The Primordial Record novel Chapter 2122

Chapter 2122: The War At The Dawn of Ending (5)

In the timeless expanse that bridged the fractured epochs of Existence, the consciousness of Enoch stirred like a storm awakening from slumber.

Locked in the depths of time with one of the most annoying creations in Existence, the consciousness had finally been freed to rise from its cage.

The arrival of Rowan was the key to its freedom, and he had obtained that key when he tasted the first drop of Rowan’s blood, however due to his greed, Enoch had wanted more, because he saw a clear path outside the restraint of the Great Hand, but he had failed, and the arrangements he had left behind in Existence had nearly been destroyed, and so he could only follow the path laid in front of him once again, and rise so he could end all of it.

Rowan saw the shape of a boy, but his sight had been blinded from the start, and he could not see the true form of Enoch’s consciousness that resembled a vast, luminous nebula of will and memory.

He was the architect of the Cradle, the original creator whose curse had birthed the Primordials and set the canvas of Limbo ablaze. For eons, Enoch had slumbered in the past, his essence scattered across the ruins of forgotten realities, waiting for the threads of fate to weave a path forward. Now, as the painting neared its chaotic completion, those threads pulled taut, and Enoch’s grip was firm; he was tired of his endless slumber.

The ascension began in the depths of the Ninth Dimension, which was the true location of the Cradle, which was a realm of causality’s tangled knots where all lives filtered through End to find their final resting place and where every choice branched into infinities of regret.

Enoch knew that the Cradle should not exist; End should have been a force of true erasure, but the Great Hand wielded End like a well honed tool and its weapon, and every ending was packed into the Cradle, including Enoch who should have died under the drain of wielding so much power of Origin and using his essence as the brush and the paint.

There was a time he believed that he could duplicate the power of the Great Hand... he was wrong. He did not just lack the power needed, but he lacked access to something more important... and Enoch would regain that lack on his return.

Enoch’s consciousness coalesced from the ether, drawing fragments of itself from the echoes of extinct realities. Wisps of golden light, veined with the light of the Tenth’s Dimension, swirled together like rivers merging into an ocean.

The pull was inexorable, a call from the present, where the core of Origin was beginning to reach past the threshold of no return, where even Death itself had fallen, and his lost children raged in battle.

As it ascended, Enoch felt the layers of dimensions peel away like shedding skins. From the first dimension to the sixth, where the annoying parallel existences bombarded him with visions of what-might-have-beens... His victories, his fall, the Cradle unbroken, Limbo blooming with uncorrupted life.

He refused them, his will a blade that severed the branches. He paused for a moment when the parallel existences showed him alternate Enoches, tyrants who had never cursed their creations, martyrs who had sacrificed themselves at the dawn.

Enoch was surprised that the Great Hand had fully unveiled the power of the sixth dimension before him, because he knew that this present Existence lacked this power, and so without holding back, he began to absorb the regrets, pain and fear of his alternate selves, killing them all before they even understood what was happening, and as Enoch fed, he grew denser, heavier.

He spent a while absorbing all the powers of the sixth dimension that had begun to bloom in this fragile Existence until there was none left... With the present expanding nature of Existence, it would take a while for the power of Parallel Realities to return, but by then, it would be too late. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

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