptiness becomes the blood flowing through every vein, carrying nothingness to every corner? What if creation becomes the nerves—single threads of art connecting directly to this beating heart?'
The thought continues forming deeper:
'But I am still missing a brain. I am still missing consciousness. Should I create a parallel universe, perfectly matched to this one, and connect it to form a unified system? If both connect to the heart, that would be perfect. One to manipulate. One to generate. Balance. Harmony.'
Aeren begins creating. He shapes a twin universe, perfectly matching the first and connecting to it seamlessly—yet their functions differ fundamentally.
One universe manipulates emptiness—controls it, shapes it, directs it.
The other universe generates emptiness—produces it, creates it, sustains it.
They exist together, balanced, linked through invisible threads.
Aeren creates another realization in the silence:
'I will create a vessel that can speak in nothingness without creating speech. I will paint a body without organs, without flesh, without any physical structure. Only emptiness. Only nerves—empty threads controlled by the two universes.'
The concept takes shape in his mind:
'One universe is my creation. The other is nothingness's creation. Together, they will control the vessel. Together, they will give it voice without sound. Together, they will make it conscious without thought.'
Aeren lets the meaning settle completely and creates the final thought:
'That will be perfect.'
Then the truth beneath it surfaces:
'When everything is a lie, I will create a lie. And inside that lie, I will be nothing. When everything is emptiness, I will paint emptiness. And inside that painting, I will remain perfectly still.'
Aeren stands in stillness, holding the universes in his hand, accepting the choice fully:
'Between becoming a lie or becoming nothing—I choose to become nothing through the act of creating the lie itself.'
The Vessel
Aeren begins painting with intention. He creates his universe, and at the same time, nothingness creates its universe. Both form simultaneously. Both match perfectly. Their realms align. Their structures synchronize. All worlds, all stars, all existence within them—perfectly aligned, exactly as they are, indistinguishable from one another.
When the matching completes its meaning, Aeren moves both universes to a distance. Then he begins painting the body—the vessel that will house them both. He does not create organs. He does not create flesh, muscles, or biological systems. He leaves emptiness inside the body and allows emptiness to become everything within it. The void becomes substance. The absence becomes presence.
Aeren paints black hair—the same as his own, flowing endlessly. He paints a face that mirrors his own perfectly. He paints eyes like his and gives them the essence of emptiness—eyes that can see emptiness and recognize it as their own existence, their own nature, their own truth.
He paints a body shape that perfectly fits the curves of creation, and inside it he creates threads—gossamer-thin connections—that link both universes together. Everything connects through emptiness. He paints clothes identical to his—universal clothes woven from the fabric of the two universes existing inside the vessel. This becomes a mirror universe: a universe within a universe, seen through itself, reflected infinitely.
Finally, Aeren creates one last thread. A communication thread. It connects directly to Aeren, creating a direct path between creator and creation. Through this thread, Aeren does not need to create thoughts to speak. The vessel exists. Empty. Complete. A lie made perfect—so that Aeren can remain nothing while something else becomes everything.
The First Words
Aeren searches for the proper moment. He allows the wave of the communication thread—the one he has already connected—to move through emptiness. Through that thread, Aeren's voice reaches the art of creation, passing through nothingness itself without needing to take form.
This exists because both Aeren and nothingness create the same lie—a beautiful lie meant to bring relief from an unreachable truth.
Aeren speaks through the thread clearly:
"Open your eyes. Look at the emptiness. Look at what you are. And look at me."
He does not command. He does not force. He lets the being be born—a new existence like him, yet attached to the universes and the realms within them, still tethered to creation.
The art of creation opens its eyes. It looks into emptiness. With its eyes, it recognizes emptiness—not as absence, but as something familiar, something that belongs to it, something that makes it whole. Then its focus turns inward.
It observes its own body. It searches for the voice it hears—a voice echoing inside the brain universe within it, resonating through its being. Slowly, its gaze lifts. Its eyes meet Aeren's Eyes of Emptiness. There is no attachment. There is no detachment. Only emptiness looking at emptiness—void recognizing void.
Yet it cannot communicate. It looks at Aeren with the essence of emptiness, but no sound emerges, no thought forms, no creation manifests. It is silent. Complete silence.
Aeren raises his hand slowly. He shows the being the communication thread—a thin line of emptiness connecting them.
