Fear, as most primal and unchangeable of emotions, is strongest. But there is something nearly as old, Hate. Uncaring and unending. All devouring. Misanthropy. Deep in the gulfs of the universe is the very incarnation of hatred, a cold and ancient being of untold and immeasurable spite. Coiling around itself, drowning everything in its murky depths, The Serpent of Many Eyes.
During the apocalypse, where the dimensions collapsed and unfolded, The Serpent awoke and began its quest to unmake everything; it's advisor, The Whispering, urged it on.
As the final moments neared, The Serpent's body, gorged to the point of bursting, grew into a new and untold nightmare: the demiurge, reborn from the depths of the gulfs of space and time, Caytorasht. As expected, Caytorasht did as any demiurge would do and devoured every last sidereal... But its hunger did not end there, it began devouring the various immortals and mortals until there was nothing last but the fabric of spacetime and gravitic waves, which it also feasted upon. In it's void of nothingness, it's hunger and hate festered for eternity.
The Serpent turned its gaze to other universes.
Each world it gulped down fed its growth. Each eternal it absorbed into its bulk became a new stomach to feed. Another scale in it's curtain of neutronium armour. Each city of lights that was snuffed out became another empty void in the Hoary Heaven. Each Aeon devoured became a new gear in the machine of jaws that was The Serpent.
Soon the supernals took notice of The Serpent's hunger. He was a problem beyond anything they had ever thought of being possible. The Supreme Being herself took to combat with The Serpent, and won. Imprisoning the overgrown Caytorasht in a city sealed with seven gates, seven locks and seven keys held only by the strongest Lipika in her service.
But hatred cannot be extinguished so easily. You cannot dissolve a festering mold by quarantine.
In time, various Time Lords and High Lords urged the Supreme Being to use Caytorasht the Swollen as a source of power and creativity. All were refused. The Lipika that held the keys soon urged the same, and was refused.
The Serpent waited patiently. The First Seal broke under his girth. The Second torn apart from his rough scales. Muhlatimic Dragons bit and tore at his exposed flesh, and were consumed by its festering rot, the Third Seal unlocked by their talons.
Four more seals had to be broken, and the final hour would come. Gotterdammerung, Ragnorok, the Sun would be extinguished. The Supreme Being would be devoured like a rat. The Serpent's fangs would sink deep into her quivering flesh and The Serpent would drink the life from her veins.
The Betrayer joined The Serpent in his quest. Once a loyal Lipika, now a crazed madman. Stealing the keys by treachery and thievery, he unlocked the four last gates. The Serpent once more began the final moments of the multiverse. His prison he ate up, the Betrayer he fused with The Whispering, and set off as a lure of sorts. The news had not spread of his prison cracking. As Time Lord after Time Lord was tricked into his jaws, he still grew more. A titanic, fattened thing, bursting at the seams with jaws and grasping tongues.
Soon the Supreme Being's greatest champions fell into his gaping mouths. The very walls of Kuvachim were but a crispy snack to The Serpent, the radiant expanses of Aravoth were a sweet lozenge for his dry mouth. The Mistress of Heaven, The Queen of the Multiverse was a meal for him. Slowly sucking her life fluids from her broken body, a juicy morsel. He swelled and cracked and burst. He was more than he could have ever been. He was God. Not just any deity, not just any god, The Only God. Mortal, Immortal, Sidereal, Eternal, Supernal, all fell to their knees and offered themselves as tribute. The Whispering One was the only one that stood next to him, barely even close to him in strength.
He looked beyond the walls, the confines of his new prison.
He saw a new world to devour.
So he did.
Caytorasht swelled. A behemoth.
He had another crown too small for him to wear.
Another world fell to him, his third crown.
He heard the screams of his digested slaves. H
e had finally sated his hunger, slaked his hatred, he felt no more desire. He had anything he could ever want.
He tormented the various races of mortals that he never noticed. But he found their prayers towards the gods they lacked to be quaint and a good source of entertainment. He stopped his torture. He retracted his servants back into his depths. Millions of years passed, and the races advanced. He ripped back into their spaces, a rift of immense proportions. Taking a much less horrific form, much smaller than his norm, he flew to their galactic supercluster, an array of blinding lights. They became his mortal servants. Though unintentional, he found that sparing them was the best decision. A race of reptiles, though now dying off because of the gene pool's invariants. He altered their biology, allowing them to breed with any race they could find.
He created multiple universes and populated them with extremophiles and waited to allow them to evolve, though his reptile children, the Sluuari, he put into stasis until the time would come.
He found a new omniverse and slew the warrior that ruled it. A new set of worlds for his children to inhabit. His extremophile creations were not needed when he discovered multiverses full of species for the Sluuari.
The Time Has Come.
