The Primordial Record novel Chapter 2127

Chapter 2127: The Lie of Your Form

The six Ancient Primordials paused for a moment, and when they saw that in that moment, Eos had crushed hundreds of Origin Forces as he was no longer going slow.

Whatever warning he gave them was seen as trickery to hold them back as they rushed towards him, the entirety of the Hollow shaking from the combined weight of their fury, especially Elgorath and Nyxara, whose aura was something exceeding the limits of a Primordial.

They crossed the line, and Eos sighed, and in that moment, he set aside the status of the Grand Creator and the father of multitude, and he shook away the shackles of his flesh since there was no longer any need to pretend any longer.

On the page of his Primordial Record, the Singularity had a peculiar name for Eos present state. It was called The Lie of His Form, suggesting that the body that everyone knows was a lie, a facade made by Eos to hide what he truly was. He was something old... something new... and something that has never been seen before would be seen again.

The six Primordials had barely crossed the line he had drawn when they were blasted back as Eos tore off The Lie of His Form, and what remained was the truth.

Hundreds of millions of years ago, Eos had just been a young Omniversal Titan and had not reached his full potential, but feeding upon the essence of nearly every Origin Force in Existence had pushed him to the peak of this level.

On his throne was not a man but a shifting mass of prismatic shadows that ate light, with too many joints folded into angles that shouldn’t exist, and where his face should be was nothing. Just a suggestion of features, like a dream’s afterimage burned into the air.

Then all of that chaos reassembled itself into a being made up of countless streams of light in the shape of a man, with vast wings that hovered behind him and a crown. This being sat on his throne like a king, with one hand folded under his chin as if to support his head as he looked down at the Primordials, like a ruler looking down on ants.

His crown blazed above him, a halo of broken dimensions, each shard a window to all the crimes committed against Existence. In one shard, a Reality burned, in another, a pantheon screamed, in a third, a single child watched its parents die for the ten-millionth time. All of the countless sins against all life that had ever been were reflected on his crown, and Eos was to be the judge, the jury, and the executioner.

And in every shard, Eos saw himself reflected back, but the Reflections never matched. Each showed a different monster wearing his shape.

"They’re coming," whispered the voices in his blood. They were the dead divinities, immortals, and the countless gods and mortals he had slain, their whispers now a hive mind nesting in his veins.

"Six of them... two Eternals... All of them, falling into the abyss that is your hunger. They are fools... they should be bowing before your glory, and yet they resist the inevitable. They shall suffer and die."

"I know," Eos said.

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