Monarchs of Ruination

"From the One comes Everything; Everything finds its way back to the One."

Thus, the Cosmic Dance concluded.

After what felt like an eternity, NOX finally stilled. The echoes of his divine symphony faded, leaving only an eerie silence in their wake.

His form, once consumed by primal chaos, reverted to its usual appearance—though traces of white ash still clung to him like remnants of a forgotten storm. Across his forehead, three distinct horizontal lines stood stark against his skin, etched by the sacred residue of destruction and rebirth.

As his incarnation dissolved back into him, NOX felt an undeniable shift within.

He was no longer just an entity—he had become an extension of existence itself.

Countless universes pulsed through his being, their whispers merging with his consciousness, granting him a perspective beyond mortal or divine comprehension.

He was One, yet he was Everything. He was no longer merely a being within the cosmos; he was the cosmos. His will stretched across infinity, eternal and immutable.

And with that realization, the madness that had once consumed him finally ceased. The storm within his mind quieted, the chaotic fury tempered into something clearer—sharper.

For the first time in eons, his thoughts were truly his own.

Yet, despite the vastness of his newfound existence, his heart remained void of joy. His thoughts, unrestricted and infinite, now revolved around a singular purpose.

Even as The One, he had not forgotten. His ultimate goal remained unchanged, carved into the very core of his being.

He longed to reunite his family. To correct the mistakes of his past. To seek redemption for sins that spanned lifetimes and realities.

As NOX recalled his family, a flood of emotions surged through him—love and sorrow entwined in a bittersweet tempest. Yet, the tenderness did not last. In an instant, unbridled rage consumed him, reigniting old wounds and stirring a maelstrom of turmoil within his soul.

But NOX was no longer just a singular being—he was One with all existence. His emotions did not remain confined within him; they rippled outward, bleeding into the fabric of reality itself. Across countless universes, his sorrow and fury reverberated, shaking the very essence of creation.

Then, deep within his soul, something began to stir. A force—unknown, yet profound—awakened as if being birthed from the depths of his own being.

And then—SNAP.

A sharp rupture, almost imperceptible, yet undeniable.

NOX felt it. A severance. A thread in his [Existence] had been cut.

Yet, he paid it little heed. The storm of his thoughts, the weight of his past, and the unrelenting will to change fate itself consumed him far more.

With all the boundless power at his command, he turned his focus to divination.

He sought the paths that lay hidden within the weave of destiny—paths that could sever his fate, and more than anything, a path that would allow him to revive his family.

As he began his search, the universe itself held its breath. None dared to gaze upon him directly, fearing that even a fleeting glance might taint the sanctity of his divine presence.

And so, in silent reverence, they basked in the eternal bliss granted by The One, knowing that in this moment, NOX was peering into the very heart of destiny itself.

*****

Meanwhile, in the corners of NOX's universe, another entity watched the drama with ecstasy.

Their entire being was veiled in darkness, their face concealed behind a clown mask. Only the shifting emotions and expressions on the mask's surface revealed their true nature; otherwise, they might have appeared ordinary.

In the natural order, when a being transcends reality or ascends beyond the physical plane, the matter around them typically cannot withstand their presence and is erased almost instantly - as had been seen with VRITRA.

But this masked entity defied such principles. There were no energy fluctuations, no telltale ripples of power. Instead, he existed in [Perfect] synchrony with his surroundings, seamlessly integrating with matter itself.

Unlike others of his caliber, he held no desire to erase existence. To do so would mean the destruction of the 'fragile' quantum lifeforms inhabiting the quantum realm.

Why would he destroy something if it has the potential to entertain him? Why subject a life form to death when letting it live could provide so much amusement?

This is exactly how he views any sentient life—they are mere cattle that breed fun for him.

The presence he exuded mirrored that of the shadowy figure witnessed by NOX, as if he was imitating and mocking the shadowy figure's authority.

Yes, he was the [Fool]—the one who dared to taunt the shadowy entity.

Not out of hatred. Not out of contempt.

But simply to see if it would provoke a reaction.

He knew, beyond all doubt, that he could never defeat that entity. In a true confrontation, he wouldn't stand a chance. But that wasn't the point. Winning had never interested him.

All of this was for fun.

He wanted the shadowy figure to chase him. He wanted to see if he could escape. He wanted to annoy him with the most insufferable, awful jokes imaginable.

Because to the [Fool], a great joke isn't just the one that makes people laugh.

It's the one that makes them seethe.

And so, he posed his riddle—a twisted inquiry meant for no one in particular.

"Who is the true [Fool]? The one who makes the terrible joke, the one who laughs at it, or the one who is the joke of the 'joke'?"

The Clown-masked entity paused, as if awaiting an answer to his riddle, but only silence greeted him in the vast expanse.

For a moment, the markings on his mask twisted into a crestfallen expression—symbols shifting like digital emojis frozen in disappointment.

Then -

"Ke ke ke ke ke ke"

But a single moment later, he laughed maniacally. His mask instantly transformed into a different one. His high-pitched, piercing laughter lacked any human warmth or emotion.

If someone were to describe his laugh roughly, it would be like this: Picture a laugh that starts with an exaggerated, manic giggle, quickly escalating into a frenzied cackle reminiscent of something mechanical or robotic. The irregular rhythm, punctuated by sudden pauses and starts, suggests the clown is struggling to restrain an overwhelming sense of glee or madness.

This laugh doesn't bring joy or amusement; instead, it inspires fear and unease, leaving a lingering sense of dread long after it fades away.

The reason for his laughter?

He laughed at his own terrible 'joke,' not because it was amusing, but because it wasn't. In that moment, he embodied the very essence of absurdity—becoming the Joke of the 'Joke', fully embracing his role as the ultimate [Fool].

He is the [Fool].

He is the [Joke].

He is the [Fool] who laughed at his own terrible joke.

And he is the [Joker] who crafted the joke.

Yet, one question remained—was the one who posed the riddle and the one who laughed truly the same?

Or was the joke far deeper than anyone could comprehend?

After a few steady breaths, The Fool composed himself. In an instant, his manic demeanor vanished, replaced by an unsettling seriousness.

His gaze shifted toward the empty void, his voice cutting through the silence:

"Is it fun… watching your own self struggle? To be toyed with by these insignificant pests lurking in the shadows?"

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

The moment he spoke, the void before him trembled—shifting, twisting, as if reality itself recoiled at his inquiry. Then, from the depths of nothingness, a silhouette began to take shape.

At first, it was featureless—a mere shadow in the vast expanse. But as the figure solidified, its form became unmistakable.

It was NOX.

Yet, not quite the NOX of now.

This version appeared more mature, as if in his early thirties—his features refined, his presence carrying an air of wisdom... or perhaps something far more ominous.

But there was no doubt.

It was NOX.