Greg, on the other hand, wasn't paying attention anymore. He was forging with pure will, changing not only materials but also ideas.
The trial was based on a false idea: that a person could only be one thing.
Fighter or peacemaker.
A person also could either be a death maker or a life maker.
Greg was showing that idea to be false.
The thing that was taking shape in his hands couldn't be put into a category. It was a hammer, but not for fighting.
It was a tool, but not one for building.
It was something that could protect without killing, create without destroying, and exist in the philosophical space that Greg had carved out for himself over the years.
The whole pocket dimension started to break apart.
The voice of God that had called for the trial came back, but this time it was shocked instead of authoritative. "IMPOSSIBLE. HE'S REJECTING THE TRIAL'S PREMISE. OVERRIDE. OVERRIDE. SEND IN THE—"
The golden dome broke like glass.
