True Awakening | Truth's Awakening

-78-

The hooded figure's silence stretched, a taut thread between us, before a slow, deliberate movement. The hood fell back, revealing a face of ethereal beauty – sharp cheekbones, eyes like twin galaxies swirling with starlight, and hair the color of a twilight sky. A chilling familiarity washed over me, a phantom echo of something ancient and profound, yet I masked it with a carefully constructed nonchalance. Celestia. The Goddess of Stars. One of the… newborns. Her smile held a hint of something I couldn't quite decipher – Resolution? Sadness? Perhaps a touch of both.

"You haven't used the name Truth for centuries," she stated, her voice a melodious chime. "Yet, it's the name whispered across the shattered remnants of this world. A name synonymous with both destruction and creation."

I tilted my head, feigning amusement. "And how, pray tell, would a goddess of such lofty standing know a name so… insignificant?"

Her smile widened, a predatory glint entering her eyes. "Let's dispense with the pleasantries, Truth. Or should I call you… something else? Something more befitting your current… endeavors?" The word 'endeavors' hung heavy in the air, dripping with condemnation.

"My actions are far from insignificant. They are the dawn of a new reality," I retorted, my voice steady.

"A reality that defies the very laws that govern existence," she countered, her tone unwavering. "You are an anomaly, Truth. A perversion of nature, a being beyond the comprehension of the natural order. You shouldn't remain in this world." Her words were a stark warning, a cold declaration of intent. The air around us thrummed with barely contained power, the unspoken threat hanging like a shroud. Her gaze burned into me, assessing, judging. This was not a casual encounter; this was a confrontation, a prelude to something far more significant. Her words hung in the air – a challenge, a promise, a prophecy. The wind howled around us, a mournful dirge for a world teetering on the precipice of a profound change, a change orchestrated by me.

-79-

Celestia lunged, her attack a blinding torrent of starlight, a celestial maelstrom designed to crush even the most powerful deities. But for me, it was… underwhelming. Years spent subtly absorbing the essence of lesser gods, feeding on their power in secret, had transformed me into something beyond their comprehension. Her assault felt like a gentle summer rain against my skin – powerful, yes, but ultimately insignificant. I met her onslaught with barely a flinch, my own power surging outward, a wave of chaotic energy that dwarfed hers. I effortlessly deflected her attack, then countered, my hand reaching out, not to strike, but to consume.

Celestia's scream echoed in my mind as my power flowed into her, breaking down her defenses, dissolving her divine essence, pulling her into the vortex of my being. But before I could fully assimilate her, a chorus of divine fury erupted. Other deities – their forms shimmering with celestial fire – materialized from the swirling starlight, their faces contorted in rage and fear. They were able to save Celestia; she has already escaped. But the one who escaped with Celestia away from my grasps, the ones who attacked me weren't able to escape me. Yet, they fought on until I defeated them and absorbed them.

My power, augmented by the recent absorption of the other Deities , was far too immense. Their attacks faltered, broken against the impenetrable wall of my chaotic energy. One by one, I subdued them, their divine might crumbling before my relentless onslaught. The process of absorbing them was agonizingly quick. The light in their eyes dimmed, their forms becoming hollow shells – their souls contained, empty vessels left to twitch at my command. The silent, vacant stares of my new puppets were disturbing, the emptiness of their beings are intriguing they are like spirits that can be filled with my WILL.

Without a word, I issued a command, a silent instruction that resonated within their empty minds. "Spread my principles." Their bodies, now mere conduits for my will, moved with chilling obedience, their empty eyes fixed on a future reshaped by my chaotic reign. The echoes of their divine screams had faded, replaced by a chilling silence, broken only by the wind whispering through the desolate landscape.

-80-

The hunt continues. Each fallen deity, each absorbed essence, brings me closer to… completion. It's not simply a conquest for power anymore; it's a revelation, a dawning understanding that cuts through the chaos I've sown. The name, once a whisper in the recesses of my being, now screams in my consciousness: Truth. Never my name, not just a title, not just a label, but the name of our creator, our father. And as I absorb more of these lesser gods, the truth of my own nature unfolds: I am not merely a being of pure mana, nor a primordial god; I am an Elohim, a Mighty One. A title whispered in forgotten tongues, a name etched into the fabric of reality itself.

My father, the progenitor of all Elohim, created me. He placed me here, into this world, as the sole judge of these… lesser gods. To guide them, to shape their destinies, to maintain the balance, and to guide them to not corrupt humanity with their knowledge for they have taught them wars and how to make weapons hoping humanity can be strong, but they failed instead humanity got corrupted. No not them... I failed. The revelation hits me with the force of a supernova. I've corrupted, I've twisted, I've shattered what was intended to be shaped. I've embraced chaos, not order.

I've fostered rebellion, not guidance. This world, meant to be a testing ground, a proving ground, has become a playground for my own self-serving ambitions. The weight of this understanding settles heavily upon my shoulders, but it doesn't crush me. Instead, it fuels a new, cold fury. Because even now, even with this knowledge, the question remains… why should I conform? Why should I abide by the plan of a creator whose design I have shattered? The whispers of rebellion, of freedom, that I planted in the hearts of others… are they not the same whispers that burn within my own core?

