The scar. It was a wound in the very fabric of the [Fold] universe, pulsing with an energy so seemingly ancient and formless that just looking in its direction was dangerous. Arkeus hovered on it's edge, on the cusp of this perilous tear. His presence was vast and unseen, a silhouette against the canvas of speckled stars. He'd sealed scars like this before—universal wounds so immense that even gods paled at their sight—and he had done so countless times. But this one was different. It was deeper, darker, and strangely alive with an essence that defied even his understanding.

Behind this cosmic wound lay what most lives of the [Fold] universe knew as the [Void], though its true name was the Primordialis Dimension. And to the universal wills borne of it, the "children" of this plane, it was known by another name, [ALL]. Its energies thrummed, chaotic and wild—a force beyond time, beyond reason—waiting to take form. Yet this time, there was something more. Something greater. A whisper carried on the currents of this place, on what many failed to comprehend and thus feared as the [Void], unseen yet felt in the marrow of existence.

Arkeus reached out, extending his will into the scar, weaving the threads of its chaotic essence, shaping them. His hands moved with perfect precision, the kind that told of countless experience, gathering the "void's" energy into a form, into a life. Yet, even as he worked, he felt it again—the faintest pull at the edges of his mind, his consciousness, it was like the soft murmurs of another to his awareness.

A presence.

It guided him, barely perceptible yet still undeniable. It shifted his will in the subtlest of ways he couldn't fully grasp. The energies bent to his command as if in glee, but there was an elegance, a smoothness in the process that felt foreign, new—almost as if the "void" itself were crafting something through him.

He paused. Had he meant to shape it this way? For all his vast power, the design felt... preordained. 

From the depths of the void-scar, his efforts began to take form—raw, unfiltered potential drawn into a vessel of unknown purpose. The thrum of creation shook through the expansive [Fold], resonating with the astral bodies and space between them.

Still, the whisper lingered, more insistent now, as if whoever—or whatever—had been watching from the shadows, from a place unseen, was waiting for the final moment. Arkeus hesitated. Was this his creation? Or hers?

And then, it was done.

In the heart of this cosmic tear, the space between dimensions, in a place many didn't even comprehend existed, a new force stirred. A being crafted from the fabric of two realms—Atlas—born not just of Arkeus's will, but of something else, something more. Something that watched, something that waited.

The form solidified, a shape both somehow familiar and alien, pulsing with energies even its creator could barely control, as if it was breathing. Arkeus watched in a pondering silence, his vast, unseen form shifting subtly as the newborn—Atlas—he knew its name instinctively, hovered before him suspended in the endless ocean of space.

But as he gazed upon his creation, that faint presence from before stirred again, no long a whisper but a quiet hum that resonated through the very weave of existence and reality. It was as if the Primordialis Dimension itself had a hand in this, weaving its chaotic essence into something beyond even what Arkeus had intended.

He realized now, without doubt, that his creation was not solely his own.

Yes, there was something deeper, something hidden beneath the shallow surface of Atlas's form. Arkeus could feel it, see it—a foreign consciousness, distant and faint, buried within the folds of the creature's mind. A life from another world, another time. It was a human soul.

It was no accident. The presence had guided him to this, had drawn from the infinite expanse and placed this human soul inside a "voidling" vessel. But why? What purpose did this serve? The question gnawed at Arkeus's mind like a branch just out of reach, but the answer remained elusive, locked behind the unseen hand of... "Mother."

For a moment, Arkeus considered unraveling the threads of this creation, tearing it apart to see what lay hidden within. But the hum of [ALL] held him still. No... this was meant to be. Whatever it was, this being—this Atlas—would serve a purpose far greater than he could yet comprehend.

The scar pulsed once more, a final surge of chaotic energy closing the rift. The void-scar sealed itself, its dangerous pull fading into the background of the cosmos. But the creation remained. Atlas floated, silent, his form still, yet beneath the surface, a storm brewed.

A storm of memories. Of lives. Of worlds yet unknown to him.

Arkeus withdrew, his mind already moving to other matters, yet a small thought lingered at the edge of his awareness. His mother, [ALL], had a hand in this. She had shaped this creation as much as he had, guiding the flow of energy, bending it to her will. And now, this being of two natures floated before him—part void, no, that's not right. It was part Primordian, and part something else. 

Part human.

