A Debate on the Existence of Omnis, by the College of Zandeim

Farthoun: Of course he doesn’t exist! If there were truly a being of such colossal power then we would know about it. Our records are some of the most extensive in the Universe.

Drathian: That is fallacious thinking brother! Just because I cannot prove his existence doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist. I understand your hesitancy though. I too was a skeptic before I met a creature in the 7th wave name Hurthrad. It was an insane monster that mumbled of secrets I could barely understand. A single sentence it spoke increased my Arcane Study by ten levels!

Farthoun:You lie brother! You believe in children’s tales and present false evidence.

Blackness. An oppressive nothingness surrounds me. No sound. No movement. Pure void.

I try to spin, to look behind me and see something, anything. I don’t seem to have a body to turn. All that exists is the void.

Where am I? I’d been with the group of trainee’s, hadn’t I? I had commanded them to go off on their own so that I could focus on my own Skills. What had happened next?

A few seconds later, I remember. I had managed to unlock my next Higher Energy! A rush of pride and accomplishment as I remember the feeling of the plasma in my hand. The immense raw energy held in place by nothing but my Will.

Wait. What had brought me here then?

I furrow my brow in concentration but the lack of a body makes that action nothing more than a reflexive thought. The moment stretches on as I parse through my memories. Holding the energy, marveling at the power, using it to … to try and create a new Skill!

And, with that thought, everything changes.

Light explodes in front of me. Colors I recognise and colors I’ve never been able to see before erupt outwards from a single point. It continues for a long time, though for how long I do not know. Time has no meaning without reference.

The explosion stops and the colors begin swirling together in countless vortexes. Each individual one becomes more and more dense, gathering in as much color as possible and packing it together. Another unknown period of time passes as this process occurs.

The thousands, if not millions, of dense orbs of pulsating color flash and then gather together in front of me.

Snap. The void is replaced by pure white And … it appears that I am in a simple room. A wooden chair rests in front of me. The chair looks as if it has grown organically, shaped from its early days as a sapling.

Instinctively I try to turn and look around and realise I can actually do that now. My eyes travel downward and I find that my body has returned, looking no worse for the wear. Whatever the damage or consequences of my lightning Skill were, I can’t seem to see them.

I let my eyes wander over the room, taking in the strange appearance. White walls twice my height rise up and connect to a white ceiling. Every surface lacks even the slightest marking. More interestingly, there seem to be no shadows. In fact, where is the light coming from? I look around and can’t seem to find the source. Every surface, even the chair itself, is perfectly lit.

With nothing else to do, I step forward and grab the chair to make sure that it is real and, when I find nothing strange about it, I take a seat.

Another chair is in front of me. It didn’t arrive in a snap of light or in a rush of misplaced air. No, it just appeared instantly, perfectly still like it had been here this entire time. What’s more important is what, or possible who, sits on the chair.

My eyes take in the sight of the creature in front of me. It sits rigidly upright, its skin has the appearance of burnished metal, the closest equivalent to Earth metals being chrome or a very well-polished iron.

The body is seamless and slightly human shaped. The face, however, departs drastically. The head is covered in dozens of red eyes, but not a human kind. No, they are more artificial in appearance. They are roughly the same size but vertical rather than the horizontal ones I’m used to. Simple red surfaces, they completely lack any irises. It is a terrifying visage.

And that is when it finally speaks.

Inhabitant [Cael King], your Issue [5923SD] has been elevated to Regional Sub-Routine [3490]. Your consciousness has been cordoned off in this temporary holding facility. You will remain here until this Issue has been resolved. State your Case.

If I wasn’t confused beforehand, I most certainly am now. Sub-Routine … Is this strange metallic entity really a part of Genesis? And the world sub-routine suggests that Genesis is some sort of programmed entity, or at least that it delegates some of its responsibilities to them. I spend a few moments thinking about this when its eyes flash again.

State your Case.

“I have no idea what my Case is.”

Accessing Case Files. Issue [5923SD]: Inhabitant [Cael King] attempted to create Skill. Skill Component Requirements Met: [YES]. Skill Mana Requirements Met: [YES]. Within Class Parameters: [ERROR].

Class Parameters? While the concept requires some deep thought, I can’t dwell on that right now. Did I really pass out because my Class wasn’t recognized as being able to hold Plasma Energy? That seems … wrong. Plasma was a massive part of my old universe, the most common state of matter in fact. Why would I be unable to use and create it?

“I don’t understand, why is it not within my Class Parameters?”

Gathering Class Information. Class: Remnant of a Lost Universe. Parameters: [ERROR].

Gathering Origin Information. Class Origin: Over-Routine [W-11], Inhabitant [3S02], [ERROR]. Parameters required.

Clarify Parameters.

The entity seems … overwhelmed. I’m not sure if it is able of emotion but, if it is, it would most certainly be frustrated. A strange feeling of sympathy arises within me.

Clarify Parameters.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea.”

Parameters required for Issue [5923SD].

Requesting Presence …

Over-Routine [W-11] is currently occupied.

Requesting Presence …

Inhabitant [3S02] has been acquired.

Another burst of color and a flash of light occur behind the shoulder of the metallic entity. A figure forms out of the colorful substance.

