If Thea used the Stranger's silver coin or drew power from the Primal Shadow, she could almost certainly compress the world further. But she abandoned the idea.
This was her world. She didn't want outsiders meddling with it. Even a sliver of energy from either of those entities would create untold complications down the line.
She'd left that small portion of the World Will and the resentful original inhabitants intact for the sake of balance. Whatever trouble they caused would remain within controllable parameters. Those two, on the other hand, were fundamentally uncontrollable.
It was like a startup courting venture capital: avoid it if at all possible. Hostile takeovers happened all too often. If earlier she'd chosen pride, now she was choosing substance.
"Good enough?" She wiped the sweat from her forehead and murmured to herself.
From novice to this moment, her accomplishments spoke for themselves. Quit while ahead. Nothing good came from excess. Know your limits. She was clear on all of that.
With a flick of her finger, she peeled off a thread of the World Will and cast it into the Source Wall.
The Source Wall connected every universe—parallel, independent, and fantasy alike.
She wasn't about to fly over to the Orrery of Worlds to calculate oscillation frequencies and forcibly establish an Earth-53 or whatever else. There was no need. Her universe was independent, but its rules and foundational framework had been built on the existing DC cosmology. It naturally belonged among them, and registering it at the Source Wall was the logical step.
She inspected everything one final time, confirmed there were no oversights, verified she'd recovered to peak condition, and exhaled quietly. Then she released the compression.
The tennis-ball-sized world, suddenly freed from external pressure, began its final evolution.
A deafening roar erupted across the silence of the void—though there was nothing here to carry sound. Thea had no time for the light show. Her consciousness rode the explosion into an experience unlike anything she'd known.
Within the chaos, within the membrane between the knowable and the unknowable, the world's core spun at speeds that exceeded the concept of speed itself. When it accelerated past its limit, it broke through time.
The Big Bang began.
Incomprehensible quantities of energy poured outward in a torrential cascade. Thea had to anchor her consciousness against being assimilated while simultaneously observing the mysteries unfolding within.
Creation—the truth Krona had spent his entire existence chasing. To witness its secrets firsthand and not look... that would have been a waste.
A universe was not a grenade. It didn't simply explode and stop. Across an incalculable span of time, it underwent transformation upon transformation.
Rules began filling in. Some Thea knew intimately: Death, Soul, Courage, Justice. Others she recognized but had less affinity with: Evil, Violence, Shadow. And still others, rules she'd only heard of but never seen, materialized before her one by one.
Because she was the world's creator, the rules governing Death, Soul, and Emotion in this universe were exceptionally rich. Left unchecked, this would have become a realm dominated by the undead. But she still had the Life Equation. She released the faintest breath of its power, nudging life and death into delicate equilibrium.
The universe's fundamental quality jumped up a significant notch.
With the rules in place, the universe began expanding at breakneck speed through the void.
Stars—genuine, physical stars—ignited. They coalesced into galaxies, each drifting along its own orbital path, and in that moment the universe was truly born.
She put on the White Lantern Ring. Picked an appealing planet at random. The Life Equation bestowed life upon a new species; the White Lantern provided the energy. The first generation of beings in her universe came into existence. Like the little blue Guardians, they were born with formidable power and intelligence. They would develop a civilization of extraordinary sophistication.
But the remnants from the previous age would begin their counterattack, and the war between old and new would rage for a very, very long time.
A girl appeared at Thea's side—small, thin, and seemingly fragile. Thea knew what she was: the Monitor of her universe.
Every universe birthed a Monitor alongside it. They changed as their universe changed, and when it died, they self-terminated.
Thea paid the Monitor no attention. Her universe was now a legitimate member of the multiverse, no longer a rogue entity operating outside the system.
Playing by the rules, cheerfully accepting oversight—that came with benefits.
The multiverse's development carried its own inertia. Her universe, now part of the whole, could ride that momentum. It was roughly the cosmic equivalent of the Way of Heaven takes from surplus and supplements the lacking. Hers was decidedly on the "lacking" side—both the universe itself and Thea's own tier fell short. For a long while, she'd be coasting on the strength of the greater system.
Established universes carrying the newcomer along until collective prosperity was achieved.
There were other advantages too. Going forward, the universe could develop on its own. Whatever it lacked, the multiverse's rules would supplement. No more wracking her brain to patch holes.
She'd frankly grown tired of babysitting the thing. Let the universe sort itself out.
She stood in the void for a long time. Insights beyond counting surged through her mind, and the world unveiled itself completely.
For the first time, Thea truly opened her eyes and looked at reality. Rules covered every surface of existence. Every object, every sentient being existed within them, moving along predetermined trajectories—slowly, inexorably. Whenever something strayed from its path, an invisible force nudged it back. That force was destiny.
Destiny's strength matched the subject's own power exactly. When a being's strength exceeded destiny's pull, it became "free." That was what had happened to the younger Thea.
But some beings were immensely powerful—Darkseid, Highfather—and the chains of destiny binding them were proportionally terrifying. They had almost no chance of breaking free.
Small figures had it easy. Great ones found it nearly impossible. That was her observation of destiny.
She also saw "herself." Beside every life, every object, there lingered a faint shadow. That was Death—formless, substanceless, yet absolutely universal. Nothing and no one could change that.
She knew she had reached the summit. Her black hair stirred without wind. Her face looked a year or two younger than before, though the dark accents around her eyes had deepened. The punk ensemble that symbolized Death materialized on her body of its own accord, and the Ankh pendant at her throat pulsed with a light unlike any it had shown before.
The Ring of Volthoom—vessel of the Emotion godhood—slipped from her finger on its own. The ring seemed to want to flee. Thea didn't even think; her hand shot out and snatched it back. A trophy was a trophy. Even if she had no use for it, she wasn't letting it escape.
Hard on the ring's heels, the Soul godhood ejected itself. Leave a bridge unburned, meet again another day. The Great Dao numbers fifty; Heaven derives forty-nine; one always escapes—she had no patience for any of that philosophy. What was hers was hers.
Even if it served no purpose right now, she was not letting it go. Her right hand snapped out and captured the Soul godhood too.