In regions scattered across Observable Existence, tears began to manifest with increasing frequency.
Not tears of sorrow but literal ruptures in the fabric of reality itself. Cracks spreading through the fundantal structures that separated domains which should never touch.
The Veil was breaking down with systematic inevitability!
A veil that had separated The Lands of The Living from The Lands of The Dead since ti immorial. A barrier that kept death from freely walking among life and prevented the living from casually traversing into death’s domain.
That ancient separation was failing.
In the Wandering Territories, in a region of multicolored chaotic seas where fold remnants drifted like ash from dying stars, sothing unprecedented erged.
A massive shattered fragnt of an Early Veiled Shore floated through the collapse like a vessel navigating impossible waters. The fragnt was enormous, easily spanning hundreds of kiloters across its broken surface. Golden sands with fading colors still clung to portions of its structure despite the devastation that had clearly occurred.
On this floating remnant, terrifying auras could be felt emanating with palpable intensity. The imnse waves of authority belonged unmistakably to The Dead, carrying the distinct quality of existences that had crossed beyond life’s boundary.
Yet at the very forefront of this vessel stood a singular figure who drew attention imdiately.
A man with shining white hair that fell past his shoulders in elegant disarray. His eyes were crimson red with an intensity of both ancient weariness and barely contained violence. He wore a long coat that seed to be woven from shadows themselves, moving with wind that should not exist in this collapsed region.
His features were sharp and aristocratic with pale skin. When he moved, it was with predatory grace that suggested extre danger beneath cultivated civility.
His expression was unfathomably forlorn and sad, as if he carried burdens that could crush lesser beings into nothingness. Yet beneath that lancholy lay sothing else: irritation bordering on genuine anger at his current circumstances!
This was Damian, The Disciple of THE Creature.
Around his body burned a crimson-gold light of glorious Sovereignty that imdiately marked his classification. The authority was not rely False THE, which would have been impressive enough.
It was actually Pre-THE level power.
Oh!
Pre-THE authority wielded by a Dead Existence created a combination that was genuinely terrifying to contemplate.
Behind him stood a small but potent legion of Dead Existences composed entirely of Guiders of Order. Many of them radiated Complexity and Purity asurents in the Septillions or Nonillions, marking them as extraordinarily powerful entities even among The Dead.
Damian himself held power in excess of the Decillions.
He seed to be clutching his head with one hand and shaking it periodically, as if sothing was causing him significant discomfort or annoyance that would not cease.
Behind him, the figure of Forgemaster Vulcan appeared with a concerned expression. The massive craftsman moved forward carefully before speaking.
"O Disciple, are you experiencing difficulties?" he asked with genuine worry in his tone.
Damian’s crimson eyes snapped to look at Vulcan with an expression that mixed exasperation with barely controlled fury.
"Big guy, do I look okay to you?" he said with a voice carrying biting sarcasm. "I am being forced to work against my will by your master. I wake up after sleeping peacefully for all of these eons only to realize that I am now a Dead Existence rather than living. And I can barely establish a proper connection with my actual Master anymore."
He gestured broadly with frustration.
"How exactly do you think I feel about this entire situation? And to top it all off as so sort of existential joke, I am being put to work imdiately upon waking as if no adjustnt period is needed. This whole situation just fucking sucks beyond asure."
Toward such a vehent reply, Vulcan found he had no adequate response. He looked up at the other Guiders of Order arrayed behind them, but they all deliberately looked away to avoid being drawn into this conversation.
At this mont, Damian’s expression shifted to sothing more focused as he spoke with command.
"Fuck it. No matter, tell everything about this Osmont individual," he said with tone indicating this was not a request.
Forgemaster Vulcan blinked with slight confusion before responding.
"We can... certainly tell you about Sigrid instead," he offered carefully. "The one that Ma’am has specifically tasked us to retrieve. She has indicated that Osmont is likely at death’s door from the curse afflicting him, so focusing on Sigrid may be more-"
Damian raised his brows and yawned with deliberate power before cutting him off.
"In the future, when I tell you to do sothing specific, do that certain thing without offering alternative options," he said with cold precision. "I asked about Osmont specifically. Tell everything about him without deviation or substitution."
The command left no room for negotiation or discussion!
---
In another area separated by vast distances, in what had once been the Transcendent Elental Folds, a different force was gathering.
Well, calling it the Transcendent Elental Folds was not truly accurate anymore. This was rely the domain where those folds used to exist before recent catastrophic events.
Right now it was simply a region of imnse collapse and devastation.
Brilliant pillars of light began shining in such a region as concentrated Sovereignties of Paradox and Elental made their descent together. These were not full beings arriving but rather Avatars manifesting through projection.
Avatars from THE Loom itself.
Entities that originated from a small subsection of that grand and unfathomable structure. They had been dispatched specifically because an entity had dared to encroach upon THE Primordial Civilization of Elental.
Such transgression could not go unanswered.
At the forefront of this descending force stood the glorious figure of Ambessa. She currently wore a distinctly sour expression on her features despite her impressive bearing.
Yet her power was undeniably radiant as it registered at the level of False THE. Which ant her Way had been fundantally tainted through compromise, and her path forward toward genuine THE would be made exponentially harder than it should have been.
Behind her position, other False THE entities could be seen arrayed in formation. Many of them pulsed with pure Sovereignty of Elental.
They materialized fully and began looking around their arrival point with visible confusion spreading across their features.
One of them spoke with genuine bewildernt.
"I thought this location was supposed to be the Elental Folds existing outside THE Loom’s boundaries," they said while observing the devastation. "Why did we appear in a region of complete collapse instead?"
At such questioning words, Ambessa looked around at the destroyed landscape with assessnt before responding calmly.
"It is obviously because Osmont has collapsed everything to do with Elental weavings of existence in this region," she said with matter-of-fact tone. "Anything connected to Elental authority has probably been thoroughly shat on, destroyed, and collapsed. Lets just get moving toward our objective."
WAA!
Her words were sowhat rude and lacking in diplomatic decorum. The mont she finished speaking, the others showed heavy expressions as several of them shook their heads, as if they knew arguing or correcting her deanor was not worth the effort.
They all understood their current situation with clarity. Even as False THE entities whose path ahead toward genuine THE had been made significantly harder, if they accomplished their assigned missions and gained the favor of an entity at THE Civilizational Scale of Existence, then anything beca possible.
With THE level backing, absolutely anything was achievable!
They simply had to successfully collapse Osmont and his entire Civilization.
That was all.
The forces were converging from multiple directions now.
The Dead marching from one angle with Pre-THE power leading them. The Avatars from THE Loom approaching from another with False THE entities in formation.
And sowhere in the middle of these approaching threats, Noah remained in the past within THE Northern Unfurling Node of Existence!
The pieces were moving into position.
And the question of whether his Civilization could withstand what was coming...was unknown!
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