Noah stared with bright eyes!
The Weave had not been repelled. It had not been negated. It had been… ignored. His attack, a thing of Quadrillions in power, had been treated as an irrelevant piece of data, a null value in the equation of Anaximander's existence!
He felt the necklace on his chest grow warm.
The Aegis of the Architect, his symbiotic armor, was responding to his own, unspoken will.
"Let's try sothing else," Noah murmured.
In the next instant, he was no longer a man. The Aegis materialized around him, a silent, perfect symphony of interlocking white and gold plates!
HUUM!
The golden visor flared to life, a sun in the growing twilight of the mountain. His entire being was now a conduit for a singular, terrible purpose: absolute Purity.
The armor blazed with a white-gold light so intense it seed to burn the very concept of color from the air.
He raised his hand, and from his palm, a beam of pure, conceptual certainty shot forth, a torrent of over 500 Quadrillion in pure, unadulterated Purity!
BOOM!
It was a wave of absolute, unyielding truth…and it passed right through him.
…!
Anaximander stood, bathed in a new, even more glorious light, a look of profound, academic fascination on his face.
He even reached out, his hand moving through the beam of annihilating power as if it were nothing more than a curious, harmless hologram.
Noah stopped.
The armor, with a soft, almost disappointed hiss, receded, returning to its dormant, necklace form!
He stood in the swirling, snowy winds, a profound, almost frustrating, silence settling between him and this impossible being.
|Master, I have been analyzing the subject, Anaximander.|
|Conclusion: He is a unique, one-of-a-kind anomaly. I have cross-referenced his existential signature with all known data, and there is… nothing that fits. He is not immune to your attacks; he is simply not a valid target for them. To him, your authority is a language he does not speak, a force that has no context in his self-defined reality.|
|Recomndation: Further study is… essential. This being is a living, breathing loophole in the very fabric of existence. Understanding him may provide us with a new, unprecedented path to power.|
…!
Noah looked at Anaximander, who was now gazing at the dormant Aegis with a blinding light of pure curiosity.
"Wow," he breathed, his voice filled with a genuine, almost reverent, awe. "What is a suit of armor like that made of? Your existence feels much heavier with it, and if you can do all of this… ah, what a conundrum this is. Oh, just who are you, Friend?"
Who was he? The question, once so simple, was now a complex, multifaceted thing.
He had given his na freely to many. But to this… this beautiful, terrible, and utterly baffling anomaly?
Anaximander blinked, and a warm, understanding smile spread across his face.
"You do not have to worry. I didn't tell you any nas of others I t before, right? Well, except THE Weavers it seems… but yes, I keep my interactions and research to myself mostly!"
He smiled, a genuine expression. Noah looked at him, and in that mont, he called out.
"Osmont," he said, his voice a quiet, resonant note in the frozen silence. "Noah Osmont. And yes, don't ntion that to anyone. And frankly, be… cautious and careful of THE Weavers you t."
…!
His words, a simple warning, seed to surprise Anaximander. "What do you an?" he asked, a flicker of confusion in his bright, intelligent eyes.
"They guided to be where I am now. They did not wish harm as far as I can tell…"
Noah shook his head in a slow, deliberate motion.
"In existence," he began, his voice a low murmur that seed to carry the weight of eons, "especially for those who hold the distinction of THE… nothing is done without purpose. The guidance they gave you, the path they set you on… it was for their purpose, not for yours. In existence, rarely do any beings at the very peak of power do anything for the good of others. All they do… all they will ever do… is sothing to serve themselves. Theur Way. So, question everything."
WAA!
His words were heavy, each one a seed of doubt planted in the fertile soil of Anaximander's scientific mind!
The Fold Dweller went quiet, his gaze turning inward, as if he were re-examining the very foundations of his own, impossible journey.
"What…" he finally asked, his voice a low, hesitant whisper, "can you tell about THE Weavers? There are others like them?"
…!
Noah stood before Anaximander, his simple, white-gold wrappings a stark contrast to the swirling, snowy landscape, and he began to speak.
"THE Weavers, based on what you have described," he said, his voice a quiet, informative current, "are existences of an entirely different Scale of Existence from and you. The ones I know of are THE Creature…"
He began to explain, his voice a calm, steady narration in the heart of the storm. He spoke of the Scales of Existence, of the vast chasm that separated the beings of Level Zero from the architects of Level One!
He spoke of THE Creature, of THE Living Existences, and of grand while he continued to…analyze Anaximander.
And Anaximander, the brilliant, naive, and impossibly powerful Fold Dweller, listened, his eyes wide, his mind a wonder of terrible comprehension!
—
Aethelgard.
In the quiet, profound stillness of the central hall, three hooded figures sat, their silence a weight that seed to bend the very light of the room.
Before them, Gilgash, The First Leader, floated, his golden eyes a storm of contained, imperial power!
"The war was a precursor," the unison voice of THE Weavers echoed, a calm, prophetic statent in the charged silence. "A test. A demonstration. You have shown your strength. Now, you will be approached."
Gilgash's gaze was a thing of cold, analytical fire. "By whom?"
"THE Living Emotive," they replied, their voices a single, harmonious chord. "They will co to you with an offer. A sanctuary. A place of peace and shared purpose in the face of the coming storm. They will offer you…a Civilization."
HUUM!
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