In the Bible, God created everything in a mere six days, not even an entire week.

It was obvious how far from the truth that could be.

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Absolutely nothing.

At the same time, unexplainable anguish.

What was this? Could this be considered 'existing'?

How much time passed by while thinking about this? Hundreds, maybe thousands of years? Perhaps even an eternity?

It wasn't silent – there was the tune of raging flames intertwined with the tsunami-level waves of an illusive sea. This had to be a dream. No, if it wasn't, this reality was one unlivable in.

However, in a single moment, it was all gone. All of it was but a figment of imagination. What else could have been done? A landscape that was not just darkness nor empty space. Rather, something that cannot be perceived by any mind – purely nothing.

In the midst of this unstable and seemingly non-existent realm, a single essence was stationary. One that could not feel but could experience, one that could shatter from a touch but was stronger than any steel – a literal paradox, they'd call it.

This essence was waiting. Waiting for something that'd never come. The eternal hellscape of nothingness was truly a tough spot for such an essence to manifest or exist. On an endless path of liminality, ☐ was heard.

「 Come. 」

It writhed uncontrollably, almost as if it was in pain. In this horrid dimension with overwhelming nothingness, the essence retained a sense of self, an awareness of its own existence that defied the silence and emptiness. It was a curious thing, to be conscious of one's own being without anything to anchor it—no sensations, no context, no time.

For what felt like – or rather, was – epochs, the essence held on to its single purpose; to wait. What was it waiting for? Why was it waiting for that 'thing'? Ignorant to these questions, it continued waiting. An inherent drive, perhaps a cosmic compulsion, demanded patience and endurance. It was as if the essence had been embedded with a fundamental truth, one that was beyond its current grasp but that somehow still dictated its existence.

In this world of unrest, time as a concept had long lost its meaning. It was unmeasurable, indiscernible. Time itself had been dismantled, leaving only the lone essence and the endless, oppressive nothing. The absence of anything seemed like a wall that couldn't be crossed. A wall that stood taller than any mountain, not that there were any here anyways. 

Then, in a fleeting moment that seemed to both last an eternity and be over in the blink of an eye, something changed. A subtle shift occurred, almost imperceptible. The void that had once been absolute began to tremble with a new energy, a vibration that resonated faintly with the essence's own being. It was not quite sound, not quite light–more a feeling, a presence.

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This time, it was bolder. Almost like ☐ was calling the essence's name that it didn't have, ☐ roared.

「 Come. 」

The essence stirred, the faintest ripple of awareness spreading through its otherwise unchangeable form. For the first time in what felt like forever, it perceived a sliver of alteration in the monotonous expanse. This new sensation, delicate and intangible, sparked a flicker of recognition. The essence had no means to comprehend or analyse what was happening, but it could not ignore the shift.

The trembling grew stronger, the faint resonance evolving into a more defined rhythm. The essence's own being seemed to align with this new vibration, as if an unperceivable force was subtly drawing it toward a new direction. It was an urge, a pull, an imperative that went beyond mere thought or desire. It was the essence's very nature being influenced by an external force for the first time.

Then, the fabric of the void began to warp. The oppressive nothingness, which had been so firmly established, started to fracture and bend. It was as though the void itself was beginning to give way to something new, something beyond the limits of the essence's comprehension.

With this gradual transformation came a change in the essence's perception. Rather, it gained the ability to percept. The overwhelming darkness began to shimmer with faint glimmers of light, though they were not quite light as understood in the conventional sense. These glimmers had an ethereal quality, like the reflections of distant stars seen through a veil of mist. They didn't illuminate the space but hinted at the possibility of something more.

The pull grew stronger. The essence resonated in harmony with these emerging glimmers. Each moment of this newfound interaction seemed to offer a bit more substance, a step closer to the unknown that beckoned. The essence couldn't know what it was moving toward, but it sensed a profound significance in this shift, an importance beyond its immediate understanding.

[ Was this life? ]

Gradually, the fractured void began to coalesce into something resembling form. Shapes and colours that defied description took shape within the darkness, emerging from the chaotic mix of energies that had started to define this new reality. It was as though the void was being rewritten, redefined into something that held meaning and substance.

In the midst of this transformation, a distinct structure began to emerge. It was not a familiar structure, but something entirely novel and unique. It was as if the essence was witnessing the birth of a new realm, a place that had never existed before this moment. This new creation seemed to be both a consequence of the essence's waiting and a manifestation of the new resonance that had entered the void.

As the new realm continued to materialise, the essence felt its own form subtly adjusting, accommodating the changes that were unfolding. It was no longer simply waiting in nothingness; it was now an integral part of a process that was bringing forth a new reality. The essence itself was both observer and participant in this creation, its very existence intertwined with the emerging world.

The once oppressive nothingness was now a canvas of potential, an ever-evolving tapestry of shapes and energies. The essence, though still unable to fully grasp its role or purpose, felt a newfound sense of anticipation and hope – it could feel. It was as if it had been granted a chance to be more than just a waiting entity; it was now part of something that was coming into being, something that held the promise of exploration and discovery.

The process was still unfolding, and the essence was far from understanding the full scope of what was happening. Yet, as the new realm took shape around it, the essence experienced a profound sense of connection and engagement. It was a beginning, and in this beginning lay the potential for countless possibilities, each one waiting to be discovered in this new and vibrant existence.

Like artists splattering colours onto this infinitely wide canvas, the essence found itself immersed in the act of creation. The emerging realm unfolded with a dynamic fluidity, as if every stroke and shift of energy contributed to an immense artwork that was still being produced. Each new formation, each vibrant burst of colour, seemed to tell a story of its own, weaving together a complex and ever-evolving tapestry.

Like authors impetuously yet deliberately moving their pens on this verso, a vision far beyond the essence's imagination was being inscribed onto this blank page of a new universe. Each stroke, each twist of energy was a sentence, a paragraph, or even an epic tale being etched into the very fabric of existence. The cosmos responded eagerly, as if the canvas itself were alive, absorbing and reflecting the myriad ideas and intentions being poured into it.

Steadily, a world was being built around the essence as it gained form of its own. Like building blocks, multiple colours fell into place of its emerging structure, each hue and shape contributing to the foundation of this nascent universe. The essence itself was becoming more defined, its paradoxical nature melding with the surrounding creation to form a coherent presence.

The essence, no longer a passive observer, had become a soul.

The purpose of its impossibly long wait had been fulfilled.

[ This was, in fact, life. ]

He opened his eyes, the prologue of his story officially beginning.

This was the birth of Namgung Kyong.