The Primordial Record - Chapter 1987

Chapter 1987: A Potent Choice
The offer echoed through the Realm of Death, stirring the remnants of shattered mandalas into faint whispers.

It was not mercy being offered by the Beast of Final Rest; it was pragmatism. The Beast had not just grown fat on the Primordials’ scraps, but it had also been consuming the other Deaths that had existed in failed Existences in the past.

While the Primordials had been consuming the Origin Forces of this Existence, the Beast had been consuming lesser Deaths of the past, and the only reason it was able to do this was that the Primordials had supercharged the power of Death in this Existence, creating Limbo out of Existence and giving Death the chance to become something that had never been seen before.

However, unlike the Primordials who grew mad with more power, Death did not change; it only grew greedier. Asteroath’s death had shown it could claim more, yet at what cost?

The war against the Primordials had already weakened its infinite Regions, and the stirring of forgotten powers like the Architects, Enoch, and the rise of Eos threatened even Death itself. There were challenging opponents out there, and this war would not serve any of their interests well.

Xylos laughed, a demonic bark that echoed hollowly. “You fear them, too, crow? Then you should have led with that, instead of your endless posturing.”

The Beast did not deny it. “All things end. But some endings are… premature, even for me. My posturing had purpose; without the fall of your brother, you would never have listened to me. Our Agreement must be bound by blood and death; only this would make it binding.”

Nyxara’s mind raced, calculating angles she hadn’t foreseen. The plan had always been consumption, ascension through devouring Death whole. The slow fight with the Beast was for them to thoroughly digest their Origin powers, and when that was perfected, all seven of them would tear the Beast to pieces and feed on its Origin. This would give them enough power to stand against their father, Enoch, and suppress any danger that would inevitably erupt from Eos.

But this… this was a pivot. If this went according to plan, then Origin powers unbound, without Enoch’s oversight, would be theirs to command. The ability to create without the madness that had driven them to betrayal. And an ally against the Architects, whose Temple now loomed in their recovered memories as a force older than Limbo itself.

Yet trust was a foreign concept. Death had just slain one of their own to make a point. Was this a trap, layered like the mandalas? Could they afford not to take this step? Even as they were fighting, Existence was changing, Enoch had revealed his hand, and from the actions of Death, then the Architects were also making their move.

Vorthas spoke first, his voice rough with sap and sorrow. “And Asteroath? Does your pact bring him back?” The other Primordials glanced at Vorthas; they all knew he was not too enamored with their brother, yet it was surprising that the death of Asteroath had shaken him more than any of them.

The Beast’s form darkened. “End is final. Even I cannot unmake what I have claimed. But his light serves now—in her.” A tendril of shadow pointed to Nyxara’s new wing. “Honor him by choosing wisdom over annihilation.”

Eldrithor stirred, chaos flickering in his eyes. “A coin flip, then? Heads, we win Origins; tails, we die anyway with the torn throat of this Beast under our teeth? I don’t want to ally with the Beast that killed our brother without this element of chaos. I think Asteroath would love it.”

Xyris nodded, purple bones creaking. “The futures branch darkly. Acceptance… stability, but chained to this thing. Rejection… more falls, but potential for total victory.”

Elgorath remained silent, remembering pacts of old, betrayals woven into every agreement the Primordials had ever made. In the past, they had the time to analyze and come back from any failure, but everything was happening so fast at this point that there was no way to guarantee that any of their choices would be the right ones.

There was true danger in making the wrong choice, and if they did not make any choice, that was where guaranteed danger would arise from.

Nyxara spread her wings; they now held three colors: black soul Origin Essence, white-black light Origin Essence, and the budding storm of her evolving essence. She met the Beast’s abyssal gaze. This was a clear warning. The Primordials were not easy prey, and Nyxara was evolving into a higher form as time passed, meaning that the death of Asteroath did not weaken the Primordials; it had strengthened them.

Nyxara’s powers grew with the addition of the Origin of Light, and this growth was exponential. She was more powerful than any of the Primordials here, and her potential was increasing. Death may have made a valid point, but there was a price for its actions, and Nyxara was showing it.

“We will consider your offer, Beast of Final Rest. But know this: if it is deception, we will burn every last Region, every harvested soul, until you beg for the End you guard.”

The Beast inclined its form, a gesture that could have been a nod or a threat. “Deliberate swiftly. The Architects, and your father, do not wait.”

It sank back into the fissure, the ground sealing seamlessly behind it. The Realm of Death fell silent once more, save for the faint hum of recovering memories.

The six Primordials turned inward, the weight of the pact pressing upon them. Asteroath’s death had changed everything. No longer was the war a game of proxies and calculated feints. Now, it was real.

“What will it be, Nyxara?” Xyris asked, “You have seen the actions of our father, the Cradle is no more, and our opportunity to enrich ourselves on its essence can no longer be carried out. You must have also felt the power of the clash between Eos and his Abomination; that child is more powerful than we have planned for. What is our way forward?”

CRADLE OF ENOCH (41 Million Cosmic Eras in the past)

At first, Rowan was watching the events happening inside Eosah’s Reality with bated breath, seeing the body of Eosah twisted into an Abomination as the second Incarnation pushed for the level of the Primordial of Space.

Enoch had been glowing, a faint chuckle constantly emerging from his mouth as he watched the New Primordials struggle against the creature. Rowan was grateful that his main body had been wise enough to begin creating the separation between all life inside Eosah’s Reality before this point, or the act of Enoch creating this Abomination would have led to the extinction of all life inside Reality.

The power of this Abomination and its ability to corrupt everything it touches were a problem, and Rowan was amazed at the abilities of the New Primordials to resist this power, but of course, it was not enough, and the Abomination was winning.

Rowan could see the reason and knew it was because of the power of End, whose nature was unknown to all forms of power inside Existence. The Abomination would not live for long, but in exchange, Enoch was using the smallest trace of corruption and evolution to change Reality as he saw fit.