In another plane entirely, separate from all universes, the Void, and all pocket dimensions contained within, the Abyssal Realm shifted.
It was a plane composed entirely of infinite nothingness — a bleak expanse with an invisible floor. Concentrated highly with energies of the occult across all forms of magic, the Realm served as the domain of a certain amethyst mage. Floating from the heavens and cloaked in shadow, he appeared. This was Kalare Erelye, otherwise known as TheLordErelye. He had transcended from his status as a player bound by physicality to contemplate the vagaries of existence. Though he’d lost an arm, he was now an omniscient apparition of knowledge. He chuckled and raised his arm, calling forth his visitors.
A jagged section of the floor carved its way out of the dark, rising into the air like the circular victory platform presented to the winners of a certain Game. Fourteen doors assembled themselves from nothing, each with a different configuration of dots and lines on it. One by one, the doors opened of their own accord. With each door whose hinges creaked ajar, a different person walked through. Most of them were Minecraftian. Some of them came from other universes. All of them were a selection of the most powerful warriors to ever live.
They were the Descendants. Or, at least, fourteen of them.
All of these Descendants stared at Erelye, who was floating above them in a hallowed display. Erelye took in their presence. “ЕQ ВЕИС,” he uttered. “
“
Erelye waved his arm, and the doors granting the Descendants entry frothed into liquid, destabilizing them and trapping them in the Abyssal Realm. “
The Descendants bickered amongst themselves about the science of emoticons, until Erelye grimaced and curled his hand into a fist. The violet fire flared with intensity, burning everyone’s eyes bar the Minecraftian with the goggles, who stood perfectly still. “
Erelye examined everyone that had gathered. “
A Minecraftian in a detective’s outfit that radiated power walked from the shadows, smoking a cigar and spitting it out. “
Erelye closed his eyes, and the flickering image of an obelisk formed above him. Light of colors unknowable surged across its frame, as designs depicting the creation of a creature borne of nightmares danced around it. “
“
Erelye shook his head. “
The Minecraftian with the goggles and the coat approached Erelye. “
“
“
The sixth violet flame revealed a being with grey shirt. “O5-32,
The eleventh violet flame revealed the troll. “Electron and Positron,
There was a sudden awful noise. Descending from the flames, like a fallen angel, came the very obelisk Erelye had shown in his visions. It was inscribed with images too terrible for words. It was a beacon of everything that was wrong with existence. It radiated with the imminence of death. But it was the Descendants’ only hope for salvation, and it was an irredeemable conduit of knowledge. And its name was...
“ВИСЦЕС.”
Build was in full-blown panic mode. He stared in shock at the pieces of Disc Zero. They were arranged chaotically on the floor of his room, smoking and charred. Golden sparks streaked from their edges every so often. He was torn between screaming and not saying a word, and because he couldn’t decide between the two, he just stood there. Blankly. He hadn’t actually intended to do anything, right? It was all good, right?? There was another Disc, there had to be another Disc. There, there had to be someone who could fix it! And that’s when Build realized that the only person who could fix this was him.
“
“Can I? Yeah, I probably could. Will I? No.” Build stared at THE
Build sat on his bed, staring at the phonograph. “
THE
“I’ll give you this: you aren’t wrong. But right now, I’m looking to avoid making paradoxes. Which is why I needed to come here. Not to fix Disc Zero, and not even to send it on its way. It was to do this.” THE
With each successive spin, the scratch on Disc Two grew less intense, smaller and smaller. Build watched the restoration process with widened eyes. The scratch didn’t completely disappear, but it was seemingly enough. The static sounds had diminished significantly, accompanied only by a dull throbbing noise. and what seemed to be a kaleidoscopic haze. “
Build thought those words sounded crazy, but he followed them anyway. He closed his eyes as tight as he could and curled into a ball. Energy flickered across his body, and his glasses shone with a brilliant red glow. The visions of the cosmos solidified in front of him. He saw his dreams take vivid shape. There was Bill, with a tumor in his eye, wandering across the Void in a daze. His body was cracked and worn away. He saw a Council of Fifteen congregating in an Abyssal Realm, praising the Grey Flame that would persist across the end of ends. He saw himself in a car speeding across traffic as he crossed through state lines. The only ocean in sight was an ocean of trees. He saw a kaleidoscopic void shining through a portal, with someone about to walk through it. But before they could, everything went—
Build reeled backwards, thrown against the wall. Smoke curled from his body. “
“
Build grabbed THE
And then the thing that was THE
Build was now catatonic. He shambled across the room, avoiding the green sparks dancing across it and sitting in his chair. He saw — well, not as much “saw,” moreso “blankly regarded” — a sprawling steel city jutting out of GodCraft. There was a chorus of green lights, and Build saw a figure fly out of the city. No doubt it was THE
Minecraft’s ascension had been short-lived. It was, once again, only a game.
Build put his head in his hands, shaking in his chair. THE
Casually turning across his room, Build saw some guards at his door. No doubt they’d vacantly watched the whole thing without circumstance. “Wow, guys. Thanks for helping me. Seriously,” Build spat with venom. Then he took a closer look at the guards: their limbs were sealed to the wall. They were trying to talk, but no sound came from their mouths. Just as Build wondered who would do this, he heard about fifteen guns cocking from behind his head. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a high-pitched whine filled the air. “Attention, anomaly! You are being detained by the Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron. Remove the item that constitutes the paradox from your body immediately, and put your hands in the air!” A shrill voice rang out from behind him. Build screamed obscenities at himself, coupled with remarks at how mind-boggling the day had been. He racked his brain for something that could absolve him. “
Two PAES troops advanced towards Build, cracking their knuckles in sync. “
Hughes looked at Build’s glasses, and then at the identical pair lying shattered on the floor. “Here,” said Build. “I’ve got a feeling this is what you’re looking for.” Hughes took out a metallic orb and let it touch the red glasses. Immediately, the glasses were sealed inside of an intricate hypercube that Hughes held in his right hand. With his left, he pointed at Build. “You claim you don’t have a paradox on you. How did you know what the offending article was?” Build shrugged and looked away. “I had a hunch. If you’re going on what I think you are, then my entire body’s probably a giant paradox. Some things are just more concentrated than others.” Hughes gave Build an up-and-down glance, then nodded. “Your story checks out, kid. But I still fail to see why I shouldn’t arrest you.” “
Hughes turned to his supporting officers. “What do you think, troops,” he yelled. “Should we trust another one of these sons-of-Curses?” Curses, Build thought with a punch to the gut. The officers, surprisingly, nodded with agreement. Hughes conferred with them for a moment and then turned to Build. “Seems to me that, though your criminal record is searing with reports of terminal intergalactic destruction and causality interference, among other counts, your morality seems to be of a higher caliber than those like you. I use this term loosely, but with feeling. Perhaps we shouldn’t sentence you to trial by Time Baby after all.” Build nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Sounds like a win to me!” Hughes jabbed another finger at Build. “You’re not off the hook yet, though. You’re still going to be coming with us. You’ll spend your days wandering the headquarters of our facility, only at sanctioned times according to a strict regimen. After you’ve proved that you’re as good as you believe you are... We’ll think about this.” Build looked at Hughes suspiciously. “Th... thank you?” Hughes nodded blankly and turned to the other officers. “Yeah. Now walk in between us.”
