The Conqueror Of Everything

I blink my eyes open slowly, the world coming into my view.

My head feels heavy, my thoughts all over the place, as if I've been asleep for a long time.

The space around me is eerily white—walls, floor, ceiling—all blending together into an endless, mind breaking expanse.

It's quiet, way too quiet, except for the sound of wind which I can't feel.

Standing feels like an effort, my legs unsteady beneath me, but I manage to get up, my eyes darting around this white hell.

It's empty, except for one thing: a simple wooden table in the center.

It's plain, almost too plain, like it was placed there just to break the monotony of the white.

On the table sit two cups—ordinary, unremarkable cups, the kind you'd find in any kitchen.

They're empty, or maybe they're not; I can't tell from here.

My curiosity prickles, but something holds me back from approaching just yet.

And then I see her...A girl, sitting on one of the chair.

She's wearing a extremely expensive and complex outfit, but there's something about her that feels…safe?...

She's drinking on one of the cups while looking at the distance, seemingly bored.

Her extreme focus is unnerving, like she's waiting for something, or someone. Me, maybe?

I take a step forward, my footsteps muffled by the soft floor.

The room feels vast, but at the same time, it's suffocating, like the walls are closing in even though they're far away, way too far.

My heart starts to beat a little faster, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something important.

The table, the cups, the girl—they all seem connected, like pieces of a puzzle I can't quite figure out. But why? What does it mean?

I glance back at the girl, hoping for some kind of clue, she just looks at me smiling softly.

There's a strange mix of calm and tension in the air, like the moment before a storm breaks.

I don't know what's going on, but one thing's for sure: this isn't normal. And I need to find out why I'm here.

"So, you are finally here" the girl said, her voice soft, like the echo of a distant peaceful landscape.

It wasn't loud, yet it filled the entire room, resonating in the air around me.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her, my mind racing to place her.

There was something familiar about her—the way she held herself, the calm authority in her gaze, the faint, almost imperceptible glow that seemed to emanate from her skin.

And then it hit me like a wave crashing over me.

I recognized her.

Not from memory, but from the stories, the legends, the ancient texts I'd read so long ago.

She was the one they wrote about, the one they whispered about in hushed tones.

The Goddess.

The Creator.

The being who had shaped the world from nothing, who had breathed life into the stars and the seas, who had weaved the fabric of existence itself.

Her name had been etched into countless scrolls and carved into the walls of forgotten temples, but here she was, standing before me, real and really beautiful...

Her presence was almost overwhelming, not in a way that crushed me, but in a way that made me feel impossibly small, like a single grain of sand on an endless shore

Yet, there was a gentleness to her too, Her eyes, deep and caring, held a warmth that seemed to reach into the very core of my being, as if she knew every thought, every fear, every hope I'd ever had.

She didn't move, didn't blink, but I could feel her attention focused entirely on me, as if I were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

"Were you waiting for me?" I ask, my voice coming out firmer than I expected.

Inside, my mind is a mess—thoughts running over each other, screaming at me to run, to find a way out of this.

But my body doesn't respond. Instead, I feel this strange, almost bizarre sense of safety around her.

It's like standing in the eye of a storm—everything around me is destruction and chaos, but here, with her, it's calm. Quiet. Safe.

I sit on the chair across from her, the wood creaking softly under my weight.

My hand reaches for one of the cups on the table without thinking.

It's warm, I can feel the heat in my fingers, and I wrap my hands around it.

The tea inside smells earthy and sweet, like chamomile and honey, and I take a sip without really thinking about it.

The warmth spreads through me, easing some of the tension in my chest. It's good. Really good. I glance up at her over the rim of the cup.

She's watching me, her expression calm but curious, like she's studying me but doesn't want to make it obvious.

Her eyes are deep, too deep, and there's something in them that makes me feel like she already knows everything about me—every fear, every doubt, every stupid little thing I've ever done.

But instead of feeling exposed, it's… comforting, in a weird way.

Like she sees all of it and doesn't care. Or maybe she cares too much. I can't tell.

She doesn't say anything at first, and the silence is present between us, heavy but not uncomfortable.

It's like she's giving me time to catch my breath, to process what's happening.

Finally, she speaks. "Well, yeah," she says, her voice light and casual, like we're two friends catching up over coffee.

But there's something in her tone—a kind of quiet certainty—that reminds me exactly who she is. The Goddess. The one who made everything.

And yet, she's sitting here, across from me, acting like this is the most normal thing.

She leans back in her chair, her posture relaxed, and there's this faint, almost playful smile on her face. She doesn't act like I'd expect a goddess to act.

No grand gestures, no dramatic speeches, no glowing aura (okay, maybe a little bit).

If anything, she reminds me of Master Oogway from Kung Fu Panda—wise, patient, and just a little bit cheeky.

It's interesting, and for a second, I almost forget how insane this whole situation is.

I set the cup down, the soft clink of porcelain against wood breaking the silence.

"Why wait for someone like me?" I ask, my voice shaky, the words spilling out before I can stop them. I don't get it. I'm not special. I'm not important. I'm just… me.

Before I ended up in this endless white room, my life was a mess—directionless, empty.

I was a nobody, drifting through days without purpose. A good-for-nothing.

And now, here I am, sitting across from her, the creator of everything, drinking tea like this is normal. It doesn't make sense.

