The more he understood, the wider his crystalline eyes grew. This was not just any treasure; it was a reality-bending artifact. Its nature was so profoundly perverse that it could rewrite the fundamental principles of existence on a whim.
Armed with this knowledge, his concern over the depleted ocean turned into thrilling excitement as he uncovered the truth: as he had suspected, its natural accumulation was agonizingly slow.
Countless cycles of cosmic destruction and rebirth were required to condense a mere lake's worth of energy; the collapse of galaxies, the shattering of realms, and the death of stars.
The idea that his universe, a void he had found empty, possessed a vast ocean of it from the beginning was impossible. It defied the natural order.
Now, the culprit and cause were clear: one of the orb's innate abilities—Cost Reduction.
Though its name was simple, its power was not. This ability minimized the resources, effort, and energy required to accomplish anything. Creation itself could be done at a discount, and the fundamental tax of the cosmos could be evaded.
However, Lex realized that its effectiveness depended entirely on the user's strength. The vast Ocean of Origin Energy, which he had once considered a finite resource, was merely the passive, ambient result of the ability's mere presence.
But the thought of wielding it with active, conscious control truly staggered him. A weaker being might slightly reduce a spell's cost, but he could theoretically defy the harshest thermodynamic laws with his power.
Given his power, he theorized that wielding this ability would not only be possible but also come with startling ease.
His focus then turned to the second broken ability—Infinite Understanding.
This ability was no less profound than the first. It exponentially amplifies the user's capacity for comprehension and calculation, elevating it to unparalleled heights.
It was the key to every lock, capable of unraveling the mysteries of existence—from the simple spin of a quark to the most complex Origin Laws, and even higher truths beyond Origin Law.
Like its counterpart, its power was tied to the user's evolution, growing alongside them. To any other being, these abilities would be the ultimate cheat, bypassing all struggle.
But to Lex, who began his journey as the master of a universe, they were not cheats. They were the necessary tools to achieve an otherwise impossible end, even for him.
"Cost reduction..." he murmured, his consciousness fixed on the orb. He envisioned accelerating his creations a thousandfold and bypassing the agonizing eons of cosmic death and rebirth required to fuel them.
And with Infinite Understanding, he could see himself not only wielding, but also mastering, the laws of the universe. The mysteries of Origin Energy, which had eluded him for years, would now yield to him.
He knew it wouldn't happen instantly; such understanding was a journey, not a destination. However, he had just lowered the difficulty from "impossible" to "achievable."
Empowered by this transcendent discovery, Lex willed himself back to the ocean's surface. Within seconds, he settled into a familiar meditative posture and summoned a shimmering drop of Origin Energy.
He held it before him like a miniature cosmos and began to deconstruct its mysteries anew, aided this time by "infinite understanding." Time, which had once passed slowly for him, now stood still, marked only by the silent, rhythmic pulse of cosmic waves below.
While he delved into the depths of a single drop, the creatures he had created continued their lives.
The vast cosmic regions remained empty, holding no life beyond the clashing Primordials. Their stray law attacks scoured the void, extinguishing nascent life such as microorganisms and preventing species from forming naturally.
Zarrakis, the Primordial of Chaos, waged an eternal war against Nysara, the Primordial of Order. Their battle was foundational; each move was as powerful as a supernova or a cosmic gravitational wave.
They were not alone. All across the void, Primordials of opposing natures discovered their purpose through conflict. Their cataclysmic blows and massive forms shattered budding stars and scattered nascent natural planets, turning them into fields of lifeless space rocks.
Others, less inclined toward destruction, wandered the cosmic deserts as their initial wonder turned to listlessness.
A few rare individuals sought not to dominate but to understand, hiding away to contemplate the fundamental laws of the universe.
Meanwhile, Lex remained motionless above the Origin Ocean, though he was aware of the cosmic tumult. His consciousness was wholly absorbed in deconstructing the drop, his focus absolute and unbroken for hundreds of thousands of years.
The drop still hovered before him. Now, however, his newfound vision pierced its translucent exterior, revealing a hidden latticework beneath. Within it, a swirling vortex of light and shadow pulsed with a life of its own.
Deep within its center, colors beyond mortal comprehension danced, fluid and brilliant. Each flicker of light revealed the birth and death of galaxies at the most fundamental level.
To Lex, it was no longer just observation, but enlightenment. Each revelation expanded his knowledge and simplified the monumental work that lay ahead.
As the ages passed, his consciousness became a perfect mirror of the Drop, reflecting every pulse and shift in its complex depths. His comprehension deepened in a silence unmeasured by time or mortal life, marked only by the faint, rhythmic resonance of the ocean below
After a period that could have been a millennium or a single, drawn-out breath, he felt a subtle yet profound shift within his very being. A final conceptual barrier, one of which he had not even been aware, gave way.
Accelerated by the orb's Infinite Understanding, his comprehension reached a critical mass. One hundred percent of the Drop's fundamental truth was now laid bare in his mind.
A wave of pure, unequivocal understanding surged through him, burning away the last vestiges of mystery.
The secrets of Origin Energy were now his, not as learned knowledge, but as an intrinsic, self-evident truth. And from this intrinsic truth, the fundamental traits of Origin Energy unfolded within him.
Its dual aspects of creation and destruction were the most apparent. He had always sensed its capacity to nurture life, just as he understood that life inherently contains the seed of its own end.
This destructive capacity was not a flaw, but a necessity. Without it, the universe would stagnate like a static garden, unable to evolve.
Yet these two forces were merely the surface. At its core, Origin Energy is an agent of evolution and transformation. It is a cosmic pressure that guides all existence toward higher states of being, pushing life to transcend its limits.
For Lex, who exists at the apex of this hierarchy, Origin Energy is a tool for his creations, not a path for his own ascent, unless he could somehow refine the very quality of Origin Energy itself.
