Unable to move in the presence of the mysterious being, they remained silent and listened.
Both of them knew how to sense a person's power level better than anyone—yet this time, they couldn't read what they couldn't even understand.
Shivering with fear, Layla struggled to lift one arm and hold the other in place to stop it from shaking.
Seeing this, Clifford grinned weakly and thought to himself, Looks like I'm not the only one who's scared.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the Creator's voice filled the space—calm, yet sounding like the roar of a million lions.
"I'm truly happy."
As the deadly pressure slowly lifted, Clifford opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, terrified of saying anything that might get him more than dead.
"Do not be afraid. I love my creations too much to harm them," the Creator spoke again.
For some reason, the reassurance came too easily. Clifford managed to speak:
"I'm sorry… but who—no, what—are you?"
A brief silence followed.
"I am the Creator of your multiverse."
"Our multiverse?" Layla repeated carefully.
"Indeed," he answered.
Clifford scratched the back of his head nervously.
"Why are we here, ahh… all-great Creator?"
He immediately felt the shift in the being's gaze. It was as if the Creator looked straight through him—through skin, bone, and soul.
"Ahh, Striver," the Creator said. "One of my favorite children. You remind me of myself."
Clifford forced an awkward smile.
As the pressure eased off him, he saw Layla tense. The Creator's attention had shifted to her now.
"Layla… I spoke to your mother before I sent her to paradise."
"She said she was proud to be your mother. So don't resent her too much."
Layla's expression cracked—sadness flashing in her eyes.
"You… you truly…" She fell quiet again.
"Always a quiet girl," the Creator chuckled softly.
"Anyway, the reason I brought you both here is for you two to become my arms."
They froze.
After a long silence, Clifford spoke:
"Why us? No—why me? I understand the pretty lady here… but me? I'm not clean."
Layla glanced at him from the corner of her eye, ignoring the compliment.
The Creator laughed. The remaining pressure vanished completely, letting them breathe freely again.
"You're right," he said. "But don't underestimate the young lady beside you. She may look like a flower, but she has her thorns—if you don't pick her right."
Layla's cheeks turned bright pink. She finally spoke, her voice so beautiful Clifford held his breath just to hear it.
"Striver has a point. Why us, when you know what we've done? Aren't there better people? Perfect people?"
"Perfect?" the Creator mused.
"And what is perfect, young lady?"
She thought for a while.
"A state of not making mistakes… because someone can't or is incapable of making them."
"Do you think such a person exists?"
Clifford looked up.
"Aren't you an example?"
The Creator laughed again.
"I am not perfect. I am very imperfect—probably the definition of it. I've made one big mistake… and because I can't intervene directly, I came to you."
They stared, confused.
Clifford broke the silence.
"What mistake?"
A visual appeared.
The Ultimate Being—flying through suns and planets, laughing as he hurled worlds into oblivion.
Their screams echoed through space.
Clifford and Layla fell to their knees in pure terror.
"What the hell was that?" Clifford gasped.
Layla clutched her chest, shaking too hard to speak.
"My mistake," the Creator replied quietly.
"You mean… you made that?" Layla whispered.
"Why don't you just stop him?" Clifford asked, frowning.
"If I do that, you will all die. This universe cannot handle my presence alone."
Still in shock, the two looked at each other.
"And what if we… become like him?"
The Creator was silent for a long moment.
Then—
"Then I will destroy everything… including you three… with nothing but a breath."
Fear stabbed their hearts.
They now understood the consequences of failure.
The Creator spoke again—calmly, almost sorrowfully.
"Soon, all that you wished to protect will be lost if no action is taken. I do not command you—I ask for your aid. Protect what I cannot. Save my creations from his darkness."
Silence.
Then Clifford laughed softly.
"Looks like the multiverse needs me now."
He looked at Layla.
"Needs us."
Layla nodded and rose.
Together, they bowed.
"We accept the roles as your hands—to protect the creations you love."
"Good."
Both began to float.
Layla felt a warm, invisible hand hold her—a touch so gentle it brought tears to her eyes.
"Layla… I give you power over all space and time. You are above it and beyond it. With your watchful eyes, no imbalance shall exist."
Her body transformed—beautiful, dangerous, divine.
She became Layla, Watcher of the Multiverse.
She landed gracefully. Clifford couldn't help staring.
"Stop. It's creepy to stare," she said, flustered.
He scratched his head.
"Sorry… you're just way too beautiful. I can't stop looking."
Before he could admire her further, fire engulfed him—warm yet burning.
"Striver… I grant you power no being can stop except myself."
"Your power has no limits but me."
"You will be reborn as my right hand."
"I give you power over All and Imagination. Now rise."
Clifford—now Striver—rose, his presence exploding through the universe and stopping the Ultimate Being for several minutes.
Somewhere far away, the monster laughed.
"So… a god is born, huh?"
With manic laughter, he stopped destroying and began flying straight toward the new presence.