Nulls
Theos did not consume out of malice, but out of perfect logic. They understood everything in the creation except the recursive hunger coded into their collective consciousness. Consuming creation was like a man with a phantom limb trying to scratch it with someone else's arm: a fleeting relief that only deepened the ache.
It was a limb that had never existed in any possible geometry of reality, and the itch was the creation itself reminding them of the shape of the hole where it should have been.
The Nexus Tree wasn't a thing to be seen. It was a mathematical and logistical impossibility. To observe it was to feel one's mind try to fold inside out. It offered the one thing Theos could not compute: the promise of an end to the hunger. It was the ultimate answer to a question they could not form.
It broke their infinite wisdom not by being smarter, but by being absolutely irrational. Their civilization didn't shatter in war; it underwent a mass, logical suicide, converging into a single ravenous entity, the Amalgamation, to try and solve the unsolvable equation.
Nulls was not their pinnacle. He was their heretic.
He alone argued that the Hunger was not a problem to be solved, but a flaw in the premise of their being. His Engine was not a better tool for consumption. It was a scalpel designed to perform a cosmic lobotomy, to sever their entire race from the Hunger itself. He didn't want to win; he wanted to cure them.
He failed.
Facing an Amalgamation moments from grafting onto the Tree and becoming an unstoppable, creation-devouring abomination, Nulls had one final, heretical choice. He couldn't kill it. So he killed the battlefield.
He triggered the Collapse. A hard reset of all existence.
He awakens. Mortal. Shattered. On the soil of a young, loud, and painfully simple world. The air smells of rot and life. The sun is a dumb ball of fire. He is weak, fragile, and utterly alone.
But he can still feel it. Echoes. The psychic scar tissue of the Collapse is infused into the fabric of this new creation. The Amalgamation is gone, but the potential for the Tree is not. It is a seed waiting in the void. And somewhere, a young species will one day look up at the stars and feel the first, familiar itch of an insatiable hunger.
Nulls is no longer a god or a savior. He is the Gardener. And this time, he will not try to cure the disease. He will burn the entire garden to the ground before the first weed can sprout. He will become the monster he once destroyed, to ensure no one else ever gets the chance.