Lusticth, Noctyra, and Ashrel stood atop a silent hill, their eyes fixed on Timorath seated before the Monolith of Time.
Veiled beneath layers of concealment and with their auras perfectly hidden, they waited in silence, patient and watchful.
The trap was set. The bait, laid. Now they waited for the game to begin.
Timorath remained seated before the Monolith of Time, its surface pulsing with strands of temporal energy.
He was nearing the final stage of absorbing its knowledge and vast stored time energy.
Minutes turned to half an hour.
At last, Timorath opened his eyes with a slow, deliberate motion.
In that instant, the world no longer appeared the same.
Once greedy, purposeless, and consumed by desire, Timorath now radiated quiet enlightenment.
His entire demeanor had changed. The volatile hunger in his eyes was gone, replaced by a calm, almost ethereal serenity. The storm within him had stilled.
The chaotic energy that had once shrouded him like armor had dissipated, leaving behind a still, unshakable presence.
He no longer looked like a man chasing power.
He looked like someone who had finally begun to understand it.
Yet the most staggering shift was not in temperament, but in his newfound strength.
He turned his gaze inward and sensed the vast, refined power coursing through his body and his Dodecahedron Law Gem, which was located at the heart of his Soul Sea and radiated concentrated time energy.
"Peak Rank Eight," he murmured, voice even, unsurprised.
"Now, all that's left is to completely refine the monolith. Once it becomes my innate treasure, Rank Nine will not be a question of if, but when."
He rose to his feet and the remaining time energy hummed around him like a silent storm.
Suddenly, a blinding pain exploded in his head, sharp and merciless.
His breath caught and he staggered, clutching his skull as cold sweat trickled down his temples.
"What, was that?" he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice tight with pain.
His eyes snapped open and scanned his surroundings with renewed caution.
As his vision steadied, he noticed them—Lusticth, Noctyra, and Ashrel—clustered together in the distance.
They were still cloaked in stealth and sitting cross-legged. Their faces looked exhausted, as if they had expended all their energy.
His expression darkened. "So they hit me with a joint Law spell," he murmured.
"Just how powerful have I gotten?" he thought, as he eased the headache he was feeling.
The old Timorath would have lashed out in fury. But now? Even their combined assault felt petty, annoying at best, a headache at worst.
"Is the chasm between Peak Rank Eight and early Rank Seven truly this vast?" he mused, eyes narrowing.
"They're watching me. Do they really think I can't see through such pitiful concealment?" he said amused by their actions.
Before he could ponder further;
CRACK!
The heavens split with a deafening roar, like a world being ripped in half.
Space ruptured, splitting open with violent force. Two figures stepped through the rift, their presence sending ripples through the air.
The first was a sinuous, serpentine primordial creature, its body coiling with fluid grace. Its gleaming blue scales glowed with a faint light.
It floated with the elegance of an Eastern dragon, exuding a powerful aura with its very presence.
The second figure was a towering, broad humanoid whose muscular frame radiated raw, unyielding strength.
He gripped a massive axe in his hand, the weapon humming with suppressed brutality.
The two newcomers scanned the battlefield, taking in every detail with sharp, calculating precision.
First, their gazes landed on the spiraling staircase that looked like it connected heaven and earth. Then, they looked at the monolith.
Timorath, who stood in front of the monolith looking at them, was not in their sight; only the monolith interested them. "Thankfully, it is still here," Pelagor said to his fellow.
Their gaze finally landed on Timorath, who stared back with calm, alert eyes, his mind already racing. There was no panic in his gaze, only growing curiosity.
As for Lusticth and his group, they vanished the instant space began to tear, slipping away like shadows fleeing the light.
They reappeared two light-years away, and stood atop a small green floating island.
"We're two light-years away," Noctyra muttered. "How the hell are we supposed to see anything?"
"I have a way," Luscith said as he extended his hand, and from his palm, dream energy flowed out and snaked towards the other two,
As the energy touched their bodies, it began to dissipate, repelled by their innate defenses.
Lusticth's eyes narrowed and said plainly, "Lower the intensity of your innate defenses."
