Silence lingered between Scott and the variant. The variant, however, wore a more cheerful smile—one that echoed his pleasure with Scott’s answer.

  Scott, meanwhile, merely watched. No thunderous explosions shook the ancient throne room—and there was no awe-inspiring display of raw power. Nothing happened.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me if that’s correct?” the variant suddenly asked.

  Scott shook his head. “It’s pointless,” he began. “I don’t need your approval to know,” he declared staunchly.

  The variant’s smile returned. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Then he sighed, shaking his head.

  “Congratulations,” he suddenly declared.

  Scott, however, felt no excitement. He simply stared at the variant, indifferent.

  Amidst the silence, the variant spoke again. “You can unite all as one. You know that, right?”

  Scott said nothing, his brows furrowing as he observed the variant closely.

  “Amongst the infinite worlds, only one can—and will—reach here,” the variant stressed, stepping forward. “You have the right and ability to erase all their existence—including mine—coalescing everything into yourself.”

  “Why would I do that?” Scott interjected, halting the variant mid-speech.

  “Don’t you want to be the original?” the variant asked, a flicker of shock and confusion in his gaze.

  “That’s pointless,” Scott retorted, shaking his head. “Who decides what’s real and what isn’t?” His voice was calm, yet resolute.

  The three eyes of the variant blinked simultaneously. His mouth remained closed.

  Scott continued. “I’ve watched them. Seen all their struggles. Their endless desire to survive, to be better. And yet, they keep succumbing to the same inescapable fate. Regardless, they persist.”

  He took a step toward the variant, maintaining eye contact.

  “They may never escape the endless loop like you and I—but that doesn’t make them any less real.”

  “Then you’d rather remain fractured?” the variant countered.

  “We were never whole to begin with,” Scott replied. He tilted his head slightly. “The more I look at you, the more I doubt you’re the original.”

  The variant chuckled softly. “And why’s that?”

  “Your eyes—”

  “What about them?” the variant interrupted.

  “They lack emptiness,” Scott declared solemnly.

  He watched the variant closely, noting how his eyes began to narrow, an indiscernible gleam twisting his expression.

  “Now that I think about it, you might not even be one of us,” Scott said, his gaze sharpening.

  “Now you’re just speaking nonsense,” the variant replied, shaking his head.

  “No, I’m not,” Scott retorted, taking another step forward. “Apart from the emptiness, you also lack the primal desire we all share—to abandon everything and preserve our existence.”

  “Do you expect me to be the same as the rest of them after spending countless eons here?” the variant fired back, more amused than before.

  Scott stopped, staring intently at his other self. “Now I’m even more certain,” he said, cracking a smile.

  For the first time, the variant’s expression faltered. Scott continued advancing.

  “Even I don’t fully understand it—or know how it came to be—but that hunger to survive, that’s what defines us. It’s the essence of our being. Not even time can erode it.”

  He stopped in front of the variant.

  “You possess three all-seeing eyes, yet you can’t see through me. You’re not one of us,” Scott declared boldly.

  “Scott, you’re going too far—”

  “No!” Scott cut him off, his voice rising. “You heard the nature of my—our—madness, yet you ask me to devour them all, to become one with them.”

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  “And what’s wrong with that?” the variant shot back.

  Scott chuckled softly. “What is the nature of my madness?” he asked in return.

  The variant stared, his brows creasing.

  “C’mon, say it,” Scott urged, his smile broadening. “You must’ve heard me say it. Why can’t you?”

  The variant remained silent.

  “Let me rephrase, in case it’s too difficult. What’s the nature of our madness?” Scott repeated. “Surely you must know—we both made it here, after all.”

  Again, silence.

  Scott began to laugh. He cocked his head back, his right hand sliding down his face as his laughter echoed through the sacred hall.

  He lowered his head, eyes fixed on the variant. They both wore smiles.

  “When did you find out?” the variant finally asked.

  “The moment you asked me to assimilate everything,” Scott replied.

  The variant nodded gently, as if understanding had finally dawned.

  “But do you realize what I am?” he asked after a long pause.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Scott replied matter-of-factly. “You’re just another phase to overcome. And I will.”

  A crack split through the surrounding walls. Statues and even the ancient throne bore deep fissures. Scott glanced at them briefly, his gaze settling back on the variant. Cracks were appearing along his form as well.

  “I was so close,” the variant said ruefully, still smiling. “I thought you’d become greedy at the prospect of being whole.”

  “Maybe if another version of me had come here—a version struggling to fill the emptiness left by erasure, one desperate to remember what was taken—then perhaps you might have succeeded,” Scott said with a soft smile. “You lost your chance the moment you let me witness the infinite worlds.”

