Oblivion

Theta's Nulls always knew existence was a sick cosmic joke created by his race—he just didn't expect to wake up as the punchline.

Theta's Nulls was the last. The only one left. And in a creation where there were countless cataverses stretching forever in the void, he had been a force—a being whose very thoughts could twist the laws of existence, reshaping reality itself.

He had been the apex of his race, the most brilliant and brightest among them. There was nothing he couldn't alter, nothing he couldn't change. And yet he was still alone, not because he was, but because he chose to be. He had outlasted the others, burned brighter, thought faster, reached higher. Theos had devoured gods and made them tools. Nulls had mastered Theos, then outlived them all.

Now, he stood alone.

His feet barely touched the space beneath him, his vessel a silhouette against the dark sky of a creation that had forgotten what it meant to be real. Time and space, the very concepts he had once molded at will, were obsolete in this place. The ghost of his civilization echoed in the distance—a dead signal humming in a static void. They had perished, consumed not by weakness, but by arrogance. His arrogance. Their certainty that existence could be tamed.

"If only I'd engineered those two concepts to survive this crappy condition. But, no, here I am—stuck trying to make it work like some kind of failed experiment," he muttered, a dissapointed sigh escape his mouth, if it can be called one.

His thoughts, fragmented and elusive, swirled in the dark expanse like a broken machine that had lost its gears. "If only," he thought again, the weight of the possibility pressing down on him with the same suffocating force as the void itself. The concepts he'd once forged, brilliant in their inception, now seemed laughable.

The environment around him—chaotic, fractured, a realm where the laws of physics were more suggestion than rule—had eaten away at everything he thought he understood. It was a mockery of his genius, a cruel joke at the expense of his race's once-unquestioned mastery of reality. He could feel the cracks in his own mind, the subtle unraveling of ideas that had once seemed impervious, immutable.

"If only."

The thought gnawed at him, a constant companion in the endless solitude. "If only I'd seen this coming, if only I'd crafted those concepts with the kind of resilience to survive this place in creation. But no, here I am—just another victim of my own laziness." But the truth was: even his creations had their limits. And this place, this void, was beyond those limits.

There were no planets left to shape, no stars to sculpt. Not even a single whisper of life remained. Except them. Only the endless expanse of quiet nothingness, like a cosmic graveyard for all the echoes of what had been.

Nulls took a long drag from his cigarette, watching the glowing ember flicker in the silent void. The smoke swirled in patterns, not because there was wind—there was no wind here—but because the force of the nothingness itself refused to allow the smoke to vanish entirely. It hovered, thickened, became a drifting reminder of something real in a place where nothing had any claim to such an illusion.

He stared at the trail of smoke and spoke softly, more to himself than anything else. "What's the point of bending reality if there's no one left to impress, huh? No one to do anything for? Except, of course, them. But because they're midly entertaining."

He exhaled, the smoke curling around him in defiance of the cold emptiness. In this space, there was no 'up' or 'down.' There was no direction—only the weight of silence pressing on his chest, a crushing reminder of how far things had fallen.

"I don't need to be a god," Nulls continued, his voice hollow, almost amused. " Not anymore. What's the point? I could mold multiverses if I felt like it, twist timelines until they bleed into each other, create life—destroy it all with just a thought. But here I am. Alone. The last of my kind. The last member of Theos. And for what? To stare at the nothingness I helped create?"

He spat the cigarette out, watching it float lazily in the vacuum. It turned end over end, no gravity to guide its fall, and disappeared into the shadows of the void. His fingers, once so powerful, twitched in frustration at the endless quiet. It was the kind of silence that gnawed at him, a hollow noise that wasn't really silence at all, but something much worse. The absence of sound. The absence of anything at all.

Nulls turned his eyes towards his ship, floating silently in the distance, its sleek hull an eerie contrast against the backdrop of emptiness. The vessel was designed by his own hands, its construction bending the laws of space, time, and physics. It was the last remnant of a race that could bend and shape existence, now forgotten in the waste of what had once been a thriving cosmos.

"This ship?" Nulls muttered, almost to himself. "It can outlast creation itself. Burned it. Destroyed it. Over and over until it was barely a memory. And yet, here I am, talking to myself, with no one else around. Except… them."

