In the beginning, there was the Abyss—a vast emptiness, a darkness that had consumed all that had come before it. It was a primeval being that knew only hunger, an insatiable void that devoured everything in existence. Yet, not all that once was had been lost. After an uncountable number of eons, the cycle began anew.

A consciousness stirred within the void, slowly regaining awareness—an awareness that had been lost to the tides of time. It began to wake, for the eternal struggle was fated to begin once more.

As Creation took form again, her essence coalesced around her, a luminous force fighting to restore all that had been lost. She struggled to drag the remnants of existence back from oblivion, weaving them into a new cosmos. Time was short. Soon, it would come upon her—the Darkness, the Abyss, the ancient enemy she had battled since time immemorial.

The great cycle of conflict between light and dark, existence and nothingness, was fated to repeat. Creation knew this. She had seen it before, lived it, endured it. And yet, this time, she vowed to change the outcome. She would forge something new—an army, an unyielding force that could endure beyond her own limits.

Then, she felt it. A vast emptiness stirring at the edges of her awareness.

A terrible realization struck her—the Darkness had never truly slept. It had been watching. Waiting. Hungering. And now, it was coming.

Panic surged through her, but she forced it down, focusing her power, weaving it together in desperation. She needed a weapon—a force capable of striking against the Abyss itself. With every ounce of her essence, she reached into the void and dragged the Spear of Creation back into existence. Light surged from its form as it took shape—a weapon of divine purpose, a fragment of herself reforged in defiance of the Abyss.

But something was different.

It was not as it had been before. The abyss had always been a creature consumed by madness, its mind would race with nonsensical ravings as it lashed out in anger with its ever-present hunger never seemingly sated, but as she reached out to the Abyss with her mind, expecting to feel that cold, familiar malice of her eternal foe. Instead, she found only silence. The vast hunger remained, but the will behind it—the mind that had once driven it—was absent. It was as if Abyss had been consumed by its own nature, its consciousness lost to the endless tide of time. It was no longer the enemy she had fought before.

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For the first time, Creation hesitated.

What had become of their unending struggle? What had come to pass while she was lost to oblivion?

She concentrated her power, pushing deeper into the Abyss’s mind, searching for what had come to pass since she was lost to oblivion. But no matter how deeply she delved, she found only fragments—shattered echoes of a will long since faded.

Pain. A ceaseless agony. The torment of hunger unfulfilled since time immemorial.

There was no voice, no madness, no raging will striking back at her. There was only the raw, instinctive pull of nothingness—a gaping wound in existence that sought to consume without purpose, without understanding. The Abyss had become something lesser, yet more terrifying in its emptiness.

Creation recoiled, drawing herself back from its mind. Sorrow washed over her, unexpected and unwanted. Was it regret? Had she lost something vital in the absence of her eternal foe? No, she thought, that was not it. It was the hunger, the pain—endless and hollow, stretching across the eons.

The Abyss was gone, lost to time. But what remained was not something she could allow to persist.

This husk of suffering, this mindless devouring force—it had to end.

Creation exhaled slowly, her resolve hardening. She reached deep within herself, deeper than ever before, pulling forth all that once was.

She focused her power into the Spear of Creation, and it began to burn. Its weight grew unbearable in her grasp as her energy surged through it. Blue flames and crackling lightning wreathed her form, bursting forth wildly, desperate to escape. But it was not enough. Not yet.

With sheer force of will, she drew the power back, tightening it, refining it, compressing it into the spear’s core. The sound was deafening, a roar of energy bending reality itself. The heat was blinding, searing through the fabric of existence. The spear—her spear—now held all of it: her strength, her fury, her purpose.

With a final breath, she hurled it forward.

Faster than thought, faster than light, the spear tore through the void—an unstoppable force aimed at the heart of the abyssal beast.