It was a realm that was there and was not all at the same time. Time, distance, they all meant nothing as the very rules that governed reality broke apart and rearranged themselves in a miasma of colours assaulting his senses, pushing him to the very edges of his sanity.
Still, he held on, he was more aether than flesh at this point and Moyo could feel his aspect welcoming the flow of power within his very being. It parted after some time, subsiding as he found himself reaching some sort of destination.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, the concept meaning nothing to him, but he stepped out into a place that defied understanding. He was on a plane of existence, it was more than that and he knew, but his senses seemed to translate all he saw into a planet.
Blue skies ran rampant with raw aether, lightning that ferried intent in its raw form tearing across it. Moyo felt himself become grounded in a way that he couldn’t explain, sage’s sight illuminated with a myriad of colours.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a deep voice he was familiar with resonated behind him. Oro was in his hand, even if he didn’t raise, it. turning to look at the figure that exuded such raw aether, he wondered how she had condensed it into one single form.
Lotes stood in human form, golden yellow draconic eyes staring at him, irises swirling with runes that Moyo found himself being restrained from understanding. Pale white skin with shimmering scales that blended well beneath it, fiery red hair that reminded him of the phoenix ancient herself and a subtle presence that not even the primordials could boast of.
“Lotes,” he said with reverence, watching her smile before glancing skywards. “I never thought that I’d witness this day” she replied. “The day when a once mortal would step foot within the Ethereal realm, not even my siblings in all their hubris could have anticipated this” she added. A crack of thunder and another figure manifested, this one, Moyo could feel the lethality coming from.
If Lotes was simply power, this one was danger honed to a fine edge, a perfect description of the supreme being in front of him. He looked Asian, with soft black hair tied in a knot behind his head, bright silver eyes and a pursed lip that Moyo thought gave off the impression of a being that was always scowling.
“Do not make us out to be the enemy here, sister,” Alastor said to Lotes who simply smiled at him.
“Alastor” Moyo said in greeting, inclining his head at the supreme of edges.
Alastor’s eyes settled on Moyo, the gaze of an existence that transcended even the coils of immortality. Within those luminous silver eyes, Moyo saw every swing of a blade he had ever made, that every swordsman that ever existed had made, and it left with a profound understanding that he couldn’t explain.
[sage’s sight(M) is resonating!]
The Archailect screen wrote as Moyo reacted with a jerk, surprise written all over his face. “It works here, the Archailect,” another voice said, speaking up as Moyo felt the indescribable powerful yet vast power of nature grow around him.
From the very ground he stood on manifested a figure, moulded from the soil, grass and water that surrounded him. Vazyra, the supreme of mana, her fiery eyes and bright smile warming his heart even as he bowed again at her.
“Vazyra,” he said softly, feeling his body somehow grow stronger despite him being at his limit. He faced her, about to speak again when the very reality around them hardened before shattering like glass and reforming into liquid metal, shaping itself again into a female humanoid form.
He got the feeling of overwhelming strength, the assurance of steel forged to protect, the strength that he shared with his aspect. Following right behind the supreme of mantles came the diminutive yet powerful form of the supreme of constructs, both arriving at the same time.
“Filvux, Liakya,” he said, bowing to them as well.
Liakya released a snort, Moyo ignoring her before fixing his gaze on Filvux who stared level-headedly at him, her entire being exuding a raw sense of calm.
“he’s at your doors, the impossible pathway is opened” Moyo started.
“And you have held him off long enough, more than we had even anticipated, but that was never the aim titan,” Lotes said, arms folded behind her.
Moyo glanced at her, confusion in his gaze.
“Then please, enlighten me, what was the aim?” he asked.
“The untold deaths, countless worlds sacrificed to slow down an inevitability?”
He could feel his ire rising, his aura straining to unleash itself, but he tamped it down. Moyo might be a transcendent and then some, but these were the supreme beings of reality themselves, one foot in their real didn’t equate to him being on their level.
“The aim was you” Alastor said as Moyo glanced at him.
“It was to raise you, or to be honest, any other being who managed to tap into the aspect of the titan itself,” Liakya said softly.
Moyo got the feeling she wished someone else had been the titan rather than him, he found it a bit irritating.
“The balance would always sway to one side, and for more millennia than possible, we, order, have held the balance in a tight grip” Lotes added.
The rest turned to her sharply.
“As it should be,” Alastor said.
“Chaos erodes everything it touches, leaves nothing of order” Vazyra argued.
Again, Moyo sensed this was a topic that had never fully been resolved among them. The realization that the entirety of the supreme beings still bickered over something as trivial as this rankled him. He felt eyes on him, glancing at Lotes who kept her smile on her face; as if waiting for him.
“You wanted this,” he said aloud as they stopped, turning to put all their gazes on him.
