Lex held the small white light ball in his hand, He scanned it down to its most basic form and noticed subtle similarities to himself. Resolving to further refine its purpose, he removed 10 percent of his law mastery, the process was swift and precise.
All the laws he removed coalesced into a single, small, pentagon-shaped gem. It hovered in the air, pulsating with immense power, its power undiminished even in the blank point.
He then duplicated the gem, creating two identical replicas. Now three gems hovered before him, each radiating identical power and law mastery.
However, the more he looked at them, the more his frown increased. Identical copies held no appeal for him. They were art without nuance and power without distinction. That had never been his intent. Each gem would serve a different purpose, so they needed more than mere replication—they needed identity.
He reached forward, reclaiming the original gem and reabsorbing it into himself, leaving only the two. With deliberate intent, he modified their compositions.
To one gem, he made it fully compatible with the new will he was creating. To the other, he adjusted the laws to make it universally adaptable, compatible with any entity that might wield it in the future.
The two gems pulsed with unique energy signatures as Lex carefully brought one closer to the glowing golden will ball. With careful precision, he fused the gem into the ball, and in an instant, a dramatic transformation unfolded.
The ball expanded, its mass increasing exponentially, and a radiant golden figure emerged from within, contrasting with the surrounding white void.
The figure took on a humanoid form, its silhouette smooth and unblemished. However, its eyes were devoid of emotion, blank and unreadable, as if reflecting the neutrality of its existence.
Without hesitation, the golden energy figure knelt before Lex. Its very presence exuded obedience and a singular purpose. Born from the fusion of universal laws and pure willpower, it stood silently and motionlessly, awaiting his command.
Lex observed the kneeling figure in silence for several minutes. Then, with a wave of his hand, he conjured a miniature realm full of chaotic storms, unstable laws, and collapsing timelines.
"Let's see what you can do," he murmured.
Without hesitation, the figure rose and stepped into the chaotic realm. Its movements were precise and methodical, as if it were unbothered by the maelstrom around it.
The chaotic storms immediately calmed under its influence, and the collapsing timelines seamlessly rewove themselves.
Lex's eyes narrowed slightly as he reasoned internally. "It follows commands perfectly. But does it act on its own?"
He intensified the scenario by adding an unpredictable element: an anomaly created by conflicting laws. The figure hesitated for a moment, then resolved the conflict with cold, ruthless efficiency.
"Not bad, but incomplete," Lex intoned, his voice quiet yet absolute. With a single thought, the golden figure returned to kneel before him, silent and reverent, awaiting further commands.
His eyes remained fixed on the kneeling figure, then his words came forth, not as mere sound, but as decree:
"You shall be the keeper of balance. Where time frays, you will weave. Where space tears, you will mend. Where creation trembles, you will be its silent spine. Not to rule or conquer, but to endure."
As the words left his lips, Lex's thoughts turned to the Primordials, who had once been entrusted with this very role. Yet, their actions proved otherwise. Too many of them had strayed, driven by pride, hunger, and self-interest. Their failure was no longer something he could overlook.
The figure tilted its head slightly in acknowledgment of his words, but remained expressionless.
He frowned and extended a thread of his consciousness toward it. "Can you comprehend what I ask of you?"
The figure's blank eyes glowed faintly and a quiet hum emanated from its form. "I exist to fulfill your will," it replied, its voice devoid of emotion.
Lex leaned back, contemplating. "Fulfilling commands is one thing. Understanding their implications is another matter entirely."
He raised his hand, and an invisible current of energy surged forth, weaving through the air with breathless intent.
"Your form lacks what is required to truly interact with this universe," he said, his voice calm but absolute.
He drew a fragment from his soul—not of power, but of something far rarer: a sliver of his own humanity. With precision, he infused it into the figure's core.
He did not grant it emotion, but rather the capacity to reason through the lens of emotion.
Not to feel, but to understand feeling.
A silent pulse moved through the figure's body as the change took effect.
It would no longer act purely on code or cold logic.
Now, its thoughts would be guided by empathetic logic, enabling it to make decisions based not only on efficiency but also on what felt fair and right.
Its form shifted slightly. What was once a plain, lifeless shape now showed faint signs of presence: a softer outline, dim lights in its eyes, and a posture hinting at awareness.
"Better," Lex muttered. "But not enough." He then wove strand of authority of Origin Energy into its core, refining its compatibility with the universe.
Lex extended his hand, creating a glowing thread of time energy. "Your first task is to stabilize this."
The time thread crackled violently, shifting between past and future states. Lex's eyes watched with anticipation as the figure reached out, its movements careful yet decisive.
The thread clashed back, writhing like a serpent, but the figure's transparent aura enveloped it, calming its chaotic energy.
"Good," Lex said, though his expression remained calm. "But can you maintain it?"
He increased the time thread's energy's volatility, forcing the figure to adapt. The figure faltered momentarily, but then its power surged, stabilizing the thread once more.
