Creation Of All Things-Chapter 201: The Game Of Chess

The Void stirred.

It did not stir often.

Black and unending, with stars that blinked in and out of existence like dying embers, the space belonged to only one being. One presence. The Architect of Ruin.

He stood at the center of it all—massive, divine, impossible to fully look at. His form towered with obsidian skin marbled with glowing veins of red entropy. A cape made of collapsed galaxies draped over his shoulders, and his face was a sculpted mockery of creation, regal and monstrous all at once. His eyes burned twin lights: one gold, one void.

And yet, they flickered now.

"Zayriel… Zayriel… Zayriel," he muttered, voice shaking stars apart as he spoke the name. It echoed through realms long forgotten, bounced through memory and myth.

He had waited. For centuries. For cycles beyond cycles.

And still, no sign of him.

His massive fingers curled into a fist, creating a ripple that shattered five minor planes.

"Guess I have to go get him myself," he growled. Then paused, frowning. "No. That would be… degrading. For a being such as myself."

He turned, walking slowly through the void. With each step, new rules of physics formed, then died. Universes were born in his wake and immediately unraveled. freewebnσvel.cøm

Then—

The void shifted.

A ripple unlike any he had made.

The Architect stopped.

And then, without warning, something spiraled into existence.

A form that didn't follow the rules of space or shape. Layers twisted over layers. A figure cloaked in robes that looped into themselves. A face hidden by a mask shaped like an infinite spiral, always turning, never ending.

The Spiral had arrived.

The Architect narrowed his eyes.

"And who the hell are you?"

The Spiral bowed slightly, though it felt more like mockery than respect.

"I am the Spiral," he said, his voice an unsettling harmony of tones—mocking, smooth, distant. "The one who sings in broken minds. The architect of whispers."

The Architect tilted his head.

"There is only one Architect here."

"Of Ruin, yes," the Spiral agreed. "But I am here with an offer."

"An offer?"

"A shared grievance. A common thread. A name we both want to extinguish."

The Spiral raised a hand, and in it formed an image. Zayriel. Joshua. Walking through the halls of the Zenith Arena. A crowd cheering.

The Architect's brow furrowed.

"You presume much."

"I do more than presume," the Spiral replied. "I plan. And now I am here to present that plan."

The Architect said nothing, so the Spiral continued.

"You want Zayriel to come to you," he said. "But he won't. Not yet. He's too surrounded. Too… hopeful. That needs to be broken."

He spun a finger in the air, and a projection formed—Kaiden. Adam. Alice. The Origin Realm.

"We take pieces from around him. Not through war. Not through brute force. Through corruption. Through collapse."

The Architect watched.

"Go on."

"I've already sown seeds," the Spiral said. "But now, I plant deeper ones. I introduce chaos in smaller ways. Twisting allies. Warping truths. Pulling threads from the inside."

He gestured again. This time, it was Alexandria. A sliver of darkness growing beneath her ribs.

"She is loyal," the Spiral said. "But hearts that feel betrayal… become beautiful weapons."

Then another motion. A city burned. Karyon Sol, but different. Future. Ruined.

"The plan is simple," the Spiral said. "We poison what Zayriel holds dear. One step at a time. And when he is weakened… when he loses just enough…"

He turned.

"You strike. Not here. Not in the Void. But in a place that means something to him. I will draw him to the Cradle of Echoes—a convergence point between realms. The last place he ever smiled."

The Architect's voice rumbled.

"And what do you gain?"

The Spiral tilted his head.

"I gain the Spiral completed. The final curve. The last descent."

"And what do you need from me?"

"When the moment comes," the Spiral said, "you meet him there. Not as a force of ruin. Not yet. But as a promise of it. A shadow behind the storm. Let him see the future in your hands. Let him choose to step toward you."

Silence.

Then the Architect grinned.

"You dance well."

"I spiral," the Spiral replied.

The Architect turned to the void.

"Very well. But if this fails…"

"It won't."

A long pause.

The Spiral lowered his hand. The images faded.

"Zayriel will walk into our hands," he said. "Because hope is heavy. And I will make him carry it until he breaks."

The void pulsed.

The plan had begun.

Ostarius

Aurora's eyes snapped open.

The stars above Ostarius were still, but her breath came out cold, like she'd just walked through the end of the world.

She sat alone on the balcony of the floating archives, moonlight painting soft blue lines across her face. The vision still clung to her—heavy, loud, unfinished. Not just fragments, no… this time, it had been clear.

She had seen them.

The Architect.

The Spiral.

Two storms circling the same sea, pulling at Zayriel's thread like hunters circling prey.

She closed her eyes again, just for a second, letting the images echo:

Joshua, broken.

Kaiden screaming into smoke.

The skies of Krayon Sol torn in two.

A throne made of ruin.

And the Spiral… watching it all like it was some twisted masterpiece.

Aurora opened her eyes again.

And frowned.

Deep. Cold. Not shaken—focused.

Most people would've panicked. Cried. Warned the others.

But Aurora wasn't most people.

She stood up slowly, her coat fluttering behind her like a whisper of winter, and stepped toward the edge of the balcony, eyes scanning the city below.

It pulsed beneath her—alive. Blissfully unaware.

"Spirits are moving," she whispered to herself. "Pieces are shifting."

She tilted her head, and a faint smirk touched her lips.

"Looks like I'm being invited to the table now."

Because this wasn't war yet.

No.

This was the opening of a game.

And if the Spiral wanted to play?

Then she'd give him a game worth remembering.

She turned, stepping into the shadows, her voice low but steady.

"Let's see how well he plays when someone flips the board."

And just like that—Aurora vanished. Not in flash or flare, but like a piece that had simply left the board… to return when the Spiral least expected.

The game had begun.

And Aurora?

She never lost.