Build stood in the center of the circle of troops. They all touched badges on their uniforms and walked through the front door of reality. Build took one more look at his room with the idea that it would most likely be the last look he’d get. He glanced outside his window, through the clutter of the past, and then checked the phonograph. He blinked, not believing what he saw. But it was unmistakable. Disc Zero was turning, good as new. Then, the front door of reality shut, and Build was somewhere else entirely. “I have to ask, though I think I guess,” he inquired to one of the officers trailing in front of him. “What in the world did I do to deserve this?” The officer turned to look at Build, chuckling. “If you think you can guess, you should already know. We have detailed records on everyone in existence. No one with the capability to create a paradox can go without making one for long, whether on accident or on purpose. Our job is to contain the messes they make every day of every second. And what this has to do with you is simply put. We have no record for you.
“By our accounts, you shouldn’t exist.”
This, Notch decided, was paradise. Or at least, the closest thing he could get to it. After the wild success of Minecraft 2.0 following the restoration of the universe, Team Mojang had once again become rich, and enjoyed their prosperity. They were still gamemakers at heart, but that wouldn’t stop people from all walks of life hounding them for questions. Did they really restore the world? How is such a thing even possible? Is there a God? Are you developing the next Project Binary in secret? Why is the EULA so bad? These questions, and more, were filed and burned in the Place Where Questions Go To Die, otherwise known as the trash bin. Eventually, Notch discovered that he’d lost the spark, so to speak. Without a universe, and with the deaths of an untold number of beings resting on his conscience, Notch had decided to leave Team Mojang, selling it to Microsoft. Microsoft seemed to be the only major company not suspicious of Mojang’s actions — maybe because they were actually ruled by ants.
“
He was in the middle of coding a small game — “small” was as big as he was ever going to get now — about a player walking through a kaleidoscopic void on the pursuit of answers. The best thing about a world set in a white expanse was that it was very easy to code. Notch looked over the code he’d made, making sure everything ran perfectly well. It did. “
It was the Black Monolith.
Notch stared at the eldritch artifact that had made itself at home in his house and gave the only adequate response. “
█ WHAT. NO. I DID NOT MEAN TO SAY THAT TO YOU. SOMETHING IS... The Black Monolith‘s light show subsided. Its omniscient vision extended across all points in time, searching for the solution it knew was in front of it. The Monolith then caught wind of several ghostly apparitions — some blocky in appearance, others not. They all congregated around a wretched pink machine that spiraled up into the sky. The Monolith instantly knew what was going on. The Descendants were at work again, and the war they were now waging was one on privacy. █ ...THEM. The Monolith heard the Descendants’ replies instantaneously. “Oh my god! Hahahah!” “Hah.” “Hello, Monolith.” “Ah boy, here we go.” “Hello, Monolith! And Notch, if he can hear us.” The Monolith sighed to itself. Somehow, the Descendants had gotten their hands on an object able to breach the laws of continuity and exploit the temporal property of future’s past. And the identity of this object was what truly worried it. But that didn’t matter to the Monolith. It had come to talk to Notch.
“
Notch stared at the Monolith, unbelieving. His eyes widened with shock. “
“
Stepping back, Notch thought to himself. How did he answer his question? All he did was ask the Monolith what could have the power to reset everything. It wasn’t the Conflict, which meant that they wouldn’t rise to complete power and tear Fiction apart. But what else would be able to sever Fiction from the inside out? The answer clicked in Notch’s mind as if a switch had been flipped. A reset. A reset that could only come from one source. “
The Black Monolith floated above even further. It displayed a shimmering image below itself, filtered through static. It was a gigantic rectangular frame with something utterly indescribable hovering in the space at its center. The image was uncannily revolting to Notch, and he didn’t know why. █ SUCH AN ACTION WOULD IRREVERSIBLY DESTROY FICTION. WITH NOTHING LEFT. A single human being walked up to the door and prepared to step through. █ A REBOOT IS COMING. BECAUSE OF THE TENACITY OF ONE MAN. A DESTROYER. ONE WHO RAVAGES ALL HE SEES, OBSESSED WITH POWER. Right as the man was about to walk through the door, there was a gigantic flash of light, and the vision subsided, leaving the Monolith and Notch alone again. “
With the future yielding no rewards, Notch’s gaze turned to the past. He found himself in another time, years ago.
Notch had made a name for himself on internet forums as a programmer that made small, succinct games whenever he felt like it. Notch did what he did simply because he enjoyed doing it. He spent valuable time honing his craft, until he began to think a bit bigger. He felt inspired by sandbox games such as Infiniminer, and wondered if he could make something similar. An infinite canvas where anyone could make anything. But such technology would be far too complicated to make if Notch was working on his own. Notch remembered it vividly — after a full night spent thinking about the idea and wondering how to implement it, he gave up. And when he went to sleep, he awoke in the strangest place he’d ever seen.
