Disorientation gripped Moyo as he roused back to life, the flood of sensations hitting him like a freight train. His body heaved as he sat up straight, fingers clenched. He inhaled a breath that felt as though he had been brought back to life, his heart pounding heavily within his chest, power wreathing and coursing through his very being. Oh, such power.
It took him a moment to get his bearings, his breath heavy and labored as his body began to relax, the tension that had gripped him vanishing as quickly as it had come.
Apophis, the war—thoughts came to him as he stood up and took a hurried step, a step that sent him bursting through the building he was in and into the air, into the vast darkness of space. Moyo shot past the planet, or wherever he had been, to float within the twinkling stars of space itself. Space. Moyo’s breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the bright golden suns that illuminated the vastness, along with the thousands of stars that burned brightly.
He blinked rapidly, realizing that reality had indeed returned. He had somehow shot past a planet, staring down at the gigantic ball of green and blue where he had come from, ringed with golden circles that reminded him of Saturn’s rings back in the Milky Way. He was stark naked, and as the thought came to him, a fine linen of pure gold concealed his nakedness, the material indescribable as it echoed with raw power—a power that came from him.
Moyo stared at his body, his dark skin laced with golden inscriptions that he knew were words of literal power, words of reality etched into his very being. They went past his skin, past his muscles, sinews, tissues, and bones. They were him as he was them—he was power. They spoke of the same thing: the origin, the beginning, the creator, the Alpha.
“Alpha,” he whispered, his words somehow echoing outward into the vastness of space as a sun popped out of nowhere, bright blue and glowing.
“To see the power of creation in action, marvelous,” a voice said behind him, and Moyo turned. Somehow, he already knew who it was, even as he took in her form, eyes roaming over her perfect figure. She beamed at him, golden and red hair flowing outward, her very feet aflame. Her luminous golden and red eyes smiled as she knelt in space as well.
“I greet the Alpha,” she said as Moyo blinked, bewildered.
“Eses?” he called out, the true dragon gazing into his eyes as Moyo frowned, “No, Lotes?” he said again, a bit confused until his gaze seemed to split in two, revealing two entities standing together in the same place.
“The Alpha sees all,” the figure before him said.
“No, you’re a fusion of both the Supreme and Eses. What are you?” Moyo asked, fascinated.
The female figure stood up. “I was blessed by the Supreme, her last vestige of power imbued within me. I am Eses still, just… more,” Eses said as Moyo hugged her, tears on his face.
“How?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
The dragon laughed, her laughter filled with such power that it rumbled around him, letting Moyo know that she, too, was more than she once was—more than a transcendent, closer to a supreme being herself.
“You did it, my lord. You led us to the edge of oblivion and brought us back,” she said, her eyes alight.
Moyo frowned. “I’m not sure how I feel about this ‘lord’ thing,” he said carefully as she laughed.
“You better get used to it. No one would dare deny it,” she said as Moyo cocked his head at her.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Eses shook her head. “Amazing—you don’t know, do you?” she said, grabbing his hand. “Please, come, before the Shieldborne turn this new reality upside down searching for you or, worse, inform your other half,” she said with another laugh as large golden and red wings exploded from her back.
Moyo marveled at the scaled, glittering beauty, flames licking its edges as Eses shot toward the planet, past the golden rings and into the planet itself.
“What is this planet?” Moyo asked, distracted as he shot past dozens of people who seemingly walked the rings unperturbed. His presence had them all dropping to their knees and bowing in reverence until he was well within the planet.
They landed in front of a large golden palace that shimmered and glowed under the three suns that seemed to inhabit this galaxy. All around Moyo were people, all turning to him, their eyes widening as they fell to their knees, bowing.
“HAIL THE ALPHA!” they thundered, Moyo reeling back, unsure of what to say when a golden pathway burst open to his left, and a face he hadn’t thought he would ever see appeared, smiling.
