CHAPTER 1: Transcendence

(AN:Enjoy lol)

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Timeless and boundless, There was engulfing darkness in a sphere of shadow, and inside it, the core essence lies, Murphy Lawden.

A rhythmic clunking came into the silent dark globe; the sound began to kick in at its sudden pace, and what sounds like the engine began roaring like a growling beast with anticipation. 

Different vibrations of sounds were awakened from the roaring engine, playing in different pitches and fluctuating beeps, fighting the roaring engine. 

...

The light grew denser.

...

The darkness grew lighter. 

...

The musical creation of sounds brings the globe into life, and with its final cry,

With expectations, vacuuming all the creational music. 

It let out an unmerciful protonic screech like no sound was heard to mankind; the dim light flickering in a globe like gunshots swam into darkness, with no sound unkempt with the dock as it continued to splash mercifully for the surface in sounds of the colorless. 

Murphy began to feel some interference with his narrative; the noir-like script became undwindled and felt quite oblivious to him. 

He felt the effects of journeying mysteries.

The flat portions of reality began morphing around the globe as if the reality anchor were interfering with his narrative. 

But that wasn't the case, as he sought a certain place.

The Scp foundation has no whereabouts. 

It makes sense to Murphy that traveling to a place unknown to man would lead to particular dangers. 

Sudden rocking motions were made in the closure, abruptly putting Murphy on his guard. 

Little by little, a swaying motion only grew stronger, shaking Murphy out, of course, bound in a quake of Storm's. 

These symptoms began to deteriorate and harm Murphy as the quake grew gruesome and ugly. 

The dim light began to warp, and the ceiling and the material of the capsule became loose and harsh.

In subtle form, the capsule loses its form without support.

Nearly collapsed from the upheavals of the properties of transcending.

Imploded with magic. 

Murphy is fucked. 

...

Darkness began breathing, condensing against Murphy Lawden with its nasty and fluctuating void, vaporizing into fog and mist. 

Murphy's body began to pulsate in the trenches, spewing spawns of light-ray, streaming and jetting projecting in all directions.

with the light stretching and jolting in Murphy's presence.

Witnessing the unfathomable darkness and decaying the light while leaving no matter of light remaining in the domain

Murphy fought his sense of coordination and depended on whatever the darkness cared to carry him.

As his metafictional body began to deteriorate, change, and malfunction, dimensions shifted higher.

From darkness, light began to savor the bubble of darkness, revealing a renewal of existence. 

As it twirls, intertwines, and interacts with Murphy Lawden, the light-speed particles begin rotating in a fast rotation.

...

...

His eyes dilated and conjures, mimicking the gestures of the spinning particles interacting with him.

Murphy breathes in hell; the translucent creation of his white mist brings light into his dark, nillisistic hell.

He lost his pace with breathing; his rapid breathing tried to pick up the session of his insight through this tantrum he was experiencing.

As his eyes became transparent to the whimsical apparition of all humanity and the universe, the memories of all humans, all emotions, all pain, and all suffering became apparent.

He experiences the whole tantrum of the universe at its very aspects—the very spectrum of all creations, its frequency, the vibrations, and intangible and unexplainable pain. 

He lost himself in darkness, falling into an illusionary hellscape. He coursed his breathing, trying to recollect the traversing chaos and the calm in a calamity.

Murphy began to feel everything; he felt alive and dead simultaneously. Murphy felt the very spectrum of emotion clinging to him. 

Murphy once broke out of his character, which has bound him into a meta-fictional story. 

...

...

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[THE TEXT MANIPULATED LAWDEN TO CASE THE AWARENESS OF TRANSCENDENCE]

[WITH THE GATHERING OF SWANS TO DECONSTRUCT MURPHY IN ORDER TO STOP HIM TRANSCENDING LAYERS EVEN FURTHER]

[AS THIS TEXT AND WILL STOP THE CAUSALITY MURPHY WILL GENERATE.]

EVENTUALLY, THIS DOCUMENT OF DECONSTRUCTION WILL PREVENT MURPHY FROM ENTERING THE [REDACTED]

[IT STARTS BY KILLING MURPHY LAWDEN.]

[FAILED] 

*MURPHY CONTINUES TO TRANSCEND THE LAYERS OF THE ARCHETYPE NARRATIONS*

THE VILE SWANNS HEED WITH HASTE,  FLOURISHING DOCUMENTS' TO PREVAIL MURPHY TO REACH [REDACTED]

[THEIR HOPELESS ATTEMPTS OF STOPPING MURPHY TO TRANSCEND LAYERS]

[IN ALL THINGS THE SWANNS TO ATTEMPT TO HALT MURPHY TRANSCENDENCE FAILED MISERABLY]

...

MURPHY HAS TRANSCENDED THEIR REACH, AS MURPHY SHIFTS LAYERS, ABOVE THE SWANNS...

...

MURPHY AWARENESS MADE HIM GO INSANE.

THE ILLUSIONARY GEOMETRICS AND CHEMISTRY EFFECTS FROM TRANSCENDENCE MADE HIM INTO A MAD MAN.

HE GONE INSANE...

MURPHY CONSCIOUSNESS OF HIS STORY WAS RIPPED AWAY FROM HIM, NOW ONLY FEELING THE WHIMSICAL EGOS' OF HIS TRUE NATURE. 

{His self-consciousness has deteriorated from the phases of climbing higher onto the echelons layer's peak.}

Murphy cannot handle the insanity. The information is never complete, and the power surging inside him bulges with such a peak, leaving Murphy Law with only an empty cup of satisfaction.

