The endless firmament stirred.
From the smallest divine spark to the grandest throne of law, higher worlds awakened to a single truth whispered across the cosmos—
The Great Subjugation would begin at dawn.
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I. The Dao and the Scroll
In one of the countless high realms—a world where mountains hung suspended above a sea of molten clouds—two radiant beings conversed beneath a sky painted with laws.
"Fourth Brother," the elder voice said, calm but edged with authority, "tomorrow marks the beginning of the Great Subjugation Ceremony. Tell me—have you condensed your Dao artifact?"
A wave of starlight shimmered as the younger presence unfurled a dark scroll. "Yes, Second Brother. I have crafted the Scroll of Infinite Accord. Whoever reads it shall find their thoughts aligned with my Dao. Resistance will simply… cease."
The elder chuckled, folding his aura like a robe. "Clever. When more than half of the intelligent beings in a lower world follow your Dao, that world's will shall submit. Its essence will merge with your inner cosmos—you'll have successfully subjugated it."
The younger nodded. "I only hope no other cultivator contests the same world."
"Hope," the elder mused, "is for mortals. You'll need strategy."
They both looked into the void below them—into the tapestry of glowing stars, each one a world brimming with new life and unclaimed destiny.
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II. The Pantheon's Edict
In another high realm—vaster, older, ruled by divine order—a colossal hall opened within the heart of a luminous star. Its pillars were carved from the bones of vanquished deities, and its light came from burning faith itself.
Upon a throne sat a being that no mortal could describe—a god among gods, whose breath wrote commandments upon reality.
Around him knelt legions of divine followers, each radiating sanctified light.
"Tomorrow," the being proclaimed, his voice shaking the constellations, "the Great Subjugation shall begin. Our pantheon's influence must spread beyond these heavens. You shall descend and deliver my decree."
The followers bowed deeper, voices echoing like hymns.
"Each of you will send your Holy Object to one of the new worlds," the deity continued. "A relic forged from your divine will. When an intelligent being in the lower worlds touches it, the object will awaken their faith and make them your priest. Through them, belief will flow like wildfire—temples shall rise, and your name shall become law."
The hall trembled as golden spheres—holy relics—floated from the deity's palms. Each pulsed with the power to convert entire civilizations one touch at a time.
"Remember," the god intoned, "a world is not conquered by war, but by worship. Spread your light—make them your own. Those who succeed will ascend to godhood in my pantheon."
The divine army departed, their relics burning trails of sanctity across the void.
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III. The Classroom of Conquest
Far above the pantheon and the cliffside realm, beyond even the limits of most universes, lay a world of pure order—a hypercivilized realm where students sat in floating rows of crystalline platforms, data-suns orbiting their desks.
At the front stood a teacher—a man-shaped being with eyes like living nebulae. Behind him, holographic spheres representing septillions of new worlds spun slowly in space.
"Students," he began, his tone calm but commanding, "tomorrow the Great Subjugation Ceremony begins."
A hum of anticipation filled the hall.
"There are septillions of new worlds now capable of supporting intelligent life," the teacher continued, "but there are also quadrillions of higher worlds—each sending billions or even trillions of cultivators like you. Together, there are hundreds of septillions of contenders vying for subjugation."
He paused, letting the scale sink in.
"You are unlikely to meet another cultivator from your own civilization—but you will meet countless cultivators from others. Some will offer philosophy, others coercion, others deceit. Every encounter is competition."
He gestured, and one of the holographic worlds expanded, showing thousands of cultivators descending from the sky like falling stars.
"The rule of the ceremony is absolute," he said. "To subjugate a world, you must spread your Dao through it—reshape its thought, its faith, its understanding of power. Only when fifty percent of all intelligent beings in that world follow your Dao will the world submit to you."
The holographic world fractured, showing many different Daos branching across its civilizations—some glowing brighter than others.
"But remember," the teacher added, "a world is not truly lost unless one cultivator reaches fifty percent. Even if ninety-nine percent follow other cultivator, as long as one of intelligent life continues to cultivate the world's original method, the world still stands independent. The competition only ends when 1 cultivator reaches 50%"
The class murmured. It was a delicate balance—subjugation by influence, not force. War of belief, not blood.
"Be wise," the teacher concluded. "Choose your approach—will your Dao tempt them, teach them, or transform them? Tomorrow, you will descend into chaos itself. Spread your Dao and claim your world—but beware—others will be trying to do the same."
With a wave of his hand, the classroom dissolved into motes of light, each student vanishing into a personal gateway leading to the infinite lower worlds.
---
And so, across every higher world—
Scrolls shimmered in readiness.
Relics pulsed with holy compulsion.
Students fine-tuned their Daos into perfect, irresistible systems.
At the edge of creation, the lower worlds glittered—tiny flames waiting to be claimed, converted, or extinguished.
When the dawn of subjugation arrived, it would not come with armies or destruction—
but with belief, ideology, and cultivation.
The cosmos would tremble not from war…
but from persuasion.