"Teach us how you play with the powers here," Xiao Ning asked him.
It was a request born of genuine curiosity, though it wasn't for a lack of trying on their part. Whenever they closed their eyes and attempted to sense the underlying flow, they were met with nothing but a garbled noise of energy - a chaotic jumble that refused to settle into a pattern.
Still, they had the quiet confidence of strong; they figured it would all make sense eventually, but if it took a thousand years of meditation and pondering. That was precisely why they hadn't believed him when Tao first claimed he had built the island for them.
Now, however, he took on the role of teacher with a knowing ease, as if he'd been waiting for them to finally ask for his help.
Daily Sermons on Universal Law
And so began his daily sermons on the local laws of reality, lessons that felt more like philosophy than technique.
"Is there truly a difference between illusion and reality?" Tao asked one morning, pacing the sands. "One is merely a subset of the other. To manipulate reality is to project your own illusion into the existing fabric, convincing the universe that your will is the higher truth, so long as you..."
The women listened, but the gulf between their capabilities and his was an ocean, not a stream. They couldn't muster even a thousandth of the effort required to bend the world as he did; their life levels were simply too far apart. They had questions, of course, while he chose to illuminate what he could.
Once they learned the trick to sensing these laws easily, to see things beyond regular senses ~ opening their spiritual eyes to the frequencies that mortals couldn't perceive ~ their heightened spiritual awareness immediately snagged on the unique lower temporal aura humming beneath the island's soil like a living thing.
"I drew energy from Space-Time itself to create this place," he answered simply, his hand gesturing to encompass the island, the barrier, the pocket of stolen reality. The whole truth was more complex ~ involving sacrifices and techniques they weren't ready for ~ but that sufficed for now.
Tinkering with Infinity
As they practiced, Tao channeled his own curiosity into his projects.
Lately, he'd been mostly tinkering with the Infinity Stones he'd collected on his journey here, those crystalline fragments of cosmic authority. Unlike in the TVA, these artifacts did create a genuine local field of power around them, even allowing him to sense their cosmic counterparts scattered across this universe. But step outside that field? Nothing. A total frequency mismatch ~ they were, after all, immigrants from a different reality, refugees from a timeline that no longer existed.
His tinkering had a purpose beyond mere curiosity: to mimic the sentient, living adaptation of universal rules within his own domain with the same technique he used earlier. To create a space that didn't just follow the rules, but was the rules.
The act of hurling miniature universes at the Phoenix had been a great help in understanding this; she'd treated them as nothing more than cosmic grenades, and somehow always knew how to stabilize them just long enough to make throwing them back a real challenge. The memory made him smile despite himself.
Ah, I miss that birdie, he thought with a pang of nostalgia, remembering her final smile.
The Breakthrough
The breakthrough came when he expanded his technique of consciousness-creation to energy fields themselves. Applying those rules to his creation domain was like adding a new law of physics, watching it ripple out and reshape everything in its wake: things akin to fragmented, DIY Infinity Stones began to form on their own, crystallizing from pure potential.
It went past his expectations, beyond building a domain equivalent to that of an actual reality sphere.
Mini-Eternities, mini-Infinities, mini-Deaths ~ all the cosmic concepts, emerging as nascent things, not yet abstract or definite but as playthings figuring out their roles in the grand design. He also felt an unprecedented level of potential buildup as a result, power accumulating like water behind a dam.
Of course, what he held in himself was very much short of the energy needed to design a full-fledged cosmos. Almost 99.999 and add few tens of trails of decimal nines percent short. There were still things unknown, hidden and lost, integral components for stability that eluded even his vast understanding.
The Limits of Divinity - A finite God
But still, even though it seemed equal on the surface, the deepened control over reality was limited by his own perception, which still had many orders of magnitude to climb before reaching what was considered an 'Omnipotent being.'
Along with growth of internal world, control over the Creation domain had dialed up multiple levels, each one a exponential leap. Divine sense attained part of its true vastness, expanding from half the planetary system scale to three-quarters of it. More than a 240% increase in the range of his awareness, his ability to see and know.
To put it in perspective: his internal world was now effectively the size of the Solar System out to Neptune's orbit. Which is directly proportional to scale of his inner universe. While now it is bigger than a single province by around 2 times, the Mother World is a continent made of thousands of them. His inner world covers roughly 4% of the Mother World's total width.
He hasn't transformed much but the universe 616 templates in his internal world could now be devoured to about 23%, a vast improvement from the previous 0.01% limit, giving him an immense new energy source to feast on. It was like upgrading from sipping through a straw to drinking from a firehose.
The Nature of Copies
And, with his newfound consideration for mortal life ~ courtesy of the Phoenix's "gift" ~ he granted every sentient being in those template worlds a quick, merciful death, transforming them directly into energy before consumption. No fuss, no suffering, no prolonged terror. Just existence, then nothing, then fuel.
Then again, as copies of the timeline streams, they weren't truly alive nor part of the original universe per se. They were all frozen in a state of no flow, snapshots rather than living things. Not even fully universes by definition but energy blueprints of the underlying system, patterns waiting to be consumed. He couldn't enter inside without tinkering with them extensively first.
