Matin stood still, and the luminous being remained kneeling—motionless and silent.
There was no fear in its face, no confusion. The only thing shining in its gaze was obedience.
Not a forced obedience, but one born of understanding.
Matin spoke in his heart:
"You… heard my voice? Without me saying anything?"
The being rose, closed its eyes, and bowed its head in respect.
It had no voice, yet Matin's mind filled with a sensation:
"We are of you. You are of us. We were born for your command."
Matin paused.
He had taught nothing yet.
No language, no words, no commands had been created.
And yet, this radiant being… understood.
Everything.
A spark lit up in his mind.
If this one being had been created with such awareness…
Then if he created more…
They could be the carriers of his will. The watchers of the earth. The guardians of the border between light and shadow.
He raised his hand again.
Once more, with the same focus, the same depth.
"From light, create.
From will, shape.
From silence, grant awareness."
Light echoed in the void, spiraled, and five more beings came into existence.
Equal in stature, in radiance—each with wings spread wide and eyes closed.
All knelt.
None spoke in praise.
But Matin's mind was filled with a prayer, a deep sensation:
"May we be of you, and you within us."
The system's voice echoed in his ear:
> "Soul Points +5"
Matin took a deep breath.
Not out of exhaustion.
But out of wonder.
And then, that familiar voice returned—soft, softer than ever:
> "See how easily it begins… and how hard it will be to continue."
Matin gave no answer.
But in his heart, a fire of resolve was kindled:
This was only the beginning.
Light had taken form...
And darkness was still on its way.
The six angels knelt before their creator.
Light seeped from their wings, silence flowed through their beings, and obedience was etched into their presence.
Matin looked upon them—not as mere creations, but as pillars for a world yet to be filled.
He thought to himself:
"If I could create six angels... then why not ten?
Ten is a more complete number. A number fit for a beginning."
He focused again.
The same energy. The same will.
He raised his hand, poured out his intent, and gave an unspoken command to existence:
"Create."
But this time, something changed.
The air remained still.
No light danced in the void.
No tremble, no reaction.
And the only thing that appeared was a message, glowing coldly before his eyes:
> [Power Limitation Activated]
You are only permitted to create 10 original angels.
Currently created: 6 / 10.
To enhance creative power, a specified amount of Soul Points is required.
Matin froze.
He stared at the message.
Something inside him sank—or perhaps not... perhaps it was just the reminder:
He was a god... yet not all-knowing.
The system had placed limits on him.
Without asking.
He whispered to himself:
"So... I'm limited too.
Not from outside... but from within."
He slowly lowered his head.
His gaze shifted to the six standing angels.
Then he looked up to the sky, and down to the empty earth.
He could still create four more.
Only four.
Until he gained more power.
And in his heart, that familiar voice echoed once again—like a cold, quiet wind:
> "Every power has a lock...
And every lock, a key."
Matin gave a bitter smile.
This world was never meant to be easy.
Matin stood on the edge of the highest peak.
The six angels surrounded him like living stars—silent, aware.
Beneath their feet, the earth was still empty, lifeless.
But the air… was no longer silent.
It was as if with the arrival of the angels,
light had found a voice.
And that voice was slowly echoing through the heart of the world.
Matin thought to himself:
"I did not create these angels merely to stand…
but to see, to understand, and to carry out my will."
One of the angels—the calmest among them—stepped forward.
It had no mouth, but its thoughts stirred a ripple in Matin's mind:
"The world waits, our Lord. Speak… what shall we do?"
Matin opened his hand.
His fingers bathed in light.
And within his mind, he drew a plan:
Six angels. Six directions.
North, South, East, West… Above, Below.
Each one would go to one of these ends.
And there, plant light.
And within the heart of the earth, embed sound.
He gave the command—gentle, yet firm:
"Scatter.
In every corner, sow the seed of awareness.
The world must know it is not alone."
The angels bowed.
And with lights brighter than the sun, they flew to the edges of the world.
They left behind trails of radiance, which seeped into the earth.
And then, for the first time,
the world murmured.
Not a clear word, not a known tongue.
But a voice.
A feeling.
As though the earth itself whispered in a muffled tone:
"Who has touched me?"
Matin heard it.
And he smiled.
The angels returned.
Their hands full of glowing waves, as if drawn from the earth itself.
And then came that familiar message, echoing in his ear:
> "Soul Points +12"
The world is listening. Keep going.
And once again, that ever-present whisper trembled in his heart:
> "Light alone casts no shadow.
But once it spreads… darkness comes on its own."
Matin lifted his head.
His eyes fixed on the horizon.
Far in the distance, behind the light—
something… was moving.
A heavy silence swirled within the endless whiteness.
Matin stood atop the height of the void, gazing at a world still in the process of becoming.
He had created the earth, suns in orbit, a wall of fire between light and darkness—
but something was missing.
Oversight.
A place to look down from above, a sacred space for rest and reflection.
With a voice that was neither external nor internal, something whispered:
"Create Heaven... Sanctify the Above."
Matin raised his hand.
Energy surged from within him, and five Soul Points spilled into the fabric of space.
A gentle light formed in the sky—a transparent, radiant dome stretched above the world.
Heaven was created—not vast, not ornate, but serene, sacred, and alive with a warm glow.
