CHAPTER 134: THE ONE AND THE CATACLYSM

Who was the ’One’? What is the ’One’?

The ’One’ is the beginning and end of all things.

The ’One’ is the being that existed before creation itself—the catalyst that brought forth existence, and the force that would inevitably orchestrate its destruction. Such was the eternal story of existence: a being would create all things, only to bring about their end.

Why did this entity delight so much in destruction?

No one knew.

Perhaps it savored the thrill of each new story born from every ending—a fresh narrative to be added to the RECORDS alongside countless others.

The ’One’ was many things, and many gods called it ’Master.’

The Master of Creation.

A being seemingly addicted to the game it had designed.

A game of survival.

And so it was that at each beginning of creation, multiple beings would struggle to attain godhood, fighting through endless obstacles. But at the genesis, only the ’One’ could grant true divinity. It would select beings at random, nurturing them until they achieved godhood. At least, that was the story of this rebirth—the tale the ’One’ had chosen to play this time. A master who had once been human, somehow ascending to godhood. Through eons, it nurtured its disciples, preparing them for the sinister game to come...

And then came the time when the master vanished, replaced by the prophecy of the END—the Cataclysm.

The Cataclysm, unlike other stories, always remained constant across rebirths.

It came in two phases.

The first could take any form, but the gods had to prevent it—or it would lead to the second.

The second was identical across all rebirths of worlds:

Kill the ’One’ before it brings the END.

....

....

In a realm of absolute darkness, tucked away at a point in existence few could reach, floated a solitary figure. Blindfolded, with luminous white hair cascading around his shoulders, he was dressed in pure black—an attire that starkly contradicted his radiant aura. He maintained a meditative posture, an orb of swirling energy hovering before him.

"Hmm," the figure stirred, as if awakening from the deepest slumber.

"You are awake," a voice broke the silence as another figure materialized from nothingness.

A woman with a form that defied mortal comprehension. Her very existence was the embodiment of seduction incarnate—not merely beautiful, but disturbingly perfect in ways that unsettled even gods. Her proportions were impossibly exaggerated: curves that challenged the laws of physics, a waist so impossibly slender it seemed fragile beneath the overwhelming presence above and below. Her hair was white—a white that blazed with purity so intense it contradicted the sinful body she possessed. Her eyes were cosmic orbs that held the weight of eons as they gazed upon the man before her.

She was a goddess.

One who stood at the pinnacle of divinity, equal to the man before her.

"The first Cataclysm is over," his voice carried grim finality.

"Tell me everything," she said, sighing deeply.

The man remained silent for a long moment.

Then spoke.

"You found him," he said, and her expression darkened.

"You don’t mean—"

"Yes. The Master. He came disguised as a human, and you fell foolishly for that facade. It seems it was all within his calculations for the first Cataclysm—you protected him from the other gods, even sacrificing part of your divinity to transform him into a demigod."

Her eyes widened in horror.

Master, she thought, biting her lip until it bled divine ichor.

"A creature of pure darkness essence consumed existence, and the only way to destroy it was something no one could figure out—despite how simple it was. Find and kill the Master. But no one knew that the human you protected was the ’One’ himself." He looked toward a distant point in space. "It seems everyone grows restless..."

"Don’t deviate. Tell me everything," she bit her lip harder, drawing more luminous blood.

"They all remember. How is it you don’t?" He still couldn’t comprehend her inability to recall the erased timeline of the first Cataclysm. Though his unique ability allowed him to know everything about the Master’s opening gambit, it meant probably no one but him understood that the Master was the very human the gods had tried to eliminate—the human Elena had made it impossible for them to kill. If only she hadn’t been so adamant in her protection, perhaps the first Cataclysm could have been prevented entirely.

All that aside, she should at least recall her own perspective of that erased reality.

"I... don’t know," her hands clenched into trembling fists.

She hated it.

She hated how the Master always, just as he had done countless times before, used her for some grander design. Playing with her emotions, manipulating her love. He knew exactly how much he meant to her. From the very beginning when he first took her in as his youngest disciple, she had always been his favorite.

As time passed, she began harboring forbidden thoughts about her master. Though she tried to stop herself, telling herself it was impossible for him to see her that way, she couldn’t control her feelings. Not when he always gave her more attention than her fellow disciples. Her love grew until it consumed her completely. She wanted him. She needed him.

That’s when the thought occurred to her—the only way to truly have the Master was to become stronger than him.

That was when it began.

The event that led to his disappearance.

She was the very disciple who had started killing and absorbing the powers of her fellow disciples. She had even accepted the power of darkness itself.

It corrupted her.

She lost her mind.

She massacred her fellow disciples.

She tried to kill the Master.

But he was too powerful.

He didn’t even need to fight her.

He simply looked into her eyes, and with a wave of his hand and that familiar energy...

It ended.

He didn’t kill her.

Instead, he altered the memories of that day for all who witnessed it.

She wasn’t banished. Instead, he purified her—cleansed the darkness from her soul.

She still remembered how she had cried that day, sitting before him like a broken child, weeping for her master’s forgiveness.

He had smiled and gently patted her head.

And then...

He disappeared forever.

She alone remembered what truly happened that day.

All other disciples retained only an altered version of events—some vague story of a disciple whose soul had eventually been shattered and scattered across the cosmos.

Until this day, she searched for her master, especially after learning of the prophecy that made it clear her master—her beloved master—would be the end of them all if he wasn’t stopped.

But what made her desperate was knowing he would reincarnate.

She needed to know the truth: Had it all been part of his plan from the very beginning? Or had that emotion she felt from him that day—when he patted her head before vanishing—been real?

And if it was real.

... Could she bring herself to kill him?

...

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!