I stare at the cup in my hands, my reflection blurry in the steaming liquid. "I'm not worth waiting for" I mutter, my voice barely audible. "I'm not someone who matters."

She doesn't react the way I expect. No pity, no judgment. Just a calm, knowing look, like she sees right through me.

"You don't see it yet" she says softly, her voice steady and kind. "But you're more than you think you are. More than you've been told. You've always been enough. You just haven't realized it."

Her words hit me hard, stirring something deep inside that I've buried for years, I want to believe her, but it's not easy. The weight of my own doubts feels crushing.

"How can you say that?" I ask, my voice breaking. "I'm not… I'm not worth this."

She smiles, a small, gentle smile that feels like a lifeline. "I know more than you think" she says. "And I've been waiting for you because you're exactly who I need. Not because you're perfect or special in the way the world defines those things. But because you're you in the way I need."

Her words in the air, powerful. For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself consider that maybe—just maybe—she's right.

Maybe I'm not as worthless as I've always believed. The room feels different now, the silence less suffocating, more… hopeful.

She doesn't push me to respond. She just sits there, patient and calm, like she has all the time in the world.

Then, like a patient teacher explaining a complex lesson to a struggling student, she begins to unravel the truth for me. Her voice is calm and measured, each word deliberate, as if she knows how overwhelming this will be.

"You've actually been here, in this white expanse, for over 500 years" she says, her tone gentle but firm. My breath catches in my throat. 500 years? How is that even possible? I open my mouth to protest, to say there's no way, but she continues before I can speak.

"Your sense of time has… deteriorated. It's not uncommon for mortals who exist outside the flow of their own reality. To you, it may have felt like moments, or perhaps no time at all. But for me, watching over you, it has been centuries."

I stare at her, my mind reeling. Five hundred years. Gone. Just like that. I don't feel older. I don't feel different. But the weight of her words settles over me like a heavy blanket, suffocating and inescapable.

"Why?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why was I here? Why did you bring me here?"

She smiles faintly, as if she's been waiting for this question. "Because I saw your future" she says, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my chest tighten.

"In the Book of Destiny, your name was written in a way I've never seen before. Your path… it intersects with mine in ways that are crucial. I knew then that you were the one. My champion."

Her words hang in the air, heavy and surreal. Champion? Me? I want to laugh, to tell her she's made a mistake, but the look in her eyes stops me. She's serious. Deadly serious. "I will give you power" she continues, her voice steady and unwavering.

"Power beyond anything you've ever imagined. And with it, you will reconquer the infinite dimensions I once ruled. They have been lost to me, stolen by forces you cannot yet comprehend. But with your help, they can be mine again."

I blink at her, trying to process what she's saying. Infinite dimensions? Reconquer? It sounds like something out of a fantasy novel, not my life.

"What… what kind of dimensions?" I ask hesitantly, my voice trembling. I'm not sure I want to know the answer, but I can't stop myself from asking.

She leans back slightly, her expression softening, almost nostalgic. "Do you remember those animes you used to watch?" she asks, her tone almost casual, like we're discussing old hobbies. "Those games you played? Those films you loved? They were all my creations. My dimensions. Each one, a world I shaped, a story I brought to life. They were mine, once. But now… they've been taken from me. Corrupted. Twisted. I need you to reclaim them for me."

My jaw drops. The animes? The games? The films? All of them? My mind races, trying to wrap itself around the idea. The worlds I've spent hours immersed in, the characters I've laughed and cried with, the stories that felt so real—they were all her's? And now… they're lost?

I feel a strange mix of awe and disbelief. "You're saying… all those worlds are real?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "And you want me to… what? Go into them? Fight for them?"

She nods slowly, her gaze never leaving mine. "Yes" she says simply. "You will enter these dimensions, restore balance, and return them to me. It will not be easy."

"The forces that have taken them are powerful, and they will not give them up without a fight. But I believe in you. I've seen what you're capable of, even if you haven't."

I sit there, stunned, my mind spinning. This is too much. Too big. Too impossible. And yet… there's a part of me that feels a spark of something.

Excitement? Purpose? I don't know. But for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I'm not as insignificant as I thought.

"Why me?" I ask again, my voice trembling. "Why not someone stronger? Smarter? Better?"

She smiles, a small, knowing smile that makes my chest ache. "Because it's not about strength or intelligence" she says softly. "It's about love. And yours… yours is exactly what I need."

Her words linger in the air, heavy and profound. I don't know what to say. I don't know if I can do this. But as I sit there, staring into her ancient, knowing eyes, I feel something shift inside me. A flicker of determination. A spark of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, I can do this. Maybe, for the first time in my life, I can be more than I've ever believed.

"W-wait...did you say love ?!" I ask confused, looking at her and then at the table again kind of shocked

"You heard me right, all these years...you were not sleeping...but talking to me every single day, I learned to love you." She says calmly, getting up and putting her hand on my

"Then...why can't I remember it ?" I look at her hand, her hand is soft and she smells good...like flowers...

"You basically fallen under a coma due to the energy concentration, you could hold on for almost 421 years...after that you entered in a severe coma...but before you actually went off...your finger..." As she says it I look at my hand in my finger a beautiful ring is sitting idly, as if It came into existence just from being closer at her

// -- \\

Oh my oh my!

That's a bunch of letters lol

Yeah there will be a part 2 to the prologue and I know I went a little overboard with it

2k words type shi lmao