He chuckled, though it was a bitter sound, a twist in his chest. The last of his kind—no gods, no sentient life to challenge him, no civilizations to raise or destroy. Except them. He could do whatever he wanted. Anything.

But what was the point?

"I could summon entire worlds," he said, his voice almost playful, though the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "I could breathe life into a thousand species, make 'em bow to me, build empires just for kicks. But who the hell am I supposed to rule? There's no one left. Not a single spark of intelligence. Just me, alone. Except… them."

A long silence followed, thick and suffocating. His fingers twitched again. He could feel the weight of eternity pressing on him, a constant reminder that he had no one to share it with. No one to talk to. No one to be with. Except them.

He raised his hand to his chest, feeling the pulse of his heart—if it could even be called that. What was left of it? The Celestis Theos were gone. The advanced civilizations that had thrived under his influence had all vanished, wiped from existence as if they had never been. And Nulls, who had once stood as the arbiter of creation itself, now stood as nothing more than a hollow shell.

I've always been the one in control," he mused, his voice quieter now. "I shaped existence like a damn sculptor with clay. I've made cataverses, worlds, lives—all from my own thoughts. I was the peak. The apex of what it meant to be. But... I guess that doesn't mean jack now." He paused, his gaze drifting to the empty space around him, the cold void stretching on without end. "Nothing matters anymore."

Nulls took another drag from his cigarette, watching the ember flare brighter this time, almost as if it were a defiant spark in the face of oblivion. "Maybe I was wrong," he said softly. "Maybe the joke is on me."

His voice echoed in the nothingness, hollow and distant. He didn't expect a response. No one ever did, anymore.

"I was the one who shaped existence," he continued, his words slowing down as though each one carried more weight. "The one who could rewrite reality itself with a single thought. I had all the power. All the control. But now, with nothing left but a void, what am I supposed to do with it? What's the point of being at the top if there's no one left to mock? Except them."

A faint bitterness slipped into his voice. "I don't even care anymore," he muttered. "I could remake this creation, wipe it clean, hell, turn it into something worthwhile—something I could actually stomach. But… why bother?"

His gaze shifted to the dark horizon, the edge of the void where nothingness met nothingness. "I guess that's the worst part of it all," he said, the corners of his mouth curving into a grim smile. "I can do anything. But there's nothing left to do it for."

Nulls exhaled, his breath a vapor that danced for a moment in the cold, empty air before disappearing. "What a joke. A god with nothing to control. A creator with no creation. A king without a kingdom."

His shoulders slumped, the weight of solitude pressing him down. He was the apex, the last of his race, but what did that mean when there was no one left to witness it? No one to marvel at his power, to challenge him, to push him beyond his limits?

Nothing.

Nulls looked up again, his gaze piercing through the infinite blackness. There were no cataverses. No multiverses. No photon. Just the infinite, oppressive quiet of a creation that had long since forgotten what it was to live.

"I guess I'll just have to make my own company," he whispered to no one, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips. "After all, I've been the last of everything for so long. What's one more solitary eternity?"

And then he remembered.

Them.

Theta's Null stood in the center of his void-chamber, the only sound in the emptiness the faint hum of his own thoughts. His eyes were fixed on a point that wasn't there—no universes, no multiverses no cataverses. Just the infinite blackness where time and space had long since grown irrelevant.

Null no longer needed chaos to amuse himself. What he desired now was precision A masterpiece of suffering so elegant that it unfolded unnoticed—until it was far too late.

The plan would not announce itself. No grand destruction. No fire from the skies. Just a pattern. A ripple. A whisper in the equations of the universe so faint that only one mind—only one—might detect it.

He embedded the seed across countless systems: climate algorithms, communication satellites, genetic drift patterns. Each thread carefully woven into the infrastructure of a world too distracted to see it.

And the pain he designed was not death. No, that was far too simple. Too merciful. It was suffering.

Systemic, escalating, inescapable pain.

Organs would begin to rebel—cells misfiring signals, the body interpreting water as acid, sound as static knives across the brain. Sleep would become impossible. Food would no longer nourish. Emotion itself would turn sour, chemically. Fear would become constant, hardcoded. Every mind, every body, slowly degrading to corpses in perfect synchrony.

But no one would see it coming. There would be no warning. No proof.

And yet… one person, somewhere on Earth, would feel the change in the math. Would see the subtle wrongness in the fabric of things. Would recognize the fingerprints.