It was an underground lair full of machinery and spare parts. Wires thick as arms dangled from the ceiling, occasionally twitching and flashing with sparks. There were computers littered around the grimy floor, blinking with green bits of code, a la The Matrix. There was one computer that was perfectly upright, whose functional keyboard’s letters were backlit with an eerie emerald light. When Notch booted up the computer, it displayed two simple words: CAVE GAME. Notch wondered what this could possibly mean. Was it a premonition? An epiphany? He didn’t exactly believe in the supernatural, but this was too fortuitous to be a coincidence. Suddenly, Notch felt a chill down the back of his dreamself’s neck. He turned around and saw the Black Monolith floating there, doing nothing. When it finally decided to talk, its words reverberated across the air. █ I AM THE BLACK MONOLITH. ARTIFACT OF THE VOID. KEEPER OF MANY SECRETS. THE UNFATHOMABLE LOCK. MY ARCHITECTURE IS PERFECTION. I HAVE COME TO SHARE THE WEALTH, SO TO SPEAK. Notch took several step backwards, attempting to speak, but finding he couldn’t will himself to do so. His mind was blank.
█ I WILL DO THE TALKING, PERSSON. IN CASE YOU HAVE ANY DOUBTS ABOUT THE REALITY OF THIS SITUATION — THIS IS VERY REAL. I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU, AND EVERYTHING THAT YOU WILL EVER DO. Notch had a keen sense that the Monolith was right. He could feel all of his thoughts being laid bare in front of him, as if something was going through them and cataloguing them to see what relevance they had. He shivered at the idea of it, but somehow had a suspicion that the Monolith wasn’t going to harm him. It was merely an observer. An outside influence. The Monolith floated across the room, towards the computer with CAVE GAME on it. █ THE ORIGINAL INTERFACE. A MILLION YEARS OLD, AND IT STILL WORKS. THIS IS THE GAME YOU WISH TO CREATE, IS IT NOT? The computer screen suddenly flickered to life, and showed a flat endless world made entirely of blocks, where a player could place anything, build anything, create anything, all from the confines of their mindscape. Code stacking together to create pixels, stacking together to create blocks, stacking together to create endless possibilities. Notch’s eyes widened. It was perfect. █ SO BE IT. I WILL WARN YOU NOW. YOU ARE DEALING WITH A UNIVERSE OF UNTAPPED POTENTIAL. THE FORCES WITHIN WILL NOT BEND TO YOU EASILY. IF YOU CAN CONTROL THEM, YOU WILL GAIN UNLIMITED CREATIVITY. THE CHOICE IS YOURS. I WILL ONLY SHOW YOU THE DOOR. The Black Monolith slammed down onto the ground, becoming completely rigid. A doorknob flickering with electricity appeared on its surface. █ YOU MUST OPEN IT YOURSELF.
Notch stood there, paralyzed. There it was. The opportunity for him to make the ultimate game, one that would suit his interests. The best opportunity for him to do what he loved doing was right there, beyond that door. But the way the choice was being presented made him feel that there really was an entire universe there. One completely foreign to his own. One where he would be an outsider. Notch, unsure of what risks he was really taking, reached out and grabbed the doorknob, opening it. What he saw defied definition. He stared into an abyss so huge it was as if he was looking right up into the sky. The sense of depth was unimaginable. Directly below him, stretching beyond the horizon, was an infinite ocean that radiated a heat so powerful Notch could barely stand it. He saw countless shapes crashing beneath its waves, and then it hit him that those shapes were the waves; the thing he was seeing was an abomination of seething hatred, constantly toiling and bubbling, that never stayed the same. As Notch watched, a giant wave roared upwards, a horrible face reflected in its countless folds. It was a look of abhorrence, and it was coupled with an ear-splitting roar. Notch took a single step forward, slamming his foot into the void. His presence on the other side of the door — whatever it was — had an immediate reaction. Notch saw the entire ocean light up tremendously, as if the sun had started to shine on it. The water glimmered and reflected with white light, and it even began to boil away. The large wave that had sprung up started to recede immediately, and the face depicted on it screamed. The brilliant light that had shone cast a shadow of three dimensions, which started to bubble up and take several shapes before Notch’s eyes. The powerful body, serpentine neck, and rippling wings of a dragon overshadowed the red wave and shot a single glare at Notch. Scrambling backwards, Notch shut the door, breathing heavily.
█ CONGRATULATIONS, the Monolith casually stated. █ YOU ARE ONE OF THE ONLY WITNESSES TO THE FORMATIVE MOMENTS OF A UNIVERSE. A million questions raced through Notch’s head. What had he done? What was that red sea? Where was the universe full of blocks? What, exactly, had happened? The Black Monolith appeared to be aware of Notch’s confusion, but did nothing to address it. █ THE UNIVERSE IS NOT YET STABLE. YOU HAVE WITNESSED THE PRIMORDIAL CHAOS BURGEONING FROM WITHIN. ONE DAY, PERHAPS YEARS FROM NOW, YOU WILL RETURN TO THIS PLACE, AND FIND IT TEEMING WITH LIFE. THEN, AND ONLY THEN, CAN YOU CLAIM IT IN YOUR IMAGE. YOU WILL THINK TO YOURSELF, “THIS PLACE IS MINE, AND FROM ITS FOUNDATIONS, I WILL CRAFT, USING GEOMETRY AND THE ORDER OF THE STONE.” The dreamscape of Notch rumbled, and the computers exploded, frying in smoke. Notch ran to escape the chaos, and he jumped through the wall, tumbling into the infinite void he had seen. When he landed on solid ground, he saw an exit door. Notch reached to open it, and on the other side, he saw a man with a beard in a cyan shirt. He woke up in a sweat.
