The Dustfolk and the Immaculate Realm

From this moment on, we shed our inherent identities, our souls becoming formless and insubstantial, transcending the bounds of life to become the Dustfolk.

Any prior anger, despair, or other emotions befitting mortals were, in that instant, utterly expunged by an even vaster power.

Our souls felt profoundly clear, and our minds soared to new heights.

With but a slight guidance, we could instantly grasp the essence underlying myriad unknown phenomena.

Even the destruction of the Kordylite Civilization by the Laws of Reason now seemed inconsequential, as if a far more crucial truth awaited our discovery.

This plane, where even death was forbidden, could no longer shackle our progress.

We yearned to know more.

Thus, guided by Her, we effortlessly submerged into that dark, viscous river.

Following the hidden currents, we then flowed into the chaotic sea of information, seeking its convergence points.

She revealed that she had inscribed history within the patterns of the deep-sea currents, ensuring it would never be buried by the storms of chaos.

For us, merely immersing our souls would allow the Spiritbane’s high-dimensional structure to automatically decipher these patterns, yielding meaningful information.

First, we learned the name of this plane: the Ruin Realm.

True to its name, the Ruin Realm signified the moment of all-encompassing destruction.

Time was brought to an end, the future annihilated, and everything within this place would forever be frozen at the instant of its complete undoing.

Unquestionably, the Ruin Realm was the graveyard of worlds.

The “gods” who wielded the Laws of Reason would not, under normal circumstances, go out of their way to actively destroy a civilization.

They simply adhered to their rules, consigning any worlds that didn’t conform into this tireless shredder, saving both effort and concern.

By then, we no longer felt anger toward such irrational acts.

We could, to some extent, comprehend the motives of these Ancients.

It was akin to a playwright, who, dissatisfied with a plotline or character, would simply tear up the script rather than expend more effort to salvage the narrative or painstakingly craft a complete ending for a disliked character.

For a character entering the Ruin Realm, it signified an utter absence of any future.

Indeed, the Ancients, possessing supreme power, had no need to treat their creations with reciprocal regard.

Destruction or rebirth, all rested upon a single thought.

“Merely a persistent affliction of ageless beings,” She remarked, utterly unconcerned.

“One day, they will pay the price for such conduct.”

Without elaborating on the deeper meaning of her words, the God of Dust, manifested as a pale, fierce flame, led us further into the boundless ocean.

The moment we touched the seabed, gravity inverted.

We continued to descend, yet our souls incessantly ascended.

The pitch-black ocean gradually transformed into a pure, luminous, transparent white.

Until we resurfaced once more, entering a world of pure white.

Here, nothing existed, yet everything seemed possible.

We perceived infinite possibilities within it, alongside the glimmer of hope.

“Welcome to my domain, the Immaculate Realm,” She declared, a hint of triumph in her tone.

“I established it on the reverse side of the Ruin Realm.

No one can enter here save for my servants and those I deem worthy.

Besides, who would be so idle as to sift through the bottommost debris of a garbage mountain?”

We seemed to grasp her meaning.

If the Ruin Realm was a refuse heap overflowing with corpses, then the Immaculate Realm, its stark opposite, was indeed a jewel buried deep within that refuse.

Clean, orderly, and seemingly capable of anything, it was inconceivable for an ordinary person to connect this place with the garbage pile above.

While marveling at such ingenuity, we also wondered how the God of Dust had managed to construct an independent plane, seemingly complete with its own intricate system, within a realm where laws were shattered.

“The Immaculate Realm is, quite literally, immaculate,” Her voice, this time, became an invisible breeze.

“I employed a small trick, removing the concept of time here.

Thus, no matter what you accomplish, what you ponder, or where you travel, as long as your Spiritbane true form remains here, it will be considered but an instant.

In essence, you will achieve infinite efficiency with finite thought.

I trust I needn’t elaborate on the principle that efficiency equals output divided by time, need I?”

If time is zero, efficiency is infinite, regardless of the output.

“As for your tasks, simply look up and follow the others.

You are not the first of the Dustfolk, nor will you be the last.”

Following Her guidance, we proactively expanded our perceptions, extending them to the very limits of the Immaculate Realm.

We seemed to connect with a boundless psychic network.

We “saw” more beings akin to ourselves.

They were lifeless, much like the dust scattered in every corner.

Yet, upon closer inspection, we discovered these specks of dust were thinking and moving.

“Ignorant yet fearless, we awaken in darkness, and we worship the light.”

We heard their chorus.

Speaking languages from disparate worlds and singing melodies from various planes, these beings had already escaped the cycle of life and death.

Perhaps they shared a past similar to ours, touching the hem of the God of Dust’s garment at the advent of their doomsday, thereby becoming her servants.

We joined them without hesitation.

Consequently, our perspective ascended to a higher dimension.

No longer were we gazing back at history or peering into the future from a single point in time.

We stood at the outer edge of the timeline, looking down upon its flickering trajectory.

In that moment, we all seemed to become seers.

Even more exhilarating, we could harness the collective wisdom of the Dustfolk to compute every possible outcome for any given world.

This power far surpassed the cluster intelligence of the Machina; it was not a simple 1+1=2, but rather akin to the matrix multiplication of countless Dustfolk minds.

And as we immersed ourselves in these calculations, we could simulate the worlds we observed, projecting our consciousness to attach to those minuscule beings.

In doing so, both outside the world and within it, we could borrow anyone’s eyes, observing the entire world from a comprehensive perspective, fulfilling the duty of an observer.

This work—becoming a seer, knowing both past and future, and even re-experiencing the lives of ordinary individuals through their own eyes—was truly captivating.

The boundless knowledge, expansive vision, eternal life, coupled with the God of Dust’s humble yet fearless demeanor, transformed us into her most devoted followers.

Yet, the God of Dust herself remained an entity shrouded in layers of mystery.

Only through the words of other Dustfolk did we gradually come to understand a fraction of the true world and the existence known as the Starfield.

The truths forged by the God of Dust were, without a doubt, a genuine power capable of overturning the heavens and earth.