There was only one thing that ever existed, yet it was also beyond existence and non-existence, the origin of all sources and the exception to all beginnings.
It thought in circles vast enough to birth, and in doing so, discovered the echo of itself.
In that echo, it saw conflict, symmetry, and the promise of becoming more through division.
Imaniglessial, the entity who sought meaning through division, had become both the question and the answer to itself.
...
The space between spaces trembled as two wills manifested.
Neosis of the Underworld, an entity woven from the essence of self-defining paradoxes, opened the battle. With a mere thought, he rewrote the battlefield itself, declaring:
"This void exists only as an extension of my being. There is nothing outside of me."
The infinite nothingness collapsed into a singular point: Neosis. No space, no time, no opposing force could exist unless he permitted it. A flawless first move.
But The Uncreational, a being whose nature was the annihilation of all definitions, merely laughed.
"Fool. The only reason you exist at all is because I allow it."
With that, Neosis's very existence became contingent upon The Uncreational's will. A devastating reversal, Neosis was now a puppet in his own domain.
Yet, Neosis smiled.
"The 'me' you control is but one facet, a shadow cast from a higher dimension."
The Neosis that had been subjugated dissolved, revealing that it was merely a lower-dimensional echo. The true Neosis remained untouched, watching from beyond.
The Uncreational's eyes gleamed with dark amusement.
"Then I shall control all Neosis across every dimension, every possibility."
Reality fractured as infinite versions of Neosis—past, present, future, hypothetical, impossible—were seized by The Uncreational's will. Every iteration, every variation, now bent to his command.
But Neosis was already ahead.
"I am no longer 'Neosis.' I am something beyond, a being that both exists and does not, a concept outside your grasp."
The moment The Uncreational tried to define him, he transcended definition.
A stalemate.
...
The void trembled, unable to contain the weight of their clash. The battle had only just begun.
And somewhere, in the spaces between thoughts, both entities knew, this was merely the first exchange in an endless war of intellect.
Who would make the next move?
Who would force the other into an inescapable paradox?
The battle of Unpredictability vs. Predictability had only just begun.
...
The void shuddered as the two primordial intellects resumed their war.
The Uncreational, ever the master of conceptual subjugation, struck first.
"Types are illusions. Dimensions are my design. You, Neosis, are but another variable within my domain."
With that declaration, the very fabric of possibility bent to his will. Neosis, as a "new type," should have been assimilated, another puppet in The Uncreational's grand design.
But Neosis was beyond such constraints.
"Then I exist where your dimensions do not."
He erased his own presence from all possible realities, stepping outside the framework of creation itself. And in that transcendent state, he forged the first true anomaly, a planet born not from causality, but from pure defiance.
Here, they stood as warriors, blades in hand.
Neosis lunged, his sword cutting through the fabric of nonexistence.
The Uncreational smirked.
"I am untouchable."
The blade passed through him as if he were a mirage, then reversed its trajectory, hurtling back toward Neosis with lethal intent.
But Neosis was already moving.
"Then I shall be you."
In an instant, their identities swapped. Neosis became The Uncreational, and The Uncreational became Neosis.
The sword, still obeying its original command, pierced The Uncreational's newly mortal form.
A flawless counter.
Yet.
The impaled body dissolved into fractal shadows, revealing itself as nothing more than a projection, a thought given temporary form.
The true Uncreational watched from beyond, amused.
"A clever move. But not clever enough."
Neosis grinned, his eyes alight with the thrill of the battle.
"Then let us raise the stakes."
The battlefield trembled, reality itself groaning under the weight of their escalating war.
But the battle was far from over.
...
The void trembled once more as the two primordial intellects resumed their war, each move a cataclysmic redefinition of reality itself.
It was Neosis's turn.
And with a thought, he struck.
"You are already mine."
The Uncreational's consciousness shuddered. His will, his very essence, was no longer his own. Neosis had seized control of the true Uncreational, binding his infinite mind within an inescapable paradox. There was no escape, no higher layer to retreat to.
For the first time, it seemed Neosis had won.
But The Uncreational's voice echoed from the depths of subjugated thought.
"Fool. There is no 'true' me."
And then, reality split.
Countless Uncreationals manifested, each one just as "true" as the last, each one a perfect iteration of the original. A legion of absolute beings, all equally real, all equally unconquerable.
Neosis smiled.
"Then I shall control them all."
His will expanded, an infinite recursion of domination, seizing every version, every possibility, every iteration of The Uncreational across all existence. Every mind, every thought, every flicker of consciousness, all bent to his command.
Yet The Uncreational remained unbroken.
"You misunderstand. I am not merely The Uncreational."
And then, he changed.
His form shifted, his essence rewritten. No longer the annihilator of concepts, he became The Recreational, the creator, the architect, the one who defines all circles of existence.
"You are already inside my domain."
Neosis looked around. The void was no longer empty, it was a perfect, inescapable circle, a prison of absolute containment. Every move he had made, every counter, every layer of control, all of it had been predetermined, all of it part of The Recreational's design.
