Timorath finally stood before the Monolith of Time.
After what felt like endless struggle, endless trials, he had made it. The colossal monolith floated before him, its surface rippling with ancient runes, radiating a stillness so absolute it made the very air feel frozen.
A breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding escaped his lips.
"Finally… I'm here," he whispered, voice hoarse with both triumph and exhaustion.
Still, ever cautious, he swept the area around the monolith with his consciousness again and again.
The memory of his ascent clung to him, thick with dread.
Time-forged constructs had assailed him without pause; raging temporal storms, spiraling distortions that bent logic and space, and razor-edged time blades that manifested without warning.
Even when he'd believed he'd found a moment of safety, a time blade would scream out from nowhere, forcing him to remain perpetually on edge.
Even now, he didn't dare lower his guard.
His gaze swept across the glass-like surface around the monolith, his senses sharp, probing every inch for hidden threats. After everything he'd endured, he wasn't about to be caught off guard.
Thankfully, no more attacks came.
As he looked closer, he realized that the monolith wasn't floating at all as he previously assumed when he was down the stairs.
Instead, it was anchored, as if embedded in the very fabric of space, like an ancient tree rooted in invisible soil.
He took a cautious step forward, testing the ground beneath him. To his relief, it held firm. Yet the glass-like transparency beneath his feet made every step feel like treading on illusion as if glass like surface might shatter at any moment.
Slowly, and deliberately, he moved toward the monolith. Each step was measured, every sense of his on edge, braced for the unexpected. But no hidden threat revealed itself.
At last, he stood in front of the imposing monolith. His gaze fixed on its smooth, silent surface, his breath held, as if it might speak.
Intricate time runes and cryptic patterns faintly glowed across the monolith's surface, pulsing with the very essence of the time laws.
Yet these markings were not chaotic or overwhelmingly complex—they were surprisingly simple, as if distilling the vast, tangled web of time into elegant, comprehensible symbols.
His ambitions flared, igniting a fire that quickly eclipsed the caution he'd held just moments before.
His gaze locked onto a random rune. "It so simple, almost as if it had been deliberately made easy for me to understand." he thought his brows furrowing and his thoughts raced.
"But how could something as vast and complex as the Law of Time be reduced to this?"
He stepped closer to the monolith, the glow from his three horns pulsing with a quiet hum.
To him, it felt as if the monolith itself were peeling back the layers of time, revealing its secrets willingly; offering comprehension without chaos, understanding without madness.
But what he didn't realize was that, only someone like him could even think it was simple.
These "basic" runes were in truth the distilled essence of the most profound and elusive cosmic time truths.
What looked easy was merely the illusion of approachability—one crafted by the monolith for those rare few qualified to see, especially him the embodiment of time law.
True comprehension didn't diminish complexity. It simply meant he had found the rarest of opportunities: a path into the impossible.
A flicker of awe passed over his face, quickly followed by something darker—greed.
All thoughts of restraint fled his mind. Slowly and almost reverently, Timorath extended his hand toward the monolith.
The moment his fingers touched it, a tidal wave of divine energy and forbidden knowledge of time erupted into him, crashing through his soul like a cosmic tsunami.
A strangled gasp escaped his lips. The sheer magnitude of the influx threatened to tear him apart, body and mind alike.
Without hesitation, he dropped into a cross-legged position, anchoring himself as he began to absorb the flow. His breathing slowed, his eyes glowed with purple threads of time essence, and his will surged forth like a dam holding back a divine flood.
The power seethed within him; vast, ancient, and merciless. Every heartbeat felt like a century, and every second felt like a test of endurance.
But Timorath did not break.
His aura exploded outward, vast and unrelenting, rippling across the void like a storm front. The very fabric of time twisted around him, bending in acknowledgment of his presence.
His thoughts fragmented and multiplied, each strand tapping into the endless lattice of truths encoded within the monolith.
His consciousness expanded, shedding the shackles of the mundane and reaching into realms of comprehension that few have ever glimpsed.
Time itself seemed to splinter and converge in his thoughts, revealing fragments of existential truths.
He caught a glimpse of the earliest moments of the universe, even those predating the existence of Lex before the grand expansion of the universe.
The river of time unveiled its secrets to him. He saw its branches diverging into countless timelines, each one reflecting potential timelines.
Though he observed from a higher dimension, he realized that he could not interact with the timelines and could only bear witness to their flow.
The dense time energy emanating from the monolith responded violently to his transformation, flaring alongside his aura.
It spiraled uncontrollably, forming chaotic storms that mirrored his rapidly evolving power.
