An endless stream of dark golden mist flowed through the strange buildings, as if it would never stop.
In the midst of these grand, bizarre structures stood a massive palace with two towering spires reaching into the sky, vanishing into the dark golden mist. The atmosphere was heavy with majesty.
The palace was built from black stone, adorned with intricate carvings and magnificent murals. Strange symbols flowed across its surfaces, signifying the power and glory of a giant. Massive arches and soaring towers added a sense of indescribable grandeur.
Inside the vast palace, towering stone pillars loomed faintly in the dark golden mist, supporting a wide dome. Deep within the palace lay a massive throne, carved with mysterious patterns and raised atop nine stone steps.
On both sides of the massive hall below the steps stood thirteen tall-backed stone chairs, surrounded by the dark golden mist. Beneath them were thirty-nine oddly arranged stone seats, creating an atmosphere that was both grand and mysterious, a blend of order and chaos.
Suddenly, a pained, confused voice echoed through the great hall as a bluish-white mist appeared out of nowhere, seemingly challenging the dominance of the golden mist. The voice quickly faded into the majestic temple and the swirling golden fog.
Atop the nine stone steps, seated on the massive throne carved with strange patterns, an illusory figure made entirely of dark golden and bluish-white mist cried out in anguish. The mist churned violently, pouring continuously into the figure.
After an unknown amount of time, the golden and bluish-white mist calmed. The figure, once a mere illusion, began to solidify. The wailing gradually subsided.
A weak murmur escaped from the mouth of the figure on the throne. Slowly, through intense pain and mental confusion, the figure regained consciousness and awareness.
It was a man. He looked around, and though he was generally good-natured, he couldn't stop himself from cursing.
He stared up at the dome filled with golden and bluish-white mist, his expression clouded with confusion and rage.
"Is this game broken? Why can I feel such intense pain? What the hell just happened? Is the game seriously bugged? I don't even have a body in here! Fuck, this has to be a bug!!"
He looked left and right, eyes narrowing at the mist of different colors.
"Nation of Disorder… hmm, this must be a cheat in the game," he concluded. "So the destruction of the world earlier was the boss awakening, huh? Makes sense. The game's prologue has started. Nation of Disorder is probably the cheat meant to help the protagonist—me. But does it have to be so damn painful?"
Frowning, fragments of knowledge surfaced in his mind. Something felt off.
'That white mist… it's not supposed to be part of the cheat. So where did it come from?'
As if responding to his thoughts, the bluish-white mist began to condense into a floating book in front of him.
'Fuck, isn't this the artifact I got in the real world? How the hell did it get into my consciousness?' he thought, staring at the book—white with blue accents, its cover plain except for the words *Starry Sky Memories*.
'Well, it *is* Aeon's artifact. I guess it makes sense it ended up in my consciousness,' he sighed in relief—then clenched his teeth again.
'But why are you clashing with my cheat inside this game? Damn it, it really hurt! You two were fighting, but it was *my* mind and soul taking the hit!'
The book hovered silently, then slowly floated above his head.
*Thuk.*
"Oww." He winced, rubbing his head and glaring at the book. "What was that for? Not satisfied yet? Huh? You want me to burn—"
*Thuk.*
"Okay, okay! Let's talk this out like civilized beings," he winced, shaking his head.
Ten minutes and a few moments later, the man and the book stared at each other, as if having a silent conversation.
"Hm, I see. Alright, alright," he nodded, watching the book open and close repeatedly. Suddenly, he turned his gaze toward a direction, feeling an oppressive pressure.
'What the hell? Another game boss?'
He looked back at the book and said, "Hide. Don't let the boss spot you. You're my hidden card in this game."
The book turned into light, shot toward him, and vanished along with the bluish-white mist, leaving only the golden mist tightly surrounding him. He stood still, stunned.
Suddenly, the endless dark golden mist surged, and a deep, majestic voice echoed through the vast hall.
"Interesting."
The man lying on the throne felt a heavy pressure pressing down on him.
"Who are you?" he snapped, suddenly standing up and looking around. But there was nothing there—only the hall, filled with the golden mist.
"I am God. The Creator. The Omniscient and Almighty. The Sovereign of the Astral Realm," the voice answered, grand yet indifferent. "I did not expect the source substance to merge with such a strange soul. Who are you? Why do you lack the Original Mark?"
The man's mind raced.
'A god? The Sovereign of the Astral Realm? So it really is a boss… Oh no, can he read my thoughts?'
'No—if he could, he wouldn't have asked. He mentioned a fusion. Maybe my cheat is shielding my thoughts... or maybe he simply doesn't care to look deeper.'
'Did I gain traits that prevent mind-reading? That's possible.'
'Original Mark... that must be the spiritual signature formed by the first boss, right? Of course I don't have one. I'm from the real world. But how do I explain that?'
As his thoughts raced, he looked up at the dome shrouded in golden mist and said, "I don't know either. I found a sunken ship, and the next thing I knew, I was pulled into the depths of the sea. Then the endless golden mist swallowed me, and I ended up here. Honorable Sovereign of the Star Realm... do you know what's happening?"
After a heavy, unbearable silence, the majestic voice returned—still cold and indifferent.
"A variable is also an opportunity. My instinct to converge forces me to confront the unknown, and your future is shrouded in mist. I cannot foresee it. Fascinating."
