Chapter 747

Evenson felt as though something had crawled inside his chest and started clawing at his heart.

Nyarlathotep had conveniently sidestepped his question about the Titans, only to reveal something even more troubling: she had been the one who first introduced fel magic to the Eredar.

The others had little to contribute to the conversation now. Evenson, meanwhile, desperately wanted their guest to leave. Unfortunately, not only had Nyarlathotep shown no intention of departing, but she’d also managed to make his two partners practically fall over themselves trying to win her favor.

How had things become such a mess? More importantly, how was he supposed to clean it up?

His head was about to split.

Nyarlathotep, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly entertained by his predicament. A faint, inscrutable smile played across her lips.

"You once tried to rank the Three Primordial Gods according to your limited imagination. I explicitly told you that our standing was equal. But if we’re discussing importance rather than rank, I’m afraid I have to claim the top spot."

Evenson remained silent.

What was he supposed to say? How could he possibly know which of the three was most important? If Nyarlathotep wanted to declare herself the most important, who was he to argue?

He wasn’t stupid enough to start a debate he couldn’t possibly win.

"I’m not like Shub-Niggurath, who produced countless offspring and became the origin of all life and civilization." Nyarlathotep shrugged. "Of course, that’s only because I have no interest in doing what she does. I’ve never understood what’s so entertaining about having children."

Claire hesitated before raising a hand.

"But wouldn’t a species be incomplete without descendants? Reproduction seems like one of the most fundamental instincts shared by living things."

"Of course you think that."

Nyarlathotep rolled her eyes.

"Because you’re all Shub-Niggurath’s children. As the Mother of All Life, she naturally passed along her greatest obsession to her offspring. You’ve come to regard reproduction as an instinct everyone possesses, but that instinct was given to you. It isn’t some universal law."

She glanced around the group.

"Flesh-and-blood creatures reproduce through mating. Yet inorganic life forms have their own ways of creating successors."

Her eyes lingered meaningfully on Evenson.

"Take those beings who embody absolute order. They produce new generations in ways completely different from yours. But have you ever wondered why they do it?"

She tilted her head.

"Do they arrive at the conclusion through meticulous logical calculations? Or do they simply assume, without a second thought, that this is how things are supposed to work?"

Evenson let out an awkward laugh and lowered his head.

"Ha... ha."

He had a very unpleasant feeling about what she was implying.

Nyarlathotep, apparently satisfied with his reaction, returned to her original point.

"Likewise, I never acquired the sort of absolute knowledge possessed by Yog-Sothoth. I gave up those authorities myself. I have no interest in observing the future because I dislike spoilers."

She smiled.

"I did, however, retain the ability to look into the past."

"Countless universes are filled with fascinating events. Sometimes, I can’t be everywhere at once to enjoy the show as it happens. But watching the replay and adding a few comments afterward is entertaining enough. So you might say I’m half-omniscient."

"Oh, so you’re a part-time oracle."

Evenson blurted out the remark before he could stop himself.

Everyone stared at him.

Even Nyarlathotep seemed briefly at a loss for words.

Evenson immediately lowered his head again.

"Please, continue."

Nyarlathotep cleared her throat.

For a fleeting moment, she’d genuinely felt her sanity take a tiny hit. It was a strange experience, considering who she was.

"Although I’ve relinquished so many of my authorities, others might consider me unimpressive compared with my companions. But..."

Her smile stretched into an expression so exaggerated that the corners of her mouth nearly reached her ears.

"I am the messenger of the Primordial Chaos Core. I am the one who translates my master’s will."

Evenson slowly nodded.

That actually made sense.

Imagine three brothers serving the same master. The first two were exceptionally capable, each with an impressive set of skills. The third seemed comparatively unremarkable.

But whenever their master spoke, only the third brother understood what he meant.

No matter how capable the other two were, they still had to rely on him to interpret their master’s intentions.

In that sense, Nyarlathotep was more than merely one of the Primordial Gods. She was the only one who could properly convey the will of the Primordial Chaos Core.

She was, in a very real sense, the closest thing to her master that the others could comprehend.

"Desire... will... the Blind Idiot God..."

Evenson hesitated before speaking the last part aloud.

He’d always interpreted the title as a description of a being whose mind was so incomprehensibly impaired that it couldn’t accomplish anything at all.

Was Nyarlathotep seriously suggesting that such an entity possessed desires and intentions?

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

Her laughter was cold and measured.

"Desire without desire is still a form of desire. Will without will is still a form of will."

Evenson fell silent.

He’d been looking at things too simplistically. It was a little like the idea that emptiness itself could contain meaning. Having no desires could, in its own way, be the ultimate desire. Having no will could itself constitute a will beyond ordinary understanding.

After a moment’s hesitation, he finally asked the question that had been bothering him.