  “Hmm... is that so?” the variant groaned as cracks webbed deeper across his form. “Infinite World, Eternal Madness...” he murmured, his smile growing radiant. “You truly understand your nature!” he beamed, the fractures widening with each word.

  Scott said nothing as the variant—and the ancient throne room—shattered before his eyes.

  And then, he stood before the familiar door.

  This time, it was fully parted. An uncountable number of all-seeing eyes peered at him through the darkness beyond—each of them watching, each carrying a distinct emotion. He could feel them. Some seemed overjoyed. Others... proud.

  They welcomed him forward.

  Scott marched ahead, one step at a time.

  No hesitation.

  The darkness didn’t frighten him, and the staring eyes didn’t make him flinch. He felt as though he were returning—not to a place, but to a beginning. To the point of origin.

  One step. Then another. And Scott crossed the threshold.

  Darkness swallowed him whole. The countless eyes began to wink out of existence, fading one by one.

  Finally... this is all over, Scott thought, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift.

  Clank.

  Clank.

  Clank.

  Scott opened his eyes. The rhythmic strike of hammer on steel echoed through an endless grey world veiled in drifting shadows.

  But this time, the once imperceptible figures didn’t elude his vision.

  He turned toward the sound. Yet, instead of the blacksmith’s familiar hulking frame, he saw a cosmic entity—an avatar of burning suns and smoldering stars—wielding worlds and smashing them down upon an endless, bottomless abyss.

  “You’re back,” came the blacksmith’s familiar voice, clear and steady. “I do not wish to be seen like that,” he added dryly.

  Scott’s vision shifted. The blazing entity faded—and in its place, the usual figure of the blacksmith stood, striking glowing ore atop his anvil.

  The ceaseless hammering stopped. The blacksmith turned toward him and smiled—something he rarely did.

  “You’ve finally grasped your nature.”

  Scott didn’t speak. He simply looked at him, and the blacksmith didn’t say more either.

  A moment passed.

  Then, Scott gave a solemn bow. “Thank you. I would’ve lost myself if you hadn’t helped,” he said sincerely.

  The blacksmith chuckled. “You’re overthinking it,” he replied. “I was just hammering out impurities for my own amusement. It had nothing to do with you.”

  Still, Scott kept his head bowed.

  Then the blacksmith spoke again. “I don’t know much about the Throne of Madness,” he said, voice growing quiet. “But from what I do know... to truly embrace madness, one must endure great loss.”

  He paused. The weight in his words deepened.

  “Is what you’ve lost... comparable to what you’ve gained?”

  Scott lifted his head. And smiled. “Nothing is ever truly lost in the infinite worlds.”

  They locked eyes. No words. No movement.

  Silence stretched between them like an unspoken understanding.

  Then, the blacksmith moved.

  “‘Nothing is ever lost in the infinite worlds,’” he repeated, staring at Scott with a contemplative look. A flicker of realization passed through his gaze—then he laughed.

  “Really good,” he praised. “You’re indeed worthy of the path you’ve begun to tread.”

  Scott didn’t answer. He just smiled.

  The blacksmith continued. “So—do you need me to tell you how to subdue the egos now?”

  Scott’s gaze shifted toward the figures moving through the mist.

  But this time... they weren’t just shadows. They had form—phantasmal, fluid, and strange.

  Some resembled mythical creatures. Others were pure abstractions. A few flickered between forms endlessly, never settling. And some still chose to remain as shadows—not because Scott couldn’t see through them, but because they wanted to be seen that way.

  He turned back to the blacksmith.

  “No, not really,” Scott said, his voice firm. “I can handle them myself.”

  The blacksmith grinned. “I’m sure you can.”

  “There’s no limit to the number of egos I can retrieve, right?” Scott asked suddenly.

  The blacksmith hesitated. His gaze danced between Scott and the drifting egos.

  Then, he sighed.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said carefully. “While there’s no restriction on how many you can subdue... it’s wiser to focus on the one with the deepest resonance to you.”

  He held Scott’s gaze, his tone growing serious.

  But Scott didn’t react. Not even a blink.

  The blacksmith bit his lower lip. “I implore you not to—”

  “Don’t worry,” Scott interrupted gently, wearing that same subtle smile. “I won’t.”

  The blacksmith frowned. “You’ve grown cheeky,” he muttered. “That you’d dare tease me... Hah.” He turned his head, groaning. “Who knows what’ll happen the longer a brat like you sticks around.”

  Scott laughed softly.

  Then, as if remembering something, he called out, “Oh—before I go.”

  The blacksmith turned back toward him.

  Scott grinned. “Since when did you start welcoming guests to this place?”

  On a scale of 5-10, how insane do you think Scott is?