The God of Dust’s Decree

These formidable civilizations and worlds once basked in glorious eras.

Yet, before the Cosmic Law, a veritable shredder, their resistance proved utterly meaningless; even the faintest vestiges of their existence were obliterated without a trace.

Even the once-flourishing Kordylite Civilization, in its attempt to defy the Cosmic Law, merely added another meaningless corpse to the countless others.

For the Cosmic Law, a single instant encompassed the entirety of a civilization’s lifespan.

Confronted with such an unjust cosmic order, our fury raged like a basin of oil on the verge of boiling over.

Yet, once the initial surge of anger subsided, a chilling rationality dragged us inexorably towards the abyss of despair.

Their frigid remains seemed to whisper a bleak truth: “This is the end of reality. No one can aid you, no one can withstand them. All are alike; all shall perish, without exception.”

To expend an entire existence, only to be met with such a devastating outcome.

Despair consumed us.

In the ensuing silence, we severed our senses from the external world, halted our logical processes, and ceased all energy supply, patiently awaiting the inevitable embrace of death.

Waiting for death, however, proved to be an agonizing ordeal.

In this peculiar plane, time held no consequence, rules were rendered meaningless; perhaps the sole thing that retained any significance was death itself.

The physical bodies of the Machina had long since withered into husks, their thoughts rigid as decaying wood, and they were relentlessly tormented by extreme cold and searing spasms of pain.

Wracked with unbearable agony, we cried out in countless tongues, begging for death to swiftly claim us, yet death remained utterly indifferent.

In our desperation, we unearthed a chilling truth: here, even death itself was forbidden.

We were condemned to bear witness to the decay of others, trapped in a state of perpetual putrescence.

Lingering in a state between life and death, we became akin to zombies, aimlessly drifting through this chaotic plane, perpetually searching for its elusive boundary.

Yet, each time we drew near to the faintly perceptible edge, it receded further into the distance.

Then, one day, a river that had long been utterly still suddenly stirred to life, and from its waters emanated a clear, melodious song.

Within our hearts, the dormant ember of life was rekindled anew.

“The relentless tempest fells towering trees that have stood for a millennium, yet it also allows new shoots to sprout from decaying wood.”

She did not reveal her form, but instead used the murmur of the river’s waters as a conduit for her cordial greeting.

“You have indeed arrived precisely on time,” she declared. “To put it simply, I am the seer you have been searching for. However, my true identity is that of an observer, a Starfield Observer; being a prophet is merely a sideline. I have been watching your world. You may address me as the God of Dust.”

Some among us marveled at the river’s ability to speak, and to do so in the tongue of the Machina.

Others, meanwhile, were struck by the enigmatic implication of her word “on time.”

Yet the majority chose to listen in tranquil contemplation.

We sensed, with profound certainty, that it was she who had bestowed upon us the very strength of life.

For this, our hearts swelled with gratitude.

“Let me preface this with a disclaimer: my disaster forecasts are not meant as intimidation from a superior being to you lesser creatures; I am hardly that bored.

I simply prefer to focus on grand events that are on the horizon.

After all, who doesn’t appreciate a dazzling display of fireworks?

I speak, of course, of the cataclysmic explosions and grand collapses of colliding planes, which resemble nothing so much as a magnificent fireworks spectacle—brief and beautiful, much like the civilizations that once flourished.”

Her words landed like a bombshell upon the tranquil surface of our understanding, instantly plunging some into utter disarray.

‘They are truly a host of unfathomable monsters!’

‘The life and death of civilizations are, in their eyes, no different from a mere performance.’

“Heh heh, your current expressions of terror align perfectly with my predictions, though I confess, I remain indifferent.

In any case, your safe and successful arrival here was neither due to your discovery of some nonsensical path to salvation, nor was it a mere coincidence.

I actively guided you.

Amidst the chaotic storms of subspace, how could mere impurities of your caliber possibly navigate without a qualified pilot?

The chaotic regions within the Starfield, in particular, stretch boundlessly; it would be miraculous if you weren’t pulverized into cosmic dust.

Only a seasoned guide such as myself can truly master its inherent laws.”

She explained, her tone rather sharp, “As for the reason I summoned you, it is quite straightforward.

I wish to engage in a simple transaction with you, or more accurately, unilaterally compel you to enter into an unequal agreement.”

Even as we reeled in shock, she granted us no time for contemplation, for a contract, inscribed by pale, ethereal flames, shimmered into existence within our very beings.

“Cease wasting time on thought; your world is already irrevocably doomed, and I will not attempt to salvage your civilization. As you know, that would violate the strictures of the Cosmic Law.

From the moment our paths converged, you have been left with but a single option.”

The ethereal voice of a little girl then proceeded to outline a scheme that only a demon could conceive: “I shall become the sovereign of your souls, granting them a not-so-terrible resting place before they are utterly extinguished by the void.

And in return, you shall become my devoted servants, laboring tirelessly and serving me with all your might, for all eternity.

Simultaneously, as mere mortals, you shall transcend the very laws of life and death, thereby attaining immortality.”

‘Immortality! What an enchanting word.’

‘It was a word so captivating it made us overlook the sorrow of our civilization’s demise, and even the God of Dust’s audacious, one-sided terms.’

‘For the Machina, the promise of immortality meant we could gather an endless trove of knowledge, refine our logic, and amplify our collective wisdom.’

‘In the throes of that catastrophe, time was our most critical deficiency.’

‘We had once believed that given sufficient time, we could drift beyond the confines of our world and unearth a solution to the cosmic calamity.’

As the notion of “immortality” swept through our collective consciousness, the names of the last Machina descendants were indelibly seared onto the contract.

The scorched parchment, consumed by the pale, searing flames, disintegrated into scattered ash.

“The contract is sealed. From this moment forth, you are my servants.

You must obey my every command, understand?

Kordylite, Machina?

Forget those identities, destined to be submerged in oblivion.

You now bear but a single name: Dustfolk!”

Her dispassionate tone suggested she had conducted such coercive transactions countless times before, yet we found ourselves unconcerned.

She then began to outline the work we were about to undertake, as well as the nature of this peculiar plane: “The task I assign you is so simple even an imbecile could perform it.

You merely need to follow my path, meticulously recording the histories of civilizations, acting as unfeeling chroniclers and repeaters.

Before you formally commence your duties, however, I recommend you delve into books, acquaint yourselves with this plane and its inherent rules.

Remain humble, cultivate curiosity, preserve your awareness, and uphold your sanity.

The Starfield is immense, vast beyond measure, and before the true end arrives, you shall have infinite time to chronicle new cycles of existence.”

The moment her voice faded, we felt an irresistible force embed itself within our very souls, rendering us seemingly incapable of defying its decree.

Simultaneously, our decaying bodies, with the dissolution of the contract, transformed into a purely spiritual construct, akin to a higher form of undead.

She explained that this was a superior tier of existence above the undead: Spiritbane.

Thus, the last remnants of the Machina collectively underwent a profound sublimation, ascending to become beings of a higher dimension.