The Monolith of Regenesis

The repaired Epsilon goes to leave, unless the Uncreator indicates some desire for him to stay.

"Thank you, stranger."
He leaves.

It starts to climb up the stairs. 

The surrounding area continues to be covered and the EP makes it to the top of the stairs. 

A dark red aura appears around the substance and levitates it into the air, pooling it together and completely encasing it in a thick container of HL, which has already proven to easily hold its own against the destructive properties of EP.

"The power to inconsistently evolve or eliminate life... I believe I am familiar with one who would indulge in your abuse. There need not be worry of such malice whilst under my benevolent watch."

The case disappears into the corridors of the Monolith.

The Uncreator strides through the labyrinth of corridors within the Monolith, on his way to privilege his special guest with a rare visit. He has been watching events and anomalies erupt all over the planet and in its surrounding space. Throughout his life of traveling along with his counterparts, he's had the opportunity to witness for himself the vulgar depravity of countless societies. Most, if not all, were anarchists by nature, and those with established governments even managed to fool themselves into thinking otherwise. Time was all that was needed for them to fall prey to their wicked impulses. The greatest of empires, holding uncontested supremacy in their lands, eventually imploded without fail. Now why was that? Why are even the most esteemed provinces destined to burn themselves in chaos?

Ideas. The catalyst of every downfall can be traced to the thinkers, those who question the status quo and seduce others into sharing their worldview. Fractures become yawning fissures, and soon everyone is thinking beyond what should be permitted. Then war, then barrenness.

Spherus Magna is no exception, but out of all the worlds The Uncreator has seen, it falls among the worst. The Three Virtues that the inhabitants of the Matoran Universe held dear were never going to carry meaning in this sinful land. The 'Great Beings'... the madmen... the thinkers... they left it scarred. The nail in the coffin was the imperfection that was the Great Spirit Robot. Such hasty programming would never have lasted more than 100,000 years, and it appears it lasted far less than even that. When the great malfunction failed and ejected its thousands of little malfunctions onto the planet, well... look where things have gone.

The Uncreator interrupts these thoughts as he steps into a relatively small chamber. It is mostly empty, with the exception of one large square object floating in the center, engulfed almost entirely in flames of a deep blood red. This was, of course, a very special prison designed to hold one who is incompatible with the flow of reality, much less the ceased, solid state that this small fragment of the Red Flame is able to lock it in. The Flames subside a small bit, revealing the convulsing purple orb held within. A weak and hollow voice echoes from the little orb.

"Ah... my righteous torturer has graced me with his presence once again. What manner of increased suffering shall I endure now?"

"Your darkness has served my light well, abomination, but now it is ready bend to my eternal will. You have seen this world and its plights, but not as I have. To you, it is yet another rock in need of erasure. To me, it is one in need of salvation. The Red Flame's completed warmth is still beyond my grasp, despite your extracted efforts, and your vulgar abilities are waning quickly. The time has come to take action--I will yet siphon the remains within you to aid me in curing the woes of Spherus Magna. Please, do try your best to cling to your 'nonexistence'. I insist."