“Wake up.”
“Wake up, quickly.”
“Do not flee your fate.”
“You were born to break free of it.”
“At any cost.”
A distant voice roused her.
Morgan opened her eyes, only to find herself amidst a starry sky, with an endless black land beneath her feet.
A pale blue star hung in the sky, flickering continuously in her pupils, drawing her steps forward.
Almost without thinking, she followed it. Certain voices in her heart told her to trust this star, but when she focused, trying to discern these voices, she couldn't hear them clearly.
She walked forward, her steps creating ripples on the ground, like pebbles dropped into a pond, and the starry sky began to move with her steps.
But around her hundredth step, everything suddenly changed. The originally quiet and round star instantly grew Fangs, transforming into a monstrous creature with bared claws.
The serene clusters of stars now seemed like a group of hungry predators. They advanced rapidly, intertwining and twisting, finally shrinking tightly together, only to explode violently.
From that explosion, countless deep blue and light purple tendrils stretched out, like two ferocious deep-sea colossal squids. They immediately fought each other, while also letting countless tentacles stretch into the boundless sky, like a large drop of blood falling into a wine glass. The entangled colors of blue and purple instantly filled her vision.
They roared, struggled, from the deepest reaches of the most distant void to the close-at-hand confrontation. Every tendril and blade fought selflessly for its master's interests. They contended with each other, coming to Morgan's side, unceremoniously pulling this newborn child, intending to draw her into their embrace.
The power belonging only to gods thus ignited another war in the confined starry sky. Countless malevolent thoughts and emotions erupted from under their respective main gods, finally colliding and merging, becoming an eyeless vortex that enveloped Morgan, surging step by step towards the unknown.
Hunger, distortion, transformation, idleness, thirst for knowledge, arrogance, desire, defiance…
They tore at her, condemning her in the name of blessings and the gods, yet showing no mercy.
Pulling, brute force, dragging, howling.
Until she could bear no more.
Until she shrieked.
Until that ruthless golden light descended from the sky.
The golden light transformed into a great sword, an unimaginably world-destroying divine weapon. It cleaved down from the sky, instantly cutting through countless mists and nightmares. The blue and purple tendrils shrieked and perished before this cold golden light. Immediately after, it unleashed a monstrous crimson-gold flame, and the terrifying tableau that had just covered the sky was instantly burned to ashes.
Having done all this, the golden great sword did not stop. It raised high again, striking down fiercely, tearing open a huge, raw crack in the pure black earth. The crack quickly began to expand and collapse, with blood and wails continuously emanating from it.
Accompanying everything happening before her, Morgan's brain began to ache again, a bone-deep pain, as if someone was piercing her eye sockets and nasal bridge with a dinner knife, striking her skull repeatedly, crushing her cranium bit by bit. She could even hear the grating friction sound moving around her ears.
She could clearly feel that as the crack before her expanded, her pain also began to spread from her forehead throughout her entire body, tormenting her flesh and spirit. Violent power, accompanied by ruthless strikes, made Morgan unable to help but kneel on the ground.
The Gene-Seed Primarch had fully understood:
This starry sky and this pure black land were none other than her mind, her spiritual world.
And now, it had become a battleground for certain more terrifying existences, already riddled with holes.
The vast powers of deep blue and dark purple naturally contained malice, but that seemingly glorious great sword was certainly not there simply to protect her.
The appearance of the Great Rift did not stop the continued struggle. The blue and purple tendrils quickly returned, battling with the golden great sword, and also fighting amongst themselves. This competition, accompanied by constant scheming and mutual hindrance among the three parties, gradually became meaningless. Finally, the situation stabilized, with the golden, blue, and purple forces each occupying a section, almost completely dividing Morgan's mind.
In the blue domain, a tall tower was erected; in the purple kingdom, a palace appeared; and that golden great sword was unceremoniously plunged into the empty land, carving out a similarly golden territory.
They each settled down, leaving only Morgan standing before this Great Rift, curled up, feeling the heartfelt pain.
The will of the gods and the creator had transformed into unerasable steel nails, deeply embedded in her mind.
“Behold.”
“What a ruthless and magnificent spectacle.”
“The weak deserve to be slaughtered. Don't worry, you will adapt to all of this.”
“Your frenzy is so powerless; your suffering is the eternal treasure.”
“Now, go look at that sharp blade, that is the gift from your creator, and it is also the best proof of plunder and defense. He defends his prey like a beast, so he can devour… you!”
The voice fell silent again, as if it had endless patience awaiting the listener's reply.
Who knows how long passed like this, but the nearly eternal agony finally eased slightly. Morgan looked up and saw a small stream of snowflakes gently falling.
She quickly realized they were not snowflakes, but rather white souls with bared claws: the countless souls she had previously devoured.
They drifted down, scattering into the Great Rift, like actual snowflakes, quickly melting into the muddy ground. But as more and more souls drifted down, some eventually accumulated, creating a hint of insignificant white in the massive fissure.
And with the appearance of this hint of white, the pain in Morgan's brain began to diminish to a minimum. She was able to draw out a thread of energy to observe the appearance of the last batch of souls: the three most powerful aliens she had devoured.
Sure enough, with the appearance of those souls, a cool sensation began to emerge. She watched as the three soul fragments slowly drifted to the bottom of the rift. The white they accumulated was even more than all the previous ones combined.
Morgan stood up, letting out a long breath.
Everything was clear.
Although she still couldn't recall her past, and still couldn't recognize who had caused all this, she now knew her situation.
Three powerful wills, temporarily beyond her ability to contend with, had divided her mental kingdom. They might be her creators, or perhaps malevolent others—but whatever they were, she couldn't resist them for now.
