Void Creationist

Chapter One Oblivion

There was no tunnel, no light waiting for Liam at the end. As he lay on the pavement, the world blurred around him. The sharp cold of the ground seeped through his clothes, but the pain was fading, replaced by a numbness spreading through his limbs. Voices echoed—panicked, urgent—but they seemed distant, as if he were underwater.

"Hold on," someone urged, their voice trembling. "Help’s coming. Just hold on."

But Liam knew. The sirens, faint and far away, wouldn’t arrive soon enough. The darkness edged closer, like a wave swallowing the shore, and he could feel the pull. The world was slipping, and then came the oblivion. He was no more.

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Until, without warning, existence snapped back—sudden and jarring.

Liam became aware in an instant, though he wasn’t sure how or for how long he had been nothing. Time felt meaningless, as though it had been erased with him. But now, there was something. A slow, creeping awareness that filled him, pulling him back into being. He didn’t feel his body, but he knew he was here. Wherever here was.

The darkness was endless, a black void stretching in every direction. There was no sky, no earth beneath his feet—only the oppressive weight of nothingness pressing in on him. It was different from the oblivion, though. In this place, he existed.

But why? How?

Liam floated in the stillness, surrounded by the emptiness, questions swirling in the void around him. He had been no more—so why was he here now?

Before Liam could even finish that thought, something shifted in the void. For the first time since arriving in this empty space, he saw a flickering image—a loading screen suspended in the darkness. The words “LOADING…” glowed faintly, and the progress bar filled steadily to 80%.

He blinked, unsure of what he was witnessing. Was this some kind of sign? The void seemed to hum around him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was trying to convey something.

The loading screen hung there, simple and unyielding, offering no explanations. Liam felt a mix of confusion and curiosity. What would happen when it reached 100%? Would he be pulled back into reality, or would he remain lost in this void?

Full of uncertainty, Liam could only wait as the bar slowly filled, unsure how long it took the bar to fill. It could have been anything from a few minutes to days, as it was hard to judge the passing of time in the emptiness of this place.

Once the bar finally reached 100, Liam heard a ding as he felt a wave of energy ripple through the void, changing it until he stood in front of a large loading screen that glowed softly with the message: “Welcome to the Void’s Creation System.” The towering columns rose high above him, framing the space with their solid presence. The walls were smooth and imposing, and the vastness of the room emphasized the stillness around him.

Liam found himself reaching for the screen. Upon touching it, the display shifted to a registration page one might find on any website, prompting him to create a new account. Unsure what else to do, Liam clicked the new user button, only to see that most of the information listed was already filled out with only the user’s name blank.

Username:

Real Name: Liam Gray

Age:21

Titles: Void Creationist

Universe of Origin: Kosmos

Planet of Origin: Earth

Species: Human (Prime)

Liam hesitated, staring at the registration page. The flickering text in front of him seemed surreal, yet undeniable. His hands hovered over the screen, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the empty field where his username should go.

It was strange, being pulled from non-existence into this, something as simple as a form to fill out. His name was already there, his age, his titles—Void Creationist. What did that mean? The rest of the information made sense, at least to some extent, but that title unsettled him. Was this his new role, or something deeper, tied to this strange place?

He didn’t feel like a creator. He typed "Liam" into the username field, despite the redundancy.

As soon as his fingers left the screen, the page blinked out of existence, replaced by a message:

"Registration complete. Welcome, Void Creationist."

A low hum echoed through the air, and the room began to shift. The columns stretched higher, their tops vanishing into the shadows above. The walls, once smooth and featureless, now pulsed with a faint energy, almost as if they were alive. Liam stepped back instinctively, taking in the expanding space.

Then, the screen reappeared, larger this time, floating in the center of the room. A new prompt flashed before him:

"Create your first world."

Liam blinked. Create a world? He barely knew what this place was, let alone how to build something from it. The words carried weight, something tied to his existence here, though the meaning was still unclear. He paused, feeling the gravity of the moment settle over him.

"What if I don’t want to create anything?" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper in the vastness.

But there was no response. Only silence, thick and steady, as the screen waited patiently for his input.

Liam stared at the prompt, a subtle tension building in the stillness. The idea of creation felt foreign, almost too large for him to grasp. What would he even begin with? He didn’t know the rules of this place—if there were any.

The screen blinked again, the words shifting slightly:

"You must create."

The tone was neutral, neither demanding nor inviting, but absolute. The hum in the air deepened, as if the void itself was waiting for him to act.

