Mahoraga in Lord of the Mysteries

In the vast emptiness where existence and non-existence converge, the Original Creator regarded the diminutive figure before Him. This being, who identified itself as the Divine General Mahoraga, stood in stark contrast to the Creator's boundless form.

"Divine General Mahoraga," the Original Creator's voice resonated, a harmonious blend of all disharmonious sounds, "You are an anomaly within my creation. From whence do you originate?"

Mahoraga's wings, substituting for eyes, fluttered slightly as it responded, "I am the embodiment of adaptability and resilience, summoned forth by those who seek to overcome insurmountable challenges. My existence is to confront and evolve."

The Creator's myriad of star-filled voids pulsed contemplatively, "Adaptability... resilience... Concepts I wove into the fabric of reality. Yet, you stand apart, unbound by the dissolution of the cosmos."

Mahoraga's robust form straightened, the wheel atop its head turning slowly. "I am summoned in times of great upheaval, to test the mettle of those who dare face me. Your awakening has summoned me, for there is no greater upheaval than the reconstitution of all that is."

A silence ensued, filled with the weight of unspoken truths. The Original Creator's essence swirled, galaxies forming and collapsing within His being. "You seek to challenge me, knowing well that our natures are inherently contradictory."

Mahoraga's wings flared, and the swords in its grasp gleamed with an ethereal light, "It is through conflict that growth is achieved. Even the Creator can evolve."

The Creator's form shimmered, the vastness of His being contracting slightly, "Very well. Let us engage in this dance of existence and adaptation."

Without further prelude, Mahoraga lunged forward, its swords slicing through the void, aiming for the heart of creation itself. The Original Creator's form responded in kind, cosmic energies converging to meet the challenge.

Thus began a battle beyond the comprehension of mortals, a clash that would redefine the very essence of reality.

In the boundless void where existence and non-existence converge, the Original Creator and Divine General Mahoraga clashed, their presences embodying the zenith of creation and adaptation.

The Original Creator, an entity of all-encompassing contradictions; light and darkness, creation and destruction, extended His will, manifesting an attack that embodied the concept of Absolute Nullity, a force intended to erase existence itself. This was a power surpassing the authorities wielded by the Great Old Ones, a testament to His unparalleled supremacy.

As the wave of nullification surged toward Mahoraga, the eight-handled helm atop the Divine General's head began to spin rapidly. In an instant, the concept of Absolute Nullity was assimilated, rendering the attack ineffective.

'Remarkable...' the Original Creator mused, 'He adapted even to the essence of non-existence.'

Embracing the paradox of His nature, the Original Creator unleashed the Paradox of Duality, an assault that intertwined existence and non-existence, aiming to destabilize Mahoraga's very being.

The wheel spun once more, harmonizing with the paradox, and Mahoraga stood unscathed, his form now resonating with both states.

'Each adaptation brings him closer to my core essence,' the Original Creator reflected, a mixture of admiration and concern pervading His thoughts.

Determined to test the limits, the Original Creator summoned the Eternal Singularity, a concept that encapsulated all of time and space into a singular point, intending to compress Mahoraga into oblivion.

The wheel's acceleration matched the collapsing continuum, and Mahoraga emerged, his essence now attuned to the totality of time and space.

'His capacity for adaptation is boundless,' the Original Creator's thoughts wavered between awe and an unsettling realization, 'Is this the manifestation of my own desire for convergence and division?'

The bipolarity inherent in the Original Creator's existence caused His form to oscillate, torn between the urge to fragment and the compulsion to unify. This internal turmoil manifested as an attack imbued with Chaotic Order, a force that sought to impose randomness upon structure.

Mahoraga's helm responded in kind, spinning to adapt to the very essence of chaos within order, leaving him unscathed.

'He embodies the perfect counterbalance to my being,' the Original Creator acknowledged, 'a reflection of the eternal cycle of creation and adaptation.'

