A Genius Morty

A week had passed since Morty left behind his family, Rick, and everything that had once anchored him to a life of chaos, danger, and—at least some semblance of—normalcy. Alone in the depths of the multiverse, Morty had spent his days and nights consumed by the power he had tapped into, by the raw energy that flowed through him, connecting him to realities beyond comprehension.

In the quiet of his self-imposed exile, Morty had thrown himself into his work. The initial days were filled with experiments and discoveries, each one pushing the boundaries of what he thought was possible. The multiversal energy, the very force that connected all dimensions, pulsed through his veins, bending to his will with greater ease than before. It was exhilarating. He felt like he could reshape reality itself.

And he had, in a way.

The dimension Morty had chosen as his base of operations was remote, untouched by the usual chaos of the multiverse. He had found it by accident, a hidden realm where time flowed differently—slower, almost suspended. Here, he could work without interruption, without fear of being tracked by Rick, the Conclave of Aeons, or the Infinite Coil. The crystalline structures that jutted from the ground like jagged, prismatic mountains were perfect conduits for his experiments. Morty had used them to amplify the multiversal energy, channeling it into new inventions, new creations.

In the first few days, Morty had developed a device that allowed him to see across dimensions, not just travel between them. He had improved on Rick's old portal gun design, creating something more refined, more efficient. With a single thought, he could open windows into other worlds, observing countless realities as they unfolded in parallel. He didn't need to physically travel anymore—he could simply watch, learning from the mistakes and triumphs of other Mortys and Ricks scattered across the multiverse.

But that was just the beginning.

Morty had also crafted a suit—a sleek, black bodysuit that could interface directly with the multiversal energy. The suit enhanced his physical abilities, allowing him to move at superhuman speeds, to lift objects with a thought, and even to manipulate gravity in the space around him. It was as if he had become more than human, something beyond the mortal limitations that had once bound him.

The power was intoxicating.

And then there were the other discoveries—darker ones.

Morty had learned that the multiversal energy wasn't just a passive force waiting to be harnessed. It had a will of its own, a rhythm that could be disrupted, manipulated, and even corrupted. He had experimented with bending the energy to his will, reshaping the flow of time, space, and matter around him. He could slow down time to a crawl, or speed it up so fast that entire days passed in the blink of an eye. He had even created small pocket dimensions—fractured realities that he could control, manipulate, and destroy at will.

And with each experiment, Morty pushed the limits of what the multiversal energy could do.

But there were things it couldn't do—things that Morty had learned the hard way. No matter how much he tried, the energy couldn't bring back the dead. It couldn't undo the past. He had attempted it once, in a moment of frustration, trying to resurrect a creature from one of his pocket dimensions. The energy had responded, bending to his will, but the result had been horrific. The creature had returned—twisted, wrong, a monstrous abomination that barely resembled what it once was.

Morty had destroyed it, horrified by what he had done.

That failure gnawed at him, but it also drove him forward. If there were limits to what the energy could do, then it was his job to find those limits—and to push past them. He was convinced that, with enough time and focus, he could overcome even the most stubborn barriers. After all, he had already surpassed Rick. He was smarter, more powerful, more in tune with the multiverse than his grandfather had ever been. Rick had always treated the multiverse like a playground, but Morty had come to realize that it was something far more profound. It was his to explore, to shape.

And yet, as the days passed, something began to change.

At first, it was subtle. Morty barely noticed it. He spent long hours deep in his work, his thoughts consumed by the energy and the possibilities it offered. He slept less, ate less, forgetting the basic needs of his body as he became more and more focused on the tasks at hand. His hands shook slightly when he paused between experiments, but he dismissed it as excitement.

But then the headaches started.

They were sharp, sudden bursts of pain that shot through his skull like lightning. They never lasted long, but each time they hit, Morty felt a momentary disorientation, as if the energy inside him was fighting against him. He pushed through it, convinced that it was just the strain of his work, the price of unlocking such incredible power.

The next sign was the nightmares.

At first, they were vague, shadowy things—glimpses of distorted dimensions, twisted creatures, and fractured realities. Morty would wake up in a cold sweat, the images fading from his mind before he could fully grasp them. But as the week went on, the nightmares grew more vivid, more terrifying. He dreamed of being trapped in a dimension that was collapsing in on itself, the walls of reality crumbling around him as he desperately tried to hold everything together. He dreamed of creatures—twisted, monstrous versions of himself—lurking in the shadows, their eyes glowing with the same energy that flowed through him.

But worst of all were the dreams where he saw himself—his future self. The man he was becoming, cold and emotionless, driven only by the pursuit of power. In those dreams, he stood over the ruins of entire worlds, his eyes glowing with the corrupted energy that now consumed him. He had become something monstrous, something beyond redemption.

But when Morty woke from those dreams, he dismissed them as just that—dreams. Nightmares brought on by stress, by the sheer magnitude of what he was working on. They didn't mean anything.

Or so he told himself.

The truth was, the power had already begun to change him, and Morty didn't even realize it.

As the days turned into nights, and the nights bled back into days, Morty's connection to the multiversal energy deepened. He could feel it coursing through him constantly now, like a second pulse in his veins. It whispered to him in the quiet moments, urging him to push further, to test the boundaries of reality itself. And Morty, eager to prove himself, followed its call.

He was no longer the same Morty who had left his family behind. The sweet, nervous boy who had once followed Rick on adventures, terrified but determined, had been replaced by someone colder, more calculating. Morty no longer hesitated when making decisions, no longer questioned the ethics of his actions. When he created a new pocket dimension, he didn't stop to consider the consequences of tampering with reality. When he destroyed a failed experiment, he didn't think about the lives—or realities—he was snuffing out.

He had become focused, single-minded. His moral compass, once shaky but present, was now almost completely eroded by his obsession with power.

But Morty didn't see it.

In his mind, he was still the same person—just smarter, more capable. He had finally stepped out of Rick's shadow, finally become his own man. He was in control of his destiny, shaping the multiverse as he saw fit. The decisions he made were necessary, justified by the greater knowledge he had gained.

If Rick could see him now, he would have been proud—or at least, that's what Morty told himself.

But the truth was, Morty was slipping further and further into something darker, something more dangerous. The power was corrupting him, but the change was so gradual, so insidious, that he couldn't see it. He was blinded by his own ambition, by the thrill of discovery.

And in the depths of the multiverse, alone in his crystalline fortress, there was no one to stop him. No one to pull him back from the edge he was slowly, but surely, walking toward.

The multiversal energy hummed around him, beckoning him deeper into its embrace.

And Morty, eager to prove his mastery, followed without question.

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