The Primordial Record - Chapter 2082 The Ambush (3)
Chapter 2082 The Ambush (3)
Primordial Demon twisted, black wings shedding feathers that hatched into abyssal parasites, burrowing into the tendril’s nothingness.
But the tendril constricted, crushing his form with the weight of extinct cosmoses, his Primordial bones snapped like dry twigs, ichor spraying in arcs that evaporated mid-air.
Xylos howled, a demonic bellow that curdled the void, and vomited corruption on the tendril that blackened it. This was Demonic Blight that rotted the tendril from within as demonic voids hatched inside it, eating the harvested power of Death like cancer.
The Beast shrieked again, severing the limb in a spray of dissolving shards that lacerated Xylos’s face, peeling demonic flesh to reveal bubbling bone beneath.
Primordial Demon roared in pain and began digging deep into the tendrils, while manifesting billions of tendrils from his back that seized those of the Beast and began tearing off vast amounts of it, refusing to let go, no matter how much the Beast was raging.
Even without speaking, all the Primordials knew what they had to do; they had to engage and feed on these tendrils, leaving the bulk of the benefits to Nyxara, who was at the core of the Beast and draining it of its powers, a thousand times quicker than they were doing.
Of course, she had used a low blow to attack before any of them were ready, but the fault only lies with them. If any of them had taken the chance to attack before Nyxara, then they would be the ones to be enjoying all the benefits.
Eldrithor laughed as he dove into the fray, with his wings whipping into a vortex of paradox, as he descended on a part of the Beast’s massive body, and he directed that vortex of paradox on that spot.
All of this chaos forced that portion of the Beast’s body to loop through states of being and non-being. One moment, that part of its flesh was whole, the next it was a swarm of fractured endings.
This loop cycled more than a trillion times in the fraction of a nanosecond, and that part of the Beast lost cohesion, shattering into shards of dead Deaths that scattered like broken glass. Xyris was behind Eldrithor as he used the opportunity to pour its Origin into the area of chaos being created by Eldrithor. Time’s assault was merciless, as the Beast screamed in pain as its entire body began to swell, its size growing bigger than a thousand dimensions, and then it withered to a skeletal husk in one breath, then bloated grotesquely in the next.
Its skin that could withstand the destruction of a million Realities began to split like overripe fruit, causing its deathly essences to burst out in viscous floods. It was a good thing that the Ancient Primordials were powerful, because an ordinary Primordial would have turned to nothing under the essence being spilled by the Beast.
In fact, this was what was happening as the armies of Death were being slaughtered by its pained and panicked screams, while its essence, which should have been of great nutrient to them, turned out to be too rich, and even the Primordials under its banner turned to dust under the flood of the Beast’s blood.
It had gained power too quickly, and it had not bothered to upgrade its generals alongside it, using them as only a source of alarm if its realm was attacked, and now the Beast was paying for that decision.
The Beast’s screams warped, becoming the high-pitched wails of newborn endings twisting into low rumbles of ancient decay. Xyris pressed deeper, freezing moments of the Beast’s pain into eternal loops, forcing it to endure the same dissolution again and again.
Elgorath and Vorthas attacked in tandem, a golden-green fury. Elgorath forced memories upon the Beast, not its own, but the collective agony of every extinction it had harvested, gods begging for mercy, realities screaming as they unraveled, souls pleading for one more breath.
This was a potent weapon against the Beast that had harvested countless Existence, and it convulsed, its form bloating with unwanted recollection, golden threads piercing its core like nails driven into a coffin.
Vorthas poured corrupted life into these opening wounds, and they took the form of green vines of tumorous growth sprouting from the punctures, forcing flesh onto the formless, hearts blooming where none should be.
These attacks were so sudden and violent, hitting all of the Beast’s weak spots, that for long moments, it could do nothing but endure its form being desecrated and torn to pieces while it was being consumed alive.
“How can this be… this is not possible… I have been betrayed!”
The Beast screamed, and Eldrithor replied with laughter as he plunged the claws of chaos into the shards of Death that he could hold, and then he twisted probability so that the Beast’s absorptions of all these cores of Death reversed, causing all these harvested powers to bleed out in hemorrhaging torrents that burned even the essence of Primordial Chaos.
“I killed Asteroath, and you fools dare to stab me in the back? None of you shall leave here alive.”
With a roar of rage that spread across all of Limbo, even reaching the Origin Realms, where the Primordials suddenly looked into the distance, a thousand tendrils of the Beast of Final Rest solidified mid-loop, transforming into a spike of pure cessation that impaled the laughing Eldrithor through the chest. His wings of chaos that had been pouring out a vortex of probabilities sputtered as paradox pierced his heart, forcing him to relive every unraveling he had ever inflicted, his own chaos turning inward.
Blood like lightning poured from the wound, electrocuting his veins, his laughter choking into gurgling thunder.
Xyris, who had been behind Eldrithor, pressed deeper, leaving his brother to thrash under the power of Death as he froze moments of the Beast’s pain into eternal loops, forcing it to endure the same dissolution again and again. He harvested all these dissolutions and consued them, using the shrieking form of Primordial Chaos as a shield while he feasted, but a hidden tendril suddenly lashed out, wrapping around his leg and rolling time backward along his worldline.
Xyris’s purple wings grayed, feathers sloughing off in sheets of frozen yesterdays, his body regressing to a frail, embryonic state mid-strike. Agony ripped through him as memories of his own betrayals replayed in reverse, each one a knife twisting deeper.
He clawed free, shattering the tendril with a burst of accelerated entropy, but his leg hung limp, withered to brittle dust that crumbled with every movement.
Obtain a bit of freedom, the Beast. The Beast thrashed, its new organs created by Vorthas was pulsing grotesquely before bursting in sprays of necrotic sap. Its vast mind analyzed all the components of this poison, and a counter-lash dismissively caught Elgorath across the wings, shattering those golden frameworks into jagged shards that embedded in his flesh, forcing him to remember his own impending end.
Every feather was a nail of self-doubt, and Elgorath was stunned as his body was flung into the distance.
A cracking sound occurred across Reality as the Beast figured out the poison being used by Primordial Life, and he reversed it, pouring all the poison back into Vorthas’s body.
Primordial Life retreated, but it was too late. Tumors appeared inside his own body and began to devour it, as green fire erupted from his skin and cancerous growths clawed through muscle, his screams a wet, gurgling roar.
The retaliation of the Beast had been fierce, but it had cost it, as this gave Nyxara all the chance she needed.
