Creation Of All Things

The universe was quiet now. Not just the kind of quiet after a war—this was something deeper. Heavier. Like the stars themselves were holding their breath.

The three Absolute Monarchs had fallen.

People didn't just whisper the name "Celestial Monarch Faction" anymore. They remembered it. Like a brand burned into the mind. Like something too big to ignore. Kaelor, Joshua, Mael—each of them giants in their own right—and yet, in the end, reduced to echoes by the faction that stood above everything.

Aurora stood at the heart of Virelia, watching the skies. Her eyes weren't cold—they didn't need to be. She wasn't angry. She wasn't even proud.

She was patient.

Plans moved. Orders were given. Signals were sent out across the star systems—calm, direct, absolute. The Celestial Monarch Faction had claimed the throne of power in the cosmos, and now… the universe was responding.

Planets moved. Literally.

Ships made from black sun metal and vessels powered by cosmic whales sailed through the void, each carrying envoys and leaders. They weren't coming for war. They weren't even coming for peace.

They were coming to kneel.

Planet Arshan, known for its eternal crystal plains, was the first. Its envoy stepped onto Virelia's surface, bowed so low his forehead hit the ground, and offered the Crown of Arshan as tribute. They didn't speak in riddles or declarations. Just one sentence:

"We offer ourselves to the Celestial Monarchs. May we serve, and survive."

Next was Torasul, a molten world where the sky burned blue and the ground never cooled. Its volcanic kings knelt with lava still dripping from their bodies.

Then came Xerxes-9, Ulthaar, Drakenveil, Feygrove—each planet different in size, culture, power—but all with the same decision. Submit. Or disappear.

The Celestial Monarch Faction didn't need to raise a hand.

Their victory had already spoken for them.

It was days later when the final ship arrived. Nothing grand. No blaring horns or flashing banners. Just a single vessel, sleek and grey, drifting through space like it didn't belong.

It landed silently.

From it came a woman—old, wrapped in teal robes, with cloud-white hair tied into a simple knot. She looked like a grandmother. But every step she took cracked the ground beneath her. Virelia stirred at her presence, like it recognized her.

Aurora raised an eyebrow.

The old woman bowed.

"We come from the Taiyu Realm."

Aurora glanced to her side. Adams, sitting lazily on a floating stone, looked up. He didn't speak—just tilted his head, amused.

The old woman continued, "We seek vassalage under the Celestial Monarch Faction."

Aurora's eyes narrowed. "Taiyu Realm has never involved itself in politics. Not for thousands of years. Why now?"

The old woman didn't hesitate.

"We are seeking… protection."

Silence.

Aurora's voice dropped. "From who?"

The old woman looked up. And the shadows in her eyes shifted like they held a storm.

"One man," she said. "Chew Man."

The name cut through the air like a blade.

Adams straightened.

Even Aurora blinked.

"Chew Man?" she repeated.

Adams raised a brow, one hand casually flicking a pebble off the floating stone he sat on.

"Chew Man…?" he muttered, as if trying to remember the name of an old cartoon.

Then he turned his head slightly—just enough to glance at the figure hovering behind him.

Oracle.

The strange being in black and white robes stood with their hands behind their back, face hidden under a porcelain half-mask. Their voice was calm, almost too calm.

"That would be the place you went for vacation last year," Oracle said.

Adams blinked. "Taiyu?"

Oracle nodded once. "You said you were only going for food."

Adams tilted his head. "…I was only going for food."

The old woman from Taiyu Realm turned suddenly, her eyes widening as if struck by lightning. Her gaze locked onto Adams—really looked at him this time. Not as some lazy guy sitting on a floating rock. Not as some random member of the faction.

But as him.

Her mouth fell open slightly.

"You… you were the one," she whispered, voice trembling.

Adams scratched his ear. "Huh?"

"You sat under the jade fig tree… chewing," she said, eyes filling with both fear and clarity. "Everything changed after that. You ignored the sect masters. You ignored the dragon kings. You just… kept chewing. And then, one by one, they vanished."

Aurora raised an eyebrow, then looked at Adams. "That was you?"

"I was on break," he said flatly.

The old woman dropped to her knees. Not to bow—but because her legs gave out.

"Forgive me… we didn't know it was you. We thought—"

"You thought Chew Man was a curse?" Adams offered, standing up and stretching like a man waking from a nap. "Nah. I just didn't like people staring while I ate."

There was a silence.

Then Adams looked at Aurora and shrugged. "Guess I kinda broke their realm by accident."

Aurora sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course you did."

A breeze swept through the arena, dramatic and slow. Somewhere, thunder cracked across the sky—late as always, as if the heavens were still catching up to what just happened.

Oracle's mask glinted faintly. "So. Chew Man is just… Adams on vacation."

The old woman turned pale.

Aurora looked down at her. "You still want to be a vassal?"

The woman nodded furiously. "Please. Definitely. If he is part of your faction… we would rather serve than be… chewed."

Adams frowned. "I didn't chew anybody."

The woman shook her head quickly. "Not us! Just… everything around you."

Aurora raised a hand. "Alright, alright. Taiyu Realm is under our protection. No more collapsing sects or disappearing mountains—unless Adams goes back for dessert."

Adams grinned. "No promises."

The woman collapsed in relief, while her guards behind her wept silently like they'd just survived a storm.

Far above, the stars began to shift again—adjusting, realigning. As if the universe had just updated its understanding of who to fear.

Not a conqueror.

Not a weapon.

Just a man…

Chewing.

A/N

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