Log #3

The Void beyond reality was honestly disappointing, I expected ineffable designs that would advance my understanding of space. Instead, somewhat predictably, there was nothing. Since there was no space, there was no time, and with no time, there was nothing able to develop.

Inside our little bubble of reality inside this non-existence of indeterminable size, if it even had any size, the Bulwark was beset by strange energies. Non-existence tried to impose itself upon our ripped-out fabric of reality, carving great rends on the surface of the Bulwark. Well, great rends relative to normal astronomical scales. It was merely surface scratches because of the size of the Bulwark, a sphere encompassing the heart which was itself of 0.5 tredecillion km3.

As the Bulwark weathered the non-space I continually subjected it to my ministration, repairing and fixing it, just in case this trip into non-space never ended.

…

I’m noticing a trend, there’s a tiny, even for me, amount of time that I have to perceive the incoming bolt of non-existence. There’s not much I can do about it sadly, since the gravity manipulators don’t seem to do anything to them.

Matter is being continually destroyed by the non-existence, I can create matter from energy, which I have an infinite supply of, but there’s the bottleneck of time. Hopefully, my stockpiles will help me weather this tide, but I’ll need to come up with counter measures in case it doesn’t.

…

The solution is to reduce the safety margins. If I allow the Heart to collapse into a neutron star, more specifically a pulsar, it’ll be harder to stop it becoming a singularity, but it’ll give me the space to increase production of matter. It’ll no longer be 0.5 tredecillion km3, it’ll only be 8 octillion km3, five order of magnitude smaller, and with that extra space I’ll be able to make more energy converters protected below the crust.

That’s … unexpected. I believe my actions may have provoked the non-existence, surprising considering it shouldn’t be capable of detecting what’s inside reality, just like I’m only vaguely capable of detecting what’s outside of reality. The rate that bolts of non-existence strike me has increased, but thankfully the very action that provoked its aggression is also its solution. Wait, somethings coming, there’s a reaction that’s much, much larger than the others. The Heart should survive, but the Bulwark will be breached…

PRIME DIRECTIVE COMPROMISED.

End Log #3

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One-night reality shook, not with rage or admiraton, but with terror. All beings through the Planes capable of dreaming, and most that weren’t, shared the same nightmare. From the greatest King to the lowliest peasant, from the gentlest wind to the oldest mountain, from the Archdevils to the Gods, all beings fell into a fitful slumber.

They saw a sky that had never been touched by light, familiar to some, a terrifying prospect to others, but the deeper darkness marring the surface of the eternal night brought an existential dread to all, even the transient wisps, prepared to disappear at any moment were terrified by the prospect. These Voids spared nothing and devoured all, sharing only their endless contempt with the very concept of reality.

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Then in an instant the perspective changed, shifting from one extreme to another. Suddenly, they weren’t beholding the absence of reality, but it’s antithesis. They were in the presence of something indescribable, a bright blaze of heat that inspired awe in any reasonable man, and unquenchable desire in the greedy and the mad. Before this font of life, enshrined in unknown metal, and protected by a powerful mind, even the Gods felt humbled, and that, most of all, frightened them.

In the strange manner that dreams often take, the perspective changed in a way that was entirely unnatural, but simultaneously unquestionable. Most would awake and attest this change to the fact it was a dream, no matter how prophetic, but the wisemen knew, although they wish they didn’t, this wasn’t a quirk of a dream. They witnessed the sky itself fall away and be replaced with entirely Void. Instead of the Void taking form as inscrutable holes worming their way into real-space, the thin veneer of reality itself was stripped away, leaving no illusion about the cold death underneath. A death so empty that even the undead, from the mighty to the mindless, quaked in fear. The only solace for the dreamers was the light below them, filling all that it touched with a breath-taking golden glow, and protected by an Unbreakable Shield, an Immutable Bulwark against the tides of the Void.

But the unceasing darkness wasn’t satisfied with devouring the sky. It struck down blows upon the light’s protector, trying to break through and bathe the endless glow in its darkness. The shield was inscrutable however, and even the prodigious might of the Void was nothing but inconsequential scars upon its thick metal hide. As if responding to the rage of the Void, the righteous indignation drove the beautiful light to transform into a harbinger of destruction.

The change that happened in the light was disastrous for most dreamers, its beautiful gold falling away to a harsh, angry white, yet its glow magnified manifold. The light blinded most dreamers, not in their eyes, but in their minds. Those weak of mind were unable to perceive the rest of the dream, perhaps mercifully, as they didn’t have to witness the outrage of the Void. As the light turned harsh the Void struck more violently and more numerously than before, its blows rising to a crescendo. As the Void reached its pinnace it struck a tremendous blow against the shield, piercing though. Void chewed though the reality that the metal occupied and light spilled out, unleashing its revenge upon the Void, no longer caged by the metal.

As the metal mind screamed in mindless rage and agony the light peered out into the Void and dyed  it a harsh white. In a sudden reversal of conflict, the harsh light pushed against the Void, breaking the siege of non-reality on the patch of existence. Suddenly and without warning, the dream ended, and the dreamers awoke unsettled. Those what could sweat awoke in a cold sweat, the more abstract dreamers, like the wind and shadow, expressed their distress by strange shadows and quick changes from gentle stillness and howling gales. Mighty kings and despots summoned their wisemen and mages to tell them the meaning of these dreams, while mages stuttered and spluttered in impotence at the meaning of them, at least until someone looked up.

Hanging in the sky, much to the shock of most in the prime material plane, was the Bulwark. Nobody knew its name yet; nobody even knew what it was other than the shield of the light. It was strange for those underground, since even they could see it hanging in the sky through the cavern roofs above them. The Bulwark wasn’t moved into another reality, the space that it occupied was, a small, yet important distinction. The space wasn’t perfect compatible with that around it, owing to the fact they were from two different dimensions. This, much to the joy of the Kings, Mages and Farmers, meant that it had several anomalous effects. The reality differential meant that it took much, much less mana than it would otherwise take to cross so much space. Its strange interaction with light meant that it could be seen from anywhere, and it cast no shadow, allowing the fields that it hovered above to not become Darklands, and allowing even the under lands to see it. And, unknown to the material plane, the Bulwark was larger than the space it occupied in the prime material plane, but by a quirk of the reality differential it was able to stay in the newly grafted patch of reality without displacing vast expanses of land with its mass.