As it turned out, the Black Monolith was right when he said Notch would return after a long period of time. Still lacking the ability to fully create the world, Notch had ignored it, and let it sit on the backburner. Only after many months had passed, in the year of 2009, did Notch receive another prophetic dream. In this dream, he found himself back in the underground lair. All of the clutter and debris was gone, with the only piece of machinery in the room being the fully operational computer, which was emblazoned with the words IT’S TIME. There was an old rectangular flash drive connected to the computer, which Notch pulled out and examined. Immediately, he felt a sharp pain in his head, and woke up. After regaining his bearings, Notch saw that his hand was clamped around something. It was, unbelievably, the flash drive. When he had plugged it into his computer, there, staring him in the face, was the entirety of Minecraftia. The rest, as they say, was history. Using his intimate relationship with the universe as given to him by the Monolith, Notch could step foot into the universe from his own and control it to his whims as a god. He was, technically, the first operator. He knew to look past the game’s source code and to see it as a universe. He fashioned an entire palace to himself, and, using a series of divine tools in his forge of limitless creative potential, he re-sculpted the entire universe from the ground up. He built on the work created by the realm’s previous owners and fashioned entire civilizations, even hand-modelling a select few to Play in the world he had made. Sometimes, they played well. Other times, they did not. But the universe of Minecraftia thrived under the influence of Notch, who was seen in the universe as a god. Only Notch knew the truth — that he was using the universe as a tool to create a limitless sandbox on Earth.
Every time he entered the universe, he took its coding and deciphered its divine tongue into a form accessible on Earth. It took tremendous effort to obfuscate the hidden potential the game held, and as a result, the earliest versions of the game were rudimentary. Cave Game, as he initially called it, proved to grow bigger than he had ever imagined. It was exactly as he’d foreseen. Notch had successfully made a game out of it. Entire decades passed in Minecraftia where months past in Earth. Notch lived two lives at once, managing his tasks in both worlds. He had become a divine power, both inside of the game and out. He had learned to notice cracks in the facade of reality. Earth and Minecraftia were both dictated by the same source code — any exploits you did in one universe could generally be pulled off in the other. Notch moved the development cycle of the game along, but the universe beneath was stirring. He had to deal with conflicts perpetrated by characters across infinite worlds. Entire wars waged on. Some people had broken through Notch’s smoke and mirrors and discovered the actual world underneath Minecraft. They’d given themselves Notch’s own skills. Godmodding was the colloquial term. Notch realized that he couldn’t do this alone. He needed help. And so it was that Team Mojang, a pantheon of gods, was formed, solely to keep a universe together. As the months and years dragged on, Notch realized what a mistake he’d made. The guilt raced through him. By interfering with a universe that he had no right to, and believing he could just turn it into a game that went along with his fantasies, he’d irreversibly changed the course of its history. He was looked up to as a god, but in truth, he was just a man on the other side of a computer screen, interfering with something he had no idea how to change. Notch now knew the true nature of all the universe’s terrors, and beyond. The Red Dragon. The Endermen. The Void, and its Artifacts. The fourth dimension. The Fourth Wall. The Gate. Notch had unearthed a horror story that was perpetually chasing him down.
And no respite came from the official release of Minecraft, either. His coding was out of what seemed to be an infinite beta, but the reports of godmodding kept increasing, and it was all Notch could do to make sure the Red Dragon’s prison was stabilized, to make sure the Ender Dragon was killed, to make sure there would never be another Great War, to scatter the Curses, to do everything in his power to keep order where the Conflict tried to create chaos. Things only got worse and worse. Godmodding war after godmodding war piled up, and eventually, Notch, and the entirety of Team Mojang, had cracked under the pressure. They’d lost their universe, and as far as Notch was concerned, it was his fault. He had been shown the door, and he had decided to open it. If it wasn’t for him, the Godmodder would have never found his way into Minecraft, and the Conflict would never have reformed at all. If it wasn’t for him, there would be no reboot looming at the edge of his vision. Notch blinked out of his flashback and leaned in his reclining chair.
This, decided Notch, was Limbo. Or at least, the closest thing he could get to it.
Piono walked through the Void, a crown of fire in his hair. He remembered charting a path through a nothingness like this some time ago. Perhaps it was a year ago? It was hard to tell in the Void. Seconds slipped by like hours, and years could pass in a single sentence. But regardless, Piono was walking this path alone. The OP King wasn’t trailing behind his back, Eric wasn’t looking over his shoulder… He was in solitude, with only a sword to keep him company. Piono unsheathed it — a clear black blade rippling with the purple fires of paradoxes, replicated from the white purity of a cueball. Oblivion’s Destroyer was a truly potent weapon, and a harbinger of the most fearsome of paradoxes.
Waving the sword around in front of him, Piono was able to cast light on his surroundings. The purple light of Oblivion’s Destroyer reflected cruelly off of the various surfaces and detritus floating through the Void, making them seem unanchored from reality, if only for a moment. Piono thought about the sword’s name — Oblivion’s Destroyer. It was fitting, in a way. He’d been called the Destroyer himself for quite some time, and here he was, holding a sword with the same name. But it was also a contradiction. If anything, it didn’t destroy oblivion, it spread oblivion. But a contradictory name wasn’t going to stop Piono, even if names had power. Piono swung his sword at a passing chunk of voidstone. The blade carved through it like butter, eating away at the metadata keeping the voidstone anchored in the Void. Within seconds, it had disappeared. Piono grinned. It was in times like this that you learned to appreciate power.
Oh, I must agree! Appreciating power... What a lovely exercise! I recommend indulging in it as often as you’d partake in a triple-decker cake! Which is to say, often! Piono stopped in his tracks. That echoey voice, always on the brink of breaking into a fit of unearthly giggling, which came from everywhere at once. The way it had known what he was thinking. The off-kilter similes. Such a voice could only come from one being. “Dimentio,” Piono spoke aloud. “
Dimentio emerged from under the rock, thin as paper, clapping. Bravo, magnificent hero! You rescued me from the perils of stone! However shall I repay you? Piono blinked, sheathing Oblivion’s Destroyer. “
Piono gritted his teeth and decided to humor Dimentio. “What is it you want? You always have a reason of some kind. So why are you here?” Dimentio put his hand under his chin, as if he was thinking. Ah, yes! Perceptive as always! As it turns out, there is a reason I wanted to talk to you. I suppose you could call it... A job opportunity! Piono would have denied it right then and there under better circumstances... but really, at this point... “
“
Dimentio’s smile threatened to split his face apart. He extended a hand, the purple fire trailing across the sky, eventually ending up encircling Piono, winding around him. The heat should have felt unbearable, but Piono, a master of the elements, came out unscathed. Through the whirling inferno, he saw flashes of what was going on around him. The laughter of Dimentio. Drama masks appearing from the Void, smiling and frowning, before disappearing. Playing cards and tarot cards fluttering in the wind that wasn’t there. A gallery of jeering faces watching Piono with interest. And then, quickly as the fire came, it disappeared. Piano was left with a purple fire flickering in the crown on top of his head. “
Dimentio materialized a paper-thin box around a wide area in space. Piono walked into it, suddenly feeling an entire dimension strip itself away from his form. He was rendered completely two-dimensionally. Dimentio winked and raised his arms. The box flipped itself across the Void, leaving nothing behind except a faint purple glow in the background.