The air hummed with intensity, as if the laws of time themselves acknowledged his ascent.
••••
Meanwhile, the other three Primordials; Luscith, Noctyra, and Ashrel, stood together on top of a hill, safely away from the chaotic time phenomena, a few miles from the stairs, as they observed Timorath.
Their expressions turned grim as Timorath's aura flared, causing the air, the chaotic time phenomenon, and the time laws around them to tremble.
"This...this is far beyond what we anticipated," Noctyra muttered, his voice tense and his eyes locked on the storm of time energy engulfing Timorath.
"His body is devouring the monolith's power. If we don't act now, he'll claim it all, and we'll be left with nothing."
The heavy silence between them shattered.
Luscith, the Dreamweaver, folded his arms. His translucent form shimmered like a shifting mirage as he stared up at the towering staircase and the figure seated in stillness at its center.
"Act now? Against that? Are you blind, Noctyra? Can't you feel it? His aura is growing stronger with every passing breath."
Noctyra's form flickered, his shadows dancing with agitation. "I don't care how strong he's becoming! The longer we hesitate, the worse it gets. We'll lose everything if we stand idle!"
Ashrel stepped forward, his eyes glowing like embers and his voice low and sharp. "And you plan to strike him? With what, exactly?" His gaze cut into Noctyra like a blade.
"Do you think he's still the same Timorath we crossed paths with before?"
He gestured toward the distant monolith where the laws of time bent and warped.
"Look at his aura. It's outpacing all three of us combined. One mistake, and we won't just be defeated; we'll be erased."
"Then what do you propose?" Noctyra asked, his tone growing sharper as his patience thinned.
Ashrel hesitated, his voice quiet but firm. "We should have taken the three favors."
The words hung heavily in the air as Luscith sighed. His voice was calm but tinged with regret. "Of course we would have taken his offer, but did we know it would turn out this way? No."
The three of them fell silent for a moment, watching the spiraling stairs shimmer as Timorath's aura continued to surge and ripple across the landscape.
"Then we need something...something to bargain with," Ashrel said at last, his tone contemplative.
"If we can't fight him directly, we'll offer an equivalent exchange. Something he can't ignore."
"What do we have of equivalent value to a monolith of time?" Noctyra sneered.
Luscith's eyes flickered with faint amusement. "Nothing. Not yet, at least. But we can buy time until we're sure we can take the monolith, or even defeat him, if we play our cards right."
"How?" they asked in unison, looking at him and waiting for an answer.
"We're calling for backup," Luscith answered.
"There are others who would risk everything for even a fraction of the monolith's power. Together, we can either force Timorath to negotiate or weaken him enough to take the monolith ourselves."
Ashrel frowned. "But what if these so-called backups turn on us once he's defeated? We'd just be trading one tyrant for another."
Luscith smirked faintly. "Then we make sure they never reach the monolith. Let them exhaust themselves trying."
Noctyra rubbed his temples; the flickering of his shadows betrayed his frustration. "It's risky, but we're out of options. Timorath won't let us near the monolith now, and retreat isn't an option for me."
The three of them exchanged tense glances, forming a silent agreement.
"Fine," Ashrel said finally, his crescent-shaped eyes narrowing. "Call for them. But remember, if this backfires, we'll all pay a dear price."
Luscith closed his eyes, his aura rippling as he sent out a mental summons across the divine realm.
"If we die," he said lightly, "At least we won't die empty-handed," Noctyra said jokingly.
As the summons spread, the three Primordials turned back toward the spiraling stairs, where Timorath's aura flared brighter than ever, like a star in a dark void.
••••
As the overwhelming energy continued to flood into Timorath, his body began to undergo a subtle yet profound transformation.
His once towering frame began to shrink, his height diminishing as his form became more compact and refined.
His skin turned a pale shade of blue and began to glow faintly, resonating with the flow of time energy.
Intricate patterns and runes etched themselves across his body, forming tattoos that seemed alive. They shifted slightly, as if weaving the story of time.
The most complex time runes appeared on his back and hands. A small, precise, clock-shaped tattoo materialized on his temple, just below his golden horn—the product of the fusion of his three original horns.
Though modest in size, no larger than his index finger, the new horn radiated immense power.
His body, now only 10,000 miles tall, was vastly smaller than his previous form but far more condensed and powerful.
This transformation reflected a paradox of subtlety and strength; his new form was a testament to efficiency and mastery.
However, Timorath's focus remained entirely on absorbing the torrent of knowledge.
Though he was dimly aware of the changes happening in his body, he was consumed by the unraveling truths and mysteries of time, allowing the physical transformation to unfold uninterrupted.