The two exchanged hesitant glances. None of them liked the idea. But after a brief pause, each one complied.
The moment their defenses softened, the dream energy surged into their bodies. Their eyes flickered, then turned brilliant gold, glowing with the signature sheen of Lusticth's Dream Sight.
Their vision then changed as they were now watching everything through eyes of small flying insects.
"I left a few dream insects behind," Lusticth explained flatly before they could ask how.
Noctyra let out a low whistle. "Neat trick," he muttered, half-impressed, half-suspicious. "But won't they be discovered?"
"No." Lusticth didn't even blink.
Noctyra squinted at him. "How does this even—"
"Even if I explained it," Lusticth cut in, voice sharp and dismissive, "you wouldn't understand the mechanics behind it."
Noctyra shrugged, his attention shifting back to Timorath's location. Like a child exploring a new world for the first time, his head swiveled left and right, taking in every detail.
••••
Timorath studied them for a moment, his gaze sharp and calculating. "New adversaries for my monolith," he thought.
But, as he sensed their auras, he dismissed the idea. They were far too weak to be considered enemies.
Without a word, he turned to the monolith. He extended his hand and let a single drop of blood fall onto it.
The monolith shimmered faintly as it absorbed the crimson droplet.
"Three days," he muttered, his voice low and deliberate. "After three days, it will be fully mine."
Delxi watched him, his irritation growing into fury. His hand moved on instinct to grip the hilt of his massive axe.
"Is he ignoring us?" he growled, his voice low and cutting. "He dare start the refinement right in front of us?"
His words sliced through the silence like a blade, heavy with challenge.
Pelagor shot him a sharp glance. "Don't be reckless," he said calmly yet firmly. "Can't you feel it? His aura is crushing."
Delxi's reply came like thunder.
"Of course I feel it!" he snapped, his voice booming loudly enough to rattle the clouds beneath them. His fists trembled with rage just beneath the surface.
Pelagor frowned as he looked at Delxi. "What's gotten into him? he thought.
He's been on edge for days, snapping at the slightest inconvenience. And now, with Timorath standing unchallenged, Delxi looked ready to snap.
"It's just infuriating!" Delxi exploded, pacing beneath the golden clouds, each step pounding like a war drum. "First, the Creator orders, 'Don't destroy this; don't touch that,' like the law of destruction is a faucet I can turn off!"
His fists clenched and his veins bulged as he fought the surge inside him.
"And then there's that damned Celestial Mandate, always in my way. Always pulling the reins and holding me back like I'm a wild dog!"
The weight of his axe hung at his side, dragging with each step, echoing the burden in his chest.
"Do you even know what it's like?" His voice dropped, rough and desperate. "To need destruction just to stay whole? To feel yourself fading the longer you deny it?"
His pacing slowed. His next words were quieter but heavier.
"They've starved me, Pelagor. Shackled me. Like I'm a manageable threat, not a force they once trusted."
Pelagor watched him in silence, his eyes fixed on the storm behind his friend's voice. There was madness there now, thin and flickering, but growing.
"How long have you been hol—"
Before Pelagor could finish his sentence, the air around them shifted suddenly and unnaturally.
A figure materialized in the distance, its aura slicing through the sky. Then, another figure descended in a blinding beam of light. More followed—first dozens, then hundreds.
Within minutes, the area around the spiraling stairs was swarmed by three thousand powerful primordials.
Their collective presence warped the atmosphere itself. Power rippled outward in waves, and the air grew dense and heavy. A shimmering field formed around the stairs, creating a barrier so tight that even teleportation faltered inside it.
The energy pressed in on all sides, oppressive and absolute.
Around the platform, the newly arrived Primordials sized each other up. Greed gleamed in their eyes, barely concealed by false calm. None spoke. None trusted.
Each one was ready to strike the moment another made a move.
However, not everyone was blinded by greed. Among them stood Zarrakis, the Primordial of Chaos, lurking at the back of the gathering with a grin stretching from ear to ear.
"What a feast," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement as he surveyed the scene.
His gaze swept across the assembly, lingering on the faces of his rivals until landing on his archenemy, Nysara, the Primordial of Order.