Hovering some distance away from the meeting of the Conflict, Bill Cipher and Flumpty Bumpty talked comedy. The best part of existing in a realm separate from time and space was that you could do anything you want with no cost relative to the outside world. Bill could mess with anything, talk with anyone. And right now, he wasting that opportunity with an egg. ALRIGHT, I’M GONNA TRY MY HAND AT SOME HUMOR SOME MORE. KNOCK KNOCK. Flumpty didn’t respond. ...SEE, THEN YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO RESPOND WITH “WHO’S THERE?” GO AHEAD, SAY IT. Flumpty didn’t respond. CAN YOU COMPREHEND THE BASIC STRUCTURE OF A JOKE?? Flumpty nodded, pink liquid dripping from his mouth. I’LL JUST PRETEND YOU SAID “WHO’S THERE.” INTERRUPTING COW! Flumpty didn’t respond. Bill sighed, agitated. THEN YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY “INTERRUPTING COW WHO,” AND WHILE YOU SAID IT I WOULD... AH, FORGET IT.
Bill snapped his fingers, appearifiying an alien cow with crop circles all over its body and pale liquid flowing from its orifices. The cow let out an alien screech and then tumbled through the Void after its inception, perishing in the harshness of the Void. Bill floated back to Flumpty. SINCE YOU APPARENTLY FAILED TO GRASP THE LOGISTICS OF A KNOCK-KNOCK JOKE, I’LL TRY A DIFFERENT TACTIC. HERE GOES. SO, A BAR WALKS INTO A GUY. THE BAR HAS TO TEAR THROUGH THE GUY’S STOMACH TO ACTUALLY GET INSIDE OF HIM. WHEN THE BAR TRIES TO ORDER SOMETHING, HE REALIZES HE CAN’T ORDER ANYTHING EXCEPT THE GUY’S BODILY FLUIDS! THE JOKE IS THAT THE GUY IS DEAD AND THE BAR CAN ONLY CONSUME THE ORGANIC LIQUIDS OF ANOTHER HUMAN, AND NO ONE IS HAPPY. Flumpty didn’t respond. ...LAUGH. Flumpty opened his mouth partially and let out the sounds of a thousand screaming children at once for a few seconds. Bill backed away slowly, and there was silence for several seconds. YOU KNOW, I’VE BEEN TRYING TO MAKE SOME WISECRACKS FOR WAY TOO LONG. HOW ABOUT YOU TELL ME A JOKE? Flumpty merely nodded and extended his arm outwards. Bill followed his gaze and saw that Flumpty was pointing to the black hole that had consumed Minecraft. It’s a joke. It’s all just a joke. Bill adjusted his bowtie. YEAH, WE FIGURED OUT THAT MUCH.
Bill sighed, putting his hands behind his body and floating at his leisure. YOU KNOW WHAT I MISS? THE DESCENDANTS. I MEAN, SURE, I CAN TALK TO THEM WHENEVER I WANT THROUGH EXTRADIMENSIONAL TEMPORAL SHENANIGANS. GIVE ‘EM A CHANCE TO FIGURE OUT A SECRET OR TWO. BUT I HAVEN’T MET ONE OF THEM IN A WHILE. AND THEY WERE GREAT FOR MAKING DEALS! FOR THE KINGS THEY THOUGHT THEY WERE, THEY SURE WORKED WELL AS PAWNS. Flumpty laughed at that. Agreed. Bill looked into the distance. SOMETIMES, I WONDER HOW FUTURE’S PAST IS TREATING THEM, EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER. WHO KNOWS? MAYBE THIS TIME, THINGS WILL BE DIFFERENT? Bill floated in silence. WITH THEIR HELP, I ROSE TO BECOME A BEING OF IMMENSE POWER. BUT NOW, DESPITE HAVING ALL THE PIECES, I HAVEN’T COMPLETED THE PUZZLE, SO TO SPEAK. THAT’S WHY I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET TO FINALLY PUT AN END TO THIS GAME. Flumpty simply stared at Bill, his fractal eyes piercing through Bill’s body. Bill floated upwards, pointing his finger to the sky. I KNOW! HOW ABOUT I TRY ANOTHER JOKE! HUMOR MAY BE SUBJECTIVE, BUT THE ART OF JOKEMAKING IS AN EMPIRICAL SCIENCE! Flumpty stared at the dead alien cow, and then looked back at Bill, shrugging.