As the voice echoed through the hall, a light beyond description pierced the endless golden mist and enveloped the man on the throne. Through the rift, a radiant figure made entirely of light stood calmly.
Rays of light flowed from the luminous figure and entered the hall, merging with the golden mist to form a ring and a staff. Both objects dropped to the nine-tiered stone staircase beside the grand throne.
"Right now, you have neither the status nor the power to fully integrate the source essence. But with my assistance, and a soul free from the Original Mark, you can build a stronger connection with the source over time—initially assimilating and controlling it, avoiding madness. Once you obtain the proper status, you will be able to command the source essence fully."
The voice rang out again in his ears. Without waiting for a response, the light surrounding the man began expanding uncontrollably, forming a vortex. He wildly absorbed the surrounding golden mist, his consciousness slipping away amid layers of illusory murmurs and soul-wrenching pain like a crashing tide.
The light vanished.
The golden mist surged and swirled, engulfing the grand, bizarre, double-tiered palace once more.
"Damnit…finally,thatItisgone."
Who would've thought—after traversing star-strewn skies, battling a monster, space villain, emanator, and skimming the edge of cosmic reality—I'd end up feeling crushed… by something from a game.
The golden mist that had just moments ago surged like a tidal wave through the grand throne hall began to thin. Slowly, like a veil being pulled back, it receded and revealed a man seated on the throne, eyes now open, a faint sigh slipping past his lips.
He had been pretending to be unconscious.
His gaze fell toward the bottom of the stone staircase, where a silver ring and an ornate staff lay abandoned, almost glowing against the cracked obsidian floor. The man raised a brow.
'AtleastI gotsomethingoutofit,' he thought, eyes narrowing at the objects. 'Thathastobeloot. Andifit'sloot, ithastobegood.'
For a moment, satisfaction flickered across his face. Then—his body stiffened.
"Hah? Boss again?!" he roared in mind. "Thisgameisbroken! Fullofbugs!"
His voice echoed across the hollow cathedral of stone and gold. The mist responded, writhing and rising once again like a living thing. It swallowed him whole.
The throne room twisted.
Illusory whispers layered over one another like peeling skin. The once-majestic palace began to collapse into unreality, wrapped in layers of golden-black fog. The air felt too thick to breathe. Time bled away.
Then—without warning—the sky above the palace tore open.
From the ruptured heavens, a translucent, glistening tentacle slid downward. It slithered silently, trailing a swarm of ethereal worms that coiled and weaved, forming a vaguely human silhouette. The figure hovered above the abyssal vortex of golden-black mist.
The vortex shuddered. At its center, something stirred. A phantom shape began to crystallize—a figure of smoky gold, flickering with divine residue.
A voice rang out, not from the figure's mouth, but from everywhere and nowhere.
"Anintriguingsoul... anunexpectedvariable."
"Apity. Evendivinityeludesyou. Notevenattheendofallthingscanyousucceed.TheOriginal'smarkwithinthesourceessencecannotbeerased—notbytime,norbydeath."
The tentacled entity answered in silence, save for a low-frequency hum that cracked stone and rattled thought. Then, from beyond the veil, a new appendage emerged—its slick surface etched with crooked, maddening symbols. It carried with it two artifacts: a throbbing, chaotic eyeball resembling a heart, and a jagged crystal stained with shifting, colorless hues.
"YouareindeedOmniscient and Omnipotent. Youforesawme. Youdeceivedme. Fine."
"Leavethisvariable. I, too,wanttoseeifthefuturewillchange intosomething...interesting."
With a flick, the creature plunged the eyeball into the top of the obsidian throne, above nine uneven stone steps. Chaos rippled outward—waves of soundless thunder and fractured color exploding from the embedded eye.
The crystal dissolved into the golden-black mist, which coalesced into a translucent, cubical structure—glowing with a chaotic spectrum. The mist writhed one last time before being absorbed by a slithering tentacle, which hardened and twisted into a silver-gray ring—ancient, cursed, alien.
The two now lay side by side beneath the throne: the cube, pulsing with silent screams; the ring, humming with restrained ruin. Their aura was paradoxical—chaotic yet still, divine yet blasphemous.
Then, the voice returned—quieter, now layered with finality.
"ThelingeringtraceoftheSonofChaos, piercingtheuniqueentropybeyondthePrimordialVeil, shallconsumewhatremainsoftheOriginal'stouchupontheSourceMatter. Fromhere, Chaosismerelyafuse. The remaining Sources must be sealed now"
The whispers faded.
The creature of tentacles and worms dissolved into its own void. The last threads of golden mist vanished with it.
On the throne, the dark golden figure shivered, its form unraveling. Cracks ran through it like broken porcelain, pieces drifting apart into nothing. The mist pulsed violently, collapsed inward, then expanded—before settling in total, crushing stillness.
In the eye of the storm, the man who had once been faking unconsciousness now lay limp.
The golden mist still clung to him—but not like before. It no longer danced. It devoured.
He felt it seeping in.
'Shit... I'mreallygoingtoloseconsciousnessthistime.'
His vision dimmed. Pain bloomed across every nerve. His thoughts flickered—then vanished.
And the throne room went silent.
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Give me Power Stone and Reviews Guys
Sorry if My English is bad