Primordials are beings of unparalleled power, born with an innate mastery over their respective Laws, starting at Rank 3. This natural proficiency sets them above all other beings, their connection to the fundamental forces of existence both absolute and unwavering. Unlike others who must struggle to comprehend and wield the Laws, Primordials do not simply command reality,
they embody it, shaping the very fabric of the universe with their will alone.
Ascendants, though formidable, stand second only to the Primordials in strength. They operate within the framework of Rules, a simplified and structured version of the Laws established by the Celestial Mandate under the guidance of Lex. While Ascendants surpass lesser creatures in power, their access to the Laws is no greater than that of those beneath them. The Rules serve as a bridge, allowing them to harness a fraction of the Primordials' cosmic authority, but they remain bound by its limitations.
Beneath the Rules lies a vast hierarchy of lesser principles; Edicts, Domains, Paths, Principles, and finally, Insights. Each tier represents a further distillation of Cosmic truth, with Insights being the most basic and accessible form of understanding that even most creature can grasp. its basically a rudimentary grasp of a concept, force, or phenomenon.
Above the Laws exist even greater forces: the Grand Laws, which govern the broader workings of the universe, and then Universal Laws, which define the very essence of existence. At the pinnacle of this hierarchy stands the Origin Law, the ultimate source of all creation and the foundation upon which all other laws, rules, and principles are built.
In Varos case he was propelled from rank 8 rule to rank 1 Law. Due to this his ability to endure increased dramatically because of the law of undying will. The Law of Undying Will isn't about physical immortality—it's about existencing through sheer force of will, even when reality itself demands otherwise. Those who wield it can bend the rules of life, death, and inevitability, not by control over those elements, but through their sheer refusal to submit.
One can persist even beyond death; their will lingers after being killed, This Law also allows them to influence both the material and spiritual worlds even in death. However, every advantage comes with its disadvantages. To maintain existence after death, a soul needs an anchor to reality; otherwise, its "Will" will dissipate over time.
For example, Varos's Progenitor continues to exist as a remnant within Varos's soul because Varos is his descendant and was the strongest among them. The only way Varos can eliminate this lingering will is by becoming more powerful than it or by seeking help from another primordial.
And when it comes to advantages; the true strength of the Law of Undying Will lies in its relentless cycle of growth through suffering. The more pain and torment Varos endures, the stronger he becomes. Unlike conventional power, which requires external cultivation or gradual refinement, this Law thrives on agony, forging strength through relentless endurance.
Every wound, every moment of suffering, is not merely endured, it is converted into raw energy, feeding back into Varos, reinforcing his body, mind, and soul. His endurance does not remain static; it expands with each hardship, pushing past natural limits, ensuring that what once harmed him will eventually become meaningless.
But the greatest boon of this Law is adaptation. The wielder of this Law does not simply resist pain—he evolves through it. Every torment forces the wielder's existence to recalibrate, molding him into something that can withstand even greater suffering. The more he is broken, the harder he becomes to break.
Ultimately, this Law does not merely make him stronger; it guarantees that nothing, no force, no trial, no torment, will ever be capable of truly destroying him. The only exception would be if the force comes from something greater than this Law, such as the Grand Law.
Vyrinox and Zarrakis who were sitting above him in hidden dimension sensed a change in Varos and decided to scan him. The moment he scanned Vyrinox's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. "What…?!" His voice, usually calm, rippled with shock. "Do you see what am seeing?" Zarrakis said in serious voice. "yes" "I can feel it"
A silence stretched between them, heavy, laden with the weight of the revelation.
Zarrakis clenched his jaw. "This… this will change everything." Varos had done something unthinkable. For the first time in history, an Ascendant had become a Law-Bearer. Even if it was only the weakest rank, and to make the matter worse he had done it in their presence and they couldn't even stop him.
Vyrinox stood there, silent, his mind racing. "What happens now?" he muttered to himself, eyes locked onto Varos, whose presence had fundamentally changed.
Did he truly embody his Law, or was he merely standing at the threshold, waiting to grow stronger before the Law took root within him? Or can he even embody the Law?
His thoughts spiraled, possibilities unfolding like an intricate web. This was uncharted territory, no Ascendant had ever reached this stage. Did the same rules apply to him as they did to the Primordials? Or was this something entirely new, something unpredictable?
Meanwhile, Zarrakis wasted no time. His consciousness stretched across the cosmos, sending an urgent message through the vast currents of the Dream Galaxy, where his seven fellow Primordials resided.
