My God domain is the endless abyss Chapter 5

Cillian's eyes snapped open as he surveyed the bottom of the Endless Abyss from his vantage point.

A profound surprise washed over him.

The soul of the [First Fallen], which he had previously torn from himself, was no longer just a mere fragment. When Cillian had initially cleaved off that piece of his soul with his divine fire, it was in its most rudimentary form, akin to a faint echo of self-awareness, a mere flicker possessing the faintest hint of perception. By conventional definitions, such a fragment wouldn't even qualify as a proper soul, but rather a ripple.

Under normal circumstances, without a sufficiently nurturing environment, that ephemeral soul fragment would have swiftly dissipated into the void, vanishing without a trace.

However, this instance proved to be different.

The Endless Abyss, still in its nascent, embryonic stage, had greedily absorbed that fragment. It embraced and began to shape it.

From that pivotal moment onwards, the [First Fallen] ceased to be solely Cillian's; it now belonged to the Abyss.

"...Did it succeed?" Cillian mused aloud, his thoughts adrift.

He observed the soul of the [First Fallen] adrift at the very bottom of the world he had meticulously crafted. A peculiar sense of conflict stirred within him.

He had long pondered the reason behind the Abyss's consistent ability, observed across all realms and historical records, to draw in broken and twisted souls, subsequently forging them into monstrous entities. Long before his arrival in this world, he had witnessed its power firsthand, feeling the Abyss's irresistible pull tugging at him.

At that time, he had attributed it to the inherent nature of souls, believing they willingly drifted towards the Abyss, drawn by their own inner darkness.

But now, having personally created a replica of it, Cillian finally grasped the underlying truth.

"It's not that souls *choose* to fall into the Abyss..." he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "...It is the Abyss that pulls them in."

The very instant this world materialized, even in its incomplete state, the Endless Abyss had instinctively extended its reach, ensnaring wandering souls and dragging them into its unfathomable depths.

At the nadir of the Abyss, the [First Fallen] opened its eyes.

Yet, it was not yet a creature in the conventional sense. It possessed no physical form. It was pure soul, sculpted by the very will of the Abyss. And despite its solitude, it had already commenced its nascent growth.

The reason for this rapid development? The entirety of the world itself – the layered depths of the Abyss, its intrinsic rules and intricate formulas, and even the chaotic power that dictated its reality – was actively nourishing it.

This nourishment was not akin to sustenance or breathable air. It was something far more fundamental: authority over the very fabric of known reality.

And the [First Fallen] was beginning to harness this newfound power.

"It begins..." Cillian stated.

He extended his consciousness, implanting his own soul imprint into the burgeoning awareness of the [First Fallen]. Maintaining control was paramount. Without his guiding influence, the inherent chaotic nature of the Abyss might warp the nascent being into something utterly beyond his command.

However, this imprint served an additional, critical purpose.

It would grant Cillian complete dominion over the world, wielded through the very soul he had brought into existence.

And the very moment he established this connection, an unforeseen event unfolded elsewhere.

Within the observation chamber at Grimstone, Vice Principal Warren and the assembled instructors watched in stunned silence.

They fixed their gaze upon the projection of Cillian's world, utterly motionless, their breaths held captive.

Until one of them finally broke the silence with a gasp.

"...His divine fire is diminishing?"

Warren's brow furrowed in disbelief. "What?"

He swiftly directed his attention to the fire-value monitoring system.

Indeed, the numerical readout representing Cillian Carter's divine fire was plummeting dramatically.

Rapidly.

"This isn't normal," one of the mentors murmured, his voice laced with concern. "He's not under any external assault. His world isn't suffering damage. So, why is it...?"

Another tutor pointed a trembling finger at the screen. "It's still dropping!"

A wave of palpable panic now swept through the entire room.

Warren's expression grew grim. "Is his world collapsing? Did he make a critical error?"

Yet, Cillian remained outwardly calm, unaffected by the unfolding events.

He possessed absolute clarity regarding the situation.

The divine fire was not simply vanishing.

It was being deliberately channeled into the [First Fallen].

This divine fire served as fuel, a willing sacrifice to accelerate the creature's growth, enabling it to grasp the world's underlying principles and assert its own authority.

This was the inherent cost of maintaining ultimate control.

"The transformation is proceeding successfully," Cillian declared, his eyes reopening.

He was no longer merely an observer from on high.

He was now experiencing reality through the senses of the [First Fallen].

From its unique perspective, he could feel the divine fire incandescent within its core. He could perceive it assimilating the world's fundamental laws, adapting to them, and transmuting abstract systemic concepts into tangible, usable power.

Under conventional circumstances, no being within a divine world could ever fully comprehend such profound rules. The instant a being laid claim to dominion over fundamental concepts like time or space, they would intrinsically become an integral part of the world's very structure.

A god.

And by their very nature, gods posed an existential threat to their creators.

This was precisely why worldbuilders invariably imposed limitations to prevent such an outcome.

But Cillian was embarking on an entirely different path.

He actively desired this being's ascension. Because he was its origin, its fountainhead. Its soul bore his indelible mark. He would perpetually retain command, at least in principle.

"Power... complete."

A faint smile touched Cillian's lips as the [First Fallen] grasped the essence of countless rules and abilities within its hold.

"Now," he declared, "it is time to bring the rest into being."

From the depths of the Abyss, the [First Fallen] cast its gaze upward.

It commenced its expansion, its soul and physical form intertwining and transforming.

As the sole entity in existence, the entirety of the world channeled its energy into this being.

A pulsating, chaotic mass of flesh materialized, its shape in constant flux, shifting from one moment to the next. Eyes, mouths, fangs, tentacles, and spikes flickered into existence, followed by arms, heads, and scales. Then, they would vanish.

It morphed into a monstrous beast, a slithering worm, a creeping fungus, and a formless shadow.

It became a plant.

Every conceivable form was assumed. Each transformation signified an adaptation to a distinct aspect of the Abyss. Every shape embodied the mastery of a new power.

Then, when its growth reached its zenith...

Cillian issued the ultimate command.

"Shatter."

A piercing scream erupted from the [First Fallen] as it violently fragmented—its soul and substance dispersing in every direction.

Fragments of its soul were propelled into every stratum of the Abyss. Some settled in domains of toxic fumes and lingering mist. Others landed on frozen wastelands, or in lands choked with molten lava, or in realms of absolute darkness.

And in each location, a new form of life began to blossom.

The Abyss had commenced its grand evolution.

Beings battled for their existence, springing forth from the flesh and soul of the fallen entity. Some were consumed. Others became the consumers. A select few, with great difficulty, endured long enough to mature.

However, an oddity became apparent.

At the very deepest point of the Abyss, no nascent creatures emerged.

That place remained desolate.

Utterly silent.

For it was reserved for a singular being.

The [First Fallen].

The one destined to return and embody the very Will of the Endless Abyss.