The figure is clad in nothing but a robe. The robe itself is a rich brown, reminding me of dirt after a heavy rain, and appears to be extremely old. It is covered in poorly covered tears and marks, but it radiates a sense of majesty. My eyes trace a string of seemingly alive brown thread, just a shade deeper than the original color, which snakes its way through the entire piece of clothing. The pattern it creates is … hypnotic.

It’s only then that the figure stands tall, dwarfing me with its height. Having been brought into this room facing the other direction, it spins and I’m confronted with a familiar face. Why had this entity brought Octavian?

It’s only when I look carefully at the robed man’s face that I realize it isn’t Octavian, but instead an older man of the same race. A strong jawline, long white hair that seems to flow off of his head, light blue skin, and a prominent beaked nose. The similarity to Octavian is startling. The most interesting part about the man, however, is not his resemblance to Octavian, it is his eyes.

Blood red eyes look out at on room with an overwhelming presence. They tell the story of a man who has seen more than I could ever comprehend. A man who has the power and Will to bring about anything he desires.

And yet, they are kind.

“Well, Cael, you seem to have found yourself in a bit of a bind here, haven’t you?” he chuckles, smiling in amusement.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“No, you do not, and I’m afraid it is a little too early for us to make each other’s acquaintance just yet. That will come in due time though. Now, how did you attract the attention of this little Sub-Routine?” He responds.

Conflicting options fight out in my head. One part of me whispers caution while another whispers trust. Do I really know enough to trust this strange man that can appear at ease around parts of Genesis? Obviously not. But, despite this fact, I find myself wanting to tell him the truth. There’s something about him that makes me feel … comfortable.

“It seems to want clarification regarding my Class Parameters but I have no idea what they are. It tried to call some Over-Routine but it was busy and you were the second option.”

His face steels at the mention of the Over-Routine and the amused look on his face is quickly wiped away. Bending down to bring his face level with the metallic Sub-Routine, he stares at it for a few moments before bringing his hands up and twisting them in a series of weird gestures.

“Be glad it called me. The Over-Routine would have not have been as merciful as this little Sub was”, he says as his hands continue to form the strange gestures.

Without warning, the eyes of the Sub-Routine begin to flash. The flashes seem to be in some sort of pattern that I can’t even begin to understand.

The silence of the man and the flashing lights continue and I quickly lose interest in the undecipherable pattern. In an attempt to put things into the only frame of reference that I have, I begin measuring moments by a rough estimate of how long our conversation was.

172 conversations later, the man stops and stands up straight. The Sub-Routine’s eyes all flash brightly one last time before it returns to its normal appearance.

Issue [5923SD] has been resolved. Class Parameters have been established. This environment will be destroyed shortly.

And with those final words the Sub-Routine disappears, leaving behind only the robed man and myself.

I’m not sure how long I have left before this room is destroyed but I refuse to leave without gaining some sort of understanding on what just happened.

“What did you do to it?”

The man smiles wryly as he responds. “I clarified your Class Parameters to the system.”

He doesn’t continue, letting the words hang in the air. He obviously knows I have no idea what Class parameters are and yet he waits in amusement for me to ask the question.

I’m in a strange room, in some sort of unknown area, and I can’t get a straight answer out of him. It’s now exceedingly obvious where Octavian got his habits. The Empire of Sol Invictus has a frustrating sense of humor.

“And those are?” I respond with exasperation.

The man chuckles again, this time with an underlying tone of exhaustion. “I can’t tell you yours, Cael. But know this. Class Parameters are Genesis’s way of keeping track of what a Class is capable of. A Soldier can’t go around slinging constructs of Mana. A Merchant can’t excel at hand to hand combat. If they were, they wouldn’t be a Soldier or a Merchant anymore.”

I freeze. The implications of that statement … does he really mean to suggest that we are limited by the Class that we pick? Am I condemning Everwall by forcing the people to pick Classes before they’ve really explored what they are capable of?

“Are you really saying that we can’t learn anything outside of our Class?”

“Not at all. You can learn things outside your Class but that growth is extremely stunted. I wish I could tell you more but that would be considered ‘interference in the natural progression of new worlds’” His voice takes on a bitter tone as he mimics the words in a monotone impression. Is he … Is he mimicking Genesis?

“Can you at least tell me where we are?”

My words bring him out of his bitterness and he looks around the room. However, his gaze appears to not be looking at the room but instead through the room. As if he can see beyond the strange construct that we are in to see the machinations and movements of everything beyond. “Well, we’ve only got a few more moments so it doesn’t really matter. What you really need to focus on is completing your Trial.”

“Completing my Trial? What do you mean, I’ve still got five months.”

He looks at me with pity. “Oh Cael … it didn’t tell you, did it?”

“Tell me what?”, I respond, a cold fear gripping my heart.

The room begins to disintegrate just as he opens his mouth. The overwhelming darkness begins to seep through cracks like water in a sinking ship. Its presence further accelerating the decay of the room and more of the darkness pours in with tremendous speed, almost as if it desires to destroy the light and return to the nothingness of before.

The robed man looks at me the entire time that this is happening. His eyes gaze upon me with sympathy and I manage to only catch a few words before he disappears into the darkness.

“Time … much slower … You’ve … unconscious …”

The darkness overwhelms me and I slip into unconsciousness once more.