Arkeus turned his gaze away, knowing that this was just the beginning. For all intents and purposes, this was a voidling, a being of the "void," at least as far as the other lives of the [Fold] were concerned. A rare few beings actually knew the difference, and they'd probably choose to stay as far away from this newborn as they could, at least until it was stable. For now though, he'd have to make preparations for this sudden chaotic factor.

He couldn't shift all the blame to his "mother," after all, he'd intended for something similar. For now, it seemed he'd have to send one of those two, to observe him. The System would guide Atlas now, but it couldn't reveal what it did not know. And why would he tell it what it was dealing with? for all he knew, "mother," wouldn't even allow it.

Besides, "Seraphis disserves a little punishment for that last incident, this is a great chance. What was it they call this? Two stars with one bone?" Arkeus muttered, trying to recall those aboriginal's phrase for increasing efficiency.

And so, the creation was left alone, floating in the dark expanse, unaware of the forces that shaped him, unaware of the purpose behind it, and what this would mean for the [Fold] that awaited him.

---------

POV: Vastikast.

It's been a while since the lord last summoned me to his holy abode, nearly a cycle I believe. Ah, by cycle I mean the one of the universe, not the Telos cycle of a thousand years. It's been a very long time, indeed. Which makes this all the more exciting, wouldn't you say? Last I was called was for a matter related to that generation of Gods, an annoying matter, to say the least. I handled it quickly though, and returned for some Raktar, served my shift with the Golden Leaves and finally partook in a Souljern. I've passed the time quite well if I must say, it's been one of the most relaxing cycles I can recall.

That infernal-bastard-of-all-that-is-cosmically-wrong-with-reality and evolution, Peltimos, has also been out of my sight. It's made the very smell of existence more pleasant. I dare say, even existence itself recognizes how perfect it is without him.

But to the matter of the current situation, well, there are signs of what this summons may be for: The residual aura of a recently sealed void-scar is not something I'd miss. In fact, I know many here felt it. It's not a special event, not when you consider the many times the lord has sealed them, but it is telling of a few possibilities for the summons I'm answering.

Nonetheless, I don't dare to presume the thoughts of the lord, he need only point, and these old bones shall follow.

As I urge myself forward, traveling at a brisk speed towards the compound where the lord tend to stay, I smell something... disgusting.

"Please for the love of all that is not that backward-evolved sack of mistakes, let this not be who I think it is," I can't help but mutter. 

Increasing my speed, the smell intensifies, if I'm not suddenly smelling an enormous pile of shit, something impossible to exist on the grounds, that infernal bastard was summoned too. Something I can't imagine happening for any good reason. 'Fucking Peltimos... What in the seven spindles did this bastard do for us to both be summoned at once?' 

I think the last time both of us were summoned at once was when we shattered a third of the [Fold] in one cycle. It was a terrible event, really, entirely his fault as well. He scammed a buddy of mine of his Proxima Catalyst for a few piles of soulshards, high quality ones, sure, but they were just fucking soulshards. Needless to say, this buddy of mine wasn't the brightest, but I wasn't going to let it go without justice, so I helped him, in righteous indignation.

I went to that bastards house when he went for an errand, shattered the foundation and filled it with Cosmowhale shit. I felt like this was a worthy trade. I got rid of the shit, he got a Proxima Catalyst. For some reason, he didn't see it that way and made a big deal out of it. Bringing his faction of brainless weaklings, he tried to blow up my greenhouse. So, obviously, after being wronged by him, I had to seek justice again. I went to the research temple and posted a mission: 'Whoever brings back a store-all of Cosmowhale shit, and a crystal of reaction from the [Primus] universe will get 3 Indra-seeds,' needless to say, it was completed quickly.

With the crystal of reaction and store-all in hand, I set it up in his training center like a good neighbor should. The store-all began to stink after three years, and the crystal blew the place into the sky after seven. 

Then, that bastard targeted me and we started an all-out war. It didn't leave the grounds until near the middle of that cycles life span, but by the time we were finished, a third of the [Fold] was shattered. So, of course, we were punished. 

I still can't believe that cycle. Such a petty little shit, what did I even do? Why can't he just be normal?

"Hmm? What's that smell? Why do I smell charred lizard nearby?" says a voice in the distance, "Oh, it's just you old fire-fart, I thought something interesting was happening. Good to see you're doing well, wouldn't want you dying to anyone else." 