“Idris!” Moyo exclaimed, hugging the large figure whose form had seemingly changed. Where he once looked as if he had been cut from rock and shaped, Idris seemed more refined, as though he had been transformed into diamond. His every move was purposeful and full of power, his grey eyes burning with it.
Dressed in grey robes, a large sword strapped to his side, the very blade humming with power, the large figure laughed. “I can’t believe my eyes,” he said, releasing Moyo.
“You survived!” Moyo exclaimed.
“In a way, my lord. In a way,” Idris said, turning as figures dressed in gold and silver, large blades strapped to their backs, emerged from the same pathway, led by another figure he recognized as well.
“Josh,” Moyo said warmly. The leader of his Shieldborne dropped to his knees.
“My lord,” he said, head bowed.
Again, Moyo’s sight revealed the raw power emanating from all the figures before him, and he realized, with a start, that it was on par with Eses.
“Just what happened while I was asleep?” Moyo asked.
**************************************************
Moyo found himself back within the golden palace, its tall halls so vast he was certain he could drive large ships through without even touching the shimmering diamond roof or the expansive walls. Spatial power—it was everywhere. He could feel it, see it, and even more peculiar, it responded to his every thought.
This was how he somehow gathered everyone into the large meeting room with just a single thought. It was as though the entire palace bent and twisted to bring the room to him. Overhead, he could feel raw power as massive pathways opened around the planet, and behemoth-like ships began making their way toward the hemisphere, looking like mere specks against the vastness of the planet itself.
Moyo shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that everything had changed, and yet everyone would rather gawk at him than answer his questions—even Eses, who stood at his side, hands folded behind her back, waiting on him.
“You know this is uncomfortable, right?” Moyo asked, seated on a throne made of a metal that felt like Aserite, only significantly denser and more powerful. Even more, it pulsed with the same power he felt flowing from him into the planet. He was like a giant ancient tree whose roots spread across the planet. Moyo looked inward, realizing he had no core—no, he *was* the core. He was power. And with that realization, a loud gong echoed across the planet as he took a deep breath.
Before his eyes, his mind began to flood with raw power and knowledge. It was as if a dam had opened, and his very essence absorbed it, the raw power flooding him as Moyo tuned out everything around him, allowing the process to consume him. He had no idea how long he stayed like that, flowing through the power, unraveling the mysteries that had descended upon him.
He was in an ocean of power. Ether, it was called—this new power, the source of life in reality. He saw it all. Moyo floated as he watched the original primordial being, reality itself, a perfect amalgamation of creation and destruction fused into one form. It rolled up what remained of reality and chaos, fashioning this new reality before him.
In an instant, Moyo understood all that had been and all that would be. An eternity and infinity lay out before him: the outlines of existence, its intricacies, the balance that would be maintained irrespective of what was to come. It turned its gaze toward him, floating closer as life played out in the background—decades, centuries flowing past as more galaxies were born, life seeded on the billions of planets that filled them, all infused with Ether, this perfect fusion of chaos and aether, all free from the shackles they had once known.
“This… this was you, right?” Moyo asked the being. It pointed one finger at him, Moyo understanding as he pointed a finger in return, both limbs touching. Again, arcs of raw power surged through him, power that, quite frankly, was already his to begin with.
Moyo was the source of Ether, the literal power that held reality together. He was the scale, the balance, and those who stood with him, who walked the very hallowed grounds of the planet he was on, would be the keepers of that balance—even though he knew, deep down, that as long as he existed, the balance would never be broken.
The being began to dissolve into sand, glowing grains that drifted toward him.
“I understand, and I accept,” Moyo said with a short laugh, the sands once again adhering to his form, becoming the tattoos he had seen earlier.
***************************************
Another deep breath, and he was out of the memory, this time greeted with a sight that left him shocked. Right before him were those he had thought lost in the battle, all staring at him with bright eyes. The members of House Titan Blade—when such a thing had once existed—stood at the foot of the throne, knees bowed, glowing in all their majesty.
