After anchoring my existence to the mother particle, controlling its shape became strange. In fact, calling it the mother particle no longer suited it; so I began calling it the primordial unit.
I started testing its basic properties. It was incredibly malleable compared to regular particles — I could expand and shrink it with ease.
"No… there is a limit to expansion."
When it reached about a thousand times the size of a regular particle, the primordial unit began showing signs of instability.
Its edges trembled, irregular vibrations spread, and soon even the surrounding reality seemed to suffer turbulence, like a fabric being forced beyond its seam.
"This means that growing beyond this not only risks collapse but also alerts the foreign domain…"
"Now, why is it causing this reaction?"
The doubt gnawed at me. Technically, I was still isolated from the foreign domain. So how could the mere growth of the primordial unit betray it?
I decided to investigate the phenomenon more thoroughly.
I soon realized the phenomenon didn't occur at every scale, but at specific points, as if they were hidden marks imprinted on the fabric of the void. When the primordial unit reached exactly 1,042 times the size of a regular particle, the reaction appeared. Likewise, when shrinking it to 33 times smaller, the same happened.
"The intention to split the primordial unit also caused the phenomenon…"
Every time I crossed those thresholds, even by a minimal increase or decrease, the reaction in the foreign domain intensified.
Considering what these data suggested, I formed a hypothesis.
"Perhaps foundations are missing? Then every time I try to exceed the structural limit, I risk causing a collapse. The surrounding space vibrates… and this ends up reverberating to the foreign domain."
I didn't know if this hypothesis was correct, but there was a way to test it.
"I just need to create more primordial units, I just need more particles…"
That was my current problem — I was no longer anchored to the sea of nothing; it was uncertain if I could still acquire particles in the same way.
"I'll have to borrow…"
"I don't know what would happen if I took some matter from this foreign domain…"
The question was: how to collect without being exposed? I would need to transport the matter to my primordial unit.
But another problem arose. Unlike the mother particle, which could divide and return to its original particles, the primordial unit was irreversible. Once formed, it could no longer be dismantled.
The particles that composed it were no longer particles in the common sense — they had transformed, just as happened when the concepts were born.
This left only one option available: the particles already imbued with the concepts of the foreign domain. They acted as insulators, a natural barrier between my space and the external space.
"I hate puzzles… I like mysteries. Puzzles only cause headaches…"
"Sigh."
Thinking through my options, I decided to shrink the primordial unit. The smaller the area it occupied, the fewer insulating particles I needed to maintain. The excess was absorbed by the primordial unit itself.
Looking at the particles that had been absorbed, I noticed they appeared right in the middle of my domain, instead of positioning themselves at the edge as I expected…
"Space is really a mess."
I expelled those same particles to observe where they would position themselves — important for my plan.
"I see… they appear where I want them to; if I don't set a position, they emerge where the last thing absorbed by the primordial unit entered."
I also noticed a 'noodle effect': when something was absorbed while the primordial unit was 33 times smaller than a regular particle, the effect became particularly evident.
"Perfect."
With everything ready, I put my plan into action to 'borrow' a bit of matter.
Carefully, I adjusted the outer layer to collide with something.
"Now" — As soon as I felt something hit the outer layer, I sucked that part into the primordial unit, which came into direct contact with the foreign matter.
On an atomic scale, one could observe a ball of light wandering uncontrollably. As it collided with an atom — giant compared to that light — space seemed distorted, and the atom was sucked in within moments.
"Success." Immediately, I ejected particles to patch the hole in the insulator. Soon, reality began to vibrate, but after some time, it calmed, as if nothing had happened.
I then looked at my prize.
"What…"
Before me, a river of wild particles had appeared, something that didn't exist before the operation. It was impressive, but my real interest was the atom: I wanted to observe which concepts were being applied and understand its structure in detail.
"The atom… evaporated into wild particles…" — I felt a little sad, but I couldn't get them all.
"At least now I'm rich. Not fully, but I already had the path — so it's already a rich future?"
It wasn't enough to create another primordial unit, but it allowed me to design something capable of preying on atoms more reliably.
Soon, I designed… calling it "designing" was an exaggeration. Basically, I just enlarged the cell enough to engulf a small atom at once, without needing to remove insulators as I did with the primordial unit.
I then began repeating a cycle of adjustments to the outer layer: each collision with an atom touching the primordial unit was absorbed. The more I absorbed, the more the form improved — now it probably resembled an octopus.
"It's a real headache." I increased the size and perfected the shape for absorbing atoms, but now I had to manage much larger areas. To move the tentacles, thousands of micro-adjustments were necessary.
I even tried applying the concept of thought to the particles, but the foreign domain reacted with extreme force, immediately expelling the particles under the concept's effect without warning — almost dragging me along.
In the end, I had to micromanage everything, but those times passed.
"Finally, I have enough to make a primordial unit."
I then began the process: I assimilated particles, gathered everything into a single singular particle — the mother particle — and then started the synchronization process with my essence.
But I did this within my domain to observe what would happen… and as soon as the primordial unit formed, it was immediately ejected, merging with the other primordial unit.
"…" — I didn't even have time to react; the process was too fast. If I hadn't been paying attention, I would have missed it.
I tried to split the primordial unit, but it refused to divide until the reality of the foreign domain began to tremble…
"Okay, it doesn't divide when they combine."
I then began increasing its size, reaching 2,084 times larger than a regular particle.
"I was right about the foundation issue."
Next, I tried shrinking it, reaching 32 times smaller…
"Partially correct…"
"Sigh." I then began hunting atoms again…