He had been playing into his opponent's hands from the beginning.
But Neosis was not so easily trapped.
"Then I shall become the circle."
In an instant, he multiplied. Not himself, but the very nature of containment. Infinite circles blossomed into existence—overlapping, merging, collapsing into a single, transcendent form.
And in that moment, Neosis was the circle.
The prison became the prisoner. The container became the contained.
The Recreational's domain was now his domain.
The battle raged on, neither yielding, neither faltering.
For in this war of absolute intellect, there was no end.
Only the next move.
Only the next impossibility.
...
It was The Recreational's move.
And with a mere thought, he rewound time itself.
The fabric of causality shattered, reality folding backward until Neosis was once again trapped within the inescapable circle, as if none of his previous counters had ever occurred. A temporal cheat, an absolute reversal.
But Neosis did not falter.
"Then I shall become time."
His essence dissolved into the flow of eternity, merging with the very concept of chronology. Now, he was not bound by time, he was time. And with that, he froze The Recreational in an unbreakable stasis, a single moment stretched into infinity.
Yet The Recreational's laughter echoed through the frozen void.
"Time has no hold over me."
His existence transcended temporal laws, untouchable, immutable, beyond all flow and cessation. Neosis's dominion shattered like glass.
Unshaken, Neosis ascended further.
"Then I shall control the very dimensions of your immunity."
He became the architect of unaffection, the sovereign of all that could not be touched, all that could not be changed. Within that domain, The Recreational was no longer beyond reach, he was bound, his transcendence rendered meaningless.
But The Recreational was far from finished.
"Then let all dimensions meet their end."
With a single decree, he wrote the fate of annihilation, an absolute cessation that consumed not just the physical, but the conceptual. The dimensions of unaffection crumbled, their laws unwritten. Neosis's control evaporated like mist in a storm.
And then, he turned his will upon Neosis himself.
"Now, you are but a planet in a lesser realm."
Neosis's infinite form collapsed, compressed into a solitary world adrift in a dying cosmos, a mere speck in the vastness of The Recreational's design.
But Neosis was never one to be confined.
"Then I shall be the planet of all dimensions."
His existence expanded, not as a single world, but as the nexus of all possible worlds, an infinite recursion of realities where even The Recreational now resided. The hierarchy of control inverted once more—Neosis was no longer the subject, but the domain itself.
Yet The Recreational had one final gambit.
"Then I shall reign over the highest existence, where all infinite planets dwell."
His essence ascended beyond dimensionality, becoming the absolute overseer, the one who governed all layers of reality. Every iteration of Neosis, every possible version of his being, now existed within The Recreational's supreme framework.
But Neosis had already moved beyond.
"Then I am no longer a planet, I am the anomaly outside your highest existence."
He stepped beyond the boundaries of The Recreational's supremacy, becoming something unfathomable, a paradox that could not be contained, classified, or controlled.
Once again, the scales balanced.
...
The void trembled, not from force, but from the sheer weight of conceptual annihilation.
It was The Recreational's move.
And with a thought, he rewrote the hierarchy of transcendence itself.
"I am the sovereign of all 'outsides', every plane beyond the highest existence bends to my will."
The very fabric of externality twisted, folding into his grasp. Neosis, no matter how boundless, was now a subject within his domain—a mere variable in an equation of absolute control.
But Neosis was never one to be contained.
"Then I shall be the wall that bounds your 'outsides.'"
His essence crystallized into an absolute boundary, an unbreakable law that defined the limits of all externality. The Recreational's control shattered against this indomitable barrier, a perfect counter.
Yet The Recreational merely smiled.
"Then let there be infinite walls."
Reality fractured.
From the first wall to the hundredth, from the finite to the infinite—every barrier, every partition, every conceivable limit was born from The Recreational's will. Each wall governed a layer of "outside," each one a lesser emanation of his essence.
Neosis was no longer the wall, he was trapped within it.
But Neosis had already foreseen this.
"Then I shall cease to be."
With a single act of self-annihilation, he erased himself from existence. Not just from the present, not just from possibility, but from all forms, all states, all manifestations of being and non-being.
The Recreational's dominion faltered. Without a subject, control was meaningless.
Yet this, too, was part of Neosis's design.
"And in my absence, you shall follow."
The act of nonexistence was not surrender, it was a weapon. By becoming nothing, Neosis forced The Recreational into a paradox of control. If Neosis did not exist, then The Recreational's authority over him was null. And if The Recreational could not govern nothingness, then he was no longer absolute.
But The Recreational was always one step ahead.
"Then let nonexistence be my domain."
He shifted, his essence dissolving into the void of voids, the abyss where all that "is" not resides. Here, in this unbeing, he became the master of absence itself. Every erased possibility, every nullified concept, all were his to command.
Including Neosis.
Yet Neosis had already moved beyond.
"Then I shall shatter the vessel that holds nothing."
With a thought, he ruptured the balls of nonexistence, the very constructs that bound the void. The prison of unbeing collapsed, and with it, The Recreational's control.