“You realized that it would never be resolved in as much as your siblings would consider your plan offensive”
“What plan?” Filvux demanded.
He could feel the power of the supreme of mantles settle on him, its near-omniscient power attempting to force its way into his soul. Moyo turned his entire attention to her, gathering the entirety of his Ashe to shield himself. It resonated yet weighed heavily on his entire existence, and yet, Moyo found himself pushing back, Filvux’s eyes widening in shock.
“enough” Lotes’ voice echoed around them.
Filvux’s authority snapped around him like a taut rope, Moyo’s aspect cocooning him in one fell swoop as Oro blazed to life with arcane power.
“Watch who you bare your fangs at child!” the supreme of mantles snapped.
A loud laughter broke through the air, the last supreme manifesting in a blaze of raw potent aura unlike any other Moyo had ever felt. It gathered together, roughly taking a humanoid-feline shape before glowing too bright and revealing a feline with wide a smile filled with pearly white fangs.
Moyo got the overwhelming feeling of raw lethality from the supreme of aura. Unlike the honed sharp edge that was Alastor, Draulr was the untamed rawness of reality somehow contained in one being. He found himself going on guard as the supreme landed next to him.
“Oh I like him,” he said.
“We are getting sidetracked” Vazyra said with concerned luminous eyes, “what plan?” she asked.
Moyo glanced at Lotes who inclined her head subtly, mischief and a hint of sadness dancing within her eyes. Moyo took a deep breath, shaking his head mutely before staring at the supreme beings. It was a surprise how far he had come, the obstacles he had faced and if anyone had told him that one day, he would be among the very pinnacle of creation, he’d have laughed in their face.
And yet, standing among them, he began to see just how easily they were to make mistakes, something he realized Lotes wanted him to see.
“Perhaps it is not clear to me as well” Moyo murmured.
“But it is one I can barely see the beginnings of. We can no longer deny the enemy is at the door, but if you all keep staying here, within this realm of yours, then all of creation would perish” he pleaded.
“Easy for you to say” Liakya started.
“Your world still stands, even amidst the darkness that has engulfed the cosmos”
“And that is precisely my point” Moyo argued.
“This aspect, that of the titan. It wasn’t meant to protect one single galaxy, one tiny chip of the cosmos” he started.
“The Archailect, much as I loathed it at first, might have not been the solution, but it was the framework. A framework you all grew lax with, preferring to maintain”
“I do not like being spoken to like this, much less by a mortal” Filvux said, silver facial features frowning.
“And yet, here I am, your last gambit against a foe that is as much a part of reality as you all are” Moyo replied.
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Lotes chuckled as Moyo felt something within him bloom.
[draconic seraph is reaching full maturity due to ambient aether!] his screen wrote.
“The system works here because you are in it,” Liakya said before he could speak.
“More importantly, what is that creature?” Draulr asked with interest, eyes gleaming.
Moyo shook his head.
“What do you mean I’m in the system?” he asked.
“Exactly what it means, this entire realm, the last citadel, the Ethereal realm, this is the Archailect itself, the consciousness of it all” Alastor said.
“And we are its very beating heart,” Vazyra said.
Moyo froze, opening his vault as the egg that glowed so bright began to float upwards, gathering more and more aether.
“NO” Lotes’ voice echoed around them.
“Not yet” she added, her authority seizing the egg gently.
“First, you let the aspect of the titan go into the cosmos” Alastor started as he began to shine.
“Then, you very clearly created this…. existence. did you learn nothing from those worms of yours that call you their progenitor?” he added.
Lotes glanced at her brother with a frown, Draulr laughing loud again, placing one hand on Moyo, drawing the attention of the titan.
“Our foe is at our very doors, the time the titan bought us being paid for dearly in the blood of untold thousands every second, and yet, you all bicker just as we have done since time immemorial" Draulr said aloud.
They pause, glancing at their sibling who stood next to Moyo, eyes alight.
“I won’t deny that Lotes has kept most of her plans from us” he continued as the supreme of aether herself raised an eye.
“Or that no matter how much we have influenced the dealings of lesser beings, somehow, it has all played into her plans”
They began murmuring now, Lotes rolling her eyes as Moyo glanced at her.
“But we are all fragments of a higher existence, of creation itself, and we have held this embroidery of reality, this system of parts called the Archailect by those same lesser beings we swore to protect”
Draulr paused, glancing at Moyo meaningfully.
“Well?; finish it, I’ve gotten their attention, for now,” he said.
Moyo nodded, eyes alight as he stepped forward, staring at each of them.
“Draulr is right” he started.
“Even right now, this piece of existence, this citadel, is all that exists between us and total destruction.
“Speak for yourself, we’ll exist just fi- “Liakya started, pausing as a growl that resonated through their very existence came from the very throats of Draulr.
“Will you?” Moyo asked, focusing on her.
“And if yes, for how long?”
