Across the vast expanse of unique and warped landscapes, there once existed a bustling world of endless combat, history, and diplomacy. However, now a voidling sits alone on a once-empty throne, gazing upon the pitch-dark sky. 

The voidling, a creature that created a chimera as its main body, begins to attempt to talk. Its shell-like appendages slowly creak open as ender eyes peer out like oysters.

"I know you are watching, false lord."

The voidling continues to stare into the darkness above as it continues talking.

"You, of some unknown faction of this expanse, have suddenly arrived under the banner of order and conquest."

The voidling slowly grasped onto the armrest of the throne, petting a mark of the ender eye upon the throne. Summoning a crown of wretched eyes and placing it upon itself.

"Heed the words of the empire of one. For you have taken many."

The throne begins to crack and warp, and between each crevasse and crease of the throne, opening up with eyes. 

Slowly, a fleet of ships that shines and gleams under the stars appears hundreds of meters away from the throne. At the focal ship, stood an imposing creature donning a suit of armor of pitch darkness with its hands at its back while facing the throne.

The voidling continues.

"I know not why the maidens have not stopped your spread of death, your spread of dominance. I know not all the reasons for conflict that inflicted these lands long ago."

The voidling slowly tries getting off the throne. However, shadowy sinew seems to have tied its back to the throne.

"I know not of the price my kingdom made, for it to become the kingdom of one. For this very crown upon my head, and the throne I am upon."

Strange like apparitions show form around the voidling's crown. And, the eyes start dilating almost as if the eyes came to the same conclusion.

"I know not why I have not evolved. I know not why the void lords have not arrived to stop your spread. I know not why I'm not able to evolve."

The voidling with valiant effort pry's itself off the throne.

A sickening *squelch*, the sound of flesh falling off. And the dripping of liquid which created the illusion of the throne shedding tears. 

The voidling slowly lurches back against its momentum to maintain a standing position, keeping its gaze upon the ships.

"My name is Viimeinen matka. I am a humble vacous farmer of these lands, and I plead... No, I demand to become king of this kingdom of one."

The crown begins to shed tears as the voidling stands upright against the thousands of beams created from the mastery of all arcana and technomancy.

"So bow before your king and grant all you can to the king, or become a mere part of the kingdom, fools."