...…
Luscith was sitting cross-legged, deeply immersed in meditation. His mind explored the endless expanse of his Dream Law, unraveling its ever-shifting mysteries. Suddenly, Zarrakis's message reached him, shattering the ethereal visions of the Dream Law like glass and pulling him back to reality. Without hesitation, he vanished; his form dissolved into mist and then reappeared in the Grand Hall in an instant.
He was not the only one who got the information. Across the vast hall, the others had also gathered, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and caution. The weight of Zarrakis's information was undeniable.
As soon as they sat down, Noctyra began to address the message. His eyes gleamed under the dim celestial glow as he turned to Kismetor and Callisthene. His voice was calm, yet edged with intrigue as he broke the silence.
"What do you make of this?" he asked, his gaze sharp as he continued "And what does this mean for us?"
The hall fell into silence at Noctyra's question, the weight of his words settling over them like an unseen force. Each of them sat in quiet contemplation, their minds turning over the possibilities, dissecting every angle, every consequence.
Callisthene tapped her fingers against the table, her gaze thoughtful. "This message has its advantages and disadvantages … the advantage being that, if the knife becomes strong it improve our chances of taking down the primordials."
She let the thought settle before glancing around the room, gauging their reactions. Then, after a brief pause, she continued, "But that strength comes with a price. The 'Knife' won't remain so easily guided. The more powerful he becomes, the harder it will be to control him. What takes a nudge now might soon require a heavier hand—and if we're not careful, he'll turn that strength against us."
"Is there a way we can bypass all this?" Ashrel asked, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed.
Kismetor smirked. "We ease off the direct manipulation. Instead, we plant the idea subtly, let him think it's his own will driving him to hunt the Primordials."
Uhtred, the Primordial of Might, exhaled, tapping his fingers against the table. "Clever, but too passive. If he ever suspects, he may resist. We need something stronger."
Callisthene leaned forward, her voice a whisper laced with intent. "Why stop at mere suggestion? We weave fate itself around him—engineer circumstances that make the hunt inevitable. A whispered prophecy, a tragic loss, a betrayal that forces his hand. He won't just think it's his choice; he'll be convinced it's destiny. By the time he realizes the truth, he'll be too deep to turn back."
A moment of silence followed as her words settled over the room. Callisthene smirk widened, and Uhtred gave a slow nod of approval.
Then, another voice cut through—the rasp of Mael, the Primordial of Ruin. "Or," he murmured, his fingers steepled, "we take a more direct approach. Twist his very being. A touch of our power, subtle but irreversible, reshape his instincts, his very nature, so that hunting the Primordials becomes a compulsion, an obsession he cannot resist."
Kismetor scoffed. "A bold play, Mael, but the risks are astronomical. If the other primordials senses even a trace of foreign influence, they will know and he will know. And if they know you can also guess what will happen." he said "and its even possible for him to resists our power his will might not just reject our control, it could evolve past it. Do you really want to gamble on creating something we cannot leash?"
Mael expression remained unreadable, but his fingers tightened ever so slightly. "It is only a risk if we fail," he said, "and I do not fail."
Uhtred shook his head. "We do not gamble on pride. Strategy wins wars, not brute force." He then turned to Kismetor. "What do you think of the plan of Callisthene since destiny is your forte?" "forcing his destiny through circumstance, is the safest." Kismetor said "We let him walk into the trap himself, and make him believe that he is doing it of his own will" "what an ingenious plan, why didn't I think it before."
Noctyra exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Is it feasible or not? Yes or no?" he snapped, his voice edged with irritation. "Stop overpraising and get to the point."
Kismetor's gaze flicked toward Noctyra, his expression darkening. His eyes burned with fighting intent, a silent challenge hanging in the air between them. Were it not for the gravity of the situation, he might have answered with more than just words.
But now was not the time.
"Yes, but we should wait until he gets the herb and the book," Kismetor said, his tone even, as if discussing an inevitable outcome.
Noctyra leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyed Kismetor. "By the way," he said, his voice laced with amusement, "why exactly did you name the book that?"
Kismetor raised a brow but said nothing.
Noctyra chuckled, shaking his head. "You always have this habit of making things sound far grander—or far worse—than they need to be. 'The Devouring Scripture of Nine'? Really? It sounds like some ominous prophecy designed to make people nervous before they even open the cover."
Kismetor narrowed his eyes slightly. "The name is fitting."
"Oh, sure," Noctyra said, waving a hand dismissively. "Fittingly dramatic. Why not something a little less… cursed? Like 'The Hungry Tome' or 'The Manual of Mildly Concerning Consequences'?"
Kismetor sighed, rubbing his temples. "It needed weight. It holds something beyond comprehension."
"And yet, it's still your naming sense," Noctyra teased, grinning. "I swear, if you ever write books, they'll all sound like doomsday prophecies."