O liege of Death

In the beginning, there was something. In the end, there was still something. It has always existed and will exist long after the last black hole dies out and the universe returns to its long due silence. An eternal constant in which whether you exist in it or out of it, you're still apart of it. It's hard to change that but it is possible. It has given birth to countless worlds and endless dimensions, each connected and each unique in its own way. There were also godly beings capable of destroying worlds with a thought.

Far off in an obscure pocket of this universe, a place not even the most advanced civilization could gain entry to even if they had billions of years, a battle between dozens of mystical figures was ensuing. The battle raged on for hundreds of millions of years which was only a blink in front of beings such as these.

Their forms were more abstract than anything else, always shifting and phasing in and out of existence. Every collision would create the birth of a galaxy teeming with life that died out faster than you could blink but existed for eons to the inhabitants. Sparks capable of engulfing the sun in a true blazing inferno that contained traces of mystical energies were one of the most insignificant of events that happened as these titans clashed.

Every now and again one of these beings would perish, truly dying and being erased from the universe. During a battle of this scale, besides victory, there would be no other outcome. As for what could have possibly motivated such beings to start this battle to the death amongst themselves, it remains a mystery.

As their battle raged on, stray blasts constantly shook the very fabric of space and time, eventually reaching a place where even entities such as these would tread with the utmost caution and respect to the Thing that resides there.

Respect is all you can show when you are face to face with death; as even death would have to show its respects in front of such a thing. While death may reap the souls of even gods when they perish, and despite being the firstborn, it was still born inside of the universe, how could he possibly go against it.

From that dark space where light had never touched in all of its existence was silence. Perfect silence just like how it likes. The souls that slumbered there couldn't even twitch as they awaited to rejoin the realm of the living.

Here is where a soul is truly supposed to go when they perish. The ideas such as heaven and hell were formed from the collective consciousness of intelligent life forms.

But, compared to those places this one is far purer. Other places, while powerful, can not be compared. It matters not whether a soul reaches this place or not but, it is only here where a soul can truly be scrubbed clean of its past or other influences before it is reborn.

From that cosmic battle came a ripple. From one ripple came hundreds, then thousands. Space shook like a lake during a massive earthquake. What those great beings failed to realize was that their battle had inadvertently disrupted this ancient existence's domain by producing ripples that spread in every direction, creating cracks in Its domain. Their power, even when combined, could never compare to this Thing that resides in eternal silence. However, dozens of them combined could damage the space It resides in.

With a shrill shriek that could leave entire galaxies void of life, the keeper of this domain witnessed the formed cracks suck away millions of souls at once. In an effort to stop what was happening, it used its power to repair the space around it as fast as it could which was hundreds of times faster than a nanosecond but thousands of souls still escaped its domain and that event stirred up all the souls that remained here into waking up. Using its will, it drove all the souls back to sleep and its domain regained its silence.

Yet, this being could not go back to sleep as it was howling in anger. Being suddenly woken up was bad enough, but the worst part was having thousands of souls escape his clutches. Its nature would never allow it to sleep until all the souls are brought back to their slumber. This makes their escape nonetheless tragic. While it has the power to easily force them back, it knows the laws of the universe better than anyone.

There is a process that must be followed, it can beckon their return, yet the world forbids the use of direct force. It can only gaze at them through the thin crack that it left in its domain as it waits for the coming eons. Yet, not before bringing havoc on those foolish beings for the blasphemy they had ensued.

Howling on anger it descended its might upon them, unleashing a wrath that made the very foundations of the universe quiver.

Unbeknownst to both parties was that their encounter created a void. A void in an obscure part of this universe. A void that led to a dimension other than their own.

Lying in this empty void was a crimson orb. Said core was engulfed within an aura of light. It coiled around the orb like an angel suppressing a creature of the dark. If someone from Earth were to witness this sight, they would think of Yin and Yang. The only difference being that the light was completely suppressing the core of darkness, rather than the traditional portrayal of balance.

This oppression of light has existed since time immemorial.

That would change today.

The sudden rip of space gave the crimson core the chance it needed to escape the grasp of its oppressor. With a fury like no other, it reached towards the rip in space-time. For the first time in eons, it had regained its long-awaited freedom.

This would later become a day sung by untold millions. Some in joy. Some in despair. Many in both. They would sing:

"O we sing,

The day of reckoning has arrived

The fallen King of Death has left his slumber

O ye despair in an agony of screams or rejoice with unbridled faith

The King of Death has awoken

We sing him praises

We sing him the wails of our despair

Run ye mighty

The clutches of death unroot thy head

The legions of the King defile thy body

O we sing

Risen from his empty hands we kneel

O we sing

The call of death has beckoned our labour

O we sing

The King of Death has arrived…"

On this day of reckoning, the long slumber of Ainz Ooal Gown came to an end.