The Primordial Record - Chapter 1983

Capítulo 1983: You Have Fallen

Nyxara pushed her way out of the formation created by her siblings and looked at this Mandala of horror that had taken the shapes of the Primordials,

“So, with all the resources you have to work with, this is the greatest weapon you can create? These pale imitations of our glory?”

The creatures shaped by the power of Death roared in rage, and the sound was horrifying, emerging from an age that was alien to this Existence, because while it was true that Existences perish and are rebirthed, their essence was always subtly different.

In some Existence in the past, light was different, more dim or some were brighter, in others, the hardest substance was stone and not metal, but these were just the physical changes, the greatest changes were usually spiritual.

The Power Systems of each Existence may appear similar on the surface, but the differences would stump most immortals, and immortals across different Existences would struggle to understand the intricacies of the other immortal’s art.

A slight change in the variation of spiritual power may make an immortal entirely hopeless against an opponent from another Existence, and the Primordials knew this, but they were not afraid of challenges like these, because they were among the few immortals across Existence that were uniquely suited to handle problems like these.

Their first advantage was that they came from a Luminious; their father, Enoch, was the heir of the most powerful race that had ever existed, and because the Primordials had devoured the Origins of so many Realities, the Primordials had accumulated endless variations of the Origin force they controlled.

Every Origin Force was subtly different, and this meant that, in essence, the Primordials were able to mimic the effect of spiritual variation quite easily, and this was the reason that Nyxara was disdainful of this move from Death.

Asteroath stepped forward to stand beside Nyxara, white wings flaring to their fullest brilliance since the beginning of this endless battle. “Your time is over, and you will be unmade by our hands,” he declared, channeling his Origin Force into a beam of revelatory light.

The beam struck the mandala’s core, and for a heartbeat, it illuminated the horror within resurrected by Death. Layers upon layers of compressed suffering, and undead souls fused into a single, writhing mass. In this Existence, the soul had been closer to the flesh, and Death had chosen this creature because it knew of this unique property they had.

The mandala recoiled, fractal arms fracturing under the assault, but it adapted much quicker than the Primordials expected; its core pulsed, inverting the light while drawing all the scattered pieces of itself into its core so it stood as one Primordial being instead of many.

Asteroath’s beam bent backward, folding upon itself like origami made of fire as it reversed back to him, much faster than he had sent it out, mimicking what Death had used against the Primordial before.

The Primordials were powerful, but their battle awareness were still lacking, and Asteroath tried to dodge the beam, but he was a bit too slow and he was struck in the side of his chestIt struck him in the chest. The light that slammed against him carried the weight of an Existence that had expired long before this one, forcing the Primordial to see the truth of his own corruption.

Visions flooded his mind of the countless billions of lives he had erased in his madness as his light had been twisted into a weapon of annihilation. Light was never meant for such destruction, and Primordial Light staggered, wings dimming further. Nyxara looked at the state of Primordial Light in surprise. The power of this being and how it had effectively countered Asteroath was alarming.

Xylos had used the opportunity when the creature was retaliating against Asteroath to appear behind it and unleashed a storm of demonic feathers. They burrowed into its body where they hatched as abyssal worms that gnawed at the fractal structure.

Chunks of flesh and shadows sloughed off, revealing glowing voids beneath. The creature screamed and reversed its shape to a mandala and began to spin, its rotation generating a gravitational pull that dragged Xylos closer to its center, filled with terrible grinding teeth that would shred Xylos to dust. He resisted, black wings beating furiously, but the pull was conceptual; it drew on his demonic nature, tempting him with the promise of infinite corruption.

Eldrithor joined the fray, laughing maniacally as he unraveled probability around the entity. “Let us see what happens if you never unfolded!” he cried, twisting causality so that the mandala’s expansion reversed. For a moment, it shrank, folding back into a speck. But they were in the Domain of Death, and it asserted itself, declaring the unfolding inevitable.

The backlash hit Eldrithor like a tidal wave of paradox; his storm-wings whipped into a frenzy, lightning bolts striking his own siblings by accident.

“Don’t forget, your fight is still with me. Now fight for your admission into my kingdom.”

Xyris sneered as he stood beside Nyxara, “This Beast is becoming too arrogant for my liking… how long do we have to play with him?”

Nyxara closed her eyes, “There is still time, follow the plan, we are still benefiting a lot from this battle, and we cannot return until we are prepared. Eos is too dangerous in his present form; we can only kill him instantly, or else, and he would find a way to survive.”

Primordial Time nodded grimly and focused on their latest opponent, sending a wave of power that aged the mandala, accelerating its timeline to entropy. Fractal arms withered, turning to dust. Yet the core remained timeless, anchored by Death’s essence. With the power of time surrounding it, the creature was able to use it as a bridge and countered Xyris by freezing time in a bubble around itself, causing Xyris to be trapped in a loop of his own aging. His purple wings grayed, and feathers fell like autumn leaves.

“This is not going well,” he groaned, “This Beast cannot be defeated by concept.”

“No, but it can be worn down.” Nyxara replied, “Our goal has shifted from pushing deep to exploring our abilities further. Changes are happening outside the realm, and our priorities have to shift to adjust to them.”

The terrifying battle continued, and the Primordials, except Nyxara, focused on wearing down the Creature, and although it was costly, they were succeeding. The power of its blows was lessening, and the Primordials were tasting victory, when, unexpectedly, the creature blasted forward, disregarding its body shattering under the barrage of attacks from the Primordials and enveloping Asteroath, Primordial Light, in an embrace of darkness.

Of all the Primordials here, Primordial Light had grown weaker than the rest due to its brash nature, and his Origin power clashed with that of the realm of Death. Inside, the Primordial found himself alone, his siblings’ cries muffled as if from across cosmic distances. The Beast of Final Rest whispered to him,

“I know that you and your kind have your agenda for this battle, but do you think that I do not? While your kind were buried in madness, I was planning and growing… I am an Architect of End, and you have fallen into my trap.”

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