(Third Person POV: ?)
Dark, darker, yet even darker. A vast expanse of endless darkness, like a starless void. Impossible shapes hovering all around, mid collapse of themselves. And yet, in this seamless endless darkness, laid large, bright glowing dots that were made up of thousands upon thousands of colours, shifting, yet everlasting.
Each dot representative of the endless possibilities within them.
These dots, countless as the stars of any distant galaxy, formed the only semblance of order in the madness. They connected with lines that wove between them in elaborate patterns, resembling paths, though no traveller could ever walk them. They reached out to each other, just on the edge of being something, and yet... they never quite touched.
Far beyond this, just beyond the edge of perception, something began to rise—an impossibility within the impossibility. A shape. A structure.
A structure that could not exist, and yet did.
It loomed in the distance, a shifting, vast silhouette—a thing so strange, so unfathomable that even the eyes that dared look upon it would instantly lose themselves. It was as if reality itself had been twisted, bent, and folded upon itself to give birth to this monstrous, yet magnificent form. The edges of its being were not fixed, not even in time. It flickered, bending inward, stretching out like the roots of some massive, otherworldly tree. Spires reached up into the abyss, not just against the laws of gravity, but against logic itself. Their angles never the same, shifting as though they were in constant flux, and yet they stood firm, ever-present.
The structure felt... alive. But not in any conventional sense. It felt like a thing born from the depths of thought, constructed from the very essence of unformed ideas and forgotten truths.
The floating causeways, like broken bridges made of memories, stretched between the massive, twisting columns. They seemed to fade into the distance, only to snap back like they were tethered to some unknowable, incomprehensible centre. Each step upon them was a journey into the unknown, a venture into spaces that could not be named, where nothing was stable, and everything was fragile.
Above, the sky churned with forms that defied understanding—glowing orbs, larger than any moon, floated in their erratic orbits. They swirled in colours that never seemed to belong in any specific spectrum—blues that bled into purples, reds that bled into greens. They shimmered, their surfaces alive with cracks and pulses, as though each held a universe within it. And somewhere, in the distant vastness of the Orbs, a faint wail reverberated—silent and endless. A sound too distant for comprehension, but one that dripped with a sense of foreboding.
As one ventured further into this space, the air itself seemed to change. The oppressive weight of the infinite void gave way to something far worse: a thick, suffocating presence—like being drawn into the very centre of the unknown, where no rules, no laws, no truths could protect the wanderer.
It was not just darkness here—it was cosmic despair.
And yet, at its heart, at the centre of this dreadful place, there was a presence.
The chamber stood like an altar, a place untouched by time, untouched by existence. It was massive—vast beyond anything the mind could grasp. Columns rose from the ground like petrified trees, each one carved from forgotten deities—deities that had once been, perhaps, more than what they were now. Their faces, twisted in agony, lined the walls, their forms slowly breaking down into entropy, as if even gods could not escape the ravages of time.
The ceiling? It was not a ceiling at all—it was the very fabric of reality itself, distorted and stretching, humming with the soft echoes of old decisions, long-decayed histories.
And beneath it all lay a table.
The table, at its centre, was the only structure solid in this ever-changing place. It stretched wide, as though it could hold worlds, though it seemed almost... too simple for this place. A table of jet-black stone, smooth and unyielding, but with faint carvings upon its surface—glyphs that once held meaning, now lost to the ages. The very air around it was thick with a quiet energy, like the pulse of something ancient, something that had once been, and something that might rise again.
At the edges of this table, seated in thrones that mirrored their presence—each throne formed from fragments of broken timelines, each seat like an imprint of their selves—sat those who had shaped this reality into being.
And yet out of 15000 chairs, only 5 people had been sat.
Yet, they were speaking, as if the other 14995 people weren't around.
"Are you sure, my love?" came the voice—calm, yet betraying the tension in the subtle shifts of her posture.
"I am certain." The other replied, his expression controlled, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.
All five of them were uneasy, their fear palpable in the charged atmosphere.
"This is bad," echoed the voice of the woman beside the other, her grip tightening on her partner's hand. Both wore rings, symbols of their bond.
"Where was the 'Gamer' detected?" the man asked, casually holding a few snacks, though his attention was clearly elsewhere, his demeanour too detached for comfort.
"Near the RWBY multiverse," came the reply.
"That's so far away from where we are," the quiet voice spoke up, the one who had been content in silence, still holding her partner's hand, their connection unbroken.
"That's why I propose we send a pawn. One of our stronger ones. CPU Void Heart."
"You want to send our Goddess to that world?" The question came, sharp, disbelieving.
It was known that for any Reincarnator to ascend to godhood, they would need to be trained in Energies of the divine, or possess the Gamer System. Both of which are incredibly rare. Of the five, only one could be considered even close to divine power, and even that was tenuous at best.
