The Recorder looked at the skull in its hand, staring into its hollow eye sockets.
As if its words had become reality, the moment its muttering ended, the skull erupted with an intense blue light.
It tossed the skull into the air. The skull began to spin, and with a flash of light, it was replaced by a man in a black bodysuit.
The man crashed to the ground, his face seemingly still twisted with the agony of death as he fell to his knees and gasped violently.
"I don't understand."
Seeing his own hands again and feeling the surface of the moon beneath him, the man murmured to himself.
He remembered that he was supposed to be dead. Why had he come back to life?
Carrying its great book, the Recorder turned its gaze back toward Earth. "Metron, some time ago, you were destroyed. I reforged you."
Only then did Metron realize someone was standing behind him. But he had seen much and knew that whoever could resurrect him was no ordinary being.
So he turned in place, remaining on his knees as he faced the gray, withered legs before him. "May I ask who you are?"
The Recorder seemed to have a fondness for polite people. It answered calmly in the vacuum:
"I am an agent from the Omniverse. My duty is to record the state of every multiverse. People call me the Recorder. Your multiverse has just undergone a disaster that should have led to its destruction, yet it has strangely endured. I find that difficult to understand."
Earth glowed with a faint blue light, and the two stood within it. Metron's bodysuit glowed as well, energy naturally leaking from it, but compared with the being before him—
It was like the difference between a firefly and