After a few moments, Timorath dispelled his time confinement technique, the frozen primordials snapping back into motion. The mad primordial, now free, roared with unrestrained fury, his aura blazing with chaotic energy. He turned his manic gaze toward Timorath, ready to fight even though he knew his strength was no match for the Primordial of Time.
Timorath, calm and unflinching, scanned the mad primordial with his conscious. He could see the resentment of the dead primordial lingering within him, a volatile mix of conflicting laws and energies tearing at his essence. The gathered primordials also began to scan the mad primordial, their expressions shifting from calculation to shock.
Some of them had initially made plans upon seeing the mad primordial absorb the laws and energy of the fallen, but now they had to scrap those plans. The risks of absorbing laws and essence of their kin far outweighed the potential rewards. Even so, there were always those who refused to be deterred by setbacks—primordials like Zarrakis and Vyrinox were among them as their ambitions burned brighter than their caution.
Vyrinox felt a surge of exhilaration. "This changes everything," he thought, his mind racing with possibilities. "Now I have a decent chance against Vastoth." His eyes gleamed with newfound determination, his plans shifting to account for this unexpected turn of events.
Zarrakis, on the other hand, was practically giddy with excitement. He imagined the pure chaos he could unleash if he absorbed the laws and essence of his kin, his grin widening as he reveled in the possibilities. A few others among the gathered primordials also had their own thoughts, their expressions a mix of greed, fear, and calculation.
But Timorath was not concerned with their schemes. With a casual wave of his hand, he suspended the mad primordial in time once more, his body freezing mid-roar. Timorath then levitated him effortlessly, making him hover behind his back as if he were nothing more than a troublesome trinket. The gathered primordials watched in stunned silence, their horror clear.
What one has to understand is this: the mad primordial had absorbed the energy, essence, and laws of the dead primordial, becoming far stronger than 90 percent of them. Yet, Timorath, subdued him with ease, a display of power that spoke volumes about his true strength.
The sight was enough to dampen the greed of many. As they One by one began to leave, their ambitions tempered by the realization that they were outmatched. The last to go cast reluctant glances at the Monolith of Time, their desire warring with their survival instincts. But with Timorath standing in front of it, they had no choice but to retreat, whether they liked it or not.
Within minutes, the battlefield was empty, except for Timorath and the frozen mad primordial hovering behind him. Timorath returned to his place in front of the monolith, his expression calm and unreadable. He sat down, his gaze fixed on the monolith waiting for it to be fully refined making the chaos that had just unfolded nothing more than a minor disturbance.
Somewhere else in the divine realm, Vastoth, the Primordial of Space, was on the move. His massive form flickered in and out of existence as he teleported across vast distances, each jump covering hundreds of light years. His single, galaxy-sized eye scanned the area relentlessly, searching for his target.
After days of relentless searching, he finally encountered someone.
Whoosh!!
Vastoth appeared near Glacethor, the Primordial of Ice, who was sitting cross-legged in front of a crystalline herb. Glacethor's eyes snapped open, and he leapt to his feet, a freezing storm swirling around him as he assumed a defensive stance.
"Who are you?" Glacethor demanded, his voice cold and sharp. "And what do you want?"
Vastoth transformed to his humanoid form as he floated above Glacethor with an overwhelming aura of. "You can call me Vastoth, Primordial of Space," he answered, his voice resonating like the hum of a collapsing star.
Glacethor could feel the space around him constricting, the pressure immense. "Strong… too…strong," he thought, his ice laws flaring to life as he defended himself. Despite the overwhelming pressure, he did not lose his courage. "What do you want?" he asked again, his voice steady.
"I have been looking for the deceiver," Vastoth said, his tone cold and direct. "Do you, by chance have any information about him?"
"No," Glacethor answered without hesitation, his gaze unwavering.
"Anywhere you think I can find him?" Vastoth pressed.
"Maybe the East Side," Glacethor replied, his voice cautious.
Hearing this, Vastoth disappeared in an instant, his form flickering as he teleported toward the East Side. He could feel the auras of many primordials emanating from that direction, but Glacethor had been the first he encountered.
As Vastoth vanished, Glacethor let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I have to hurry and get stronger," he murmured to himself. The danger in the divine realm was evident, and with the death of a primordial, the stakes had only grown higher.
Minutes later, Vastoth arrived at the remnants of the battlefield. The ground was scarred and broken, they were deep pits and cracks on the ground. Vastoth scanned the area, his single eye narrowing as he took in the destruction.
Then he saw him—Timorath, sitting calmly in front of the Monolith of Time. Timorath looked up, a rare smile gracing his features as he saw Vastoth floating in front of the spiraling stairs.
"Vastoth," Timorath said, his voice warm with familiarity. He stood up, his presence radiating calm authority. "It's been a long time."
Vastoth's humanoid form solidified as he descended to the ground, his aura receding slightly. "Timorath," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of respect. "It seems the divine realm has grown more chaotic since we last met."
Timorath nodded, his gaze shifting to the frozen mad primordial hovering behind him. "Indeed. But some things never change."
The two primordials stood in silence for a moment, their bond as ancient as the universe itself. Despite the chaos around them, their reunion was a rare moment of calm in the storm.
...…
Somewhere else in the divine realm, Vyrinox flew through the skies, his presence masked by his mastery of the Law of Deception. He moved silently, his form blending seamlessly with the clouds, confident that no one could detect him. But then, he noticed something unusual—four primordials were standing on the ground, their gazes fixed directly on him.
"What are they looking at?" he thought, pausing mid-air. He hovered in the clouds, his eyes narrowing as he observed them. To his surprise, their eyes followed his every movement. "Can they see me?" he wondered, a flicker of unease creeping into his mind.
He immediately darted sideways, testing their reactions. The primordials' gazes followed him without hesitation. "This must be a coincidence," he muttered to himself, though doubt gnawed at him. He moved again, this time to the right, but their eyes tracked him effortlessly.
"Hey! Stop moving around like that," Noctyra called out, his voice sharp and impatient. "And yes, we can see you."
Vyrinox froze, his mind racing. "How?" he thought, his confidence wavering. Then, a realization struck him. "They must be baiting me to dispel my presence-masking technique. I'm not falling for your little trap." Still, curiosity got the better of him. "Although, I would like to know how they are able to see me."
He continued to weave randomly through the clouds, but no matter how he moved, their eyes remained locked on him. After several minutes of futile evasion, he finally accepted the truth—they could indeed see him.
Cautiously, Vyrinox descended from the sky, landing about two miles away from the group. He kept his distance, his eyes scanning them warily. "Zarrakis, Luscith… and umm" he looked at them trying to remember if he saw them before "And two randoms," he said, his tone laced with suspicion.
When Noctyra heard the word "random," his jaw tightened, and a flash of irritation crossed his face. "Random? He's calling me random?"he thought, his pride stinging. But he quickly reined in his temper, his expression smoothing over as he reminded himself of the bigger picture.
As for Ashrel, He remained silent, his eyes fixed on Vyrinox. He studied him intently, trying to discern what made him so special that both Luscith and Zarrakis had taken an interest in him. To him, he was an enigma,a primordial who thrived on deception, yet now found himself exposed. He couldn't help but wonder what secrets he held and why he was worth their attention.
"What's the occasion?" Vyrinox asked, his voice serious and guarded.