The Primordial Void was silent, as it always was, yet Lucien could feel the difference. One branch of the World Tree had stretched further than even his Abyssal Eyes could predict. It had broken through the veil of the primordial and begun weaving something entirely new.
The newborn void was no longer an empty vessel—it pulsed, subtle but alive. He stepped into it with neither hurry nor hesitation. Space bent willingly to his presence, not torn apart like before, but reshaped as though the void itself recognized its creator.
For a long moment, Lucien stood still. His white hair shimmered faintly against the darkness, and his gaze lingered on the scattered strands of light blooming in the distance. They weren't just stars—they were the first embers of universes, self-igniting.
"Life…" he murmured. His tone was not arrogant now, not casual—it was grounded. For the first time, he was not intruding upon an already written world. This was his own, taking its first breaths.
The Laws of the New Void
Unlike the Primordial Void, which carried the weight of all paradox and balance, this one felt curated. The laws were raw, still knitting themselves together, but Lucien could already see the shape of them:
The Law of Dual Harmony — opposing forces didn't clash here, they braided. Fire and water could coexist, light and darkness could merge to create new spectrums of power. The Law of Potential Manifestation — thought itself could spark into reality. If one believed enough, the void would listen, though imperfectly. The Law of Resonance — power was not solitary. Strength echoed between beings, magnifying collective will. A lone fighter could shake mountains, but a unified people might shift worlds.
Lucien smirked faintly. "So… unlike the Primordial Void, which thrives on absolutes, this branch chose cooperation. Interesting."
He walked forward, steps carrying him through the forming universes until he stood on a plane of land half-made—soil stitched together from cosmic dust, rivers trickling with starlight.
And there it was.
A being no taller than his chest, shaped vaguely like a human but with translucent skin through which threads of light pulsed like veins. Its eyes were pools of shifting color, reflecting every star being born in the sky. It tilted its head at Lucien, neither afraid nor reverent—simply curious.
"…You can understand me, can't you?" Lucien asked quietly.
The creature blinked once, and then its voice rang not in words but in resonance, carried by the law itself:
"Father."
Lucien's smirk faded into a rare silence. Not arrogance, not amusement—just stillness. For the first time in an eternity, he didn't know how to answer immediately.
"…So the void itself remembers who birthed it."
The New Powers
As the creature's resonance touched him, something stirred inside Lucien. New strands of authority, different from what the World Tree had already given him, unfurled:
Resonant Command — He could command not only beings but laws themselves, weaving them into harmony or disharmony at will. Potential Bloom — He could accelerate potential in others, pulling out strength they did not yet know they carried. Collective Will Shaping — In this void, if an army stood under him, their combined belief could forge miracles beyond their individual limits.
He flexed his hand, watching the threads of light coil around his fingers. "So this is the gift of creation, not just destruction. Balance to my absolutes."
The creature before him raised its hand as if to mimic him, and the stars above shimmered brighter in answer.
Lucien's lips curled again, but this time the smile was faint and almost tired. "You'll be the first… but not the last."
The void pulsed, not in hunger like The White, but in quiet anticipation.