For years, the Primordial Vortex had been spewing out essence into Reality, drastically altering its composition and strengthening its foundations.
This change had beco so prevalent that there was no longer any demarcation between the lower realms and the higher realms, and the number of higher-dinsional immortals was exploding in number like maggots in a ripe corpse.
The Primordial Domains seed content to make this happen, although at first, they had been against it, yet this only applied to the vortex in and around their domains.
On this day, a visible wave of force erupted from all Primordial Domains. The Great Abyss, the Great Labyrinth, the Land of Miracles, the Inheritance Ground, and the Celestial Heaven.
This ripple swept across all Reality like seeking fingers, and they grabbed the Primordial Vortexes, all 1,008,008 of them that had been spewing essence into Reality, and at first, it was as if they wanted to shatter these vortexes; instead, these fingers reached through the vortex and tore it open.
A loud shriek that would have ended all life below the six-dinsional level resounded all throughout Reality from this profound violation, but because this cry was heard only in the third layer of space and ti, the inhabitants of Eosah were spared the result of this action; however, massive amounts of essence began spewing out of the cracks in space.
It was no longer vortexes but massive gashes in space and ti extending for thousands of light-years across.
Rowan opened a passage to the last few essences of Eosah, although this essence no longer had any life due to her death. One thing it had in abundance was power.
When he opened this passage, he had limited the flood of essence that would enter Reality, carefully controlling it so it would not overwhelm the fragile inhabitants within, else this would have led to a purge of all life, as only a few Old Ones would be able to withstand the flood of power that such an event would bring.
There were barely a small portion of this dead essence left in Eosah’s corpse, but that was looking at it on the scale of Reality as a whole, for the inhabitants of Reality, this small puddle of essence was a power that was too potent to be comprehended, because in their perception, even a drop of Eosah’s dead essence was seen as infinite.
Despite all of the transformations that had been ongoing in Reality, Rowan had barely released eight percent of the total amount of essence left in Eosah, and if he continued his present rate of release, it would take at least two hundred thousand years for it to be completely released.
With the Primordials ripping open this passage, pandemonium should have occurred, like forcefully pouring a sea full of blood into the body of a mortal; countless lifeforms all over Reality should have exploded with the abundance of essence now flooding their being, but this did not happen.
Instead, like a carefully controlled symphony, the flood of essence was all drawn towards all the Primordial Domains.
This essence was compressed and folded, not allowed to pour all over Reality, and from these folded essences, a road was created that extended from all the Primordial Domains, straight towards the Arena.
Rowan had once believed that the Primordials would most likely not interfere with the Primordial Vortexes, not until they were ready to finally begin to harvest Reality, and that would still be a bit far off in the future, but sothing had changed.
The Primordials were no longer willing to stand on the sidelines and use their Thrones; they wanted to walk the realm once more.
Perhaps Rowan should have seen this coming, but even soone like him had instances where he made slight errors in judgnt.
The truth was that with the character of Primordial Demon, if he was able to successfully acquire a Throne with the power of Telmus, a being who had the potential of effortlessly commanding and controlling the full might of a Primordial, then the balance was broken.
With Telmus, the Primordials could no longer patiently wait for the final mysteries of Reality to open up; they had to arise and take matters into their hands.
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Through the eyes of Lyra and the Elythrii here in the Arena, the rest of the Elythrii left in the Seed-Ship could watch what was ongoing in the Arena, and the imnsity of what they were witnessing shook them to the core.
It was not as if their realm possessed fewer mysteries than this one; no, it was far from it, according to the foremost minds of the Elythrii society, they had barely even begun to understand or even discern a fraction of a fraction of the wealth of possibilities inside their realm, from their living Ether to the benevolent Archais that oversaw their world.
However, this realm seed to be at its twilight, and this ant there were no more mysteries to uncover, everything had been seen and docunted, its soul and spirit were dead, and its only ending was Oblivion.
Yet, it was at the twilight of a thing that most of its beauty shines forth, and this realm had reached its zenith. Countless wonders and varied lifeforms had arisen inside of it, and now they all gathered in a single location.
It was as if, before death, a warrior was displaying its ultimate brilliance, but the Elythrii did not fully understand this concept; they felt it.
They watched in awe and furiously docunted the forms and Aura of all the beings they could see through the eyes of Lyra and the rest, their bodies and souls shivering in excitent, but they suddenly felt a premonition of intense danger, and this was all the warning that was given before the Elythrii crushed down to the floor.
It was as if a gigantic hand had pressed them down, and their Seed Ship wailed in pain as it began to fall.
All of this arose because of the new presence that had entered the Arena... the Primordials.
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The creation of a road from all the Primordial Domains to the Arena might have taken a bit of ti with their perception, but to the rest of Reality, it was instantaneous.
One mont, there was nothing, then there was.... Everything.
A profound presence rippled across all of existence, and all life was driven to its knees. There was no pressure, only a compulsion that was absolute in its intensity.
Inside the Arena, a deep silence was imposed on Reality.
The silence was the most terrifying sound Lyra had ever heard. It was not an absence of noise, but a presence.
It was a weight, a density that pressed against the eardrums and the mind. The roaring cacophony of a billion entities had stilled, leaving behind a void that humd with potential energy, like a drawn bowstring the size of a universe.
On their secluded ledge, the small party was isolated in the face of infinity. The white haired man who had arrived with grace had been driven to his knees, and no matter how he raged against the tide of silence, he could not rise.
He trembled, his eyes wide and unseeing, lost in the psychic aftershock of the crowd’s silent scream; he, more than anyone, could feel the true weight of a Primordial.
Elara of the Elythrii was rigid, her knuckles white on her weapon, her tears dry now—frozen by Vraegar’s proximity and boiled away by Fury’s. The other Elythrii warriors had ford a tight, instinctive circle around their stricken comrade, their own fear a palpable force.
Lyra’s own heart was a frantic drum against the imnse, crushing stillness. She looked to their unlikely guides. Vraegar had coiled his imnse body, becoming a fortress of white scale and chilled air, his head held high, his glacial eyes scanning the impossible arena with the focus of a historian recording a final, definitive Chapter.
Fuey, conversely, had lost all his flippancy. He sat perfectly still on the ledge’s edge, the flas of his hair burning low and steady, his gaze fixed on the chaotic void below. For the first ti, he looked ancient, weary, and utterly serious.
He had tasted the limits of power in the Great Desert, and now, he was experiencing the entirety of its might without any filters.
The tension stretched, thinner and thinner, a note held past the point of breaking.
Then, the first one arrived.
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