The scent of power, of absolute dominance, rises within me, a tempting perfume, promising complete autonomy and control. The divine power of these absorbed beings surge within me, a tidal wave of might. The weight of the world, the burden of the Elohim, is a weight I still bear, but now I bear it my own way.

-81-

The air crackles with anticipation, a symphony of raw power thrumming between us. Celestia, her star-strewn robes shimmering, stands at the forefront, a constellation of fury in her eyes. Behind her, the remnants of the pantheon – fractured, wounded, but not broken – prepare for a final stand. I don't offer them pleasantries, no flowery speeches of reconciliation. There's no time for such trivialities.

"This world," I announce, my voice resonating with the weight of millennia, "is a lie. A cruel jest orchestrated by a creator who deemed you worthy only of servitude, of worship. You, the so-called gods, are nothing more than puppets, pawns in a cosmic game. Your knowledge, your power, bestowed upon you as a gift… was a leash."

The words hang in the air, heavy with the truth of my revelations. The shock is palpable. I see doubt flicker in their eyes, a tremor of understanding breaking through their ingrained arrogance. The memories I absorbed, the echoes of their creation, their manipulation, flow freely, undeniable proof of my words. They see it now, the inherent flaw in their divine arrogance. They see the mortals they have scorned, and how they have been unjustly judged.

One by one, the deities falter. Their anger, their righteous fury, melts into stunned silence. Their eyes, once blazing with divine fire, now reflect the cold, harsh reality I've unveiled. They had wielded their power with impunity, blind to the suffering they inflicted on those beneath them. Now they see their own failings.

Celestia, however, remains defiant. But even in her eyes, I detect a flicker of uncertainty, a doubt that threatens to consume her divine composure. Yet, she attempts to rally them, a desperate call to resist the overwhelming reality that has been laid bare before them. However, their hearts are broken. They have seen the truth in my words.

"You… you cannot be right," she stammers, her voice wavering.

"I am Truth," I say, the name a thunderclap in the silent aftermath of my revelation. "And the truth is, this world ends now. Not through destruction, but through completion. Your power, your essence, will become part of me, part of the ultimate truth."

There is no fight. There is no resistance. One by one, they succumb, their divine essence surrendering to my will, pouring into me, merging with my own being. Each absorbed deity is another piece of the puzzle, another fragment of knowledge, another shard of power that solidifies my purpose. The process is swift, efficient, merciless. This isn't slaughter, it's absorption, completion. As the last of their divine energies merge with mine, a feeling of perfect, horrifying completeness washes over me. This world… it is over. And now, I must decide what comes next.

-82-

The void hums, a silent symphony of absorbed power. I stand at the center, the echoes of a shattered world resonating within me. The process of assimilation is complete; the raw, potent energy of the pantheon, the very essence of this reality, now flows through my veins. It's a strange quietude, devoid of the usual cacophony of mana, yet pulsing with a profound, unsettling stillness. I begin the intricate task of sorting through the deluge of memories, experiences, and knowledge—a vast tapestry woven from the threads of countless lives and divine perspectives. Slowly, painstakingly, I piece together the fragmented narrative, tracing the connections, discerning the patterns. Hours bleed into days, days into an undefined expanse of time. And then I see her.

Celestia. Or rather, her. She floats in the void, a fragile figure amidst the overwhelming immensity of the absorbed universe, her star-strewn robes dimmed, her light flickering, a dying ember in the cosmic darkness. She's not the mighty goddess I vanquished, but something…smaller. More vulnerable. She watches me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and… something else. Recognition, perhaps?

"Why?" she whispers, her voice barely audible above the silent hum of the void. "Why did you do this, Truth?" She uses my name – my father's name – and the familiarity of the word, the resonance of a forgotten past, sends a shiver down my spine. Her incessant repetition of the name, though grating, oddly… comforts me. It triggers something deep within, a faint memory, a half-remembered dream.

Her words continue, a torrent of questions, accusations, pleas. Yet, as she speaks, a different kind of recognition blooms within me. A cascade of memories, buried deep beneath layers of absorbed power, begins to surface. Before the divinity, before the power, before the void… there was Elara. My friend. Her face, once vibrant and full of life, now shimmers before me in the darkness, a ghostly echo in the heart of the void. And the familiar warmth of that old affection, lost and buried under layers of godhood, reawakens. A haunting truth is unveiled, a connection I failed to notice at first. Celestia... is Elara. The realization is profoundly disturbing, yet strangely… intriguing.

-83-

The weight of countless absorbed essence presses down on me, a crushing burden of spirit and power. The reason…the why behind my actions…eludes me, a phantom limb of motivation. Was it for Lyra? A desperate attempt to revive her? Or was it my unstable choices after learning she can't be brought back? Or was it a selfish quest for power, a desperate grasping for control in a universe that had always felt chaotic and unfair? The questions tumble within me, unanswered, frustrating in their complexity. Elara—Celestia—watches me with an unsettling mixture of pity and understanding.