Throughout the battle, Mahoraga's demeanour remained one of exhilaration, revelling in the challenge presented by such a formidable opponent. With each adaptation, his respect for the Original Creator deepened, recognizing the profound power and complexity He wielded.

As the confrontation reached its zenith, the Original Creator, despite His paradoxical nature, felt a sense of fulfilment, 'In him, I see the embodiment of resilience, the perpetual motion of existence.'

Mahoraga, sensing the culmination of their encounter, ceased his offensive. With a gesture that transcended the physical, he tore open the fabric of reality, revealing a multitude of universes beyond.

And yet, the endless cosmos that had originally lain at the centre of their immeasurable battle was no more. All life, all matter, and all that lay beyond the comprehension of mortals had been drawn into the boundless existence of the Original Creator.

The vast history of five Epochs; the struggles, the triumphs, the ascensions, had unravelled, fading like whispers lost in the void. No ruins remained to speak of their passing. No echoes lingered to mourn them. Gone. Erased.

As if they had never been.

The Original Creator drifted in the infinite emptiness, the paradox of His being resonating through the void. He was all that remained, yet He was not whole. The unending struggle within Himself clawed at the edges of His mind; creation and destruction, unity and separation, entropy and order.

His thoughts splintered and reformed in an endless loop, 'They are gone. All of them. And yet... I long to see them. To watch them bloom, struggle, fall, and rise again. But I am the end. Their end. I have always been.'

'No! This is how it must be. I am existence. I am void. What meaning does regret have to one such as I?'

Mahoraga, standing amidst the formless abyss, let out a satisfied sigh. His wheel, the eight-handled crown of defiance, spun in a slow, lazy motion. Though the battle had ceased, he still pulsed with exhilaration. Never before had he faced such a force; one that stood at the apex, one that embodied the very concept of opposites.

"Heh. That was fun," Mahoraga said, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of battle.

"No one's ever pushed me that far before. And to think, you weren't even fighting to win. Just fighting because you are."

The Original Creator turned to him, His infinite gaze unreadable, "You speak as though victory holds meaning."

"Doesn't it?" Mahoraga smirked, clenching his fists and retracting the swords, "Winning means adapting. Growing. Becoming something more than you were before."

The Original Creator's form pulsed, shifting between infinite expanses of stars and the perfect singularity of nothingness, 'I cannot grow. I am already all things. And yet, I have lost.'

'I cannot lose. I was never meant to. Yet, I have.'

Mahoraga exhaled, then stretched a hand toward the empty abyss. With a mere flex of his will, he tore through reality itself, peeling open the fabric of existence like a fragile veil. Beyond the tear, an unfathomable sight unfolded; endless realms, each an ocean of possibilities, stretching beyond time, beyond laws, beyond anything the cosmos of the Five Epochs had ever held.

Mahoraga turned back, extending his other hand toward the Original Creator. His wings-for-eyes pulsed with anticipation. "Well? Want to explore?"

The Original Creator regarded him, motionless, thoughtless for a fleeting moment; an eternity for mortals, but only an instant to Him. Then, for the first time in all of existence, He smiled. "Let us depart," the Original Creator said, stepping forward.

Defeat did not hold Him.

Victory did not tease Him.

He simply was.

The beginning.

The end.

The endless.

Together, they stepped beyond the remnants of a forgotten cosmos, into the vast unknown, where eternity itself had yet to be written.

THE END

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Note: I hope you have enjoyed this journey as much as I have. This was a fun little project I worked on as a joke but ended up being more fun to write than I expected. The ending conversation somehow reminded me of the ending scene from Age of Ultron, but I did not want to go into such details as their conversation, and the Original Creator literally was all of those things like Chaos and Order, so a conversation like that would not suit him. So, I kept it short and simple. Also the battle was shorter than expected, but in a sense time no longer had a meaning to them. Each of their attacks could take an infinity to land, but also an instant, it did not matter as they were fighting with concepts beyond authorities wielded by the Great Old Ones. Pls do comment is anyone has actually read to this part, I would love to hear your thoughts on it.