The Empire Of The Multiverse

Chapter 75 - A Talk with God

Amidst the surreal expanse of the Imaginary Tree and the shimmering Sea of Quanta, Fafnir's gaze traversed the myriad universes that unfolded before him. Each universe, strangely familiar yet alien, resonated with the pervasive energy of the Honkai, a force that seemed to weave through the very fabric of the multiverse. But this wasn't his Honkai—it belonged to another, a god in its own right. Prometheus, the A.I. created by Dr. Mei to control the Honkai across multiple realities, exerted its influence, orchestrating the ebb and flow of this cosmic energy.

As Fafnir contemplated the intricate dance of Honkai particles, each imbued with a unique consciousness akin to his own, a voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hello," it said, prompting Fafnir to turn and face the speaker. "Hi. I take it you are God?" Fafnir queried. The being, undergoing a subtle transformation, shifted from an enigmatic presence to a simple black-haired man with black eyes, dressed in a robe of white with delicate pink outlines.

"Yes and no," the being responded, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "Yes, I am God in the sense that I wield immense power, yet no, as I see myself more as a gardener. Much like you, God-Emperor, I navigate the complexities of existence not as a ruler, but as a steward—a guardian." Fafnir, intrigued by the paradoxical statement, pressed for clarification.

"Pray tell, why use such contradictory terms?" he inquired. The being's demeanor remained serene as he continued, "Yes, in a sense, I am a deity—the orchestrator of life and death. Yet, I reject the conventional notion of godhood. I see myself as a gardener, nurturing the garden of reality, tending to the delicate balance between creation and entropy. It's akin to how you, God-Emperor, have harnessed the Honkai—a force designed for multiversal endings—and repurposed it to be a catalyst for creation and order rather than chaos."

As Fafnir's eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, the enigmatic Gardener sensed his curiosity. With a tranquil demeanor, the Gardener addressed Fafnir's unspoken question, "You must be wondering why I know this. I spoke to your Honkai, the little ones—these Blue and Gold ones. You made them very unique, and yet, they refused to divulge more than your title and the manner in which they were wielded."

Intrigued and seeking clarity, Fafnir questioned, "Why did you call me here?" The Gardener's response was cryptic yet straightforward, "I didn't, but the Imaginary Tree did." Extending his hand towards the Imaginary Tree, the Gardener received a radiant seed. "This is the seed from the Imaginary Tree—the key to creating your own multiverse. I'll be honest; ever since I planted the Imaginary Tree and crafted the Sea of Quanta, this is the first time I've witnessed the two converge to produce a seed."

Seizing the opportunity to exchange knowledge, the Gardener posed a question to Fafnir, "Would you mind sharing why you are called the God-Emperor?" Fafnir, willing to share the narrative of his vast existence, replied, "Sure, it's not really a secret. Here's a copy of the Imperium's history, drawn directly from my memories." Fafnir handed over a small cube containing the rich tapestry of the Imperium's history, a gift to the Gardener in this cosmic rendezvous.

The Gardener utilized the cube, and in the blink of an eye, the entire history of the Imperium unfolded before him like a cosmic tapestry. "Interesting, God-Emperor Fafnir. Now I understand how you acquired the Honkai and the Imaginary Space," remarked the Gardener.

Fafnir, standing amidst the boundless void, responded, "Indeed, when I was a child, the Imaginary Space selected me to be its Will." The Gardener, comprehending the intricacies of Fafnir's connection to the cosmic forces, explained, "The Imaginary Space is a fragment of the Sea of Quanta, lost in the Great Expanse during the invasion by Outer Gods. This occurred when the Imaginary Tree was in its adolescence, and the Sea of Quanta had not yet reached its current depth. The invaders, Shub-Niggurath and Hastur, dared to assail the Imaginary Tree and the Sea of Quanta. However, mentioning their names holds no significance now; they lack the audacity to confront us, especially after you dealt a severe blow to Nyarlathotep."

Acknowledging the gravity of the battles fought in the cosmic realms, Fafnir nodded. The Gardener continued his narrative, revealing the intensity of the conflict, "The fighting reached a point where I had to sever parts of the Sea of Quanta and cast them into the Great Expanse. The Honkai, cut off from its source, adapted and consumed countless Bubble Universes in its battle against the Outer Gods. It eventually formed the Imaginary Space. When it selected you as its Will, it meant that it needed an anchor, ultimately its ruler. I must say, God-Emperor, it is indeed fated to be with you."