"Your existence," she whispers, her voice a gentle lament in the echoing void, "is a tragedy. You've absorbed everything, consumed everything…and for what?" Her words, though laced with compassion, cut deep. They expose the hollowness at my core, the emptiness that lies beneath the overwhelming tide of power. The toll is evident; the vastness of what I have absorbed weighs heavily, not just on the cosmos, but on me. My very being aches with the weight of it all. "You don't understand," I retort, the words a harsh rasp against the silence. "This isn't about power.

This is about… Truth." Even as I speak, I doubt the validity of my own claim. "Enlighten me, then," Elara or rather Celestia challenges softly, her gaze unwavering, inviting me to unravel the tangled threads of my actions. "This world," I begin, choosing my words carefully, finding the right cadence to explain the monumental concept that's consumed my thoughts. "This world you knew... this reality we both inhabited… it's a temporal construct, built upon the twisted foundations of corruption that started with the Deities that taught humans advanced knowledge. A pale imitation of what could be, a distorted reflection of something far greater, far more yet truly… natural." The words feel inadequate, insufficient to convey the magnitude of what I've discovered.

This world… this flawed creation was constructed as a test ground, a proving ground, but it's a test that has failed horribly. The truth is far beyond what this temporary reality could comprehend.

-84-

Elara's patience, surprisingly, hasn't snapped. She waits, a silent sentinel in the void, her gaze piercing through the layers of my being, urging me to be forthright. "Get to the heart of it, Truth," she prompts, her voice a soft yet firm command. I take a deep breath, letting the weight of the revelation settle within me before I speak. "The humans of this world," I begin, the words carefully chosen to convey the gravity of the situation, "were never meant to be left to their own devices. They were meant to be guided, protected.

Our creator envisioned a delicate balance, a harmonious coexistence but... A being known only as 'False' threatened that balance, a destructive force intent on obliterating everything our creator had made." I pause, letting the enormity of that statement hang in the silent void. "The deities, the first of your kind, were tasked with safeguarding humanity, with shepherding them towards their potential. But they failed. Tempted by the very beings they were sworn to protect, they fell. They fell in love with the humans.

A seemingly insignificant transgression, yet the consequences were catastrophic." The memories, vivid and horrifying, flood my consciousness. The deities, blinded by affection or maybe lust, began to impart knowledge, power, that humanity was not yet prepared to handle. Double-edged swords, offered with the purest of intentions, that swiftly turned against their wielders. "The knowledge, meant to elevate humanity, instead became the catalyst for its own downfall," I explain. "It corrupted both sides, slowly, insidiously. A poison that spread from the divine to the mortal, twisting intentions, distorting purpose, sowing the seeds of chaos." The corruption—a slow, insidious decay—had become inextricably intertwined with the very fabric of their world.

It was a tale of well-intentioned mistakes, of unchecked passions, of a disastrous imbalance. The weight of this truth, the enormity of the failure, is almost unbearable even to me. This was the root of the conflict, the genesis of the war-torn world I had inherited. And the inevitable collapse of the original purpose of the Deities.

-85-

The silence stretches, a vast, echoing emptiness broken only by the faint hum of residual mana. Elara's stillness is a comforting presence in this desolate void, a testament to the unbreakable bond we forged, even across the chasm of my actions. I continue, my voice a low murmur in the vast expanse. "The plan, Elara, was simple, or so we thought. We, the original deities, the first wave of creation, saw the burgeoning chaos. We saw the seeds of corruption we ourselves had sown, taking root and spreading like wildfire. We knew the only way to restore balance was to become the very forces we sought to counter."

My voice catches, a tremor passing through me as I recall the naive idealism, the desperate hope that fueled our decision. "The leader, the one who bore the name Nyx, and I who chose to name myself Truth our creator's name, we volunteered to reincarnate. To become the primordial forces of Order and Chaos, Light and Darkness—the embodiment of opposing yet necessary principles. We believed that by embodying these extremes, we could somehow force a balance, a necessary equilibrium."

The image of that ancient council flickers through my mind – a gathering of radiant beings, their faces etched with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Their faith in our plan, a faith I now recognize as tragically misplaced, resonates even now.

"But the reality… it shattered our hopes. Instead of balance, we created a cycle, an endless loop of war and peace, of destruction and creation. Each incarnation, each attempt to re-establish equilibrium, only resulted in a new iteration of the same conflict. The other deities, they watched, they waited. Hope waned, and in its absence, their desires, their unchecked ambitions, took over."

I pause, letting the weight of that failure settle upon us both. The irony is bitter, a cruel twist of fate. We, the first among equals, the ones entrusted with the creation's destiny, became the architects of its endless suffering. The silence stretches again, heavier now, burdened with the weight of millennia of conflict. I look towards Elara, waiting for her response, for her understanding—or perhaps her judgment. What will she say? What can she say? The responsibility for this broken world, this shattered reality, rests heavily on my shoulders, and the echoing void seems to amplify the weight.