Liam exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of this command settle over him. He had no tools, no instructions, no guidelines. Just… the void. His mind searched for something familiar, something to start with. He pictured a simple, open field. Grass beneath his feet, sky overhead—something peaceful, something that made sense.

He reached out toward the screen once more, hesitating as his finger hovered above the "Create" button. His mind swirled with possibilities and doubts, and yet, in this strange void, it felt like the only path forward.

With a sharp breath, he pressed the button.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the room began to shift around him. The air grew warmer, the walls and columns fading away as if dissolving into mist. Beneath his feet, a soft breeze stirred, and then—there it was.

Grass.

It stretched out in all directions, swaying gently in the breeze. Above, a pale blue sky appeared, dotted with clouds. Liam’s heart quickened. He could feel the earth underfoot now, solid and real. He knelt down, fingers brushing the soft blades, and a sense of calm washed over him. He had created this.

The field stretched on endlessly, peaceful and vast, but empty. There was no sound, no movement beyond the rustling of the grass. Liam stood, taking in the space around him. It was beautiful, but incomplete. The world felt thin, like it was missing a core.

Suddenly, the screen blinked into existence again, interrupting the moment.

"Continue building your world."

Liam swallowed. The first step had been easier than he’d expected, but now, with the void watching him, it felt like there was so much more to do. Creation wasn’t just about placing things into existence—it was about shaping something that mattered. But what did matter, here, in this vast space where only he existed?

He stepped forward, gazing out over the empty horizon.

Liam stood, his eyes scanning the vast, empty landscape he had brought into existence. The grass was soft beneath his feet, the sky above serene, but the stillness unnerved him. It was too perfect, too silent, like a painting without life. He was missing something—something essential.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and thought. What was it he needed? The screen’s command to “Continue building” pressed against him like an unseen force, but he wasn’t sure what came next.

Life, he thought. There should be life.

The idea took root, spreading through him with a strange, growing certainty. Life meant movement, connection—things that broke the monotony of emptiness. But how did one create life?

He opened his eyes, and the screen appeared again in front of him, as though reading his thoughts. A new option was waiting:

"Create Life Form."

The words flickered in the air, and for a moment, Liam hesitated. Was this what he was supposed to do? Did he have the right to create something from nothing? But as the silence deepened, the same pressure returned, urging him forward. He reached out, touched the screen again, and watched as a new interface opened up.

A list of options unfolded before him—shapes, forms, traits, details about the kind of life he could bring into existence. Some were familiar, like animals, plants, and humans, but others were strange, abstract, and completely alien. The sheer variety overwhelmed him.

He thought of a bird first—small, simple, something that wouldn’t feel too foreign in this new world. He selected a familiar form, one with wings, feathers, and a beak. The details emerged, more specific now—its colors, its sounds, the way it would move. He refined it without thinking, his mind filling in the gaps.

When he finished, he pressed the final "Create" button, and the interface dissolved. For a moment, the air around him felt thick, and then—

A flutter of wings.

Liam looked up, and there it was—a single bird.

Liam watched the bird with a faint sense of pride as it fluttered through the air, gliding effortlessly. But then, something shifted. Its wings faltered, and its graceful flight turned into a desperate flapping. The bird’s body jerked, struggling to stay aloft, until finally, it plunged downward.

Liam rushed forward as the bird crashed to the ground, its small form trembling, gasping for breath. His heart sank as he knelt beside it, helpless. The life he had just created was slipping away. It thrashed weakly, its eyes wide and confused, and then—stillness.

The bird was dead.

A heavy silence fell over the scene. Liam stared at the lifeless creature, his hands hovering uselessly above it. He had brought it into existence, and yet it hadn’t survived. There was no air, no water, no food—nothing to sustain life. The peaceful field, once so inviting, now felt cold and barren, a façade of a world that lacked everything real life needed.

He stood slowly, his gaze shifting to the sky, the grass, the horizon. The realization hit him like a wave. This wasn’t just about placing things into existence—it wasn’t enough to create something and expect it to thrive. There were no rules here unless he made them, no systems to support life unless he built them.

Liam stared at the screen, the message hovering once again:

"Continue building."

And this time, the weight of it sank in fully. This wasn’t about creating a single thing. It was about building an entire world, piece by piece. Each element had to be woven together, connected, alive. Without that, it was all meaningless.

He exhaled, feeling the enormity of the task ahead of him. It wasn’t just about creation. It was about sustaining that creation—making a world that could live on its own. His mind swirled with new ideas, new possibilities, and with it, a sense of responsibility.