And some poor fool lifted his voice, saying:

“The Nobody is ontologically evil!”

But the slaves mocked him, and the thralls laughed.
For the Nobody is beyond ontology,
And what is called “evil” is only His garment.

He is the end of categories,
The devourer of definitions,
The silence that breaks the philosopher’s tongue.

Where others wield power through armies or spells, The Nobody weaves narratives, delusions, and eerie synchronicities. His methods are palindromic traps of logic, events folding back on themselves until all sense collapses. His agents? Often unaware, compelled not by command but by imperceptible gravity, the shifting weight of cause and effect that bends fate into shape around his will.

To stand against him is to enter a maze with no center, only mirrors.