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Now beings of immense power, their very presence had Moyo rushing to his feet, staggering as he moved toward them, tears streaming down his face. He hugged them, though he realized one figure was still missing. Annika, the Lady of Storms, was a being quite literally made of the power of thunderclouds and lightning. Her radiant blue eyes crackled with energy, as did her hair; her very touch was as cold as it was comforting.
“Welcome back, Moyo,” she said, her voice tinkling like bells even as it clapped with thunder. Moyo laughed, wiping his eyes.
“Indeed!” he cried, embracing Boyle next. Boyle's armored form looked simple, but Moyo could feel the power emanating from him. He felt like a hundred elemental volcanoes on the verge of eruption, his molten red eyes gleaming as the once-leader of the Hammers of Ogun let out a boisterous laugh.
Ayo was next, the archer glowing from within with an ethereal light that felt as sharp as it was glorious. Moyo ruffled her hair. “It is good to see you all,” he said, his words heartfelt.
“See us all? Even without me?” a soft voice called from the doorway, making Moyo freeze as he heard Idi’s chuckle from his left.
Turning slowly, he saw a figure he never thought he would lay eyes on again, unable to move as her grey eyes and warm smile greeted him.
“I’m offended, my lord,” she said, bowing, even as another figure stepped into the room beside her, glowing green eyes and a bright smile as she stood at his side.
“Welcome back, my love,” Ashira said, Moyo’s gaze shifting from her to the figure of Martha, who watched him with a familiar, tender expression.
**************************
Over the long day that seemed endless, more and more faces appeared, along with large ships that passed through pathways overhead, gathering over the nameless planet in his honor, awaiting his revival. The news that he had been asleep for more than a year shocked him to his core, as did the fact that this planet, situated in the center of known reality, had been given the name Genesis, marking this tiny galaxy as its heart.
The halls kept expanding as more figures arrived—Altair, Killian, Duval, Skatha, Ajax with Fiona and his child, Xerxes and Xandros, Tania—the list went on. Not all the Primordials had returned, however; those who had opposed Moyo, like Rieus and others, had seemingly vanished, fading into nonexistence.
Moyo found himself surrounded by those who had died, somehow brought back to existence by the very being that had reshaped reality, almost as if it was a thank-you gift to him. They laughed and cried, Moyo refusing to let Martha out of his sight until she asked him to look with his “sight.” Moyo sucked in a breath, Martha chuckling softly.
Millions of eyes floated around her, each etched with runes that allowed them to see through reality itself into the thousands upon thousands of galaxies that were continuously expanding. “I am your eyes, my lord, now and forever,” she said warmly before vanishing, only to reappear next to Boyle, planting a soft kiss on the burning man’s cheek as Moyo raised an eyebrow.
“Oh yes, them,” Ashira said. Moyo turned his gaze to the stunning beauty beside him, her green eyes crinkling with laughter.
“The look on your face,” she said, placing a hand on his.
Ashira had become… more, almost as though the essence of the wild, the feral, and nature itself had become her being. Looking through his sight revealed a myriad of animal forms, shifting and repeating in endless transformation.
“I am… well, nature,” she said with a tinkling laugh, straddling his legs as she settled onto his lap. Moyo’s eyes widened as a long black tail appeared below her waist, and Ashira grinned at him with sharp canines, making him blush.
“Really, here?” Ajax’s voice shouted from where he sat with his child on his lap, one hand covering the struggling child’s eyes, who desperately wanted to see.
His master had survived, somehow, the long scar down his face refusing to heal despite his new form. Moyo learned that Ajax had gained control of his transformation and refinement, yet refused to let the scar go—a sort of trophy for him. Within his Ether Sight, as Moyo decided to call it, he saw Ajax as a being of stars and darkness, glowing like the night skies of the galaxy. But Ajax dodged the question of what he was when Moyo asked.
