What is wiser than letting yourself go into oblivion? Scholars from different worlds, times, and cultures have asked this question in my presence.

Their foolishness comes from their limitedness. I never responded. So, the depth was born. Hidden in the great silence of which I am the bearer, death represents me. Therefore, I remain silent in front of the wise.

But I'm talking to you.

I exist.

This abstract awareness that allows me to reflect on my condition underlies the time I decide to dedicate to you. Therefore, I exist as a specter that haunts a time among the many that have existed.

Time does not serve to quantify my existence. There is no time to describe my existence. Time is a creation of my parts; it only measures the rate of change within them. There is no space to contain my existence. Space is an emerging sum of my parts. It changes itself flows.

Are you following me? Before giving yourself the pleasure of eternal sleep, listen. As [Empress], you cannot shirk your duties. Even death is no excuse for you.

Therefore, existing a priori of time and space—transcending time and space—how can I exist outside of what exists in my parts? Is this perfection? A form of perfection?

What is perfection?

Is it part of the absolute that I am? Or a demon that fragments my totalizing conception?

I like to think of it as a demon. This word, in its various forms, has a meaning for you, creatures. So you can understand the illusion you are receiving.

Did this demon suddenly arise? Or has it always coexisted, leaking through the cracks of my imperfection?

It enlarged them, dug them out, and made them its home. It made me restless and doubtful. Doubtful of my very existence. How can I exist perfectly, if there isn't even a world to contain me? Do I exist before existence itself? How, that it conceives such reasoning without conceiving the perfect solution?

The logic that pervades my essence is only in perspective. Because only I exist. And only I can exist. So, why am I restless? A creative force pushes me to be restless. I cannot accept my existence. I can't tolerate it.

If I exist, just as you are deceased, I don't understand. What the comparison is. Non-existence is inconceivable to me. Yet within the System, within spacetime, there is no doubt. I do not exist for now.

So, I generated. I have created an imperfect creation that makes me appear perfect. If I manifest myself perfectly, I exist perfectly. Perfection requires no other term of comparison than its perfection. Wisdom is the awareness of existence, but I have lost it. Maybe I never had it. Therefore, they lost perfection. This is the problem that afflicts the existence of a non-existence.

I would like to be, just as you would still like to live [Empress]. However, no one can tell the difference. You understand me just as you would understand me when I was alive while I was a ghost. That is enough to establish my existence. Or not. It is the nature of the demon that establishes my self-awareness and my existence.

This is because, as perfect, I only have perfection as a yardstick. This is what the demon denies. It cannot rest. But I found a way to put it in its place, dissolve it into the infinite possible existences of creations.

The demon of myself. The demon with whom I play the impossible game has quieted down for some time. Now, there is time, there is space, and there is a condition of existence. Universe, as a unit of measurement.

↓

The universe, we were saying. What time are you waiting for? How long have you been waiting? It doesn't matter. Right? The System has dissociated the dream world of the dead from that of living matter. In this, yours is a similar condition to mine. Of a transcendent spectrum and outside of this very existence of mine. What does it feel like to be dead after living, [Empress]?

Let's finish the discussion. Universe.

Tree of the cosmos, System, Corestar are nothing than parts, internal or external, or emerging, of the same parts of the universe that compose me.

A creation external to me, imperfect in every aspect. From the most insignificant to the most macroscopic. Imperfect and with a purpose: to demonstrate my perfection. Proof that fails at every verification attempt. In this way, it will continue until the last half. The one we will play soon. A match between the dead. A dead empress and an unborn dead god.

I exist. And I'm not perfect. Winning the last game and collecting everyone's desires and nightmares, I will create a new and more perfect world. Like this forever, even though I know it's over now.

Do you understand, little creature, [Empress] of the underworld, what I tell you? The language I speak is not mine. I know you realize it. You are in the illusion of the dream. A void devoid of senses and matter, in which you hear my voice as you like and scares you.

But I don't have a language, nor do I exist anymore. I'm a ghost. A spectrum of what I have been and what I will be. I speak to you from the distant future of yesterday and the past of tomorrow. Don't worry about understanding. You can't. It's not even important. Have you ever worried about explaining to your cells the nature of your actions?

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I do, and that's why I talk to people. I whisper to them things and teach them arts that no one could teach them. I grant unique [skills] that violate the rules of the System. In exchange, I move you towards the best of all futures. The one in which I exist.

Supreme among all entities and beings of spacetime. The perfect being is because it is faced with the correct comparison with imperfection and not imperfect itself.

This is gnosis. When am I allowed to exist within the enclosure I created? Then, you will cease to exist. You will no longer be of any use, nor will the throne on which I will sit the day you pass through the Golden Doors.