She stood at the center of the gathered Primordials, a radiant figure adorned in golden armor that shimmered with an otherworldly light.
Her golden hair cascaded like a waterfall of sunlight, and at her side rested a sheathed sword, silently promising her unwavering resolve.
Although Nysara was there to minimize the chaos, she wouldn't let the opportunity to claim the Monolith of Time slip away.
And if she could bring order to the impending chaos, her mastery of the law of order would increase, as would her strength.
For primordials, the more they acted in accordance with their law, the more their power grew, and the more their comprehension grow.
Bringing order to this gathering would be a monumental feat, one that could elevate her to new heights.
Delxi, who had been seething with irritation, suddenly lost all reason. "All of you maggots! Why are you always standing in my way?" he roared, his voice shaking the very air.
Without hesitation, he gripped his massive axe and swung it horizontally, unleashing a devastating arc of destruction energy wantonly.
The gathered primordials braced themselves, but Nysara acted swiftly.
With a graceful motion, she conjured a golden barrier, effortlessly offsetting the attack.
She turned her calm eyes to Delxi. "Your rage clouds your judgment," Nysara said. Her voice didn't rise, but it left no room for argument.
Delxi froze, his rage momentarily quelled by her presence.
He muttered something under his breath and retreated to his previous position, though his frustration was still there.
The gathered primordials turned their attention to Nysara, their expressions a mix of awe, respect, and rivalry.
To offset an attack of that caliber so effortlessly was no small feat, and it was clear that Nysara was a force to be reckoned with.
She stood tall, her presence radiating authority and calmness.
"I am Nysara, the Primordial of Order," she declared.
Her voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be; her strength spoke for itself.
All the Primordials turned and listened. Some had already guessed what she would say next.
But before she could speak again, Zarrakis floated forward, smirking.
"Oh, we know where this is going," he said, his voice laced with venom. "Another speech about balance. Justice. Blah, blah, blah."
He looked around as if inviting the others to share in the joke.
"Let's be honest, no one here cares. This treasure doesn't go to the pure or the principled. It belongs to the strong. If you think you deserve it, prove it. Otherwise, move aside and let the real contenders claim their prize."
His words hit like a thrown gauntlet, the challenge crackling in the air.
Nysara didn't move. She held her gaze steady on him, her expression unreadable.
She decided not to take the bait and respond verbally. She didn't need to; her Order didn't argue, it enforced.
But what they all forgot, or willfully ignored, was the true owner of the treasure they were so eager to claim.
Timorath stood silently before the Monolith of Time, his golden horn pulsing with a slow, steady light.
He hadn't hidden himself. He didn't need to, as his presence was impossible to miss. Yet the Primordials bickered and postured as if he were nothing more than background noise.
Their blindness amused him.
His eyes flicked from Nysara to Zarrakis and then to the others, lingering just long enough to see the hunger in each of them.
"They don't even look at me," he thought, the corner of his mouth lifting. "So loud. So sure of themselves. Yet not one of them asks who set the stage on which they're fighting."
Zarrakis, who was about to continue arguing with Nysara, caught a hint of disdain in Timorath's eyes.
He turned with a sneer. "Look who finally blinked. You've been standing there like a statue, Timorath. What's wrong? Afraid a little chaos might scuff your polished ego?"
Unbothered, Timorath tilted his head. His smile was slow and patient, like a blade being unsheathed.
"Chaos is loud," he said, his voice like still water with something dangerous beneath. "And desperate. Like a child screaming to be noticed."
He glanced at Zarrakis, then swept his gaze over the others.
"And that's all I see here: Children. Clawing at something they neither understand nor deserve."
The words hung in the air like a spell. The silence that followed was absolute.
Nysara's gaze sharpened, unreadable as always, but alert.
Zarrakis laughed low and mockingly. "There he is," he said. "The keeper of time, stepping down from his sacred perch to lecture the mortals. Do you think calling us children makes you a god?"
Timorath's eyes didn't blink.
"No," he said softly. "It makes me the one holding the clock while I can make the rest of you run out of seconds."