"You were the one who taught the Eredar how to use fel magic. And given the connection between the first Awakened and the Burning Legion, I suspect you played a significant role in its formation as well."

He studied her carefully.

"Sargeras invited the Eredar to join the Legion because they were an exceptionally talented species. The Legion’s leadership is largely composed of Eredar, which makes their value obvious. Without them, its strength and effectiveness would be considerably diminished."

That much was clear.

But Sargeras could only have recruited the Eredar if he’d known about them in the first place. And the earliest Awakened, who spent their lives pursuing the fel energies of the Twisting Nether, had almost certainly played a part in attracting his attention.

Yet those Awakened existed because of Nyarlathotep.

Which raised an uncomfortable possibility.

"Did you cultivate such a powerful force to oppose the Void because that was your master’s will? Or was it your own arrangement?"

It was a peculiar situation.

Nyarlathotep had helped create a force that opposed the Void, despite being one of the Three Primordial Gods whose existence seemed closely connected to the same incomprehensible cosmic reality.

It was rather like a ruler deliberately raising a powerful enemy to make himself indispensable.

Was she manufacturing a threat for her own benefit?

Instead of answering, Nyarlathotep suddenly burst into laughter.

"Ha! Hahahaha!"

She laughed so hard that she struggled to catch her breath.

"Listen to yourself! Opponents! Enemies! Opposition! You’re thinking in terms of good and evil, of two opposing sides locked in eternal conflict. That’s the most elementary form of dualism."

Her laughter faded.

"If you truly understood the stories told about me, you’d know exactly how such a theory came to be."

Evenson’s facial muscles twitched.

If every legend about Nyarlathotep was true, then even the very concept of good and evil might have been something she’d carefully encouraged.

"Mortals are pitiful creatures."

Her expression became blank.

"Without something to compare themselves against, you can’t even establish a reliable understanding of your own existence. If you were the only person in the universe, how would you know whether you were male or female, beautiful or ugly, good or evil?"

She raised her eyes toward the ceiling, as though gazing through it at the stars beyond.

"When you look up at the heavens, you can see the moon. Yet when you look down at the ground beneath your feet, you have no idea that it’s round."

Evenson wasn’t sure what to make of that example, but he suspected he wasn’t going to enjoy where the conversation was headed.

"Your current question is a perfect example," Nyarlathotep continued. "You live in the material world, so you naturally assume that the Void, being fundamentally different from your reality, must be your enemy."

Her tone remained casual, almost conversational.

"You happen to encounter creatures from the Void that resemble us in certain ways, so you conclude that we must all belong to the Void. You assume we’re representatives of its forces, and that everything connected to it must oppose your world."

She extended her hand.

A coin appeared between her fingers.

Nyarlathotep flicked it high into the air, then caught it neatly.

"Imagine flipping a coin ten times and getting heads every single time. Would you conclude that landing on heads is an absolute law of the universe? That coins must always land the same way?"

She closed her fingers around the coin.

"Your conclusions arise from shallow understanding and limited perspective. You see only a tiny fraction of reality, then mistake that fragment for the whole."

Evenson had no argument.

What was he supposed to say? She was right, and he knew it.

Even the Eredar Twins, whose wisdom and experience far exceeded his own, had nothing to offer. They might be an immortal species, but what did that amount to when compared with beings who existed beyond the limits of mortal comprehension?

"Now, let us return to your earlier question about the Titans."

Nyarlathotep regarded him with mild amusement.

"You asked whether those inorganic beings who embody absolute order could be Shub-Niggurath’s descendants. The answer is yes. All living things, whether composed of flesh, inorganic matter, or something else entirely, are her children. The very definition of life begins with the Black Goat of the Woods."

Evenson’s stomach tightened.

He’d suspected as much ever since Nyarlathotep first hinted at the connection. But hearing it confirmed was something else entirely.

The Titans and the Old Gods. The Burning Legion and the Void.

For all their apparent differences, their origins ultimately led back to the same source.

Beside him, the Ancient One and the Eredar Twins listened with rapt attention, determined not to miss a single word.

Nyarlathotep might have delivered these revelations as casually as someone complaining about the weather, but every statement was a truth of staggering proportions.

They weren’t necessarily practical truths. Knowing that the universe might rest upon principles beyond mortal comprehension didn’t tell a sorcerer how to cast a spell or a Warlock how to wield fel magic.

But theoretical physics wasn’t always immediately useful, either. That didn’t make it worthless. Someday, knowledge that appeared abstract and impractical might prove essential.

Besides, if one of the Three Primordial Gods suddenly offered them a comprehensive guide to the fundamental workings of existence, would any of them actually dare to read it?

Nyarlathotep, meanwhile, seemed to have found her stride. Once she’d started talking, she showed little sign of stopping.