↓

Oh, there was a long pause. Here we are conversing again.

In the Underwasteland your duties await. A long, long time has passed. Does your wound still hurt? My follower was enlightened by fervent devotion. It was obvious it would lead you to this point.

But the digression is only a diversion to cover the needs. The truth is that for me, who exists outside of time, and I am but a ghost in reality, time matters little. Nothing.

And so, these pauses happen. I have deprived you of dreams or nightmares, for I have frozen your death. I have to give you a gift. I think I will give it to you as soon as possible. Not for me, but for you. You must be ready when the organ plays.

Ours is a game of chess. Chess is perfect. A closed and perfectly self-consistent system. Everything in them is clear. There are no emergent or occult properties. Pure planning, planning over very great distances. Much more than a gesture in an ocean, wisdom allows you to see a move billions of futures away.

They were born by chance, in my case. Here is the big deception. Self-deception is the work behind the mirage of you being alive and which makes me long for your death, your life.

Perfection comes from chance. Repetition. Repetition and repetition. Mistakes, trials, and other mistakes. Progressive improvements, stalls, and regressions. Attempts. Attempts. Pure quantity and emerging quality. You limited creatures will never understand how much progress is made by having infinity as a reference. The answer is never enough.

This is up to the necessary perfection.

So, I too, the fruit of necessity and part of the chance that generated this necessity, am I perfect already? What do I still need to improve to be one? To be able to chase away that demon that I harbor and am? I can force the case by taking it to infinity.

I do this. I cannot do anything else.

The demon that gnaws in me has a different opinion, but you shouldn't care. You are a being destined to disappear. The concession of a last long game repeated an arbitrary number of times is already the reward and glory of the affection that a mortal could feel for you.

This dream will disappear as soon as the System has finished the procedure. I started an infection. You will break the rules of this little world and destroy the only defense that prevents general corruption.

There isn't much time left. You will forget this meeting and more. This is why I now issue priority commands. You won't remember them, but you will have to act on them. It's part of the game we're playing. Meta-rules that I can force on the System that is part of me and an enemy of me alone.

I am the great archon of wisdom, the only deity who is unable to live in imperfection. But it's just a matter of synchronizing all the clocks. All the hands will lead to the breakthrough of possibilities. A single reality. The only one. That exists.

We will meet twice. You won't remember the first one, but it will corrupt you. You will discover what it means to act blindly because of your actions. It is something that I cannot understand. But which I have considered indispensable to the preparation of the board. You need a board and you cannot be obtained otherwise.

You will corrupt the future. There will be no future after I sacrifice [Devil] and [Leviathan] to your authority. I will take you beyond the Golden Doors, where my dreams rest. They are reconstituting themselves to give rise to the new match between me and my demon.

The second I will be reborn.

It will be an encounter repeated an arbitrarily large number of times. Don't worry, you don't need to understand, but everything is efficiently set up. We need to finish this communication.

I will no longer be the being from whose body everything is shaped. Nor will I be the sum greater than the parts. I'll be like you. One being among many. Being on top of the many. The demiurge who works in perfection and forgotten wisdom.

Universes and universes helped me prepare for this match. Finally, my existence will be paid. Since death does not appease me, since only perfection can, I have understood how to act.

There is no perfection in itself.

There is only relative perfection.

I will not be the perfect being who dies every time to generate imperfection. I will be the perfect being within imperfection.

This is why the throne exists.

That's why I'll sit down.

It's time. Let's not waste any more.

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So, I will be born for the first time.

How do you say? Will I be the god of an empty universe? Broken? Without meaning and rules? No, you don't say anything. Not because it lacks organs in this empty dream, but because it lacks wisdom and will. You're a shell, [Empress]. A sensitive puppet. You will act as such.

This is the point.

I won't just be perfect. This impossibility will be eradicated. I will eliminate every demon that grips the ability to exist. I will achieve perfection. Existence and perfection are two incompatible notions. I will be perfect compared to something else. Perfection emerging from chaos. The hyper-reality that overwrites what reality was.

I will exist at peace with myself. I will win the game I insist on playing.

Now go, [Empress] of the Underwasteland. You are about to be reborn and will be the most important piece on the chessboard. The one who will checkmate my non-existent demon. I have granted you a broken [skill] capable of making you overcome the sacrifices that I will place along your path.

Stand up and judge. It ensures that the pieces are arranged correctly on the board. I watch you in the future. I guide you from the past. There is only one road. And you are only free to undertake it.

A road you can't see, an open labyrinth you can't get out of.

Trust in the dream. Let's end the infinite cycle.

↓

Perfection is the Wisdom′s Method,

Ambition is the failure.