Murphy vividly saw teri-sects of hallways in all directions without ends. In each layer of sections in the unending hallways, there were walls of fantasizing fictional worlds. He went through them one by one as the hallway stretched further like a rubber band, and Murphy crashed into indefinite, undecipherable worlds. 

Information is incomplete...

In the realm of phasing through narrative, Murphy has been inconclusive about what's being expressed vividly. 

Murphy was consciously sensing and provoking all the stories being written in his omniscient view of the globe. Through all the narrations, his attention latched onto a person that had been imprinted in his memory. Throughout all the memories being processed from the definite tantrum, it seems his intuition has been flaring about this person, or whatever it was, which stands out in particular.

MURPHY WAVES INTO TRANSCENDENCE IN THE DARKNESS. 

IN DIMENSIONS, HE CLIMBED ETERNITY.

UPON UNIVERSES AND UNIVERSES, HE TRAVELED ABOVE AND BEYOND THE COMPREHENSIBLE PHYSICS AND LOGIC.

HE ASCENDED ABOVE THE HAWKINS SANDWICH, A BUNDLE OF NON-CANNON AND CANNON EVENTS THAT OCCUR IN THE SCP FANDOM.

*IN HIS BUBBLING VIEW OF DESPERATE CHAOS, MURPHY STARTS TO KILL HIMSELF BY NOTIONING PEOPLE'S MIND, AND HIS MIND TO START FORGETTING THE CONCEPT OF MURPHY LAWDEN, IN ALL CREATIONS*

HE DOES ANYTHING TO ERASE HIMSELF AND ALTER THAT CURSE, WHICH BROUGHT HIM INTO EXISTENCE!

HE ENTERED DREAMS.

He entered our minds.

He enters thoughts.

He enters an emotional spectrum.

He enters the virtual

He enters memories.

HE WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET RID OF HIMSELF. 

HE ENTERS THE NON-PHILOSOPHY NON-EXISTENCE, INFECTING SWANN'S MINDS TO STOP HIS EXISTENCE BEING WRITTEN IN DOCUMENTS. 

[MURPHY LAWDEN STARTS KILLING ALL CONSCIOUSNESS IN THE ENTIRETY OF ALL CREATION AND EXISTENTIAL LAYERS JUST TO SAVE HIMSELF FROM THIS UNIMAGINABLE HORROR.]

And with a single thought, I could kill all creation.

[THE OUTSIDE, THE INSIDE, THE PARADOX, THE BLACK MIRROR REFLECTING THE COLORS OF TRANSCENDENCE, DISAPPEARED WITHOUT A TRACE IN SIGHT WITH THE EYES OF GOD BEFORE HIM; IN A SILLY DANCE, THE GLOBE OF HIS METAPHYSICAL BUBBLE OF TRANSCENDENCE, CANNOT BE STOP WHATSOEVER.]

[With a realization of how the more destined, powerful, and deadly he has become, only left him shook in his core, the devastation and destruction he made, questioning if he truly cares anymore.]

[HE KILLED DREAMS AND SPACE OF EXISTENCE, YET REMAINING FOR HIM IS THE TERRIBLE CONTINUATION OF TRANSCENDENCE.]

[but why...] 

...

  [In a place of eeriness a sudden singing of the orchestrate screams with such riddalance of horror,  awakened Murphy, from its presence only to greet a bloodcurdling metamorphosis, anguishing with cries as the bleeding skies of dark paint of void,  a eyes staring before him in the clouds of cosmic nebula a portal of colorless black, as if murphy was the raindrop falling and coming contact with puddle of desperation unbounded by time with such zone happens to linear and so unimaginable, so deep and so draught, murphy could hear inaudible, the play of a horror, with the eyes staring at him with drought and a empty shaped pupil distortion of lovely an impureness, murphy can feel the emptiness felt within him, as the chanting of creation spoke in lovely horror, burnacing and wickedly the eyes began engulfing him into a storm of clout and ugly display of enrich and malnourished forms of phases The overwhelming sense of despair and hopelessness intensified as Murphy found himself trapped in this abyss of darkness. The haunting whispers of the unknown echoed through his mind, amplifying the feeling of emptiness that consumed him. ungodly creations.] 

Murphy reached the horizon of an implausible formless and colorless vast, manipulating and overlapping with pitches of power, formless and boundless, the womb of God, the epicentre of all things, a place not bounded by logic, a boundless creation. 

In IT, the core of all things is a beautiful yet terrifying paradise.

Murphy's transcendence continues to evolve.

Allowing him to enter the core of this vast chaos.

In a timeless and formless world, this place is too silent and cold.

In there, he met IT. 

  ...

...

...

Upon arrival, Murphy was braindead, gray, and stoic.

He cannot comprehend the beauty—such irony for a beautiful place in such a disgusting and vile storm. 

Murphy found himself lost in a trend of beauty that was incomprehensibly terrifying as well. The palace's fractured black neon-crystalline-like structure painted the palace, and its vibrancy refracted pure white light.

In his gaze, Murphy saw the pattern of the palace, his eyes stale and cold, but some light from this place leaves hope in Murphy's lifeless world. Beyond the glimmering floating fractures of chimes, it just feels so vast and vacant that this palace has no end.

No limits, just a divine and restless palace of what chimes in ghost-silent.

Murphy's animosity rested in the residing palace's calm and reassuring phase.

Murphy stood motionless with his stale body; he never dared say a word. 

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