A place for watching, thinking… and dwelling in a godlike peace.
Matin took a deep breath. He was calm, yet he knew—this was not the end.
Softly, he said:
"I must give them power... A world must be alive, dynamic, filled with wonder… with magic."
Another Soul Point was released.
With it, an invisible essence was woven into the world—
lines of energy that flowed through nature,
from the depths of stone to the tips of the winds,
infusing everything with potential for transformation.
His hand rose again.
"Life needs breath..."
One more Soul Point streamed forth.
An invisible air, rich in oxygen and life-sustaining gases, spread across the planet.
The earth breathed.
For the first time, real air coursed through the world.
From these changes, without Matin's direct command, simple beings began to emerge—
from moisture, from light, from stone and soil and sky.
Primitive creatures, unstable in their movements—but alive.
Matin watched.
His eyes gleamed. A gentle smile formed on his lips.
"From silence, life has risen..."
In Heaven, the angels stood in awe of this creation.
Matin looked upon them.
He raised a hand, and from the light, gave them human-like forms—
tall statures, calm faces, robes woven from pure light.
They were no longer merely ethereal beings.
They now had form—touchable, relatable, comprehensible.
Then, Matin created four more angels—
simpler in appearance, lesser in purpose,
designed for minor duties and support.
To them, he said:
"You shall be the servants.
Caretakers of order and continuity."
The servants were born—
and with them, four more Soul Points were gained.
The newly-created Heaven was serene.
No blinding light, no jarring sound—
only a gentle breeze dancing among the transparent pillars of light.
Matin stood upon a platform of radiance, observing a world that, moment by moment, gained color, depth, and life.
His angels, in their human-like forms, each stood at a corner of Heaven.
Their gaze fell downward, toward the Earth—
now pulsing with magic and breathing with air.
The servants, too, stood in silence, waiting for a command,
blending humility with eagerness.
Matin walked calmly.
He gathered a strand of light, held it in the air, and shaped it into a circle.
He whispered:
"Now is the time to create a being… not of light, not of magic,
but from the soil of this earth… with mind, with understanding, with language."
He knelt.
In Heaven, between light and awareness,
he pressed his fingers into the ground and, with deep focus,
formed the first human figure—
a hand, an eye, skin, veins.
Not a statue, not merely a vessel—
but a blend of meaning, design, and hope.
A complete body, soulless yet ready to receive life.
Then, with a silent murmur,
he breathed a piece of himself into it.
A soft light entered the chest of clay and…
Eyes opened.
The first human looked upon his creator.
Not with fear, nor with submission,
but with curiosity.
He breathed. He stood. He looked around.
Matin spoke gently:
"You are the first… and you shall learn language from me."
A few hours passed.
Basic words began to form.
Gestures gained meaning.
Naming began.
Matin taught him: "sky," "earth," "hand," "light," even "I."
And the human, in wonder, learned.
Then Matin began shaping the second human.
And the third.
And the fourth.
Each one crafted not by system, but by his own hands—
slow, deliberate, and filled with love.
And each one learned—
through language, gesture, and gaze.
As if words were growing inside them.
After crafting several humans by hand,
Matin stood and looked down upon the Earth.
His breath had grown heavy.
Creation was no simple task—
but it was fulfilling.
Then, a whisper stirred within him—soft, vague:
"What a masterpiece you've created, White God… but beware…"
Matin only thought—he said nothing aloud.
It seemed to him that this voice was just a murmur of his own mind,
not something external.
And yet… it remained in his heart.
What he did not know—
was the cost he had paid.
Beyond the Soul Points, he had…
The four first humans stood in a circle around Matin.
Their eyes were filled with questions—
but beneath that calm silence, something deeper stirred: power.
Not a power imposed from outside,
but one rising from within, woven into their very essence.
Matin studied them closely.
He didn't know why, but each of them… felt different.
At that moment, a floating panel opened before him.
Glowing words appeared in the air:
> "Every being directly shaped by the Creator receives a unique power, based on the Creator's intent and emotional state at the moment of creation."
Matin's eyes widened.
He whispered under his breath, "Power?"
The panel continued:
> "Special Power: Reflects the soul, mind, and emotion of the Creator during creation. Non-replicable."
---
1. Suleiman (Male)
Power: Understanding and interpreting the language of all beings—plants, animals, humans, and even natural elements.
Purpose: Fostering unity among creatures, creating peace, uncovering nature's secrets.
2. Liana (Female)
Power: Healing physical wounds through the touch of her hands.
Purpose: In wars, preserving human communities, saving lives, even soothing angels.
3. Nader (Male)
Power: Transferring energy and altering the physical state of objects by touch (e.g., heating, freezing, triggering motion).
Purpose: Tool creation, protection, and resource generation.
4. Yara (Female)
Power: Seeing the past of objects or locations by touching them.
Purpose: Understanding the history of places, uncovering the secrets of Matin's world, avoiding past mistakes.
---
Matin stepped back, gazing at his creations.
He murmured:
"I... I only made humans. But these... these are heroes."
At that moment, the panel reappeared:
> "Warning: Unique creations come at a heavy cost. Total Soul Point cost for four handcrafted humans: 100 Soul Points."
Matin's breath caught. He quickly checked the panel:
> Soul Points: -93