Act VI: Obsidian Genesis II

Sitting on a throne so dark it seemed to devour the light of the nothingness, forged by the power of Nihil, he gazed upon his creation, feeling that something was still missing. The throne, a testament to his dominion, remained incomplete, as if some crucial element was absent from his grand vision.

His crimson eyes, as deep as the darkest abyss, were slightly narrowed but lost none of their sharpness. That gaze, though directed at his creation, was entirely detached from the present moment. His thoughts were distant, wandering through the vast expanse of nothingness, where neither time nor space exists, even as his body remained motionless in silence.

Lost in the labyrinth of his mind, Nihil sat in a meditative posture, leaning back against the throne's towering backrest. His body was still, yet his mind swirled relentlessly, trying to solve the elusive puzzle. His aura, imbued with supreme majesty and authority, was palpable. Though his cultivation appeared stagnant, his inner presence grew ever stronger—unconsciously, effortlessly.

With each passing moment, his presence became more overwhelming, more suffocating. Any being, even one eleven cultivation levels higher than him, would feel crushed under the weight of his aura. The majesty that had once lingered in the shadows now began to radiate outward, spilling into the surrounding white expanse.

Still lost in thought, Nihil pondered the void he felt—a gap in his creation that he had not been able to fill. For six years, he had wrestled with this question. Six long years spent seeking a solution to this seemingly minor yet profoundly vexing problem. Time flowed around him in an unfathomable way: at once fleeting as a snap of the fingers and eternal as the stars themselves.

Six years of stagnation in cultivation and position had not dulled his thoughts, which ceaselessly revolved around the same inquiry: "What is missing?" He repeated the question like an incantation, echoing endlessly in his mind. His razor-sharp eyes, though fixed on his creation, were not truly focused on it. He sensed that something crucial eluded him, something vital.

Suddenly, as if a spark ignited in the abyss of his eyes, understanding dawned. Though his body remained still on the throne, his hands moved subtly, as if guided by an invisible force. Nihil's mind, trapped in deep contemplation for six years, snapped back to reality. His wandering gaze locked onto his creation, scrutinizing it with newfound clarity.

"It lacks majesty," he finally whispered, the words slow and deliberate, as though they held the weight of revelation. He raised his hand before him, channeling energy from his core into his palm.

From his hand erupted a flame of energy—dark, nearly black, opposing the stark white nothingness surrounding him. The flame exuded a strange, ominous light that seemed to consume the space around it. Nihil's gaze fixated on the flame, feeling the immense power it radiated. His eyes glimmered with a spark of comprehension as he glanced back at his creation.

The creation before him seemed incomplete, imperfect, riddled with flaws as though missing some essential component. His gaze shifted between the flame in his hand and the construct before him, as though the two were inexplicably connected. For a fleeting moment, it appeared as though he understood what must be done.

With deliberate grace, Nihil moved his other hand forward, its motion slow and deliberate, as though manifesting his thoughts into reality. When his hand was fully extended, he lowered it slightly, speaking in a voice devoid of tone or emotion:

"I must erase it."

The words hung in the endless nothingness, weightless yet profound. As his hand moved downward, an unexpected event unfolded. Everything he had created outside of the throne began to dissolve into the void. His creation, though powerful, was imperfect, and now it had to be erased so something new could take its place.

As the previous construct vanished, he stared into the emptiness, still seated on his throne with the dark flame of energy burning in his hand. This time, however, he no longer felt the same void that his earlier creation had left within him.

Gazing into the flame, Nihil began to contemplate the nature of a creation that would leave no sense of lack. "Hmmmm…" he murmured, bringing the hand he had used to erase the construct to his face, holding his chin thoughtfully as he studied the wild, flickering flame in his other hand.

After a moment of deep thought, he turned the hand holding the flame downward—not toward any direction, for there were none in the nothingness, but relative to himself. As he did so, the flame began to pour downward, spilling beneath the throne and slowly forming a surface upon which one might stand.

The dark energy spread, flowing through the white expanse and solidifying into a tangible platform. The once-abstract flame transformed into a sturdy structure, floating amidst the infinite whiteness of the expanse. Nihil observed the slow but precise progress of the energy forming the platform. He moved deliberately, for he wanted ample time to reflect on what he would create next.

The solid form of black energy spread outward, shaping itself into a circular platform with a diameter of one hundred meters. Nihil, observing this, allowed himself a faint nod of approval as the platform expanded to its desired size. With that complete, he prepared for the next step.

He rotated his hand holding the flame back to its original position and summoned another flame into existence by drawing more energy into his palm. At the same time, he continued to channel energy to sustain the platform's growth, ensuring it reached the precise dimensions he envisioned.

Staring intently at the new flame, yet keeping an eye on the platform, Nihil began to mold the energy into a pillar—a majestic and ancient column of extraordinary craftsmanship. Slowly, its height reached three meters, though his intent was to extend it to ten. As he shaped the pillar, his attention flickered briefly back to the platform, sensing its completion. He ceased supplying energy to it and returned his full focus to the pillar.

In time, the pillar was completed. Anyone who gazed upon it would feel overwhelmed by its sheer grandeur and timelessness. But Nihil, looking upon his creation, felt only a faint sense of pride."Good," he murmured softly, a faint smile curving his lips.

He guided the newly formed pillar toward the edge of the platform, moving it with deliberate care. As the pillar slowly settled into place, Nihil once again summoned his energy to duplicate it, creating four identical columns.

Carefully, he positioned each pillar, two on opposite edges of the platform and the remaining three forming a triad at one end, framing the space where his throne would sit. Ensuring their symmetry and balance, Nihil then shifted the throne itself, along with his seated form, to rest before the three columns.

Satisfied, he observed his work with growing pride. Yet he was far from finished. Raising his hand once more, he channeled his energy with precision. From the black platform of solid energy, additional forms began to rise—more pillars, emerging one by one. These new creations formed a ring around the platform's center, spaced roughly five meters from it. In total, eight pillars encircled the core.

In the center of the platform, Nihil began to hollow out a space. From this nothingness rose a massive cube of energy, spinning at such speed that it appeared almost spherical. The cube's rapid rotation drew energy from the surrounding expanse, absorbing it in far greater quantities than before.

Sitting on his throne, Nihil watched the scene unfold, his visage and presence growing ever more imposing. Unbeknownst to him, his majesty expanded further with each passing moment. His smile widened, his pride swelled, and his crimson eyes began to burn with an inner flame that mirrored his passion for creation. This time, his work felt nearly perfect—leaving him on the brink of true contentment.