He did not believe that any of his attack could slow down that hand. This is an instinct that he had cultivated along the years.
He instinctively knows that any of his attack would not work and probably would not even slowdown that hand and so he chooses to run
The kind of beings that dares to do this kind of thing must be so powerful being at the sa level of Odin
Or even surpassing him
That is the only way that it could even ignore the causal effects that is present in all of those tilines and space.
Azief however is not interested in calculating the cause and effect right now.
The energy in his body that he used now is not the energy that Samara gave him.
This is the foreign energy that suddenly appears the mont that hand appears.
That hand wanted to capture him and probably it would have succeeded if not for this foreign energy that suddenly helped him
Azief notice that from the mont that hand sappers, all ti and space around him seems to froze.
One could only imagine his shock.
The ti and space continuum freezes. This is the space and ti of the Omniverse that allows him to travel through the Omniverse.
Even if one section of this tunnel is frozen, it is almost impossible to freeze all of it.
Or even such a large portion of ti and space to be frozen like this.
But that hand did it.
Azief did not know how far this hand power to freeze ti and space is frozen but just from what he could feel it must be a majority of the ti and space that is being frozen
A section of the Omniverse that has all its ti laws and space laws being frozen.
It also ans that this hand could even commands laws of different worlds and is not affect by any repressive powers
Faster! He thought to himself.
All around him the fragnts of space and ti are frozen, yet each ti he takes a step the foreign energy that shrouded him would dispel the magical power of that hand and allow ti and space to move according to his will
Azief could not wield this energy but this energy seems like it is helping him.
It is like there is a barrier between him and this energy.
He wanted to absorb it to understand its composition but no matter how he tries to absorb it, like a substance that is separated by oil and fire, this energy would not even move an inch toward his direction
But now, is not the ti to ponder these mysterious things. He focus only on his speed. He did not know where he is running and when he is running towards
All he knows, he must not be caught by that hand
And he keeps running. In this place, ti seems to hold no aning. He is not able to discern whether he is running for a few monts or for eternity
All he knows is that that hand is suddenly slowed down.
"An opportunity" in that mont, he rember with all of his heart of Earth and the ti stamp he had put before and run toward that direction
Swoosh!
That was all it takes. A mont and he escapes!
…
Click, clack
Click, clack
Tting
Click, clack
Click, clack
Tting
There is the tapping sound of a typewriter echoing inside a quaint study. A house at the End of Everything
The walls are white…today. It is glowing faintly at certain ti of day in this dinsion.
A cottage that rembers eternity and see the rise and falls of everything
Inside this small study, there is a typewriter.
It is hard to determine the age of this typewriter. Its fra is ivory, polished but worn smooth as if it has been used for so many tis
The alphabets on the keys has faded because of prolonged tapping.
But to call it alphabets, it is unlike any alphabets one could recognize.
But when the paper is out of the typewriter, those who read it could understand. A letter that could bring understanding and knowledge to whoever that sees it.
The keys are not labelled with letters that is recognizable, but with so kind of symbols that shift when you look at them. Sotis, it is runes.
Sotis, it takes the shapes of the constellation of the stars.
Sotis, it seems like hieroglyphic. Sotis, Romanic. Sotis, it is just lines and circles. Sotis, zeros and ones.
Those who sees it for too long might be driven mad by it.
Sotis, one could see nothing at all at the keys.
Usually when the keys is struck, they don't clatter but sounds like drops of water falling into a deep well.
There is a rhythm to it.
The words written it beco the Absolute Truth and it is Fate and Destiny
So people perceives it as a Song.
So see it as colors.
So feel it in the breeze of the wind that passes by them
Woven into every reality.
Each word, each letter wove the living reality itself.
It is in the curve of a galaxy, the beat of a sparrow wing, the explosion of stars, the movent of dust, of life and death, of thoughts of feelings.
In the room itself there is many things that would make anyone see it beco amazed with wonder.
There is a globe on the table on which the typewriter is on.
This globe shows a cosmos.
One could use it to see everything from nebulae to its atom.
There is a shelf of hourglasses, each filled not with sand but with motes of enchanting golden light.
Each of these lights is tricking down at different speeds.
Was it marking ti?
Or was it marking the unceasing beat of the footsteps of fate and destiny?
There is a lamp that burns with a fla that seems to cast no shadow in the room.
It is filling the room with a warm radiance like a perpetual dawn
One must wonder what kind of fire is stored in that lamp
In the kitchen of this quaint little house, there is a bowl.
A bowl of still water.
But this water is not ordinary water.
One could see scenes from across creation, as thought it could see all places at once.
Once you think of it, it would show you.
There is many such things.
Ordinary things that is not ordinary at all. From the clocks on the wall, to the cushions and the sofas, to the television set, to the carpet, each of these ordinary things is not ordinary at all.
Nor is this their true form.
Just like the form of the one writing in the typewriter is being restrained by the form he inhabits, most of the things in the house has also been restrained because of the power of the one writing the stories
Because the true form of the writer that writes on the typewriter is incomprehensible to any minds.
Just like normal minds could not comprehend infinity, one could not comprehend his true form.
Looking at it ensure madness.
The house on this place secluded from everything in existence yet controlling everything in existence, is usually very quiet.
And at tis, there is no one in the house.
The Gardener would do his job on the garden, the River Keeper cleaning the river and a few other existences would co here sotis to check in and just wander around the garden or coming to this house to seek so answers
But…. today…. the house is different today.
Today the clacking sound of the typewriter fills the house.
It has been a long ti since the typewriter moves at all.
The story of everything…. has already been written
Sotis, the one in this house would write so side story. And at tis, he added a few additions or subtract so things from the stories he had already written, a revision or sotis a new version
A way to pass the ti maybe.
But the main story has long been written
But today, the Gardener was showering the trees and the plants and hears a new Song. Feel a new breeze.
Sees new colors.
And so, he knows.
The story has changed. And the sound of the clacking echoes all over this dinsion.
Those who are in this dinsion with enough power could hear the Songs, feel the breeze and sees the colors
And they would notice. All of it is new.
The Gardener hearing this stop pouring the water from the watering can on a dead plant and instead, his eyes look toward the house.
His eyes narrows.
Outside of this garden he is Loki of Asgard, the Cosmic Trickster. Inside this place, he wear a patched robe, a straw hat on top of his head and he sweats and feel fatigue like a normal farr.
He looks at the dead plant in front of him and the dead plant seems to revive. A new song is being Sung, a new wind breeze is blowing all across the garden and Loki eyes widened
So, he put down the watering can, hang up his straw hat on the wooden pole and walk toward that house
..
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