The Writer & The Painter

It has been six days since I was reincarnated into this vessel. I had grown past my relationship with the bedroom ceiling and transcended to a different realm, Eckhard thought while joyfully sucking the pacifier in his mouth.

This is the most magical thing I have ever laid my hand on in this world so far (not that I have seen much). It gives this vessel an uncountable amount of pleasure. Surely it doesn't taste of anything, but doing it feels very natural. I can't wait to see the genius mortal who created this; he must be a really powerful entity.

The castle has accepted many visitors since the day of the ceremony. Each time, the maids would come into his room, putting more boxes of gifts he was given by the nobles who visited. Clearly, they were still trying to get on the prince's good side.

In addition to that, Eckhard still has not learned much about the mortal world. He could not even understand how the people here wield power, not even his work here. Nonetheless, such things don't bother him; after all, what is a moment without power to a being that exists as long as himself?

If I remember, supposedly today is my outing with the empress. This could be my chance! Maybe she will show me around the palace more. Any chance to get information is gold in times like this, he thought.

It was rather peaceful inside the prince's bedchamber. With the maids' absence in the room, he'd have a peaceful time alone with himself. Moreover, the weather outside was sunny too; the light reached into his room, shining the room with a yellow glow, and the birds sang beautifully outside the castle.

Then a sound came from the door.

"Kreak." The door was opened.

It was the empress entering the room. Her clothes were rather simple, just a plain white shirt, yet on her head were glasses. Perhaps the empress had used the time before going to Eckhard's room to finish some imperial business.

"Good morning, my prince! Are you ready to go out with your mother today?" she asked whilst smiling.

I was to stay silent, but this woman is clearly looking for a reaction from me. I think perhaps it'd be best for me to show her some of my pity, poor mother, Eckhard thought while smiling, using his baby face to form a cheeky grin.

"Oho, I was right! Then let us go! The first stop is the garden!" she said whilst raising the prince out of his crib.

The garden was vast. In the middle of the garden stood a beautiful fountain surrounded by purple flowers. As the empress walked by whilst holding Eckhard in her embrace, little Butterflies flew around her before landing on top of Eckhard's head; such serenity was blissful. The empress, upon seeing it, brushed away the butterflies gently with her hand as she continued walking toward the little dome that stood just a couple of feet away from the fountain. Below the little dome was a round table made of wood, etched with a floral motif. Perhaps it was a resting place for those who tread inside the imperial garden.

And thus the empress reached the table and sat herself, still holding Eckhard in her embrace.

"Quite a beautiful scenery, is it not, my little one?" she spoke, looking at her son in a loving manner.

Indeed, it was beautiful. Such scenery was something that could not exist in the dimension whence I came from. And yet, the garden and that place shared one thing of the same: that is the silence and serenity in them. But in the dimension, the silence was boring and dull, whilst here I feel unbothered by such silence; indeed, it was the environment that made me feel this way, Eckhard thought whilst returning the gesture from his mother.

"It was not always like this though; such serenity was only attainable inside the imperial castle," the empress added.

What does she mean by that? Eckhard wondered, trying his best to make this vessel's face show some curiosity.

And thus the empress spoke of the tales... a tale of the beginning...

Once, before all that was and would ever be, the world did not exist. Instead, it was a pure white canvas, an endless nothingness. But then, a voice broke the stillness—a Being, a Heart that spoke, its words echoing through the void. This was the "Writer." The Writer was a lonely existence, craving something to behold. Thus, he made them, the first beings: "The Angels." The Angels represented all the Writer hoped this world would be—his dreams, his hopes, his very light. Yet, as the Writer willed positive things, so too did he will negative, for in every light, a shadow must inevitably follow. The second beings were Demons. At first, both Angels and Demons were loyal to the Writer's script; they adored him as he adored them.

But things changed. In between positive and negative, a third existence had to emerge—beings who represented both light and dark, creatures of true neutrality. This was the third creation: Humans. The Writer took pity upon humans, whom both Demons and Angels failed to comprehend, and alongside them, he created five more beings:

The Fairies

The Elves

The Beastmen

The Deepsea Folk

The Dwarves

For a while, things had been relatively peaceful…

Until one day, another being came to the Writer's world; it was the "Painter." He sought to give the Writer's creations form, and so he did. Yet the Painter had his own satisfactions to fulfill; he craved for something beyond the peace the Writer had established. So, using the forms he had given them, he also bestowed upon them the feeling: Envy, Wrath, Greed, Pride, and Despair. This resulted in both the Demons and the Angels warring against one another, for the Demons had been thoroughly corrupted by the Painter. The Demons, using the power granted by the Painter, created another being called "Chromas"—monsters filled with nothing but the desire to consume all.

And thus the world filled with them; the world plunged into fire and destruction.

The Writer returned to his world, now laid in ruin. He would not stand seeing them suffer, so he committed the final act of love. Using every fiber of his being, he split himself into countless pieces, scattering them across the world. The world thus became imbued with his essence. The beings made by the Writer, in turn, one by one, gained the power to wield these fragments.

Thus, with the strongest of them leading the way, they fought against the Chromas who had infected their world. With the help of the Angels, the war was won, and the Demons were damned into every corner of the world, hiding, biding their time to return.

…