The Egoverse stirred.
Not with chaos.
With rhythm.
The lantern of Charity still glowed above the Throne Eternal, casting warmth across the soil of memory. The ribbon of Patience fluttered gently. The seed of Humility had sprouted into a tree of quiet strength.
Then came Diligence.
She did not descend in light.
She arrived in motion.
Her robes were stitched from repetition—threads of effort, fibers of failure, seams of persistence. Her hands were calloused. Her eyes were focused. She carried no weapon, no gift, no crown.
She carried a toolbelt.
Pride rose.
Diligence did not bow.
She began to build.
Stone by stone, she constructed a structure beside the Throne Eternal—not a palace, not a monument. A workshop. A forge. A place where effort could breathe.
"You have remembered," she said. "You have healed. You have endured. You have given."
She placed a chisel in Pride's hand.
"Now you must build."
Pride looked at the forge.
It was empty.
No blueprint.
No audience.
Only raw material.
Diligence stepped back.
And the Egoverse pulsed—not with applause, but with expectation.
Pride understood.
This was not a test of strength.
It was a test of consistency.
Diligence smiled.
"Begin."
She turned, leaving behind a single gear—etched with the words: Purpose is not found. It is forged.
It clicked into the Throne Eternal, setting it in motion—not as a symbol, but as a system.