"So what happens now?" Michael asked, his expression puzzled. "We've finished creating everything. You seem happy... so what do we do from here?"
HE looked thoughtful, then smiled with a glint in His eye. "Who said I'm going to stop here?"
Michael blinked. "What do you mean?"
HE grinned. "Why make just one universe when I can make more? Each one unique. Each more grand, more mysterious. One where life overflows. Another where silence reigns."
He spread His arms. "What's stopping Me?"
Michael, still not sharing in the excitement, said, "But why? The human race already holds such potential—so many diverse peoples. Can't we simply guide them to build more?"
He paused, then added grimly, "But they're still flawed. Before we use them for more, something needs fixing."
HE turned toward him, His voice solemn. "How are they flawed?"
Michael sighed. "They're too easily influenced by what's wrong. They act against reason—selfish, divided. They build hierarchies, claim superiority, crush the weak. Their desires rule them."
Then he looked directly at HE. "Would you like me to go on?"
HE's gaze sharpened. "But... you created them, didn't you?"
Michael's face fell. "I created them for the sake of the others. The Primordials shaped them. I was simply the hand that moved things along—I didn't desire creation."
HE tilted His head. "So you're saying the Primordials' reasoning was flawed?"
Michael, flustered, stammered, "Yes... no—I mean, maybe. I just think it could've been better."
HE placed a firm hand on Michael's shoulder. "None of My creations are perfect. Not even you. I gave all of you something deeper: Will. It shapes thought, choices, belief... the very soul. It makes each being—human or divine—who they are."
He continued, gentler now. "Because of the influence you all carry—because of what you pass on—humanity will strive. They will reach for something more."
Michael asked, uncertain, "Strive for what?"
HE turned to the stars and said, "Perfection."
Then He clapped His hands. "Now, let's begin My next project!"
Michael started, "We'll need to expand the Veil first, so—"
"Shhh," HE interrupted, suddenly grave. "Michael… listen."
Michael paused. A distant cracking sound echoed across the cosmos.
His eyes widened. "What is that?"
The Veil shattered.
Darkness—thick, ancient, and hungry—poured through the breach.
HE leapt forward, holding the edges of the Veil, straining against the tide of void. Michael flew toward the Apex, trying to assess the spread.
HE fought the churning abyss, His hands glowing with authority. But it was like holding back the collapse of infinity.
Michael's voice came, terrified. "Master! It's coming from everywhere! It's headed for the center! It's swallowing everything!"
HE's fury thundered through the cosmos. "How dare you enter My sanctuary?! You will not consume what I have made!"
Pushing back the void, He roared: "I know not what you are. I care not. But I will not let you destroy what I have created!"
The void resisted, but slowly it began to retreat.
And then—HE spoke with divine command:
> "From this moment, you shall never pass the Veil again. This boundary shall forever be your limit. Now... begone."
The void recoiled, screaming soundlessly, and was cast beyond the Veil.
Michael began restoring what was lost.
Peace returned.
But as he flew back to HE, a second shattering echoed.
Fearing the void had returned, he readied himself—but when he reached the Apex, he saw not darkness…
…he saw fragments.
Shards of something divine.
His eyes fell on His master—no longer whole, but broken like porcelain. Cracks ran through Him. He was falling apart.
"Master! What happened?!"
HE smiled faintly. "It seems I fought Myself."
Michael's voice cracked. "What do you mean? We fought the void. We won!"
HE shook His head. "I just realized... the void and I are one and the same. My opposite. My shadow. I denied it, perhaps out of pride, or fear. But in truth… I battled Myself. And as you can see, I've lost."
Michael fell to his knees. "No..."
HE floated toward the center of the Apex. "But there is still work to do."
He turned back, barely holding together.
"I will split into six fragments—each reflecting My core aspects. Two of each: Omnipresence. Omniscience. Omnipotence."
He looked at Michael. "Raise them well. Train them. They are the ones who will complete My unfinished work."
Michael, choking back grief, nodded.
HE began to dissolve.
One by one, Michael gathered the fragments.
But just as he reached for the last and largest piece, the void—like a thief in the night—reached out from beyond the Veil...
...and stole it.
Michael screamed: "NO!"