He pointed to the very swirling golden pathway behind him. “Behind that very pathway, are the very beings who propagate your existence. You might not consider them more than gnats, but without beings to invent and use your very authority to create marvels, what will remain of you?” he continued.
“You all aren’t here because you fear your very powers shattering reality should you step out of it. That might have been true before He was released, but you might as well admit it; because I can see it” he said.
Moyo watched their expressions change as he hit the nail on the head, Lotes’ “finally” whisper audible enough for them to flinch.
“You had your chances to crush his rise when he first broke his chains, and yet, you didn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, I see that now, but because you feared for the very framework you created”
Moyo raised a hand to the very skies above.
“The very framework whose existence you struggle even now to keep afloat, watching as the great enemy keeps devouring it because the laws of balance must be maintained.”
“You were right Liakya” Alastor murmured.
“He does have an ego”
Moyo smiled sadly, seeing Alastor accepting his words with keen realisation.
“Your very existence is being funnelled into the Archailect, and now, you all have to stay here, doing nothing physically to save your followers. Well, not anymore” he said.
Lotes drew herself to her full height as Moyo drew Oro up, his aura blazing.
“Know now, brothers and sisters, that we stand at a precipice, one we once offered two others and yet they rejected,” she said, her voice echoing around reality.
“You can’t be serious” Liakya murmured, eyes wide.
“Liakya” Filvux called with exasperation.
“Shut up,” she said.
“Once, there would have been a supreme of runes; and a supreme of cosmos, and yet, both knew better than to usurp the very position we now give, willingly to its rightful heir” Lotes said.
Moyo’s eyes widened at the implied meaning.
*******************************
The primordials surrounded Azael, the transcendents in the form of Eses and Lucirion behind them. All of them had managed to drag themselves from the shards of broken reality they had been thrown into. The only beings with the raw power and authority to do so stood together, under the glowing beautiful yet burning light of the final citadel itself.
“It really does bring me to tears” Azael started.
“Old acquaintances gathered, Eses, Lucirion, even you Typhon”
The primordial monster himself said nothing in response, his wife at his side. His armor of a living monster, reacting to his every movement. Tiamat moved first, a series of fragmented pathways tearing open behind her, the other primordials moving as well. It looked like a series of choreographed movements, eses and Lucirion merely looking on.
“Ah, you shouldn’t have bothered, my friends,” Azael said with a chuckle.
“You seem to presume your current actions might have caught us off guard” Typhon started.
“Maybe, no one expected you to be stupid enough to truly bond with the destroyer of reality, but we knew better, time after all, is simply nothing to a primordial”
“Oh really?” Azael mocked, raising his blade that spewed raw chaos aspect around them, the barely twinkling light of the citadel that burned the closer one got to it dimming a little.
“Everything I have forged; has gone towards you in mind” the king of monsters said.
“And I am so glad you get to understand just what it is we represent” Wukong added, the primordial sage glowing with a golden aura, his staff burning with aether and aura as well.
Metas the first shadow, Ynas the true eye, Ardos the thunder, Rieus the scourge, Tengoku the omni-fox and Varis the slumbering sands. The assembled powers of the primordials unleashed their authorities as one, burning raw aether, avital power rarer than any other thing in the current mess of reality.
Typhon’s sword burned to life as he spoke.
“Wake, oblivion’s requiem” he commanded.
Name: Oblivion's Requiem
Description: Oblivion's Requiem is a fearsome weapon forged from the essence of an ancient eldritch horror known as aspect devourer. This malevolent weapon possesses the uncanny ability to shape-shift into any form desired by its wielder, embodying their darkest desires and granting them a deadly advantage. Whether it manifests as a wickedly serrated blade, a venomous dagger, a bow that fires ethereal arrows, or a spear that crackles with eldritch energy, Oblivion's Requiem strikes fear into the hearts of its enemies.
Typhon could remember forging the weapon deep within the depths of Tartarus itself, his home world turn house capital. An eldritch horror he had nurtured from birth right within the eternal darkness of the nameless dungeons, fed only pieces of destroyed aspects from ancients and rulers that had crossed him.
Its very nature hungered for any and everything, the perfect weapon to do what damage he could to Azael. The embodiment of chaos cocked its head at him with a frown.
“You feel it don’t you?” he asked, his helmet, another creature taking shape atop his head with a visage that had even Azael flinching a bit.
Chromaticus, the Everchanging Sentinel:
Chromaticus embodies the Helmet of the armour. When Typhon dons the helmet, he gains the keen perception and enigmatic presence of Chromaticus. This allows him to clearly observe his surroundings and disorient his enemies with his eldritch allure.
Taking the visage of the shapeless grinning horror that it was. Empowering his senses, allowing him to safely follow the tendrils of chaos as it ate at the final barrier being reinforced by Eses and Lucirion. To his left the dozen ancient rank horrors carefully bred to perfection by Tiamat bit at the leash she held them with, begging to descend on Azael.