Then he speaks again, letting his meaning move through emptiness itself, unspoken yet present:
"You can speak with your emptiness. Your voice will reach me through this thread. You do not need to create sound. You do not need to form words. Simply let your emptiness speak, and I will hear it."
The thread hums softly in nothingness, waiting, patient, inviting the being to realize that it does not need deliberate creation to speak.
Recognition Without Words
Art looks at Aeren—this is the name the being recognizes as its own, though no one has spoken it aloud.
There is familiarity in its gaze—not memory, not attachment—only recognition. Art understands Aeren on a fundamental level. Yet it cannot communicate. It cannot control the emptiness within itself, and because of that, it cannot shape voice, cannot let emptiness speak. So Art only looks at Aeren—without expression, without attachment, without the distance that separates beings.
Aeren observes Art carefully. He understands what is happening. Art has reached the Perfect Universal Structure Control Realm through the act of creation, and perhaps only needs the breakthrough of a new realm to speak on its own. Aeren lets it be. He turns and begins walking into nothingness again. The thread remains connected between them—a golden line of communication spanning the void.
As Aeren moves forward, Art watches him advance into nothingness, becoming smaller, more distant, nearly invisible against the infinite emptiness.
Art notices something strange: One Aeren remains behind—a past Aeren, still, fading, dissolving. But Art feels no familiarity toward that Aeren. Instead, Art steps forward deliberately. At its feet, a thread forms—not through intention, but through necessity. Art walks forward. Behind Aeren. Following the creator into the void.
As Art moves, it sees something that shocks it: millions, billions of Aeren stretching endlessly ahead—all the futures waiting to be walked, all the possibilities still to be lived.
At the same time, Art sees the same thing for itself—countless versions of itself, endless possibilities, infinite potential futures waiting to be inhabited. Its eyes brighten with understanding and wonder. Art reaches toward its future self. But the moment it reaches for that future, it becomes present. And a new future forms ahead, always remaining out of reach.
Art walks again. And again. And again.
It chases its future infinitely—never reaching it, never closing the distance between present and possibility. Every future becomes present. Every present dissolves. And Art keeps walking forward, step after step, into the void.
As it walks, a smile forms—not on a face, but through the thread beneath its steps, through the echo of its passage. Art begins to enjoy the act of becoming—not reaching the destination, but walking toward it. Embracing the journey. Forever walking. Forever becoming. Forever present in the act of pursuit.
The Cost of Seeing
Aeren notices this, and a new realization comes to him—alive, standing before him in the void. He watches Art chase itself endlessly. Art reaches for a future it never catches. No matter how endlessly it moves, no matter how far it travels, the future always remains ahead of it, always just out of reach.
What Art seeks never arrives. Because of this, Art will never see what it truly wants to see. It will be lost in the future it is trying to reach, lost in the emptiness of endless becoming, lost within the pursuit itself.
Aeren looks at Art through the thread and speaks with weight and sorrow:
"Don't try to catch your future. If you do, you will become lost in the present moment, unable to move forward. Just follow me, and you will see the present. Just walk with me, and the journey itself will be enough."
As these words exist in the void, Aeren understands something deeper—his greatest mistake, his most profound sacrifice.
He never thinks about relying on others. He always walks alone. He always moves forward without companions. But now he questions it deeply:
'Is this truly a mistake, or is it the necessary cruelty of his path—a path where others can never see what Aeren sees, never reach what Aeren reaches, never understand the fullness of nothingness?'
Aeren realizes something painful and honest:
'If he had relied on others, if he had chosen to walk with companions, if he had remained tethered to human connection, he would have remained trapped in worldly desire, living through an empty human vessel, a life without meaning. He would have never understood nothingness. He would have never become this.'
The realization does not comfort him. It does not ease his solitude. It simply exists—a fact, a truth, a burden he carries in the void. And Aeren continues walking forward—aware that seeing the present comes with an absolute cost. The cost of being forever separate. The cost of leaving others behind. The cost of understanding that connection binds you to the very illusions you must escape.
Behind him, Art walks. Following. Chasing. Becoming.
And ahead of him, countless futures wait—all of them his, all of them empty, all of them filled with the beauty of a lie he has chosen to believe.
Aeren keeps walking into the void.