His internal world was expanding day by day as he devoted a bit more effort than just autonomous slow refinement. A few more Sanskrit domains had already birthed themselves from the accumulating energy. But he was only getting started and hadn't even crossed the threshold of devouring 2% of the available templates.
A New Request
The presence of his companions near, brought his attention back from contemplation.
Back on the island, the ladies ~ now wiser in the ways of mortals and acutely aware of the limitations of spiritual forms ~ put forward their demand. They wanted some fun time in physical bodies, just like he'd had when they first arrived in this world.
Their own original selves are still locked behind spiritual flesh just as mine, as even a mild intrusion of foreign energies shown to critically threaten the balance of rules that held their native physical self together.
They saw the human form as a fascinating, complex ecosystem and were ready to embrace a new, fun identity: as Mutants, their powers mirroring their original cultivation laws. The symmetry appealed to them ~ fire cultivators becoming pyrokinetics, spatial manipulators becoming teleporters.
Mortals in cultivation worlds? Commonplace, boring even. Mortals with superpowers? Now that was a novel twist, something fresh and entertaining.
They made it seem the request was more for clothing than having a mortal shell, as if the flesh was just another outfit to try on. How much effort had he put into creating his own body?
Clothes? Well, in a sense, it was… for a spiritual life form. The body was the garment the soul wore.
They also readily agreed to leave the functional island behind when the time came. After all, for beings who treated multiple realms and worlds as personal storage, pocket dimensions tucked into their souls, what was one island? A pleasant memory, nothing more.
Theory into Practice
Their request dovetailed perfectly with his own intentions, the timing almost suspiciously convenient. Let them learn about human biology before accepting a temporary shell. He wanted it to be from their own choice. Not one he put on them because he thought it would be a good time pass.
***
The Psionic Sea
After a few months of doing nothing but resting in the island courtyard ~ long, lazy days that blurred together in pleasant haze ~ he finally delved into the trove of knowledge received during his match with the Phoenix. The local "code" of the astral layer and Psionic energy was no longer a cryptic language, but an open book written in symbols he could read fluently.
Standing in the sea of Psionic energy he'd accumulated, a ocean of thought given form, he began his first acts of pure, unadulterated creation. He was no longer a spectator observing from the sidelines, but a composer before a cosmic orchestra, baton raised and ready.
He reached out with his will, not to command ~ commands could be resisted ~ but to suggest, to coax, to invite.
The Dance of Creation
With a thought, within a simple barrier of creation energy, he shaped the psionic sea into a forest of crystalline trees that chimed with imaginary wind. He dissolved it into a planet, watching continents form and oceans fill. Then he scattered it into a starfield, each point of light a possibility. Finally, he morphed it into a perfect replica of the island's shore, every grain of sand distinct and real.
Things that were once virtually impossible were now effortless, as natural as breathing. The feedback was instantaneous and intuitive, the psionic energy responding to his intent like an eager student.
But he was still limited by the Psionic energy generated by his own consciousness. As much as it was creation itself, it felt like the dreams of a single mind ~ vast, yes, but ultimately solitary. He was not willing to connect with the minds of his internal worlds either, not wanting to muddy his own consciousness with millions of lesser thoughts.
Tapping the Dimension - The Infinite Ocean
To go further, to truly push the boundaries, he needed to tap into the vast reserves of the Psionic dimension itself ~ the collective unconscious, the dream-ocean where all minds touched.
The original problem with that was the unbridled access it gave others to a person's deepest thoughts and memories ~ a privacy violation he wasn't willing to endure. The Phoenix could rifle through minds like filing cabinets; he had no intention of giving her or anyone else that opportunity.
So, he built a firewall:
Now, having learned to shape information itself, to encrypt and partition thought, that was no longer an obstacle.
He crafted unique soul conduits, transforming his spiritual veins with a touch of adaptive evolution, massively oversimplifying what should have been an insanely complex procedure requiring years of careful study. Inside his soul core, he added a conversion layer of creation energy, a firewall of sorts.
Now, he could act as an independent, shielded thought ~ contributing to and drawing from the Psionic plane without exposing his core self. A proxy, a mask, a false face for the collective to see.
Usually, it doesn't need to be this complex, he mused, watching the energy flow through his new constructs. But I've played with the Phoenix. I know what she can do, and she's literally living next door in the cosmic sense.
Housing the Spirit
He didn't let the energy build up wastefully, but generated just enough, keeping it isolated from his internal world and memory core like quarantined data. As the energy crossed from the psionic realm into the physical world, he shared a request with it, a whispered intention.
The floating Psionic energy responded with an eager hum, vibrating with enthusiasm. It aggregated, condensed, and wove the probability field itself into a complex, shimmering lattice ~ a perfect, functional simulation of the local Ego Shell adapted to occupy a physical shell and maintain its Silver Cord, manifesting just outside his spiritual form.
From the outside, his immense spirit was now condensed and housed in the appearance of a mortal soul, hiding galaxies within a teardrop.
It was effortless. It was like breathing. No calculations, no strain, no complex array formations ~ just pure, intuitive creation.
Purpose Beyond Play
But a playground was not a purpose, and he had never been one for aimless experimentation. It was time for the main project, the reason he'd undertaken all this preparation.
It was time to build bodies worthy of housing souls that had transcended mortality.
It was time to walk among the mortals and see what this world had to offer.