That was the game. He didn't want the world to fear him. He wanted her to. The world would go on, smiling, laughing, dancing. Until the day it didn't.

And when the agony finally began—when the screams filled the earth like song—only she would understand why. Only she would know his name. Only she would be given the chance to stop it.

And if she failed—when she failed—Null would watch the world fall apart in complete silence and agony that not even the gods can imagine, then after it all was said and done will he be satisfied.

Nulls mind flooded with excitement, a twisted and terrible one. He already calculated every single timeline that could possibly branching from the momment this plan was made, and in every one of them Nulls pnly saw one thing only.

The destruction and the suffering of billions of soul, screaming scratching concrete until their nails and fingers broke, gauging each other eyes and called it mercy. It was horrifying sight, enough to make even the celestial blood curdle out of fear.

His hands spontaneously glitching, it was as if reality itself was ejecting Nulls out of its scope. It was the punishment of his higher up in the last eons of creation for betraying his own kind and made them extinct.

Nulls body fell weak to the ships floor, a loud thud was produce fron the collision between his body and the floor it echoes throught the ship gigantic interior.

"Fucking hell," he punched the ship floor causing a dent to form, it sent tiny debris flying from the impact. "That bastard..... No all of that bastard will fucking pay," he gritted his teeth, his eyes began fading to red colored as his teeth crack under the sheer pressure.

"Once i can bypass their time barrier to that specific time i will kill them without mercy," he muttered as he promptly gasped for matter.

"I will latch them to a biological body then skin them and make them conscious while doing it. I will also increase the pain receptor so that even the slightest movement will feel like a centuries of BDSM session." His voice was loud, even louder than any supernova.

He get up from the floor with blood dripping from his mouth and eyes. "They will regret that they throw me away like trash, even after all of the things i invented for them."

A memory of Nulls giving one of his invention, the spatial anchor to the higher up flash in his minds. "I will bypass your restriction even if it costed me my sanity or existence."

After some time Nulls finally regained his composure, Nulls breathed slowly. An attempt to stabilized himself. "Even after the destruction of them, i still want to see them died in my hand." His voice now calm and collected.

He sigh and look to his outfit. "Im a total mess ughhh... Blood in here and there," he inspect his outfit further only to find more blood, his eyes full of disgust and rage. "Im starting to regret having my conciousness transported into a biological body," He sigh, clearly dissapointed. "Maybe after i fucked with that earth scientist i will latch my conciousness to my original body again."

A block of aether materiam spontaneously appear before him, it closely ressemble that of a digital theme block. "Finally!!!!." He excalimed as he cross his hands together and starts to type with his minds.

The note reads. 'Things i SHOULD not ever forget to get myself throught my stupid challenge of strapping myself into a biological body, that i created in the first place to be my sex doll but i've decide to latch onto because i cant do nothing and there is no one around.'

"Alright now lets write number five hundred eleven million six hundred twenty-one thousand nine hundred twenty-six." The block scrolled far and quick to the designated number, passing every mistake that Nulls thought was possible with a biological body.

"Never-ever-ever punch your fucking, ship made out of void reflux, with your bare hand because meat is softer than the material that can switch of the creation." The block spontaneously combust mot in flame but something resembling it.

Nulls stretch his body and let out a soft little moan. "Alright so ship you know the drill." The ship promptly disintegrate Nulls body then swiftly attaching his conciousness to his new body that has cleaner look.

The new body skin was eeriely pale with a mouth that can conjure a smile that isnt propotional to the rest of the body, and a rows and rows of teeth that can devoured even the hardest of material. His hair is strangely pink even though he didnt remember add the color pink to the ship cinciousness relocation system.

The long white mix with black overcoat that stretch to below his knee was equip with every weapon conceivable or not. The crimson burgundy long-sleeved t-shirt underneath that was also coated with nanonites capable of conjured an eathereal shield that can tanked even the explosion that can tear the creation.

The dark colored pants have 2 pocket with 4 tinier one, each pocket is a bottomless dimensional pocket dimension that can store anything, one pocket was imbued with an AOI that can materialized the right object for the right momment.

The shoes can be use to launch even the heaviest of creature into the next spatial dimension, when activated it was an unstopable force but when deactivated it was still capable to tear throught a planet mantle.