"Peltimos," I say, landing in the waiting area before the gates to the lords abode, "Watch what you say, you degenerative cancer, if anyone's dying, it'll be you. I'm surprised someone hasn't beat that arrogant beak of yours in by now, I'm guessing you've avoided your rotation at the Golden Leaves? Figures."

"Hold your tongue old man, wouldn't want you having a stroke. Don't mention those arrogant fucks to me again, or I swear I'll ignore the consequences."

"You want to go? Same as last time? I live to crush you, it's practically all I look forward to aside from the singularity, come, tell me when and where and we'll go settle this."

"I'm not falling for your tricks you shameless old lizard, I know very well what you're thinking. I'm not walking into you and your buddies little tricks again. If you want to fight, we do it outside the grounds."

[Sigh... I see you two never change, I'm not sure whether I'm glad or disappointed at this. Come in, I've long told you to stop with this silly waiting out front.]

""Yes, my lord. We will be in shortly."" we both say, hurrying towards the source of the voice that shook our very souls.

Passing through a long corridor, both us choosing to ignore the other, all manner of sights pass before us. Our lord never cared for niceties or embellishment. He had his purpose, one few of us knew, the two of us being among those few, and merely continued his pursuit of that goal without even considering the idea of rest. 

But, this didn't mean that the rest of us could allow this being, this vaunted entity, to live without respect. As much as he tried to deny our efforts, we gave new excuses. Maybe it was just a metaphysical situation, one where our hearts were only at ease when we knew he was comfortable, but regardless, we did what we felt was right, and built him this palace.

Beyond a small garden, behind a pond, there was a green house. This was where the lord tended to stay, at least when he was on the grounds at all. This was where he stood, even today. 

Arriving before him, we both bow and await his orders.

""My lord,""

[Mm. It's good to see you, Vast, Pelt. I hope you've been well. I know this cycle hasn't been as exciting for you two... but, well, that's about to change... Greatly.]

Hearing this, while somewhat delighted, we both remained silent. This could mean a many number of things, and if they were in any way related to the recent void-scar, most of them would be complicated.

[I know what you're thinking. But it's not so bad as you think. It is along those lines, but, it's different this time. This time I wasn't the only hand in its creation, you should know what that means. Furthermore, the little entity's nature is vastly different from before. You'll know what I mean when you meet it.]

"You don't mean..." I subconsciously mutter.

[Yes. This time I need one of you two as its observer. I'd leave it to someone else if I was confident they could handle it, but the unique circumstances of this time won't allow for it. There's no real indication things will go wrong this time, but in the event that they do, one of you will need to be there.]

"My lord, I have just been called to serve my shift in the Golden Leaves, I was planning to head there just now, if I recall, S-S-Sir Vastikast has just recently completed his term, I believe it best he handle this case," Peltimos says shamelessly. 

'I swear on the beards of this bastards mother I'm going to make him pay for this..'

"... My lord, leave it to me. I understand the situation. I will handle it well, besides, I wouldn't want to stop Peltimos from serving his first ever shift with the Golden Leaves, they've been calling him for cycles," I honestly say, obviously out of good intentions. The lord must be kept up to date of these matters after all, it's a big event that Peltimos is finally doing what he should have a thousand cycles ago, coincidentally now, right as the lord requests something of him...

[You two can't relax for even a moment, can you? I get it, Pelt, go to [Primus], do you really think I don't know your thoughts? You've never once served the Leaves. Go, that is your punishment. Vast, I'll leave it to you. I don't think this will go how you think. It should be... interesting this time.]

"Yes, my lord. I'll get started when it stabilizes. Do you know how long exactly I should wait? Should I take it to that place?" I ask, making sure not to miss a detail. It's not that this mission is hard, it's that it's extremely troublesome. There's no way of knowing how long it will last, and the chances of it going from peaceful to cataclysmic is pretty much guaranteed. 

[Yes. I've already decided for this to be Seraphis's punishment for last time, tell her what to do, and you can relax. As for the time... I'd say roughly 2000 years, give or take a few hundred. You've got a little while, so do as you will in preparation.]

"Understood, I'll get started immediately," I say as I leave the palace, flying back to my place to prepare.

'Seems it's time to go babysit a "voidling," no, wait, if there was another hand in its birth... that can only mean... Fuck. I guess it's a genuine Primordian this time. Damn, I'm so fucking unlucky. I'm seriously going to blow up that bastards house when I get back.'