"She's worthless," another voice chimed in, dismissive. "She's a Hyperdimension Goddess. The CPU Memories aren't exactly common. That Gamer we destroyed five years ago made sure of that. And they were already rare."
Each of them remembered that battle clearly—the girl they killed, empowered by her HDD form, had been a true threat. But now, with a new system holder to deal with, they would do the same again.
"I agree with Voidy!" A cheerful voice cut through the tension, belonging to a girl in a maid outfit, bunny ears twitching as she entered with tea and snacks for her masters and mistresses.
She was immediately slapped.
"Reisen, I told you to not speak out of turn," Voidy reprimanded her, his voice firm but not unkind.
"S-sorry," Reisen mumbled, her ears drooping slightly.
Her spirits were lifted as the one known as Inverti spoke, her tone a soft praise, "You've done exceptionally well with the tea today, Reisen."
Reisen's face brightened at the compliment, her ears flicking up in joy. "Ah, thank you, Inverti!"
The room's atmosphere shifted again, as the bickering momentarily calmed. The unease between the five lingered in the air like a suffocating fog.
One of them leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "We can't afford another failure. What happened last time... it's still fresh." The words hung heavy, laden with meaning.
Another voice, deep and grave, spoke out. "The Gamer was an anomaly—an impossible one. And now this new system-holder could be just as dangerous. We must act quickly. But we cannot rush without preparing properly."
The silence that followed Reisen's cheerful interruption hung heavy. The tension in the room was palpable—thick like the air before a storm, pressing down on everyone present. None of them spoke immediately, their thoughts swirling with possibilities, fears, and calculated responses.
"We cannot afford them to grow, like that one time," the one known only by his title muttered, voice low but firm. His fingers clenched around the snack in his hand, squeezing it into crumbs before discarding it, like it was nothing.
"I agree," said the one beside him, her tone barely above a whisper, but laced with conviction. She had remained quiet for most of the conversation, but now, her voice carried a weight that made others look at her. "Last time, we let a Gamer grow, we almost lost everything."
The tension in the room was thick, like the air before a storm. No one dared to speak immediately. Each of the five sitting at the table could feel the weight of what was at stake, an uncertainty that gnawed at their minds like a deep, slow burn.
The one known as Voidy—his posture rigid, his aura almost oppressive—leaned back slightly in his throne, his gaze faraway. "We can't repeat the same mistakes," he said, his voice colder than ice. "We cannot afford to let this new threat grow unchecked."
Yet, from the depths of the silent corners of that cursed chamber, one voice—barely more than a whisper—reminded them all, "We have no other choice. We must act swiftly. The slightest hesitation, and we invite ruin into our realm." A concentrated gravity settled over the table, each member of this unholy conclave absorbing the fatal gravity of their decision.
Finally, the one known only by the weight of his authority shifted in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he finally broke the oppressive silence. "Then it is decided. We dispatch CPU Void Heart." His words were a decree that echoed off the ancient columns, reverberating in the corridors of shattered time. Every face in the chamber reflected a mixture of grim acceptance and deep, unyielding anxiety.
Another voice, smooth but laced with bitter finality, remarked, "Our move must not be delayed. For fuck's sake—we know too well what happens when we allow an undefined Gamer to grow unchecked. Our legacies, our realms... all hang in the balance."
The room fell into a charged hush once more, each mind racing with possibilities and silent prayers. The decision had been made: they were sending their strongest, the most unyielding force among them, to confront this threat head-on. The new anomaly would be met not with diplomacy but with the full, unrelenting might of those who ruled over collapsed realities and shattered timelines.
And as the conversation drew to a close, the eldritch light of the chamber shifted, drawing forth the portraits that had until now remained hidden, their secrets sealed until this decisive moment. Slowly, one by one, the visages materialized in brilliant relief against the tumultuous backdrop—each a testament to the fearsome power they embodied. Only their titles were displayed, a stark reminder of the roles they played in this cosmic game:
THE ECHO-EATER!
THE ARCHITECT OF REGRET!
THE QUEEN OF INVERTED CAUSE!
THE VOIDBORNE KING!
THE CHRONOVORE ASCENDANT!
*So, small A/N here. I decided that when Kaelith said Reincarnators, I'd actually include Evil Reincarnators, drew up a shit tonne of lore in a day for how this could work, and then realised that at least 2 should be from a world where magic existed, made new lore. This was the end result. Please tell me if you like the idea of this, or not. I won't care, cause it is here to stay, but I don't mind some opinions that say WHY they do not like it. I expect to see comments above the short phrases of "No", or "I just don't." Because, how does one improve, if they do not know what the others do not like about it?*