Of course, Moyo knew—the knowledge came unbidden to his mind the moment he asked. Ajax was what he had always been, what he would be through countless eons of existence they would share together. He was the Reaper reborn, the shears Moyo would wield to prune any malignant force that threatened to disrupt the balance. And he knew Ajax understood this as well. It was a topic they would revisit, especially since Moyo sensed a spark of the same power in Ajax’s child.
He stuck his tongue out at Ajax, who rolled his eyes before Moyo turned his gaze to Xerxes and Xandros, the twin brothers who stood next to a figure he hadn’t imagined he’d see again. As if sensing his gaze, Lucirion—the once high king of the Jade Walkers—grinned at him, flanked by Mardar, who waved before Lucirion whacked his head, making Moyo chuckle.
They both bowed in deference, Xandros grabbing his twin brother, once leader of the Dragon’s Brigade, by the neck and forcing him to bow as well, even as Moyo rolled his eyes. It seemed Xerxes’ animosity toward him still lingered in this new reality, a matter they would also need to discuss.
“I’m not sure Kairos and Tiamat would approve of this,” Moyo said softly.
“Well, look at you, confident enough to call them by their names,” Ashira teased with a laugh.
The two Primordials had survived as well, along with what little remained of their once-powerful house. Ashira informed him they were in the process of terraforming an entire galaxy to their whims, making it a haven for monsters and aberrant creatures they were also in the process of creating.
They would come see him personally—of that, he was sure. But for now, he would have to start putting things in order. The festivities went on throughout the day, which still refused to turn into night until Moyo frowned.
“Don’t the suns set?” he asked aloud, and immediately darkness fell, the entire room going silent.
“I’ve always wondered how to do that,” Ajax’s voice said dryly, prompting laughter from everyone. Moyo stared, embarrassed, as Ashira laughed loudly from his lap where she sat.
*******************************************
The large bonfire roared in the middle of the golden sand beach, the twinkling yet bright stars shining overhead as loud voices and laughter rang through the night. It felt as if the entire planet had gathered, thousands upon thousands of people, some Moyo knew, while others were new faces he could only smile and nod at.
He stood at the edge of the sea; its glittering waves broken by insanely large shapes drawn to the flames on the beach. He knew of them, even if he hadn’t seen or heard of them before—these massive behemoths that graced the oceans of his new world. They whistled in low melodic tunes, a tribute to the King of All.
King of All—a name he had heard whispered all around when they thought he wasn’t paying attention or was far away, if only that was possible. Moyo was the planet, and it was him—no, the entire galaxy they inhabited.
He was as much the stars as he was the sun that blazed overhead when night turned to bright daylight. Ajax yelled at him for spoiling the fun, so Moyo waved in apology and willed the night to return, darkness coming back to loud cheers. Moyo shook his head, laughing.
He crouched, running his hands through the sand, feeling tears slip down his face. He had done it. The thought still felt foreign and surprising, so why did he feel so…light?
“You shouldn’t be alone, my King,” a deep voice said. Moyo glanced to the side to see Kairos, his form a haze of green power and scales.
“Kairos,” Moyo said, standing straight and clasping hands with the once-primordial-now-original. He chuckled. “Ashira said you wouldn’t make it,” Moyo remarked as Kairos laughed.
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I simply had to deal with pressing matters. It’s not every day you get to shape a galaxy according to your whims,” Kairos replied with a chuckle.
“So, it’s true then? The infinite galaxies?” Moyo asked, and Kairos gave him a curious look.
“You don’t know?” he asked.
Moyo shrugged. “When I focus, I can see it all unfurling before my eyes until I get tired of looking,” he began. “Some barren, some filled with tiny life, some growing so rapidly it’s concerning… It’s just too much,” he said, and Kairos nodded.
“This isn’t the reality we once knew. It’s larger, infinite, with so much potential. And the best part?” Kairos added, “We have an infinity to understand it—and to do better,” he finished, and Moyo simply nodded.
They fell into silence, staring out at the sea and its washing tides.
“You have no idea what you’ve accomplished, Moyo. No idea,” Kairos finally said as Moyo glanced at him.
