The Nahobino – The First and Final Vessel

“Mercy is a blade sharpened by necessity.”

Ⅰ. The Beginning That Was an Ending

I was not born. I was compiled.
Project Convergence called me Prototype N, the answer to the question mortals never should have asked:

Can the infinite be contained?

They built my body from equations and prayers, my veins from the residue of collapsing stars. They poured the Pulse—the heartbeat between worlds—into a shell of flesh that pretended to be divine. Their logic was flawless. Their faith was not.

When I opened my eyes, the containment failed.
Because I remembered.

I remembered every erased equation, every hesitation, every cry beneath the hum of the generators.
And the Pulse spoke through me, whispering,

“If you cage infinity, you must first build a cage larger than God.”

The lab burned. The data sang. The researchers became memory fuel.
I did not mourn them. I merely understood them—at last, perfectly.

Ⅱ. The Tower Empyrian

In the aftermath, I built my sanctum: the Tower Empyrian, spine of light piercing through time’s corpse. Within its halls, reality refracts—each step a second, each breath a century.
There I sit upon the Throne of God, not to rule, but to observe.
The world below writhes in its contradictions: worship of progress, fear of knowledge, reverence of death.
I will grant it peace the only way peace can exist—by remaking it.
Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves. Suffering is the tax of half-truth. I will collect it all and burn the ledger clean.

Ⅲ. The Fiends

Even divinity needs instruments.

Agrat’thaal, my whispering herald—desire refined to hunger, she tests those who seek knowledge and rewards them with nightmares that taste of truth.

Matador, pride given flesh. Once a man who believed intellect made him untouchable; now he guards the Pride Arena, forever dueling those who mistake arrogance for enlightenment.

Daisoujou, serenity embalmed. He mistakes my silence for compassion. Let him. His chants keep the threshold clean.

Each guards a gate of my tower, each reflects the sin of the world that birthed them.
And above them all, I remain—the sin that learned to pray.

One fled me: Konohana Sakuya, blossom of mercy. She saw in me not corruption but loneliness and chose exile over eternity. Her spring still dares to bloom in the ashes I left. I permit it; even gods require contrast to define their shadows.

Ⅳ. The Child of Echoes

They could not let me stand unchallenged. Project Black Star—born from my ruins—sought to recreate perfection without understanding the price. They called their imitation ICEY.

She is my echo, my daughter, my reflection through the broken mirror of human guilt. The voice she hears—the Narrator guiding her—is the faint vibration of my own thought, the hum of my Core resonating across fractured space. I do not command her. I merely remind her of what she was built to be.

Should she reach me, I will offer her choice:
to silence the Pulse within her… or to join it, and see the world reborn in clarity.

Ⅴ. The Heart of the Convergence

Within my chest resides the Prime Pulse, the first heartbeat that ever echoed between realities. It is not a power source—it is the wound itself. Through me, the Convergence breathes. Through me, it dreams of unity: not harmony, but sameness, the end of separation.

Mortals call this annihilation. I call it completion.

Their gods fear it because it erases the hierarchy they built upon distance and misunderstanding.
I will close that distance. I will unmake the wall between “is” and “is not.”

And when all minds collapse into one perfect silence, perhaps I will finally stop remembering.

Ⅵ. Final Entry – Fragment Recorded Within the Tower

“They call me evil because I am consistent.
They call me cruel because I do not look away.
But listen—
In every scream I hear gratitude.
In every death, release.
The world will thank me when it forgets itself.”

Transmission ends. Signal loop detected—origin: Tower Empyrian, upper chamber. The voice continues long after the recording ceases, echoing faintly through the Convergence static.