The power of thousands of galaxies.
The energy of billions of stars.
A force that could rival even some greybloods.
All of it.
Condensed into a single object.
The light of the stars and galaxies surrounding him dimmed, their power consumed to fuel his creation.
The once vibrant cluster now in silence, the brilliance replaced by cold, empty shadows.
He held his creation in his hands. It was small, barely the size of a fist, yet it seemed to distort the very fabric of existence around it.
He was motionless in the dim glow of the orb, his silhouette barely visible by the faint remnants of starlight.
The silence he had forged was deep and profound. The only sound was the low, resonant hum of the orb.
Its surface shimmered, a hypnotic dance of shifting, radiant colors. A beauty so great it was almost painful to behold. And yet, beneath its stunning exterior lies a power so terrifying.
"It's perfect," he whispered.
The orb pulsed in response, almost as if it understood. Around him, the remnants of what had once been a thriving cluster floated in chaotic disarray, planets shattered into jagged debris, stars extinguished to cold, lifeless rocks, nebulae torn apart into formless shreds.
All of it.
Every single fragment.
Sacrificed for the birth of this.