Creation Of All Things

Joshua sat down on the steps at the edge of the tower's chamber.

He didn't say a word. Just… sat there. Breathing a little too fast. Hands on his knees. Looking at the floor like it held answers. Like if he stared long enough, it'd all make sense.

It didn't.

Behind him, Alice hovered nervously, unsure if she should say something. But the moment she opened her mouth, another voice beat her to it.

Raphael.

He stepped forward, eyes narrowed on the man who called himself Lord of Dominion.

"…Okay," Raphael said, voice sharp. "You gonna tell us who the hell you really are?"

Freya joined him. Pale, calm, but her fingers were glowing faintly. That weird ice-light that only came when she felt something was off.

"We just got dragged through some kind of broken dimension, saw memories that weren't ours, and now you're standing here like some NPC with answers," she said coolly. "So yeah. Start talking."

The Lord didn't blink.

He just… stared out the glass wall again.

Thunder rumbled, softer this time.

And then he finally spoke.

"…My name is Veyrion."

His voice wasn't loud. But it filled the room. Like it didn't need volume to matter.

Raphael's grip tightened on his sword. "Veyrion… never heard of you."

"You wouldn't have. I was erased," Veyrion replied.

Freya raised an eyebrow. "Erased?"

Veyrion turned. Slowly. His coat—if it could even be called that—shifted like smoke soaked in galaxies. Stars blinked in its folds. Planes of reality layered in threads.

"Once, I was one of the Sovereign Arbiters," he said. "I watched over convergence points—those strange places where reality begins to tangle. I wasn't made to rule. I was made to contain."

Raphael glanced at Freya. "Contain what?"

Veyrion's eyes flickered. Not with light. With weight. Like he carried too many years behind them.

"Beings that shouldn't exist."

The air in the tower dropped a degree.

No one said anything.

Veyrion's gaze drifted to Joshua—Zaryel—still seated, quiet.

"And I failed," he added.

Alice stepped closer. "You… failed?"

Veyrion nodded. "Zaryel wasn't supposed to exist. That's true. His creation wasn't the will of gods or devils. It wasn't even some twisted science experiment or forbidden spell."

His hand moved, slow, deliberate, and drew a simple circle in the air.

It glowed white. Then gold. Then pitch black.

Then cracked.

"A Collective Will," he said. "Something above the gods. Above the devils. Older than the first dimension. It summoned him. From ideas. From contradictions. From the echoes between yes and no."

Freya frowned. "You mean like… the universe made him?"

"No," Veyrion said, voice firmer. "The things that made the universe made him."

Silence again.

Only the sound of Joshua breathing.

"His mother," Veyrion continued slowly, "was the First Flame, The End. The last true devil. Her name was Calazura. She burned reality just by existing."

Raphael blinked. "What the hell kinda name is Calazura—"

"And his father…" Veyrion interrupted. "Was the last of the True Gods. Before they fell into blood, and ego, and extinction."

"Name?" Freya asked quietly.

"Elarion," Veyrion replied. "The God of Eternity. He wrote the first laws. Not with language. With meaning."

Joshua flinched slightly at the sound of the name.

Like it woke something.

"So you're telling us," Raphael muttered, "that this guy"—he pointed at Joshua—"is literally the son of the strongest devil and the last true god?"

Veyrion nodded. "He's not half. He's not mixed. He's a fusion. A new blueprint."

Alice whispered, "That's why he's called a variable…"

"Yes. The Grey Variable. Because he doesn't fit any of the old balances. Light. Dark. Chaos. Order. He's all of them. And none."

Joshua rubbed his temples again.

It still didn't help.

Freya crossed her arms. "And what's your role in all this? Babysitter?"

Veyrion finally smiled. Just a little. Sad.

"I was his warden," he said. "And his executioner, if necessary."

Freya's mouth twitched.

"You were going to kill a child?"

"He wasn't a child," Veyrion replied. "Not really. Not when the stars bent when he cried. Not when his laughter warped time. You can't call that a child. You call that a warning."

Freya didn't like that answer. But she stayed quiet.

Veyrion stepped forward slowly, his boots making no sound against the crystal floor.

"I sealed him. Buried his name. Altered his essence. Dropped him into a minor branch universe where the magic was thin, the gods were myths, and fate was lazy."

"Earth," Alice said.

"Yes. Earth Variant 73-X."

"And now?" Raphael asked. "Now you just pull the seal off like a Band-Aid?"

Veyrion looked back at Joshua again.

"No. The seal is failing because the one who tried to unmake him has returned."

Joshua's head snapped up.

There it was again. That splinter.

"…Who?" he asked, voice hoarse.

Veyrion's voice dropped lower.

"Valek. The Architect of Ruin."

Freya stiffened. "That name's not real."

"It is," Veyrion said. "He was the third part of the design. The balancing node. A creature built to oppose Zaryel if he went rogue."

"Like a counterweight," Raphael muttered.

"Yes. But he broke. He turned. He tried to devour the Collective Will. Failed. Was shattered. Now he's reforming. Gathering shards. Preparing for a second attempt."

Joshua stood up slowly. Like the weight in his bones just got heavier.

"So you brought me back to fight him?"

"No," Veyrion said.

Then, he looked Joshua straight in the eye.

"I brought you back because he remembers you. And he's coming to finish what he started."

Somewhere far beyond the fabric of that tower—beyond stars, beyond systems, beyond the walls of any known reality—a single eye opened.

No breath.

No heartbeat.

Just the slow, deliberate blink of awareness returning to something old. Something other.

A second eye followed. Then a breath that was not a breath, a whisper through the bones of collapsing dimensions.

The figure sat up slowly, as if waking from a dream that had lasted longer than history itself. His skin shimmered like molten onyx. His eyes… were empty. Not in the way of blindness, but in the way of things that had seen too much. Like they had looked behind the curtain of reality and hadn't liked what they found.

He sat on nothing.

Surrounded by nothing.

But even that nothing tensed as he stirred.

"He's awake," the figure said softly. His voice didn't echo. It simply was. A vibration that rippled across dead timelines and fractured realms.

From the void, a whisper answered him. "Zaryel…"

The figure smiled. Slowly. Not with joy. Not with anger.

With inevitability.

"Veyrion moved the pieces," he murmured. "The seal is cracking. The pattern is shifting."

He flexed his fingers. The motion tore a thin gash through what might have once been time. Screams bled from it. Not human screams. Concepts howling as they were rewritten.

He stood.

He didn't rise.

He unfolded—like a god remembering it was a god.

"The Grey Variable returns…" he said. "Then so must the Collapse."

Behind him, the void pulsed. A rhythm forming. Like the heartbeat of something ancient trying to start again.

He turned, gazing toward a direction that didn't exist—yet still pointed directly toward Universe 73-X.

"I remember you, Zaryel," he said. "And this time, you won't choose mercy."

And then, with a step that broke no laws because it ignored them entirely, the Architect of Ruin moved.

Valek had awakened.

The end had already begun.