SO, UH, I HAD A JOKE IN MIND, BUT I’LL JUST SKIP TO THE PUNCHLINE. ...AND I TOLD THE GUY, PNEUMONOULTRAMICROSCOPICSILICOVOLCANOCONIOSISER? I HARDLY EVEN KNEW HER! Completely abruptly, Bill’s entire body began to vibrate, and his bowtie shook. Bill realized that someone was calling him through his phone. UGH, HOLD ON. MY PHONE’S RINGING. Bill pulled the bowtie off of his body. In his hands, it turned into a vibrating smartphone. Bill put the phone up to the place where his ear should be and spoke into it. YELLO? he called into the speaker. Almost immediately, there came an answer in the form of several familiar voices. “
Needless to say, Bill was happy to have some company. OH! GREEN GLASSES! OBJECTIVELY, THE SKY IS WHAT’S UP, BUT WHEN YOU’RE IN THE VOID AND THERE’S INFINITE NOTHINGNESS ALL AROUND YOU, THE COMPASS ROSE TENDS TO GROW AN ARM, FLIP YOU THE BIRD, AND SCREECH INTO THE RECESSES OF TIME. Bill heard a laugh at the other end. “
SURE I DO! WHAT YOU’RE TELLING ME IS THAT AN ALTERNATE ME — HELL, PROBABLY PRIME ME, FOR ALL I KNOW — ACTUALLY HAD SOME SENSE IN HIM. HE INVOKED SOME KIND OF ANCIENT CURSE AND RESPAWNED IN THE OREGON WOODS, RIGHT? “
Bill quickly turned around and saw the entire army of the Conflict slowly advancing towards him. The Employer was already winding his way around to Bill’s position, with the rest of the Agents trailing not far behind. Bill’s eye darted around suspiciously. He didn’t know why exactly they had asked him such a question, but he couldn’t give away that he was talking to the Descendants. They were still important to him. He needed them. If anyone was going to obliterate them in the blink of an eye, it was him, not the Conflict. ...NO ONE, he blatantly lied. The Employer drew ever closer. [Y0U SURE AB0UT THAT,] he persisted. [1T S0UNDS L1KE Y0U’RE TALK1NG T0 S0ME0NE VERY 1MP0RTANT.] Bill couldn’t hear any voices on the other line. He turned casually to the left and his pupil shrunk to a dot. Hovering next to the Employer was an Agent dressed in a suit with a blank face. Give us the phone. Bill took the phone off of his ear with a flourish, and it turned back into his regular bowtie, which he made a great show of adjusting. PHONE? WHAT PHONE?? he yelled at the top of his voice. Bill’s words rippled across the Agents, seemingly making some of them forget that he had a phone at all. The Employer was momentarily fazed, but then shook his head. [ANSWER THE QUEST10N, B1LL. Y0UR PH0NE. WHAT WERE Y0U US1NG 1T F0R. 1 ALREADY T0LD Y0U THAT Y0U MUST N0T BE HERE. YET Y0UR PRESENCE PERS1STS.] Bill started to think of a lie only a dream demon could make. SEE, THE STORY BEHIND THAT... IS...
Suddenly, deep booms made themselves known across the Void, though there was no solid ground on which an object could create such a sound. The Shadow trudged across the army of the Conflict, the crowd seemingly parting to give him passage. Even the Employer darted out of the way, snaking towards the Shadow’s shoulder, as he came face to face with Bill. MOVE ASIDE. I WILL DEAL WITH THIS. Bill rolled his eye. Obviously he was dealing with some kind of Mr. Bigshot; that, he could handle. LISTEN HERE, BLIND EYE. WE HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE THAT THE DESCENDANTS — THE BEINGS CHOSEN BY OUR SWORN ENEMY — ARE USING TOOLS TO INTERFERE WITH CONVERSATIONS ACROSS REALITY AND GAIN INFORMATION. IF YOU HAVE ANY CONNECTIONS TO THIS, WE MUST KNOW. AND IT IS IMPERATIVE YOU TELL THE TRUTH. AFTER ALL, THERE ARE ONLY A FEW BEINGS WHO COULD GAIN ACCESS TO YOUR PERSONAL PHONE LINE, ARE THERE NOT? AND THERE IS AN INCREASINGLY SMALLER FEW WHO CAN DEFY THE LAWS OF SPACETIME AND HURTLE THROUGH FUTURE’S PAST TO TALK TO YOU. AND TO US. AND, IF OUR SOURCES ARE TO BE BELIEVED, MANY OTHER POINTS IN SPACE AND TIME. The Shadow leaned closer to Bill, his eyes narrowing. IF, FOR WHATEVER REASON, YOU ARE TALKING TO THE DESCENDANTS AND ARE NOT ALLOWING US TO DEAL WITH THEM, THEN YOU ARE COMMITTING A DISASTROUS ACT. I TRUST YOU UNDERSTAND. Bill waited for several seconds, and then burst with laughter. He floated his way up to the Shadow’s head, increasing his size as he went until he was its approximate size. HEY! THE DESCENDANTS COULDN’T HAVE THE TIME TO DO ANYTHING WITH ME, NO MATTER WHAT ERA THEY’RE LIVING IN! HAVE YOU SEEN HOW PREOCCUPIED THEY ARE IN FUTURE’S PAST? THERE’S PARADOXES AND SHENANIGANS UP THE WAZOO! STUFF THAT I CAN’T EVEN FULLY COMPREHEND! SO HOW ABOUT YOU QUIT SLINGING AROUND ACCUSATIONS AND BACK OFF! Bill put as much power as he possibly could into that last sentence. Echoes screamed across the Void, and everyone went still.
To Bill’s complete surprise, the Shadow actually stepped back. FINE. YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A LEECH THAT HAS BEEN GRANTED CELESTIAL ABILITIES. YOU HAVE NO PLACE IN THE PANTHEON OF CONFLICT. BEGONE, AND DO NOT DARKEN OUR DOORS AGAIN. Bill breathed an inward sigh of relief. He was counting on the Descendants sticking around explicitly so he could mess with them, and he wasn’t going to let some force of plot, no matter how unstoppable it was, get in his way. Binary Prime snaked his way behind the Shadow and glared at Bill. [1 HAVE MY EYE 0N Y0U, B1LL. WE ALL D0.] Bill once again rolled his eye, ushering the Conflict away. YEAH, YEAH. YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE AN EYE! Bill prepared to lean back, when all of a sudden, his phone rang again. Bill’s eye froze — literally. It turned to solid ice. He looked down and saw that his bowtie had already turned into a smartphone. The entire army of the Conflict turned around at once, staring through Bill and the soul he didn’t have. OH, CRAP.
