"Let’s hear it, little soul," ROB purred softly, his voice a dark velvet caress against the fabric of reality. He twirled a miniature black hole effortlessly between two slender fingers, its gravitational pull distorting nearby constellations into swirling trails of cosmic dust. "What exactly do you want to become? And don't skimp on the details—I adore tragic ambition."
I steadied myself, or at least whatever passed for steadiness in this formless expanse of nonexistence. The words came slowly, crafted from fragments of my fragmented self.
"I want… to become a modified Entity Shard from Worm," I said carefully, shaping the words with metaphysical care. "But different. With genuine emotions—real, deep feelings—and creativity. Not just another parasitic shard following endless cycles."
ROB’s mask flickered curiously, momentarily reflecting a haunting vision: a galaxy consumed by writhing cosmic roots, stars snuffed out as they were dragged screaming into oblivion.
"Bold. Continue," ROB encouraged, leaning forward eagerly.
Gathering the scattered remnants of my courage, I pressed on. "A pocket dimension, fueled entirely by magic—not mere solar radiation or planetary lifeforce consumption. And…" I hesitated, the next words heavy with static, tasting of forbidden cosmic potential, "…with the capacity to evolve, eventually, into a fully autonomous Entity."
At that, the void itself seemed to freeze in shock.
ROB leaned even closer, the static whispers of his voice causing distant stars to tremble and unravel into threads of starlight. "Oh, you are simply delicious. A shard craving true humanity? Fascinating indeed. Let's negotiate."
He snapped his fingers, and three nightmarish visions burst forth from the void:
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A crystalline Shard twisting in agony, shrieking silently as pure magic corroded its core.
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An immense planetary whale drifting through a cosmic graveyard, shedding layers of skin formed from the remains of long-extinct civilizations.
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A swirling vortex, labeled ominously: "Pocket Dimension—Contents: Unknown," within which shadowy leviathans and bioluminescent oceans churned restlessly.
ROB turned first toward the tortured crystalline Shard. "Firstly," he said, voice low and melodic, "emotion requires souls. Your shard-children will develop true feelings only after five separate hosts each survive at least five years of bonding. Until then, your little shards are merely clever constructs—AI with unresolved daddy issues, if you will."
The whale projection suddenly lunged forward, its colossal jaws opening wide, dripping radiant supernovas like saliva into the emptiness. "Secondly: your beloved magic," ROB continued, grinning wickedly behind his cracked mask. "Your dimension will indeed be sustained by mana. But nourishing your shards demands energy. Solar? Planetary life? Or perhaps more… creative alternatives. You must choose carefully."
ROB’s hand swept dramatically toward the vortex, now shimmering vividly, brimming with alien seas illuminated by eerie colors. "And thirdly—your precious pocket dimension. A pristine canvas, yes… but there is a cost. To populate it with ecosystems, creatures, or even that [Pocket Ocean] you secretly desire, you’ll require real data—meticulously gathered, painstakingly observed, fully integrated."
I frowned (or rather, attempted whatever cosmic equivalent passed for a frown). "So, if I wanted a [Pocket Ocean] shard…?"
"You must study an actual ocean first," ROB said gently, mask morphing momentarily into the grin of a predatory shark. "Immerse yourself. Map trenches, catalog species, analyze every nuance. Without this foundation, creation is impossible. But fret not—I'll ensure you find plenty of fascinating worlds ripe for exploration."
With a wave of his hand, the vortex dissolved into glowing runes that arranged themselves into a luminous contract:
1. "Dimensional Leaps"
Every five hundred years, you'll be hurled into a new reality. Survive. Study. Absorb. Repeat.
2. "ROB’s Catalog"
Occasionally, I'll request shards based upon… reader suggestions. Have you ever forged a shard that weaponizes awful puns? Oh, you shall.
3. "Anodite Paradox"
Your innate [Anodite] core grants extraordinary mastery over magic—but beware. Excessive use draws the hungry gaze of Entropy itself. Tread lightly, little spark, lest you be devoured.
ROB extended his hand, now skeletal, its bones shimmering softly beneath skin made of captured starlight and ancient cosmic secrets. "So, little soul… do we have a deal?"
I paused, absorbing all the implications of the bargain. I had chosen a dangerous path, and yet… it felt right, irresistibly compelling. I nodded internally, the essence of my decision echoing clearly into the void.
"I… accept."
ROB’s laughter erupted once more, ecstatic and triumphant. Reality itself shattered into countless fragments of glassy starlight, the kaleidoscope swallowing my perception whole, reshaping everything I knew and everything I was destined to become.
"Wonderful!" he cried joyously, as the infinite shards of existence cascaded around me, each glittering piece whispering promises of adventure and chaos.
The void had broken. My journey had begun.