"I must thank y—" Fafnir began, but he was swiftly cut off as The Gardener waved his hand dismissively. "Do not thank me; I was merely severing a corrupted part of the Sea of Quanta. It was your own luck, or rather fate, that gave you this. I was merely a tool. Truly, life has so many changes. Who knew that by cutting off a rotting part of the Sea of Quanta, it would produce a God-Emperor?" The Gardener gazed into the vastness of the void, contemplating the cosmic forces at play. Fafnir nodded in understanding, "But I still want to thank you." The Gardener responded simply, "Then I shall accept this thanks on behalf of fate."

As Fafnir examined the Seed of the Imaginary Tree, curiosity sparked another question, "If my Empire were to invade your Multiverse, what would you do?" The Gardener smiled, "Nothing. As I said, I am the Gardener. I merely tend to the Imaginary Tree and the Sea of Quanta. If your Empire invades, it would simply add to the variations of the Multiverse. It does not matter if your Empire invades; one cannot occupy the infinite variations of the Multiverse. For each thought of the human mind, there is an infinite amount of universes born. So, go ahead, invade. I will be watching how the events unfold. I only intervened when the Outer Gods invaded because they are what you call pests. As a gardener, I don't want pests in my Tree and Water."

Fafnir nodded in acceptance, "I shall take your word for it, Gardener." The Gardener then threw him a book labeled "Multiversal Creation." Fafnir caught it and looked back at The Gardener, questioning, "Why are you so kind to me?" The Gardener simply replied, "Because you have the ability to expand the Honkai to different Multiverses, and simply, you were once part of my Multiverse. Think of it as a gift from a brother." Fafnir expressed his gratitude with a simple "Thanks" before stepping through the portal he initially entered.

Left alone with the Imaginary Tree, The Gardener mused, "Now, where did I put my pruners?" He returned to tending to the Imaginary Tree, ensuring the harmony and balance of the cosmic forces under his watchful gaze.

Returning to the Imaginary Space, I was once again welcomed by the celestial chorus of angels, the Sisters of Battle turned Saints among them, praising my name as the creator. Their hymns reached a crescendo as I descended from the heavens, appreciating the joy they found in their devotion. Waving at them, I couldn't help but marvel at the dedication they showed.

As I touched down on the tranquil waters of the Imaginary Space, devoid of any life but poised for change, I dropped the seed of the Imaginary Tree. Its growth was rapid, the waters deepening and the tree towering. Heaven, the divine realm, sat proudly at the zenith of the Imaginary Tree. It was a deliberate design, set to endure for eternity.

The Imaginary Tree expanded, its infinite expanse becoming visible even in the Imaginary Space. At the zenith, alongside Heaven, the main universe took its place. I named this universe the Prime Continuum and the Universes that the Imperium already conquered were assimilated. Across the leaves of the Imaginary Tree, a multitude of events could unfold, but one thing remained certain – Imperium Dominus would persist. Whether it fell, faltered, or ascended to a Golden Age, the Prime Continuum was the anchor. The purpose of creating the Multiverse was clear – as one universe ended, the Imperium would harvest its fruits, adding to its vast knowledge.

In this grand tapestry, I, as its ruler, ensured that the Imperium emerged victorious. The Grand Continuum, the only universe that wouldn't end, served as the basis for countless iterations. Amidst these diverse realities, the Imperium would prevail. Harvesting information from the many universes, it was destined for triumph under my leadership. There could only be one original God-Emperor – one Fafnir. And soon, the number of original Primarchs would also become 20, though currently standing at 18.

75.2 The Battle For The Quasar Enclave

Eldranthii Aspect Warrior POV

The world around me erupts in chaos as we clash with the Death Guard and the Cosmic Militarum on this Eldranthii world within the Quasar Enclave. Our Aspect Warriors, swift and deadly, engage in a dance of death with the Cosmic Militarum, while the Death Guard Astartes plow through our defenses, unstoppable and relentless.

But the true horror emerges when the Undead, raised by the Lord of Death himself, join the fray. These are not ordinary undead; they fight with the same skill and ferocity as when they were alive. Even our fallen Warlocks, once masters of formidable magic, are turned against us.

"Retreat!" The Autarch's urgent signal cuts through the chaos, a desperate attempt to regroup in the face of this overwhelming force. However, the Death Guard quickly close in on us, their Phase Swords cutting through anything in their path.

I witness the Autarch's personal guard engaging the Death Guard Astartes, a valiant effort against a technological and skill gap that seems insurmountable. The Death Guard's weapons, appearing and disappearing with an otherworldly efficiency, leave us baffled. Each shot from our Dark Reapers is neutralized by a mysterious blue energy shield.