Binary Prime wound his way towards Bill, staring at his phone. [H1S PH0NE 1S R1NG1NG AGA1N.] The army of the Conflict, now incredibly annoyed, marched towards Bill at full force, surrounding him in a circle. OH, COME ON! Bill whispered angrily into the receiver, though his whispers still sounded like a normal speaking voice. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CALL AGAIN?! Binary Prime’s body wound around Bill’s, blocking his vision so the only thing he could see was static. Bill quickly phased through the Void and tried to teleport somewhere else, but was blocked on all sides by Agents. [G1VE US THE PH0NE, B1LL, AND WE W1LL N0T D0 ANYTH1NG T0 Y0U.] Bill’s eyes darted across the field as his gaze settled on Flumpty, who was hovering in the air and being a useless piece of yolk. [L1STEN T0 US,] The Employer commanded. LISTEN TO ALL OF US, The Shadow boomed. Do as the eye commands, said the Agent with no face. leeSTEN : D, said the thing in the Cairo Overcoat. * Do as you will. spoke Chara. Bill looked paralyzed with indecision, but he allowed his eye to gaze upwards for a single moment. Flumpty was hovering above the crowd. He had carved the alien cow into a functioning portal through the Void. Bill got the message immediately, and decided to cut his losses. ...FINE, he grumbled. Bill threw his smartphone through the Void. TAKE IT.
The Employer caught it in his hand of orchid energy. Binary Prime snaked towards it, speaking as clearly as he could. No one else dared to talk, or even breathe. [HELL0? WH0 1S TH1S? WE ALREADY HAVE AN 1DEA... BUT C0ULD Y0U C0NF1RM 1T F0R US?] Immediately, several voices crackled through the receiver. “
All eyes turned to the phone. On the other line was the Descendants, whose exact position in spacetime had now been perfectly calculated. At any moment, the Conflict could mobilize their superpowered army of Agents, storm through whatever barriers the Descendants were behind, and lay waste to them in a single battle. They could destroy a godmodder, but they could not destroy plot. [1’M G01NG T0 TALK 0NCE, AND 1’M G01NG T0 MAKE MYSELF CLEAR,] Binary Prime commanded over the phone. He was aware of screaming and laughter on the other end. [WE KN0W EXACTLY WH0 Y0U ARE. AND N0W, WE KN0W WHERE T0 F1ND Y0U. PREPARE.] Satisfied, Prime stared at the phone until it shriveled up into a compact metal ball. With a flick of his tail, the ball was flung into space, flaking dust off of its surface. OUR MISSION IS CLEAR, the Shadow announced. WE WILL VENTURE ACROSS TIME AND SPACE AND EXTERMINATE THE DESCENDANTS AT THEIR SOURCE, IN ALL POINTS IN TIME, NO MATTER THE REALITY, SINGULAR OR PLURAL, THEY RESIDE IN. ONCE WE HAVE REMOVED THIS LAST OBSTACLE, WE WILL TAKE UNPRECEDENTED CONTROL OVER FICTION, AND WIN. This speech let out the biggest cheer from the Conflict yet. The Agents all brandished their weapons — Chara pointed a knife, the mimes started dancing uncontrollably, their limbs mutating as they grew wings, the Employer’s hands grew to a gargantuan size, flickering with unholy energy, a dormant table lit with purple fire... The Shadow laughed as its Godarm manipulated itself into the shape of an additional superlaser. He fired a warning shot across the Void, and jumped through space.
The Conflict flew from their meeting, screaming across the stars.
At the completely opposite point in space relative to the Conflict’s meeting, the Council of Nine’s fenestrated wall in Limbo blinked off. Here, at a point unanchored from time and space, and therefore resting in a completely unknown date when applied to the calendars of mankind, the Council of Nine knew that the end was swiftly approaching. This, said the Head Councilman, is unprecedented. The Conflict has achieved a great enough mass to pose a serious threat to whatever they target. We must ready all possible forces in preparation. The rest of the Council of Nine nodded. In a matter of seconds, they had lifted off from their Council Hall and traveled to the crater that contained the Red Dragon. Sealing the Red Dragon in place was an unbreakable lock fashioned from a portion of the Secret of the Void’s soul. The Council of Nine had planned to perform this ritual in the case that the Red Dragon’s lock would be attacked, but it was clear that they needed this power now.
The Nine all floated to various points around the circle and raised their hands, crackling with monochrome energy. A ring of light formed around the Council, with the chain completing at the Head Councilman, who gave the energy a bright pink hue. A single ray of energy shot out and ensnared the lock, lifting it out of place imperceptibly. The blue hue of the lock drained out as it turned completely monochrome, like its surroundings. In its stead, a large pulsating ball of blue energy floated out of the lock, whispering with a cadence as old as time. A small portion of the Secret of the Void’s soul had been recovered, and it was alive. i remain... barely... skirting the edge of life... and death... there is only... one reason you could... summon... me. The entire Council nodded in unison. We understand the risks. Protect us... Greatest of Secrets. The soul imperceptibly waved up and down. i understand... the alternative to this... is oblivion... isn’t it. if the conflict wins... we perish... if the conflict... does not attack... we still perish... time crashes... space is rent... the heroes we appointed... are our demise. The Council of Nine hung their heads low. I knew we should have imprisoned them while we had the chance. The soul shuddered. no... nothing could have... prevented this... they are masters... of nonfiction... no matter what... they will prevail...
The Council of Nine moved ever closer to the soul, maintaining the beam of energy. The light show was attracting the lost and wayward souls of Limbo, who viewed the whole thing as a blinding spectacle — one of the few notable events in their afterlives. This could be our last battle, the Head Councilman solemnly observed. If fate ordains it as such, I would be honored if you fought with us, Greatest of Secrets. If you empowered us, one last time. Another Councilman spoke up. If I may, Greatest of Secrets. Don’t give us green orbs on our backs as a highly obvious weak point. An uneasy silence hung in the air. didn’t know... you had... a sense of... humor... heh. The Head Councilman muttered to himself about who would laugh in the form of a single word, but before they could voice any other thoughts, the air exploded with electricity and the transfer of souls. When the blinding light subsided, the Council of Nine was clothed in rippling navy cloaks, and their eyes were a piercing green. They now carried a sliver of the Secret of the Void’s power – the capability to create and reshape the very Void to their will. Excellent, said the Council of Void, in unison. Let us complete our final task. The Council of Void’s arms raised up, seemingly beyond the boundaries of Limbo, stretching throughout the Void and across reality, to deliver a message to all followers of the Narrative.
PREPARE.
