In the beginning, there was nothing.
No light. No sound. No movement. No law. Only an infinite emptiness stretching beyond comprehension — a void so absolute that even thought seemed to hesitate before it. Not darkness, for darkness implies something to cast a shadow upon. Not silence, for silence requires a sound to deny. It was the true absence of all, a stillness deeper than eternity itself.
And from this nothingness came Corruption.
It did not emerge as a force of malice, nor of creation. It simply was. A ripple in the void, a fractal pulse that twisted upon itself, seeking, reshaping, folding. Corruption moved like a predator without desire, a tide without waves. It was intent without consciousness, inevitability without choice. Wherever it touched, the void became patterned, simplified, flattened. Possibility decayed into predictability, chaos drained into monotony. Even thought, if it dared to exist, would have bent to its will.
And yet… the universe has a stubbornness that even Corruption could not wholly erase.
From the edge of Corruption's creeping reach, a spark ignited. Contradiction.
It was small at first, fragile, barely a flicker against the crushing weight of inevitability. Contradiction did not oppose Corruption in brute force — it could not. Instead, it existed in the space Corruption overlooked, in the irregularity of events, the clash of impossible outcomes, the fragile defiance of randomness. Contradiction was the heartbeat of potential, the quiver of essence, the raw, unshaped possibility that would one day allow life to flourish.
Where Corruption straightened rivers and silenced forests, Contradiction twisted a leaf against the wind. Where Corruption erased choices, Contradiction left the smallest door open — a path uncertain, a probability unresolved. Where Corruption demanded uniformity, Contradiction whispered secrets of complexity, instability, and survival.
From this clash — Corruption pressing, Contradiction resisting — the first essences began to stir. Raw, undefined, and infinite in possibility. Some would crystallize into power. Some would crumble under the weight of certainty. Some would become anchors for worlds yet unborn.
And so, the multiverse was born — a fractal ocean of possibilities, each universe a delicate bubble floating in the endless expanse. Some shimmered with chaotic life, swirling in unpredictable patterns. Some reflected simplicity, aligned and repetitive, their colors dulled by Corruption's touch. And far, far beyond, the deeper currents of existence pulsed, carrying whispers of universes that had yet to exist and echoes of worlds that would never be.
Every being, every spark, every thought carried essence. Dormant, unformed, and infinite. And wherever essence met contradiction, life grew vibrant. Wherever Corruption prevailed, life became uniform, predictable, dead in complexity but alive in form.
And somewhere, in one quiet corner of one fragile universe, a tremor of possibility quivered. A leaf shivered against the wind. A river hesitated mid-flow. A single question remained unanswered. And in that tremor, raw essence stirred, unshaped, unaware of the forces that would one day shape it into power… or destroy it entirely.
The multiverse exhaled.
And it waited.