As my mind races with questions, the world suddenly spins, and my body falls. In that disorienting moment, I see the unmistakable sight of an Astarte cleaving through my comrades, slaughtering my fellow Aspect Warriors without mercy. The last thing I witness is the cold edge of a blade, and then darkness consumes me.

Mordecai Ashbringer POV

In the aftermath of my relentless battle against Quara'lokai, the once vibrant planet lies in ruins. Barren and lifeless, its once majestic oceans reduced to nothing more than swirling clouds of ashen remnants. Mountains, now crumbling gray monuments, stand as a testament to the devastation that has unfolded.

Yet, amidst the desolation, Quara'lokai persists. Fifty times, I have ended the insectoid Star God, only for him to multiply with each iteration. The relentless adaptation of this cosmic entity tests my patience, and the once-formidable planet has paid the price for our ceaseless conflict.

"This insectoid Stargod is a persistent adversary, constantly evolving to counter my methods. It's becoming more than just annoying. Perhaps it's time to ascend and put an end to this perpetual cycle," I contemplate, watching as Quara'lokai returns in even greater numbers.

The swarm of fifty-two, each iteration armed with the same determination to consume and multiply, surrounds me. Quara'lokai's voice, a dissonant melody of something otherworldly, echoes through the void, "Primarch, it is futile. The more you kill us, the more we multiply. Give up, for we will devour everything and everyone."

I smirk at the bold declaration, my scythe flashing as I once again cleave through multiple copies of the Star God in a single, sweeping motion. "Heh! Big words for a being that has met its demise fifty-one times," I retort, the rhythm of battle and destruction continuing.

Growing weary of this relentless cycle, I decide on a drastic measure. Teleporting to space, I cleave the already ravaged planet into halves, quarters, and then into space dust. With a mere thought, I propel the remnants towards the nearest star, ensuring that the once-proud world becomes nothing more than cosmic debris in the celestial expanse.

Quara'lokai persists, unfazed by my previous efforts. With 52 iterations now confronting me, the decision is clear – it is time for my ascension. "Silver 08," I command, addressing my loyal companion, "Prepare."

"By your will, Sir," echoes Silver 08, acknowledging the impending transformation.

Engaging in battle with the insectoid Star God, I unleash a barrage of attacks, from reality-warping to attempts at instant death. Yet, Quara'lokai returns each time, unyielding. It is evident that a more decisive force is required.

Embracing the ritual of my ascension, I begin the incantation:

"Feel the shadows encircle, the relentless pulse of mortality's end!"

"As life's tapestry frays, I emerge, the reaper of souls, wielding the scythe that severs the threads of existence!"

"Submit to the inevitable, for I am the harbinger of oblivion, the ascendant deity of Death, my dominion eternal and unyielding!"

As the words resonate through the cosmic battlefield, a surge of power envelops me. The very fabric of reality shivers in acknowledgment of my ascension, and the scythe in my hand pulses with newfound potency. It is time to bring an end to the perpetual cycle and claim victory over the relentless Star God.

Mordecai Ashbringer's transformation reaches its apex, his once formidable form now obscured by a hooded figure with a skull visage. A dark cloak drapes around him, and an ashen crown rests upon his head, shimmering with dark green energy. In the empty sockets of his eyes, blackish-green soul fire flickers ominously.

"I am become DEATH," Mordecai declares with an air of finality. With a sweep of his newly empowered scythe, he cleaves through all 53 iterations of the Star God Quara'lokai. His words resonate with the absolute certainty of the inevitable: "All things die, all things become forgotten. Adaptability and evolution only apply to the living. Now, you no longer are alive, no longer dead, no longer exist – it is oblivion."

Quara'lokai's form crumbles to powder, and the seemingly endless tide of insects assaulting the Quasar Enclave dissipates. The Men of Iron, initially engaged in battle, now stand amidst confusion as their targets turn to ash and vanish, swallowed by the void of oblivion.

"Typhon, continue the conquest. We must not let my father down," Mordecai's directive echoed through the radio, reaching Captain Typhon's ears. With a nod, Typhon assumed command, rallying his battle brothers. Now that the Men of Iron were free from the distraction of the Star God's assault, they could resume the relentless advance alongside the rest of the Imperial forces in the Quasar Enclave.

Silver 08, ever dutiful, was already prepared for Mordecai's return. "Time to rest, Sir. Well done, one less Star God," he remarked. Mordecai acknowledged with a weary nod, his formidable powers having taken a toll on him. "It is indeed so. Wake me up as early as possible," Mordecai uttered as he reclined into the casket that Silver 08 had brought. Another Primarch entered a deep slumber, joining the ranks of those who had chosen to rest, leaving uncertainties about how many more would follow in the epochs to come.