The Council of Void lifted themselves out of Limbo, their bodies supercharged with energy, and then, they disappeared. Their message worked its way across the cosmos, alerting everyone in tune with the Narrative. They got the message immediately. The Chosen Few, stirring in their own remote location of the Void, held on to what power they had obtained from the Legion of Godmodders, and flew. The Hexahedron’s surface rotated and hummed with an energy intense to manipulate reality itself. It hovered and spun across the Void. Uprooting themselves from the nests they hid in shadows, a series of birds took flight throughout the Void, their heads spinning to every nook and cranny as they charted a path across the fourth dimension. Taking up the lead of the flock was an effigy of horror and tremendous power. The Owls had risen, with a FEZ in tow. Blinking from one point in reality to the next was THE OPERATOR, who had, it seemed, become a follower of the Narrative after helping to uphold it at the tail end of the Second Godmodding War. Rising from his chained Update Terminal came The Author, a living and breathing deus ex machina, ready to turn the tide of the fight. Countless other followers, deities, and gods of their respective universes that acted in the name of the Narrative took up the charge, flying across the Void to a single location.
And hovering like a cloud over them all, a web of causality and temporal inevitability, an inexplicable force that dictated the motion of plot itself and fought a continuous battle to keep on what it considered to be “the right path,” was The Narrative itself. Its existence permeated through the Void across infinity, empowering those that it stood for, and who stood for it. The Narrative spun around these combatants, creating a tapestry of divinity that told a message. The Narrative would never fall, and that no matter what happened, plot would keep moving forwards. All of these heroes marched throughout Fiction, to one explicit point. They traveled nearly the entire length of reality, moving across time and space, across gargantuan universes and the tiniest of pocket dimensions, and everyone they saw shriveled into the darkness. Never before had the entire scope of the Narrative congregated in such a formation. Never before, except for all those eons ago, when they had declared war. Finally, the Council of Void raised their heads and yelled in unison.
ATTENTION, AGENTS OF CONFLICT. IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTION THAT YOU WISH TO DESTROY THOSE THAT WE HAVE CHOSEN TO UPHOLD THE CONTINUUM OF REALITY. WE UNDERSTAND THAT THEIR ACTIONS HAVE AN UNFORTUNATE TENDENCY TOWARDS DESTRUCTION, BUT WE STAND BY OUR CHOICE. An otherworldly voice joined in with the Council of Nine, as if the Narrative was backing their every word. IF YOU WISH TO HARM THEM, THEN YOU MUST GO THROUGH US. A cheer rang out across the Narrative’s army, which echoed and splintered across reality’s catacombs.
The Narrative’s army heard chilling sounds of laughter coming from all around them. HEAR THAT? THEY WANT TO PLAY A GAME WITH US. AT LEAST THEY HAVE THE COURAGE TO STAND UP AND FIGHT. I COMMEND THAT. WHAT SAY YOU, AGENTS OF CONFLICT? SHALL WE HUMOR THEIR REQUEST FOR WAR? There was silence, followed by ear-splitting cheers from the Conflict’s side. The Narrative stood solemnly, knowing that they were about to do battle with the purest incarnation of evil that had ever been devised. ...No. Not just evil. Evil was too broad, yet too fine of a word. The Conflict was full of antagonists. The antagonists of stories, and how they sought to lead everything to their own end. And on the other side of the same coin, the Narrative was the army of protagonists. The main characters of stories. And it didn’t necessarily matter how “pure of heart” they were or how much of a “good person” they were. What mattered is that without them, there would be no story to defend at all. And if this was to be the Narrative’s last fight… The deciding battle on how reality was told from here on out... Then, so be it. IT IS SETTLED, THEN.
FATE CHOSEN.
The Narrative’s army nodded, continuing their upwards movement, seeming to all present like the leaders of the funeral procession for Fiction itself.
One way or another, things would not be the same following this battle.
“
The Scribe glared at Erelye. “
“
“
“
“
Erelye turned and saw that the deed was done. “
Erelye gazed at the Council of Fifteen for the last time. “
“
Trudging across the infinity of reality were two separate armies. Both the Narrative and the Conflict’s entire fleet had gathered at opposite ends of the chosen battlefield, ready to wage complete and total war. It was on this date, an eternity in the future relative to all points in the time, that the ultimate forces of plot had come. Their mission was absolute. It was time to settle the score. It was time to see which force of plot would reign over all of existence. If the Narrative won, the Conflict would again be cast into Agents, and the work that had gone into reforming would be for naught. If the Conflict won, the Narrative would be obliterated, creating a lawless fiction that would soon fall into complete chaos until there was nothing left.
This was it. The final battle. The one that would determine all the odds. The entirety of reality stood as spectators, hanging across the Void, listening to every word, every spark of the action.
The Narrative and the Conflict stared each other down on the flat terrain. The skies were permanently overcast, creating a thick sea of clouds from which nearly no light could shine. The ground was jagged, coarse, and wrapped in shadows. Just behind the armies was a sea of jagged mountains jutting out from the earth like spikes. Throughout the arena, the wind was howling, creating a choir invisible. Pink fire burned intermittently across the landscape, stretching out to the horizon, creating a sea of dancing pink lights below the clouds. The refiner’s fire still waged after all this time. Any living beings that had existed here were long since dead, and any unliving beings had slunk back to the shadows in wait. The only true witness to the war of the Narrative and the Conflict was a door, and an open one at that. It stretched all the way to the sky, with architecture as gleaming and perfect as the greatest of cathedrals. The door was flanked on either side by massive rectangular prisms, displays of raw power marked on their surfaces. Whatever was behind the door, if anything, made no light and no sound. The door itself led to a seemingly infinite void. To tell the truth, there was not a more fitting arena for the final fight in reality. After all, the battle to determine the end was best waged at the Ends of the Earth.
The two armies stared at each other. The Narrative was led by the Council of Void, carrying the Secret’s essence. The Conflict was led by the Shadow, bearing the image of the Godmodder. Both armies reached for their weapons, distorting reality to its breaking point as they did so. The air hummed with the charge of a climactic battle. No one dared move. No one dared speak. No one dared breathe. And then, from nowhere, a bell rang with a note so low that it coursed through the atoms of everyone present, moving the entire earth. It rang three times, and after the third note, both armies felt an overwhelming sense of finality. It was now or never. And with the mental image of being the undisputed masters of reality, for however long it remained...
The Narrative and the Conflict charged.