The Primordial Record-Chapter 2118: The War At The Dawn of Ending (1)

The Hollow shuddered as three powerful presences entered it, and the sight that awaited them shook them to the core.

A being of silver flame whose aura was steadily rising stood with a blade of fire, not far from him was the broken body of Death, and at his feet were the broken bodies of Elgorath and Xyris.

Eos had stood and fought with the Ancient Primordials in the most primal way possible, using just his blade and his fist, and he had stood champion over them.

The Primordial of Memory was a crumpled heap of golden wreckage, chest carved open, golden light leaking in fitful spurts like a dying sun. His wings were tattered rags, feathers scattering in the hollow’s stale wind that held the last cries of shattered Origin Forces, each one carrying a fragment of forgotten agony that whispered as it dissolved.

Xyris was worse: his purple body twisted in temporal loops, flesh rotting and reforming in grotesque cycles, one arm severed and leaking sand, his jaw hanging loose in a perpetual scream. They twitched, alive, but broken, their Origins ebbing like blood from mortal wounds.

The only problem was that they were recovering, slowly but surely, their dissipated Origin was returning to their bodies; unless Eos knew how to silence them with finality, the Ancient Primordials could not die!

He could kill them, of course... their life was tied to their core, and destroying it with a single powerful blow would erase them from Existence, and then he would claim their Origin. He had already done the same thing with Death, but only he knew that Primordial Memory was something else, and he could not just kill him without triggering certain changes.

Eos had already calculated what this change would cost him and his wars with all of Existence, and he was ready to pay them.

He looked up, and like Nyxara, Elgorath, and Xyris, the Ancient Primordials were breaking the shackles of their previous form and were becoming more distinct, but Eos saw this as their corruption just getting increasingly deeper.

Vorthas, Primordial Life, had green wings filled with a tangled mass of tumors and carnivorous vines, and on his body was a hulking armor made from an amalgam of bark and pulsing flesh. Beside him was Xylos, Primordial Demon whose black wings continuously shed feathers that hatched into swarms of abyssal horrors mid-flight.

The first demon had still maintained his half-peeled face that he had suffered under the strike of the Golem, and he looked at Eos and grinned, and from the exposed bone and decaying flesh, ichor and demonic essence poured out in foul clouds that followed behind him for trillions of light-years.

He landed lightly, exuding grace that was extremely unnatural, and the ground of the Hollow trembled as parasites crawling across the ground like living shadows emerged from his body in relentless waves.

Eldrithor, Primordial Chaos, floated behind them, his wily eyes looking around the Hollow. His body was a swirling storm of improbability, his form looping through states of dragon, locust swarm, and laughing giant before settling into his storm-winged self.

When he noticed the broken body of his siblings, he smirked, and when he saw the body of Death, he began to laugh. His mad cackle echoed through the Hollow, unraveling small pockets of reality as he finally touched down.

The three Primordials spread out, their wings were flared, and their eyes were locked on Eos. For a moment, a weird thought passed through Eos’s head. He thought that they looked like peacocks, and he frowned; he loved peacocks, and associating them with these foul beings was wrong.

The very space of the Hollow thickened with their combined power, and Eos thought about his plan for one last time, and then he unveiled the true might of his glory.

㉫

They had traveled through the arteries of time, Fury, Circe, Victorious Genesis, along the ten thousand Old Ones who were their anchor, pulling them back to the present.

It was amazing that they had been able to preserve the lives of all the Old Ones during this impossible journey. They had seen sights that would drive lesser Primordials to madness, and they had survived it all.

At this point they were all at the peak of the Primordial level, and of the ten thousand Old Ones that followed them on this trip, a full twenty three of them were on the verge of reaching the Primordial level... which was a result that always left the three Primordials in shock, but then, thinking about everything they had experienced and seen as they travelled through time, it was amazing that not even more of them had not become Primordial Candidates.

The three Primordials had protected the minds of the Old Ones as much as possible, else more of them would be Primordial Candidates, but the price for this would be more of them dying.

In any other situation, this would have been a fair exchange, and any Old One here would gladly take the risk for the chance of becoming Primordial Candidates, but their task was to serve as anchors to the present. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

All three Primordials were now extremely familiar with the movements of time, and they knew they were nearing the present. With everything they had seen, scenes of battle that shook the mind, the losses and the sacrifices they had witnessed, they believed they had seen everything, but they had never seen anything like this.

They were traveling through what they called the stream of time, and they were beginning to recognize that this variation of time strictly belonged to Chronomancer Prime, that odd individual they had met along the way.

However, the stream of time in front of them was not a river...it was a wound.

Victorious Genesis was the one to first notice this change, and he mouthed, "What the fuck is that?"

Fury, the Primordial of Resurrection, had been chatting and laughing with Circe, the Primordial of Endless Kindling, when he saw the face of Victorious Genesis, and he turned around, asking, "Oh, someone now had a dirty mouth," but then his gaze turned towards the distance, and he went silent.

Circe followed their gaze, and she stood still. A moment passed, and then she whispered, "This is wrong."

Victorious Genesis reached into the river of time and touched its purple waters, and a grim look passed through his eyes, and he took back his hand, "Time is not flowing, it is screaming. Something bad is happening."

Circe suddenly gasped, "I think... I think they are fighting each other. Eos and the Ancient Primordials, this is the point, this is where he dies."