The atmosphere around the law pool simmered with a pressure that felt like someone had bottled divine disappointment and released it into the air. Each breath Ezekiel and Frederick took was like inhaling a thesis on mortality—thick, complicated, and deeply judgmental.
Void stood silently, ten feet from the swirling chaos of power, arms folded like he was supervising the universe's worst group project.
"That," Void said, nodding toward the radiant vortex, "is a law pool. Specifically, an unguarded one… for now."
Ezekiel, still dripping law pool residue and existential regret, looked up with wide eyes.
"Wait. They get guarded?"
Void turned slowly. "Of course. Every decent chunk of condensed law eventually spawns a guardian. It's like a spiritual security system. Or a magical bouncer. Except these bouncers eat people."
Frederick swallowed so hard it echoed.
⸻
The law pool churned.
The laws within—fire, metal, wind, creation, decay—began to pull apart, separating like threads unraveling from a cosmic spool. Something was changing.
The air turned sharp. Heavy. Hostile.
Void narrowed his eyes.
"Ah. Spoke too soon."
From the pool, something began to rise.
Not a monster. Not a beast.
A concept.
It wasn't bound by a single form—it twisted and shifted, constantly rewriting itself. One moment it was skeletal. The next, it looked like an armored titan. Then a roiling mass of light and law, all contained within a vaguely humanoid shape.
The temperature dropped.
Lightning crackled in the air.
Even the grass had the common sense to wilt.
Ezekiel immediately dove behind a rock. Again.
Frederick stood his ground, eyes wide, beard trembling, hammer in hand but utterly pointless.
Void remained still, watching with amusement. Not fear. Just… irritation.
"Law Guardian," he said aloud, as if addressing an overzealous librarian. "You're early."
The creature opened its mouth—or the part that passed for one. The voice that came out wasn't sound—it was a pressure, slamming into their minds like someone was compressing law knowledge into a thunderclap.
"Who touches the sacred pool…?"
Void raised a hand lazily.
"Me. Problem?"
The creature hesitated. You could almost hear its cosmic thoughts short-circuiting.
Void stepped forward.
"Let me guess. You're the residual guardian of this plane. A construct of accumulated law will. Old. Rigid. Loyal. Pointless."
The guardian pulsed, swirling faster. It raised a hand of shifting energy.
"You are not recognized by this realm."
Void smiled faintly.
"I created the fracture that birthed this realm."
Lightning struck the pool.
Frederick stumbled back, shielding his eyes.
Ezekiel was actively chewing on the rock he hid behind out of stress.
⸻
The Guardian attacked.
It launched forward, a blazing comet of law fragments and condensed intent.
Void didn't move. Didn't flinch. He simply flicked one finger.
And time around them froze.
For a second, everything—light, air, even thought—paused.
Then the guardian's form began to crack.
Void stepped forward, hand behind his back.
"You are outdated," he said, voice steady. "Your knowledge of this reality is expired. Your relevance—nullified."
He tapped the being gently on its chest.
And the entire construct imploded, collapsing inward as the laws it embodied were unraveled from existence, stitched apart by the very principle it was meant to enforce.
Gone.
⸻
Silence.
Only the law pool remained, swirling innocently, like it hadn't just spat out an eldritch bureaucrat.
Ezekiel emerged from behind the rock, hair frazzled, eyes twitching.
"Is it over?"
Void looked at him. "Depends on your definition of peace."
Frederick stepped forward slowly, staring at the pool.
"Was that… a trial?"
Void nodded. "Of sorts. Low-tier guardians are common in mysterious planes. You'll meet more. Stronger. Smarter. Angry."
Ezekiel raised a hand like a nervous schoolchild. "Um… do we have to keep meeting them?"
Void gave him a bland look.
"No. You can stay behind. I'm sure the next one will only rip out one organ."
Ezekiel put his hand back down.
⸻
Void turned to the pool.
"We're not done here. This isn't just a power-up station. It's a convergence point."
He placed a finger to the air, and the space surrounding the law pool began to unfold—like peeling back reality's skin.
A map appeared.
A radiant, living map showing interconnected law pools, broken fragments of mysterious planes, hidden veins of law energy threading through realms like capillaries of cosmic potential.
"There are more," Void said. "Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Each one guarded. Each one a trial."
Frederick's eyes lit up. "Then… this was just the beginning."
Void turned to him.
"You're walking the path of Creation. That path does not walk alone. It is always tested by Destruction."
He looked at Ezekiel.
"And you. You're on the path of Resilience. A slow path. But one that doesn't break easily."
Pause.
"Try not to embarrass me."
Ezekiel gave a thumbs up with the confidence of a man who had no idea what was going on but desperately wanted approval.
⸻
Later that night, they camped near the ruins of the former guardian's shrine, the only sign of its presence being faint scorch marks and Ezekiel's twitching left eye.
Frederick sat beside Void, notebook in hand, sketching the energy flow of the law pool.
"Sir Void… what exactly are you?"
Void stared into the night sky, galaxies swirling in his gaze.
"Once? I was the end. Now… I want to understand the beginning."
⸻
Ezekiel's Panic Diary
(Volume 2: "Traveling With a God Who Might Explode Me for Breathing Wrong")
⸻
Entry #17
Location: Some terrifying glowy place with laws and no bathrooms
Mood: Anxious, damp
"Dear diary—I mean tactical journal,"
Today, I watched my father stand inside a cosmic blender and come out glowing like a magical potato.
Then I got tossed in like leftover soup.
I saw fire. I saw colors that don't exist. I saw a creature made entirely of sideways screaming. But most of all, I saw my life decisions flash before my eyes—including that time I tried to forge a hammer and accidentally made a spork.
Void said I resonated with Resilience Law, which apparently is like the special ed version of "won't die fast."
Cool. Love that for me.
Then a Law Guardian showed up. It looked like the physical embodiment of a tax audit.
Void deleted it.
With a tap.
I threw up again.
Note to self: stop eating before missions. Or just stop going on missions. Or stop existing. Still workshopping options.
Tomorrow we travel again. I packed three socks, one potato, and a stick that might be a snake. I'm ready.
—Ezekiel (alias: Void's emotional support dwarf)
⸻
Frederick's Sketchbook
Page 47: "Void's Face – Attempt #13"
⸻
A smudged charcoal drawing. Very intense eyebrows. Hair: perfectly incorrect. Eyes: glowing too hard to shade.
Annotations:
• "Still can't capture his galaxy-stare. May need to use crushed law crystal dust next time."
• "Mouth still too friendly. Add more apocalyptic neutrality."
• "Reminder: Do NOT sketch him from behind. The one time I tried, he turned around before I was done."
• "Possibly doesn't blink?? Research ongoing."
Page 48: "Ezekiel Mid-Scream"
(Amazing likeness. The eyebrows are 40% of the image.)