The distant-colored heavens of an ethereal and chaotic sky had become but a mere shadow of what they once were; still undeniably supernatural, yet no longer under the yoke of those four spawns of chaos.
The stars, like the eyes of unknowable gods, closed themselves with barely-contained disdain.
The whispers of primordial voices filled with nothing but raw anarchy were replaced by the rhythmic, ordered, and hypnotic hum of a machinery so vast it stretched like the heavens themselves strange and immense, just like the "machines" that operated it.
Thus, a new concept gained strength with every piece of machinery created, integrated, or born into that design which, in the eyes of mortals, was nothing less than Divine.
…
It has been some time since I last wrote in this log, finally with a little time in my hands. Many things had happened since I wrung information from those two greater demons.
Immediately after, the greatest project I had ever conceived was set into motion something that would set us apart from every other reality.
In the end, it would be nothing more than a machine sprawling across this pocket reality itself. For with the fall of the demons, reality had begun to function "normally" again, now spanning an area at least three times the size of Earth, oceans included.
The project had been largely successful but only in concealment. Virtually anything strong enough could pierce the barrier, and indeed some already had.
Only a handful of cultists belonging to a cephalopod god arrived, and I had to go through yet another round of tortures to extract information about the situation.
It turned out they had simply attempted to seize my dimension, because its "chaos" had vanished, and as any proper dark god would their master saw an opportunity to annex more territory for his cultists. Of course, this had happened before the barrier was erected.
It was maddening how I went from fighting a two-sided war to living in constant unrest, never knowing what new supernatural filth I would have to face just to defend this lump of rock and metal I could call a Factory.
Elsewhere, I had ceased production of homunculi since we were no longer at war. But naturally, I left the infrastructure intact in case I ever needed to resume it. This, of course, created a problem: so many homunculi with nothing to do but exist. I had expected this ever since the war against the demons began.
What I did not expect was for it all to end so soon. Believing I would be locked in an eternal war, I thought I had no need to worry about such matters. Fortunately or rather through foresight several of my minds had already discussed a plan of action to deal with this situation.
Not much would change in their current usage. The homunculi would continue to be trained as a war force, essentially soldiers in a time without active conflict. Meanwhile, I assigned them various tasks meant to stimulate their creative thought, pushing them toward becoming "aware" of themselves.
What kind of activities? Monumental gardening, sculpture, writing, the pursuit of knowledge, and so on. We had essentially become a strange parody of the Mechanicus and the space elves only without the hedonism and blind faith.
This was indeed bearing fruit, though not in the way I had hoped. Very few among the homunculi population showed even the faintest signs of something resembling consciousness which spoke volumes about whether such a thing was even necessary in the grand scheme.
On the brighter side, I had at last secured a somewhat stable supply of draconic energy for experimentation. Because of course, nothing ever simply falls from the sky to grant me more power.
Ah, clearly at this point I could proclaim myself a god of this small dimension or a low-scale transcendent being considering my achievements, despite being essentially a cockroach that could still be killed.
But really, what was the point? With whom would I boast? With Asherah? Or the hypothetical visitors who would almost certainly try to claim this place for themselves, or for their masters?
No, thank you. I had far more important things to do than declare myself a god merely to feed my ego.
Speaking of Asherah, I could only say her creation still amazed me. Beyond mere pride, the fact of having someone to converse with besides the girls was simply… comforting even if that someone was, in truth, a female clone of myself, created for the war.
"More tea, Fabricator?"
Holding a cup of bubbling, frothy tea, she spoke as we floated in a space where gravity worked in strange ways, along with everything that came with it.
What could I say? Some of my iterations had taken a liking to designing such impossible structures. Why not create a place where a fundamental law of the universe lost all meaning? It was one of the most entertaining things one could do when you practically understood how most of it worked.
"Of course, dear. But I would appreciate it if you called me by my name rather than my title."
I spoke in a casual tone, upside down from her perspective, raising the teacup which she quickly refilled, all the while responding to my diatribe.
"That will not be possible, my dear Fabricator. As much as we may resemble each other, I am still far too distant from you to consider myself your equal."
She spoke plainly, eyes closed, letting out a brief sigh. You see, this is what I adored about the homunculi: they were utterly honest about what they believed and said. Even though the concepts of lying and deceit existed within them, they still upheld Asherah's own words: If you want to express a point, simply make it.
And I agreed with it. What was the point of clouding your words? To keep the other from understanding you? Useless. Here, we favored efficiency even if, on my part, it was wrapped in crude poetry.