Satisfied with the test, Lex stepped back, folding his arms as he examined the figure as it stood motionless.
"Now let's see if you can act without direction," he murmured.
He allowed a ripple of instability to spread through the surrounding white void . The figure reacted immediately, extending its hand to suppress the disturbance.
"Good… but predictable. What will you do if I leave entirely?"
He turned, vanishing from the blank point, leaving the figure alone. Hidden from view, Lex watched as the figure surveyed the surroundings, scanning for further disruptions. Its actions were precise but lacked creativity.
"Still incomplete," he whispered to himself. "But it has potential."
Returning to the blank point Lex stood in front of the figure, as he pondered, "What name should I give it." His mind churned as he pondered a fitting name for this creation.
"Heavenly Overseer… no, too direct," he mused silently. "The Immutable Path… perhaps, but it lacks the weight I want." His thoughts circled other options, Eternal Order, Transcendent Dao—before settling on one that felt right.
"Celestial Mandate," he intoned, the words resonating with finality. It carried the authority and balance he envisioned, embodying the essence of the Will.
With a faint nod, he spoke the name aloud, solidifying its identity and enforcing its principles.
At the same moment, the primordials scattered across the universe felt an oppressive gaze fall upon them.
The very fabric of space around them tightened, constricting their movements, as an invisible weight pressed down on their existence.
Restrictions they had never experienced before took hold. The surrounding space grew unnaturally solid, and tasks that once required little effort now demanded significantly more.
If they could reduce a mountain to rubble with a single punch before, now it would take two or more strikes to achieve the same.
The changes were most apparent in the Divine Realm; a place where their power had limits before. Now it had become nearly unyielding. Once, they couldn't destroy a mountain there; now, even the strongest of them could only hope to leave a faint mark.
The Celestial Mandate had solidified the realm's laws further, turning it into an untouchable fortress, a stark reminder of their diminishing supremacy.
Frustration and unease rippled through them, but none dared to question the source of this shift, for they knew whose will was behind it.
In a molten cave beneath a volcanic mountain in the divine realm, Eryndral was meditating, trying to understand a law technique.
Suddenly, she opened her eyes and frowned.
"Huh? What's going on with the laws? Why are they so hard to sense now?" she muttered.
She quickly spread her consciousness through the surrounding area. After a moment, her expression grew serious. "The laws… they're being restricted by something."
At the same moment, on the peak of a colossal mountain, Vastoth sat in front of a space monolith, comprehending its laws. His closed eyes snapped open as he looked around.
"What is this?" he thought, narrowing his eyes. "The fabric of space... It's constricting, even in this sacred location."
He reached out with his senses and felt the stiffness in the layers of space around him.
"The passages between the layers have grown rigid," he murmured. "Something is interfering. Still, with my command over the laws of space, I can push through with ease."
He paused, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"That works in my favor. Those with lesser mastery will struggle just to move between the layers."
He continued to sense the laws and, through them, perceived the true shift: the presence of the Celestial Mandate.
"This so-called mandate. It's just doing whatever it pleases," he muttered angrily. "What fundamental balance? What system of power?"
He exhaled sharply, catching himself.
"Calm down," he reminded himself. "If I get too angry, my comprehension rate will drop."
His anger was understandable. The Celestial Mandate decreed that the more laws one mastered, the greater their potential and combat prowess. To most, this seemed absurd. Comprehending even a single law was an arduous task. What about two or more?
Even worse, with the laws now restricted, the rate of comprehension had dropped exponentially. Progress had become a crawl through shifting sand.
As he struggled to calm himself, a new decree rippled through the fabric of existence.
This time, the mandate declared: "One who masters a single law to its peak can rival—or even surpass—those who grasp many laws but lack depth in any."
He exhaled slowly, feeling a trace of relief.
"Well, that's obvious, isn't it? At least all our efforts haven't been wasted."
This balance ensured no path was inherently superior. A jack-of-all-trades could rise high, but a singular master could match them.
The universe itself now rewarded focus, depth, and understanding as much as it did versatility.
For the primordials who realized this, it was both a challenge and an opportunity; one that would reshape how they approached their own power.
The Ascendants, scattered across various locations in the Divine Realm, felt the subtle shift ripple through the universe. Though the change was less impactful for them compared to the Primordials, it was still felt.
Those with greater strength and mastery over the rules could sense the adjustments more acutely. The stronger the creature, the clearer the understanding of the changes brought about by the Celestial Mandate.
For the weaker Ascendants, the shift was a faint unease, an indistinct awareness that something fundamental had changed
The Celestial Mandate began to fade from Lex's sight, its golden form dissolving slowly and deliberately.
Lex watched in silence, his eyes calm and unreadable, as the creation he had crafted so meticulously dispersed into the vast fabric of the universe, leaving him standing at the blank point.