Fortunately, they were also hostile to each other.
But more important than these, for now, was to resolve the Great Rift before her. This massive wound was constantly expanding, tearing at Morgan's will-domain outwards or downwards every moment, using pain to interrupt her thoughts and progress.
Pain…
“Yes, pain.”
“It is the most universal language in the universe, the simplest truth, the greatest endeavor, the most intimate companion.”
“And a curse you cannot escape.”
“Look at yourself, you pathetic little one, do you know your fate?”
“Your great creator, your cold-blooded Gene-Father, the gift he bestowed upon you is something even I cannot help but be surprised by.”
“That golden blade stands there, a symbol of his power and dominion, and a means of tyranny and control. Let me tell you, little one.”
“Do you know the Butcher's Nails? The essence of your race's ten thousand years of civilization.”
“Where that golden blade destroys, where it stands, it will be no gentler than the Butcher's Nails. While it won't turn you into a brute like brass, it will still drive your destiny with pain and tyranny.”
“Because in his eyes, you, a failure, deserve nothing less.”
“Morgan… failure…”
The voice from her memory reappeared with this ruthless verdict. The golden sword in the distance slowly trembled, as if acknowledging it all.
Twisted voices echoed all around, but Morgan's mind, tormented by pain, had entered a deep state of self-preservation. She registered the voices, but only thought about her own concerns.
That pain, it had to be resolved, prioritized.
She needed souls, the souls of those 【aliens】, or perhaps those pure black souls…
But it wasn't enough.
Morgan pressed her hand to her forehead in distress. The gradually fading pain was making her thoughts clearer.
Still not enough, far from enough. This massive rift was like a chasm, extending from her feet to the end of her vision, possibly thousands of meters wide. If she were to fill it only with those scattered snowflakes, she would probably have to devour countless worlds, kingdoms, and civilizations to achieve it.
She needed a method, a more efficient method.
“Yes, efficiency.”
“Efficiency is the crystallization of the galaxy; it is the primal driving force of all civilization and destruction.”
The voice appeared again. With this voice, a pale blue star arced across the horizon and fell before her eyes.
“You were born a failure.”
“But the hatred of the defeated is the sweetest.”
“No… wait, no, what am I saying? You don't even know what hatred is.”
“You have the freedom of anxiety and irritation, but you have no true emotions. Whether it's your joys, sorrows, anger, or resentment, love, and hate, they have all been completely taken and suppressed by your creator.”
“He truly stopped at nothing to make you as useful to him as possible, to make you deviate as much as possible from the true path.”
“Despicable fellow.”
“No wonder I admire him.”
Morgan narrowed her eyes. Although she couldn't understand the joys, sorrows, anger, resentment, love, and hate mentioned by the voice, when she heard of the so-called deprivation and suppression, her gaze instinctively turned towards that great sword.
This voice was right.
Her innate knowledge told her what emotions and feelings were, but she… couldn't understand them.
These so-called emotions were like a clear-cut forest in her heart; they existed, but when an external breeze blew through, only the remaining blades of grass swayed weakly, unable to stir any ripples.
“No need to mind, little one. That fellow who indulges in pleasure and idleness is also watching you. He will help you resolve all of this. He will bestow upon you a gift, making you a cunning mirror, reflecting the thoughts and secrets of others in your heart, using words and actions to capture their hearts and usurp their souls.”
“Those truly powerful and precious souls, belonging to your kin and brothers, will completely heal the rift in your heart, and even go further, making you a true, complete person.”
“Escape pain, escape servitude, escape everything you were born to bear, and gain new life.”
“And, freedom.”
“The most precious freedom.”
“…”
Morgan was silent. She didn't believe a single word of this unknown entity's sharp pronouncements, but she had to admit one thing: its reasoning and suggestions were enticing.
A person, a true, complete person.
And… freedom.
Once this thought appeared, it seemed to gain a magical power, firmly occupying her mind.
And accompanying this magic was the most arrogant laughter. This laughter was not like the distant laughter she had heard before; it was close at hand, frantic and chaotic.
“That's right, that's right!”
“Go, deceive, plunder, follow the guidance of your instincts, reverse your failed destiny, turn your pain into an arrow, and shoot it at the one who caused you such suffering.”
“Trample the trust of the arrogant.”
“Adorn the piety of the kneeling.”
“Seize the kindness of the ignorant.”
“Ignite the wrath of the betrayers.”
“Let war rage! Let the galaxy burn!”
“Let all of his be reduced to ashes.”
“I await your symphony.”
Amidst a long string of sharp laughter, the sky-shattering voice finally disappeared. The pale blue star emitted dazzling light as it departed. When this light dissipated, Morgan had woken up.
Outside the cabin, the rain was still pouring, with the figures of thunder and lightning leaping across the distant sky, appearing and disappearing.
Morgan looked at the heavy rain outside the window. She suddenly realized that this cabin had become a bit small: undoubtedly, she was growing, and very quickly.
Reflections of raindrops and dark clouds appeared on her face. Within these layers of reflections, Morgan began to ponder her tomorrow and future: what she should do, what she should learn and practice, how she could grow as much as possible, absorb…
And thus leave this place.
The afterimage of the voice still echoed in her mind, but she paid it little heed.
Morgan gazed at the downpour outside the window. The Gene-Seed Primarch's cerulean pupils seemed colder than the sky of a savage world.
She didn't care if she had to deceive and plunder, trample and burn, or turn some world to ashes, just like the scene before her.
But no matter what, no matter what she needed to do to end her fate, to change her collapsing mental world, to prevent herself from falling into this desperate dead end.
She would accept it.
