Guardian and Lord of Creation

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In the endless darkness, a realm that defied the laws of nature and perception, where the concept of time lost its meaning, and the air hung heavy with an eerie, dream-like quality, a figure was seated on a throne that defied explanation. Crafted from a material that looked simultaneously like gray stone and flowing gray liquid, the throne existed in a state of paradox, appearing both solid and not, yet the entity perched upon it seemed perfectly at ease, as if the seat was made specifically for it. This cloaked figure, shrouded in mystery, soon opened its eyes—eyes as unsettling as the void itself, having witnessed epochs unfold and civilizations fall into the annals of oblivion.

The eyes that had seen so much were now locked on a space in front of him. From the shadows, a silhouette materialized, its form barely distinguishable against the backdrop of eternal twilight. This presence, however undefined, stood unflinchingly under the gaze that had driven legions to madness, its posture betraying a confidence or perhaps a folly that was rare in this forsaken realm.

"Mr. Guardian, what an honor," the cloaked figure intoned, its voice weaving through the air like a melody composed of whispers and sighs, soft yet laced with an undercurrent of menace that could chill the bones of the bravest souls.

The newcomer, barely more than a shade against the darkness, replied with a voice that held no tremor, no hint of fear. "Honor is mine, Lord of Creation. I am but a servant," there was a pause, a moment where the heavy air seemed to thicken with anticipation, "albeit one who occasionally finds the incessant adulation a tad overbearing. Would it kill you to tone down the theatrics?"

The Lord of Creation, a title that carried the weight of eons, the birth and death of countless realms, regarded the newcomer with an expression that could have been amusement or perhaps something far darker. "Your audacity remains untempered, I see. What brings you before my throne?"

The newcomer's blue eyes shone with a cold light as he retorted, "Your champion is edging too close for comfort. I'd prefer if he'd refrain from getting into my domain—or my Master's. It's not like we're rolling out the welcome mat for him."

The entity on the throne let out a silent laugh, a sound that felt like the whispering of leaves in an ancient, forgotten forest. "Your allegiance shifts like the sands, Guardian. Have you sworn fealty to a new lord already?"

The shadows around the newcomer seemed to bristle, his eyes flashing with a semblance of rage. "Lord of Creation, need I remind you that it was your oversight that allowed your champion to steal what rightfully belonged to us, to forge that abominable artifact which has significantly weakened us? I sincerely hope he has no further 'brilliant' ideas up his sleeve. Or is hoarding troubles your newest hobby?"

The amusement on the entity's face grew, an unsettling sight that could unnerve the steadiest of hearts. "Ah, Guardian, if you cannot even safeguard the nexus, then what use do you serve?" The tone was light, almost mocking, yet it carried an undercurrent of a challenge, a taunt that echoed through the boundless void.

The air between them crackled with tension, an unseen battle of wills playing out in the silence of the eternal twilight.

The entity then added, "I heard she too had found a champion a decade ago. Wonder if she will get along with your master." The newcomer snorted, "Interest in her champion? Please, I'd rather watch paint dry in a non-magical world. Far more thrilling."

"Right, you always hated abstract arts," the Lord of Creation mused, a smile playing upon his lips that seemed both benevolent and chilling at the same time. "Wasn't it you and your lord who stole the artifact the three of us had developed? My champion merely collected some... overdue interest."

The newcomer's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, reflecting a storm of emotions that could be sensed even in the formless void. "The artifact was, from the beginning, my Lord's brainchild. You merely played a part in its creation, a detail which seems to inflate in your memory. How... quaint," he replied, his voice was as biting as it was cold.

The Lord of Creation laughed, a sound that carried both warmth and a chilling depth. "Since your master is absent from this delightful gathering, I find myself under no obligation to justify my actions. And as for my champion, rest assured, he acts of his own volition. It has been over a millennium since we last spoke; I neither guide his hand nor concern myself with his affairs. His acts of...let's call them 'liberating artifacts'...are his own doing."

The newcomer turned as his form started to get blurry, "Then what happens next will also not bother you. Just a forewarning, although it is more of her specialty than mine, if he has any more ideas, I won't mind sending him to you. One way or the other. After all, I'm sure you miss your delightful little chats."

The Lord of Creation's expression remained unchanged, a visage of eternal indifference that could drive the most patient beings to despair. "Threats, Guardian? Or should I consider that a promise? I do hope for the latter; it has been quite uneventful lately."

With a disdainful snort, the shade replied, "Uneventful for you perhaps. The rest of us would appreciate a bit of monotony. Not all of us revel in chaos like it's some form of high art."

The entity leaned forward slightly, the action alone causing the air around to tremble with the power held in check. "Monotony is death, Guardian. You of all should know the value of... unexpected developments. They keep eternity bearable, if not outright enjoyable."

"And yet, here you are, practically inviting disaster by allowing your champion free rein. One would think you'd learn after the last... incident." The shade's tone was icy, each word dripping with a venom that spoke of deep-seated grievances long held.

The Lord of Creation's laugh echoed once more, a sound that seemed to fill the void with a light that was quickly swallowed by the surrounding darkness. "Disaster, incident, chaos... merely different names for change, Guardian. And change, as you well know, is the only constant in this universe. Besides, my champion is resourceful. He will find his way, with or without my intervention."

A moment of silence passed, heavy with words unspoken and warnings left unheeded. Then, with a finality that seemed to close the matter, the shade declared, "Very well, Lord of Creation. Keep your indifference. But remember, indifference today can lead to regret tomorrow. I take my leave now, before your penchant for dramatics infects me further."

With those last words, the figure faded entirely, leaving the Lord of Creation alone on his paradoxical throne, the echoes of their confrontation lingering in the air like the aftertaste of a potent brew.

As the void returned to its usual state of oppressive silence, the entity mused to itself, "Regret, hm? An intriguing concept." His gaze, ancient and fathomless, drifted to the horizon that existed beyond the bounds of reality, where the fabric of existence danced to the tunes of unseen forces. "Let us see then, which of us will harbor regrets in the end."

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