The tie when activated can become as hard as a hyper-cube capable to slashing worlds stack upon another on all layers of dimensionality and physicalistic.

The collar that wrap around his neck was made for aesthetic and it holds no firepower whatsoever, the only good it bring to Nulls is that, he think it look good.

The neklace holding a small structure the size of Nulls thumb finger is a fourth dimensional structure commonly called tesseract, it can enlarged and swallow any inferior dimensional being it contact with, even if the said being is infinetly powerfull, what threat does infinetly powerfull flat warior in the second dimension possess to a fetus in the third dimension?

It wasnt just an outfit it was a whole fortress compressed into a concept which is called an outfit, every component of the outfit is an arsenal of their own, capable of decimating even the gods or demons.

"Aha. I see have outdone yourself ship," He inspect his new outfit and body like it was a gift from heaven, his eyes dazzling with a light of a thousand big-bang. "Only one problem thought ship," there was a slight pause.

"actually there's two, first is why the fuck im short and the second is why the fuck my body is soo fucking feminine? Im suppose to be a guy. I set you so that everytime i change body im a guy but what the fuck is this?" His voice feminine and cute, it was the voice that was to be expected when talking to a little children.

Then a different voice replied to him, a cold mettalic and just as twisted and mentally broken as he is.

"Awww~ look at you so tiny and cute, if it wasnt for my program that was attach to this ship i might explode from cuteness."

It was mortis, Nulls ai assistant that he build to torture himself. But to add the spice a little more he decide to make it the ai of the ship entire system, everything that the ai wants the ship to do, the ship will obey.

"If not for your usefullness i will torture you fron the beginning you were created," he grunted a little, he was just an atom away to gritted his teeth again but he stop at the last second because he doesnt want to undergo the conciousness relocation again.

"You are only usefull because it will be a mild inconvenience for me to plunge myself into the void between the cataverse." Nulls uttered, clearly annoyed by mortis comment.

"Oh look at you mad in your tiny little body, here here let me calmed you down." With a robotic hands that resemble that of a real biological hands, mortis patted Nulls head.

"Enough of this mortis," he raised his voice, once again it echoes throught the ship. "If you lay one more hand on me you will be toetured with everything i has in my arsenal and since i was practically invented everything there is that mean there an incalculable way of me to torture you for eternity."

He hardened his gaze filled with murderous intent. There wqsnt any single thought behind those 2 crimson eyes od his.

"Yes sir." Mortis replied, his robotic hand made a salute gesture infront of Nulls, not out of respect love or anything that resemble friendship or a healthy relationship but out of instinct and terror.

"Good," his hand wave at the air then a device that resemble a hologram spontaneously materialized infront of him, it was made out of hardened photon allowing the user to grab it without phasing.

In the device there was a tall woman with pale skin, beige mix with black color hair, and a blue eyes.

"Now thats my target," he made a wide grin revealing thousand of teeths behind those little mouth of his. Nulls mind goes wild with the thought of someone to play with. Someone that can be tortured and was not machine or ai's, a real biological being.

Nulls head turn to mortis. "Mortis you know this woman name? I mean come one i didnt gave you those scanners for nothing." Mortis who is visibly distress and scared finally gather enough courage to speak.

"I believe it was Sinclair sir." Mortis voice was full of fear even when he turn off his emotion module it was still feel real.

Nulls materialized a cigarette in his left arm. he took a puff from the cigarette then bend his wrist which grabbing his waist with the other arm and rest his left arm in that hand.

"Sinclair huh? What a lovely name." His grin dissapear for a moment, then he recalled the time when he annihilated his whole species with that bomb. The creature that help him was named sinclair too, at least he called her that.

"It brings me to the olden days." A single tear runs down his cheeks. "But its not a time for love or nostalgia its time for genocide and torture." Nulls cough a little from the smoke he inhale.

Mortis dispatch the air filtration system making the smoke less visible but by only a little bit. "Geez whats that cigar made out of? Dark matter?"

"Close but no," He cough again this time a little bit more intense than before. "Enough talking now lets make a plan on how do we fuck sinclair life so much so that she will suicide."

"That fucked up dont you think?" Mortis replied, the air that sourrounds them finally began to clear as the smoke that Nulls created was finally one hundred percent filtered.

"No. not at all."