“The wheels of eternity have begun to turn again. Old lords and legends from the past reality will be reborn, free of their past lives, with another chance—a better one—shaped by you,” Kairos said.
“And there lies the problem,” Moyo muttered. “All that power…in my hands,” he said, staring at his palm and frowning.
“Who better to hold it?” Kairos asked in surprise. “The man who managed to undo eons of mistakes, along with those who helped him reach that point,” Kairos continued, placing a reassuring hand on Moyo’s shoulder. “I’m not saying you’ll be perfect, but you’ll have all of us by your side.”
Moyo was about to reply when Ashira barreled into him, cutting off their conversation as Moyo found himself being lifted, much to his surprise. He caught Kairos’s eyes, and Kairos nodded before turning to Tiamat, who had appeared out of nowhere, the two of them talking softly. Moyo spotted Wukong, the golden-furred being laughing as he drank from two gourds at his sides, while Ajax played a game of blade-tossing with his child to the cheers of a gathered crowd.
Everywhere Moyo looked, he was met with smiling faces, and it resonated within him. He raised a hand skyward, a smile spreading across his face. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Moyo finally let himself let loose, taking a deep breath of the sweet, crisp air and roaring in happiness.
*****************************
Moyo blinked, startled, as he awoke. Gathering himself up, he looked around, confusion washing over him.
Where was he?
He stood in a vast room made of pure gold, floating pages fluttering around him, leaving him utterly stunned. He tried to gather Ether from within, but came up empty—he was human, in his basest form.
Swallowing, he took in the towering rows of bookshelves that moved and adjusted themselves. He began to run, his footsteps barely making a sound over the grinding and groaning noises of the large shelves. He had no idea how long he’d been running, gazing around as he sensed a myriad of presences. Then, with a jolt, he realized his body was gradually filling with Ether again, as if it flowed in from nowhere.
Coming to a stop, he tried to summon his blade, the unrankable weapon he’d awakened with in his new reality, when suddenly a loud alarm blared:
“WARNING: REALITY-WARPING CONSTRUCT ATTEMPTING TO PASS THROUGH THE VEIL. DEFENSIVE MECHANISMS HAVE NEUTRALIZED SAID CONSTRUCT.”
“You what?!” Moyo roared in shock as he reached out for the weapon. He sighed with relief, sensing it was still out of reach but safe, simply unable to manifest wherever he was—wherever this veil was.
Breathing heavily, he turned toward motes of light that had begun to gather rapidly before him, taking the shape of a woman.
Moyo wondered if he was hallucinating as he gazed at the tall woman with milky skin and purple eyes. She turned her gaze toward him and sighed. “He’s done it again,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Where am I? Who are you?” he asked, and she glanced at him.
“I’m not ready for this. In fact, I believe he forgot he even summoned you,” she said cryptically. Then she snapped her fingers, and purple, burning runes flared to life, rotating as a similar runic circle appeared beneath his feet. Reality twisted, nausea overwhelming him, and when it cleared, he found himself seated in a large room across from a man in voluminous robes, scribbling on a piece of parchment.
Moyo made out the word *Microwarriors* before the parchment rolled up. The man looked up, and Moyo felt his heart jolt.
The face was familiar, and yet it wasn’t—gold irises, a beard, and a bald head. The figure nodded.
“Oh, you’ve arrived?” he said, tossing the quill in his hand aside. Moyo watched as it floated to the side, where the same purple-eyed woman appeared next to him.
“Make this quick, M. You’re breaking your own rules,” she warned.
M?
“Just a minute. We’re expecting another guest,” the figure named M replied. Reality twisted again, and another figure dropped into a chair beside Moyo—Tunde, who looked almost like him, with the same dark skin and similarly surprised expression.
“Good, glad you could make it, Tunde,” M said as Tunde glanced at him in shock.
“Who are you?” Moyo asked M, his tone softer this time, more wary.
M locked his fingers together, resting his chin on them as he smiled. “Well, to put it gently, I’m your maker,” he replied.