Myth Beyond Heaven

Every time Yin imposed a law of ending, Yun Lintian focused not on the effect, but on the principle behind it—the absolute, unwavering intent to return to nothingness. Every time the Creator reaffirmed existence, he focused on the profound certainty of being she embodied.

Is there any better way to learn? he wondered, his soul trembling with excitement. To witness the very concepts of Creation and Uncreation demonstrated by their original masters? This is not a catastrophe; it is the greatest opportunity imaginable.

The battle raged on, and Yun Lintian lost all sense of time. Eons passed in what felt like both an instant and a lifetime.

The two primordials, embodiments of fundamental forces, showed no signs of fatigue. Their power was self-sustaining, drawn from the very concepts they represented.

Yun Lintian witnessed a stalemate of a duration and scale he could never have conceived. It was a perfect equilibrium.

For every law of decay Yin enforced, the Creator established a law of renewal.

For every moment of silence he created, she composed a new symphony of vibration.

The universe around them became a laboratory of cosmic principles, and Yun Lintian was the sole, rapt student.

He saw how destruction was not merely an end, but a necessary simplification, a clearing of the canvas. He saw how creation was not just a beginning, but a complexification, an act of profound imagination made manifest.

He began to understand the rhythm between them, the dance that should have been.

Then, after an eternity of perfect balance, something shifted.

Perhaps it was arrogance, born from countless eons of stalemate. Perhaps it was a calculated risk. Yin, in a moment of fierce intensity, overextended. He poured an immense concentration of his will into a single, devastating concept: The Final Silence.

It was not an attack on a star or a galaxy, but an attempt to impose the law of absolute endings upon the Creator herself, to unmake her very consciousness.

The void around them deepened into an abyss so absolute it seemed to suck the meaning out of existence. For a fleeting moment, it worked. The Creator’s radiant form flickered, her light dimming under the overwhelming weight of nothingness.

Yin pressed his advantage, a triumphant glint in his void-like eyes. He gathered more power, seeking to crush her while she was vulnerable.

But in that moment of apparent weakness, the Creator revealed her trump card.

She did not fight the silence. She accepted it.

She allowed the Final Silence to wash over her completely, and in that absolute quiet, she did something Yin had never anticipated. She reached into the very nothingness he had created and Sang.

It was not a sound. It was the concept of sound, the idea of a first note, born from the absolute absence of one. It was the primal act of creation itself, executed not in a vibrant universe, but in the heart of absolute void.

The silence, which was Yin’s greatest strength, became her medium. You cannot have a beginning without an end to precede it. She used his own power, the perfect nothingness, as the foundation for her most profound act of creation.

The effect was catastrophic for Yin.

His law of Final Silence didn’t break; it was fulfilled and then transcended. The void he had created resonated with a new law, one he could not unmake because it was born from his own essence. It was a law of Beginning After the End.

A wave of pure, nascent creation, infinitely more potent because it was born from nothing, erupted from the Creator. It slammed into Yin, not as an opposing force, but as a completing one.

Yin, caught completely off guard, was overwhelmed. His form, which was uncreation itself, struggled to process this paradox—creation born from his own power. It was like trying to hold onto shadow when someone suddenly lights a lamp. The void that composed him recoiled, destabilized.

For the first time in the endless battle, Yin was thrown backward. The absolute dominance he had momentarily held shattered. The Creator’s light, now brighter and more profound than ever, pressed down on him, suppressing his aura, forcing the void around him to recede.

The tide had turned, dramatically and unexpectedly. The stalemate was broken.

Yin’s shock was a tangible force, a ripple of pure disbelief that echoed through the void. His form, once the absolute embodiment of void, now writhed and flickered under the overwhelming pressure of the Creator’s counterattack.

This was impossible! She had turned his ultimate expression of nothingness into the fuel for her own power!

“ARRRGHH!” A roar of pure, undiluted fury erupted from him, a sound that was the antithesis of sound itself. It was the scream of the void being violated. “YOU DARE!”

He fought back with everything he had, unleashing a torrent of Uncreation. He tried to impose laws of absolute decay, of forgotten memories, of erasure from causality. But the Creator’s newfound power, born from his own silence, was a perfect shield.

Her light didn’t just block his attacks; it assimilated them, transforming the energy of ending into the potential for a new beginning. His most potent assaults simply made her radiance brighter, more complex.

The Creator advanced, her movements calm and inexorable. Her expression was not one of anger or vengeance, but of profound sorrow and unwavering resolve. “It is over, Yin. Give up this futile struggle. You cannot win.”

Yin, pinned and struggling, let out a cold, desperate laugh. “Give up? You think you’ve won? Kill me then! Go on! Unleash your full power and erase me! But you won’t, will you? You can’t!”

His voice was a taunting snarl. “Without me, the balance shatters completely! Your precious creation will swell until it collapses under its own weight! Life will stagnate, time will lose all meaning without an end! You need me as much as I need you! We are two sides of the same coin! Destroy one, and the other becomes meaningless! You don’t dare!”

He was right. The truth of his words hung in the air. Their conflict was a paradox. To truly destroy the other was to destroy themselves.

The Creator’s gaze remained steady. “I know,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I have always known. And I have no intention of destroying you.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Yin’s enraged features. “Then what—?”

“I have already prepared a way out,” she interrupted. “A prison, not a grave.”

Buzz—

Her light intensified, focusing into complex, glowing seals that spun into existence around Yin. They were not symbols of destruction, but of eternal binding, crafted from the very laws of reality she embodied…