A void of black and a void of white, stretching into infinity. Nothing.
Then, a flurry of change. Change centered around a force as ill-defined as the world it dwells in. Over, and over, and over. Minor moments of existence, pulled from the ether and left to fade away. Defined clearly. Skies and stars, deepest depths and highest heights. Static but real.
The storm peters out and only the force that started it remains, dormant.
Another burst, this one focussed. A singular existence, containing both life and time. It lasts longer, and unlike the previous fragments of existence, this keeps growing, until it too is discarded. Once again its origin grows still.
This process repeats a few times, the moments of dormancy growing longer and longer.
At last true progress is made as a form is taken and everything is re-defined.
The white becomes an ocean, the black becomes a sky, the maker becomes the cornerstone of all reality. A lone gray island, a simple cube rising out of the still, white, sea.
A final twist of will and a figure appears in the distance. With nowhere else to go they swim towards the only place they can see.
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A god smiles.
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The fully armored knight pulls himself wearily on top of the gray cube. Without opening his visor he coughs and splutters,a large amount of sea water falling through the visor; The water flows to the edge of the cube, growing to resemble the white of the ocean as it joins it. The knight doesn't notice. He lays down onto his back, spread like a metal starfish as he recovers his breath.
After gathering his wits he speaks up.
"Where the fuck am I?" a decidedly female voice breaks the silence. The knight sits up without moving their legs, displaying some great core strength. The armor clangs slightly as they do. The helmet turns from side to side. Taking in the exact same stretch of endless black and white in all directions.
Satisfied that there is no danger in sight, they lift their helmet and place it neatly on the ground next to them.
She takes a moment to feel around her forehead. Her fingers come back stained in sweat and blood, neither of which have been washed away by the white sea. She begins doffing the rest of her armor. Piece after piece of runed metal falls to the ground as leather bands come undone.
It takes a bit of finicking but eventually her metal shell is shed.
Methodically she checks herself for wounds, using padding from the inside of her armor and strips of cloth to bind them. Having dealt with her immediate concerns she focuses back on her surroundings. She mulls over whether she should put her armor back on, deciding against it after a few seconds.
After a quick scan across the horizon she lies down; Surrounded by discarded armor pieces she closes her eyes and falls asleep.