Wukong’s very nature burned the very form of his aspect into existence, the mountain Huaguo. It pulsed with his power and authority, runes of all kinds and shapes swirling around it, as long as it existed, the sage wouldn’t fall.
Metar was a realm of inky darkness, only his luminous bright white eyes picking through the cloud that had once swallowed an entire system. Within it was rumoured to be ancient slaying weapons, a repertoire of his best work, the lethal primogenitor of the assassins of the cosmos.
In the desolate expanse of reality where the primordial forces converged to confront the embodiment of chaos itself, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. The very space between them trembled beneath their combined might as they prepared to face Azael, the manifestation of chaos itself.
Ardos stood next to Metar, a tempest of raw power. His towering form, draped in armour forged from storm clouds and adorned with shards of crystalized lightning, he exuded a sense of unrelenting strength. His stormy grey eyes flickered with arcs of electricity, while his mane of silver-white hair danced with static.
In his hand, he wielded a spear crafted from a lightning bolt, its tip crackling with an insatiable hunger for destruction. The air around him is charged, vibrating with the promise of thunderous retribution.
Beside Ardos, Ynas the All-Seeing Eye emanated an aura of profound wisdom and insight. Her ethereal form shifted between translucent and opaque, a phantom composed of shimmering stardust. The central, unblinking eye that floated beside Ardos glowed with an inner light, surrounded by a crown of smaller, ever-watchful eyes.
Her silver glowing aura floated like luminous shadows behind her, adorned with constellations that subtly shift and change, a reflection of the universe's endless expanse. Ynas’s voice, a whisper that echoed with the wisdom of ages, wove through the tumultuous din, offering subtle words laced with her authority of clarity and foresight.
On Typhon and Tiamat’s other side, Tengoku the Omni-Fox stood in a form that melded vulpine grace with a touch of the arcane. The sleek, silver fox with multiple tails, each tipped with a different elemental force—fire, water, wind, earth, and ether—exudes an air of playful mystery.
His fur glowed with an iridescent sheen, shifting colours with his every movement. Tengoku's eyes, a mesmerizing gold, sparkled with mischievous intelligence. He wielded his transformative power with ease, ready to deceive or enchant at a moment's notice, his presence a blend of serenity and unpredictability as reality seemed to shift around him subtly.
Rieus of the Bright Scourge stands tall, a beacon of radiant energy. His form is almost painful to look at directly, composed of blinding white light that sears away corruption. His eyes burn with the intensity of twin suns; and his hair flows like molten gold, crackling with divine fire.
Rieus’s armour, forged from pure light and adorned with shifting glyphs of ancient power, gleams with an otherworldly brilliance. In his hand, he held a lance of pure energy, pulsing with the heat of a thousand stars. His voice, a clarion call as he shouted with fervour, resonated through the battlefield, instilling both awe and fear in equal measure.
Completing the circle was Varis of the Slumbering Sands, an embodiment of the endless sands of time and dreams. His ancient, wise figure was made of shifting sand, with calm and serene features. His eyes are deep wells that hold the secrets of eternity.
Varis’s skin, textured like the surface of a desert dune, glows with a soft, golden hue that ebbs and flows as if restraining the primordial might he withheld within him. He wore a robe of flowing sand, dissolving into dust and reforming with every step, and a belt of polished, ancient stones symbolizing different eras of the history of his existence.
In his hand, he carries a staff that glowed with golden light, a conduit for his majesty as a golden pyramid of power took shape behind him, glowing ever brighter. His voice, soft like the whispering wind across a vast desert, carried the weight of countless centuries of rule.
Before them, Azael stood as a patient, malevolent entity of pure disorder. His aspect forged robe-shifting forms as wailing faces flickered within its chaotic mass. It was a swirling vortex of dark energy that sought to unmake everything it touched. The barrier right in front of Azael began to crack and warp as Eses and Lucirion struggled to keep it up, unable to withstand the sheer force of its presence.
Together, the primordials form a formidable barrier against the encroaching chaos. Typhon’s armour burned aspect as it prepared for what it had been forged for, Ardos's lightning spear crackled with unrestrained power. Ynas’s myriad eyes focused with unwavering precision, Tengoku’s tails shimmered with elemental might, Rieus’s lance burned with purifying light, and Varis’s sands shifted in an eternal dance of time.
“Good,” Azael said as he raised his blade
They all launched their attacks in unison the moment the barrier fell, a symphony of primordial forces converging upon the embodiment of chaos. Lightning strikes, eyes pierce through the chaos, illusions weave and distort reality, purifying flames searing the tendrils, and the sands of time flow inexorably forward. Their combined might met Azael's chaos head-on, a clash of titanic energies that shakes the very fabric of existence.