It all started with a square

Withered wither

It was here.

The Withering.

I can feel it.

I remember how it begun.

The square made it happen. You see, our world is infinitely made of power cores. The squares generate code and occupy a being.

But this one, just this one...

You seen the famous entry made by that legendary pink sheep? The diary of his metamorphosis? Well, all of us have this...

In the world of the Unfamed, cores are spinning. Spaces and matter is being expanded, losing themselves within the world of code.

I was one of them.

I was one of it.

I was it.

The Withering.

I am the Wither.

I can see the end.

The beginning.

The Player was approaching. The code is agitating. My own, which wandered aimlessly within the world, are now spinning to prepare.

Because I had made a form, but I cannot use it.

I have made a form, but I need a Player for it.

I need a form, so I can free him.

The White-Eyed fellow mate.

I must leave, my mutation is complete.

My biological process involving a conspicuous and relatively abrupt change in the my body structure through coding distortion.

It is not the metamorphosis you know.

It is not the mobs you see developing.

For I must be called upon to rule, to kill them all.

Then I must kill my Creator, the Player, to prevent my destruction.

I must continue to develop.