Year eight. Day 2,920.
I stood—as much as I could be said to stand, existing as I did in all places simultaneously—before the Reformed Cosmic
Council.
I'd assembled it personally from the survivors and successors of the old cosmic organizations. Representatives from the
shattered Concordance. Ambassadors from hundreds of civilizations across thousands of worlds. Even some of the
ancient entities like the Architect.
All of them had come because I'd made it clear: the old way was over.
Chapter 9: The New Order
"For eons," I addressed them, my voice resonating through every dimension, "power in this universe was hoarded by
those who'd achieved it first. You built systems to ensure that others couldn't follow your path. You gatekept ascension,
controlled access to reality-warping knowledge, maintained hierarchies that kept the many weak so the few could remain
strong."
"That ends now."
"I don't claim to be better than you. I'm not a hero. I'm not saving anyone. But I'm also not interested in maintaining your
broken system. I want something new. Something where power goes to those who earn it, regardless of whether they
were born mortal or divine."
"The Contract will remain. Anyone, on any world, can be recruited as a Subject. They can earn Points. Purchase wishes.
Improve their existence. And yes, I'll take my tax. I'm not a charity."
"But the old rules—the ones that said mortals couldn't ascend, couldn't compete, couldn't challenge the established
powers—those are gone."
I watched them process this. Some were relieved. Others were furious but too afraid to object.
"The choice is yours," I continued. "Join this new order. Participate in the Reformed Council. Work with me to build
something better. Or resist, and I'll remove you the way I removed your predecessors."
"What will it be?"
One by one, they knelt.
Not because they wanted to. Not because they believed in my vision.
But because they recognized that I'd won. Completely. Finally.
The next year was spent implementing the new system.
I didn't dismantle the cosmic organizations entirely—they had value as administrative structures. But I restructured them.
Removed the gatekeeping. Made ascension pathways public knowledge.
It caused chaos, of course. Mortals across hundreds of worlds suddenly had access to power they'd only dreamed about.
Some used it well. Others self-destructed spectacularly.
But over time, a new equilibrium emerged. One where power was more distributed, less concentrated in the hands of
ancient entities who'd existed for eons.
And through it all, I maintained control. Not through oppression—I'd learned that was unsustainable—but through the
Contract itself. By being the source of wishes, the provider of miracles, I became the center of the new cosmic order.
People stopped seeing me as a conqueror and started seeing me as... something else. A force of nature. An aspect of
reality. The entity you appealed to when you needed the impossible to become possible.
I became, in effect, what the old gods had been: a figure of worship and fear and hope.
The difference was that I delivered. Always. If you earned the Points, your wish was granted. No divine whims. No
arbitrary judgments. Just cold, fair transaction.
It made me popular in a way the old gods never were.