Its most profound trait, however, is its function as the substrate of reality. Origin Energy can repair and reweave the very laws of the universe, from cosmic principles to minor enchantments. It maintains balance by binding all components of existence into a single, coherent whole.
Finally, there was the trait he had long suspected. Origin Energy is a cosmic record. It contains faint imprints of everything that has ever existed, enabling a consciousness attuned to it to glimpse echoes of the past or sense the subtle branching pathways of potential futures.
He gazed slowly into the depths of the Origin Ocean, humbled by its boundless potential. It was a pure source of creation, a catalyst for transformation, and a balancer of the cosmos. Yet, within that perfection, he saw a terrifying fragility.
"If this energy were ever seized by a malevolent will," he mused, "the consequences would be catastrophic. Future realms would be destroyed, and the delicate balance of the universe would shatter into dust."
For the first time since his rebirth as the Universal Will, a true moral dilemma took root in his consciousness. It was not a question of power, but of providence.
"Should I seal this energy away, making it a forbidden secret to all creation for all time? Or should I let it flow freely and trust in the inherent goodness of life, even at the risk of cosmic damnation?"
He rose, his crystalline form as silent and still as a mountain. Visions cascaded through his mind. He saw civilizations ascending to brilliance beneath its nurturing light, transcending their mortal coils to grasp enlightenment.
But these dreams were shadowed by nightmares: galaxies scorched by hubris, reality twisted into a weapon by the corrupt, and despots rising to power and crowning themselves gods on thrones of broken laws.
After a long silence, a single resolute thought emerged, clear and hard as a diamond.
"I cannot hide what is meant to be the heart of all creation. Nor can I leave it undefended. Therefore, I must change the nature of the game itself."
His worried expression softened into one of calm determination. "This is not a question of morality," he murmured. "It's a matter of balance. It is my duty to preserve the potential of all that is yet to be."
With this decision, he vanished from the ocean's surface, dissolving into a shower of white particles. In the same instant, he reappeared at the universe's core, within the darkest depths of the Origin Ocean.
Before him was a single point of light, steadfast against the all-consuming darkness. He willed himself toward it.
A ten-foot-tall door, humming with ancient, profound energy, materialized before him. Its surface was filled with countless Law Runes. He didn't dwell on the sight, but simply reached out and pushed it open.
What lay beyond defied perception; it was both alien and intimately familiar. There was no contrast, no spectrum, and no form. Only boundless, serene, absolute whiteness existed. This was not a place of light, but rather, a place from which light originated.
The atmosphere, if such a concept applied, was weightless and timeless. This was the sanctuary of the "Will," a hidden dimension not governed by the laws of the universe. The true Will was never meant to leave this dimension.
Yet there stood Lex, who was both the Will and a mortal soul, an impossible anomaly in a place designed to preclude existence itself.
In that moment, he named the void the "Blank Point." The dimension seemed to tremble in acknowledgment, subtly vibrating in welcome after eons of perfect solitude.
As he turned back, he realized that the only feature in the endless expanse of white was the door. It stood alone as a stark, ten-foot-tall rectangle. He started walking around it, then began floating, surveying the infinite expanse.
When he looked back, the door had become a tiny dot on the vast white canvas.
He expanded his consciousness as far as possible, but all he saw was boundless whiteness; pure, unchanging, and absolute.
Finding nothing more to perceive, he chose not to dwell on it. Instead, he imagined sitting down and drew from his memory of the past. A large wooden chair materialized beside him.
"That was useful," he mused as he settled into it.
Understanding that this place responded to his will, he made a conceptual leap. He visualized the fundamental laws and rules of the universe etched into a book.
As this thought solidified, a massive book appeared before him, suspended in the white void. Its featureless, pristine cover was framed in subtle, burnished gold. The book exuded an unshakable presence, as though it held the weight of the universe itself.
Lex's gaze lingered on the book for a moment before he imagined a pen to accompany it. Almost immediately, a pen appeared and hovered alongside the book. It was simple yet elegant, an instrument of pure will.
His task was now clear: he must thoroughly understand and master the fundamental laws of the universe. He believed that, with complete mastery, rewriting the laws would simply be a matter of precision and will.
However, the moment his fingers brushed the first page, his confidence wavered as the truth crashed over him.
The laws of the universe were not a neat ledger. They were an intricate labyrinth. Each law was a thread in an enormous, ever-shifting web that tightened and loosened in a cosmic dance of cause and effect.
Tracing a single law revealed millions of interconnected branches, each defying comprehension like a locked door. The simplicity he had envisioned dissolved, replaced by a daunting, humbling reality.
The task was monumental. Comprehending—let alone rewriting—the laws demanded more than raw willpower. It required patience, insight, and mastery beyond what he had achieved thus far.
Yet, as worry creased his features, a calm certainty returned. He remembered the crystal orb. He sat cross-legged in the boundless white, preparing to channel the orb's power and turn its Infinite Understanding upon the cosmic text.
But a chilling thought gave him pause. "What if he had never found the orb? What if it had belonged to the universe's original will?"
The answer was clear. Without the orb, his elevated status would have been nothing more than a hollow title. He would have been a god chained to a throne, with authority but no understanding of how the kingdom worked.
He couldn't help but reflect on the nature of his existence. The previous Will, an emotionless force of pure instinct, wouldn't have needed to comprehend. For it, understanding would have been osmotic, seeping into its consciousness over eons as naturally and unthinkingly as gravity.
"But I am not it," he thought. "I am more, and I am less."
He stopped his wandering thoughts, sharpened his focus, and opened the book once more, beginning to read earnestly. The crystal orb's power hummed silently at the edge of his consciousness, ready to illuminate the darkness.