"Oh, and you also assumed that the Titans possessed the same authorities as Yog-Sothoth."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"You know that Yog-Sothoth established the laws governing the universe. But do you understand how many ways there are to accomplish that? Do you know how he did it?"

She lifted one finger.

"Did he simply remain where he was, think a single thought, and construct everything into existence? Or did he manifest countless servants who went around hammering things into place?"

Evenson had never considered those possibilities.

Nyarlathotep continued before he could respond.

"You believe the Titans can stand shoulder to shoulder with Yog-Sothoth. And, naturally, they believe the same thing about themselves."

She smiled.

"But what does it matter what you believe? What does it matter what they believe? You’re convinced they’re equal because we allowed you to think so!"

Her voice remained light, almost cheerful.

"We don’t even need to deceive you. We don’t need to lie or deliberately mislead you. All we have to do is remain silent and tell you nothing. You’ll draw your own conclusions without our help."

She spread her arms.

"And really, what’s so terrible about that? If you believe yourselves to be the masters of existence, if you convince yourselves that you’re superior to everything else, can’t you live perfectly happy lives in that comforting delusion?"

Her smile widened.

"Especially when I get to watch you strutting around so proudly. That makes it all the more entertaining."

Evenson gave a helpless, bitter laugh.

"There’s something to be said for being content with what you know. And for knowing when to keep your head down."

He rubbed his face.

"I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated those principles as much as I do today."

"Mortals have a peculiar inability to recognize the things closest to them," Nyarlathotep observed. "I’ve encountered species capable of traveling between the stars, yet incapable of understanding themselves."

She cast Evenson a sidelong glance.

"Just like you. You confidently apply your limited understanding to the deepest truths of existence, only to have those truths slap you in the face."

Evenson rubbed his cheeks.

Fortunately, his face was still intact. His pride was another matter, but pride healed more slowly than bruises.

"That’s not entirely our fault."

He spread his hands in surrender.

"Look at the creatures that emerge from the Void into our reality! They’re hardly reassuring representatives of your side of the family. Can you blame us for assuming the Void is dangerous?"

He paused, then added, "And if you’re the one who encouraged the idea that good and evil are opposites, you can’t exactly blame us for treating order and chaos as enemies, either. It’s only natural that we’d assume the Titans and your kind were opposed."

Nyarlathotep gave him a quiet, mocking laugh.

"You certainly have a talent for passing the blame."

She tilted her head.

"Very well. Let me tell you how that particular misunderstanding began."

Her expression suggested that she was recalling a fond memory.

"Back then, I thought it would be amusing. Though, naturally, my primary purpose was to spread my master’s will. So I cut a hole in the boundary separating the Void from the material world."

Evenson stared at her.

She’d done what?

Nyarlathotep continued as though she’d merely opened a window.

"Of course, having a hole in the boundary didn’t mean just anyone could pass through it. Only sufficiently powerful beings could make the journey. At a minimum, they had to be around the tenth generation among Shub-Niggurath’s descendants, or belong to an even older lineage."

She raised a finger.

"Such close blood ties naturally encouraged certain ancestral traits to reappear."

Evenson wasn’t sure whether to laugh or despair.

The creatures crossing into the material world weren’t random representatives of the Void. They were exceptionally powerful descendants of the same being who had given rise to life itself.

And the gods wondered why mortals had developed some questionable assumptions.

"Besides," Nyarlathotep continued, "I did encourage the development of good-and-evil dualism. But I’m quite certain the opposite of order is disorder, not chaos. Since when did those two become the same thing?"

Evenson glanced uncertainly at Alythess and Sacrolash.

Both twins looked equally perplexed.

But if Nyarlathotep said the concepts were different, then they were different. He was beginning to appreciate how little room there was for debate when speaking to a being like her.

"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously. "Disorder and chaos aren’t the same?"

"Let me explain."

Nyarlathotep held out both hands.

"In this hand, imagine I have water. In the other, flour. One represents disorder, the other order."

She held her hands apart.

"Look at them. They’re clearly distinct. Each is what it is, and neither has been confused with the other. How could that possibly be chaos?"

Evenson followed her explanation, trying to keep up.

"Now, pour them together. Mix them thoroughly. Knead them until you can no longer separate one from the other. Roll the resulting mass flat, add some filling, and fold the whole thing into its final shape."

She brought her hands together.

"That’s when you’ve created something genuinely chaotic. Order and disorder have become ingredients in a single, inseparable whole."

Evenson thought about it for a moment.

All right. He understood the distinction now.

Chaos wasn’t simply the absence of order. Nor was it merely disorder. It was a state in which things of different natures became intertwined, mixed together until their boundaries could no longer be cleanly defined.

Order and disorder, when considered individually, were both distinct elements that could contribute to chaos. Neither one, by itself, constituted the whole.

It was a surprisingly useful way of thinking about it.

"The Primordial Chaos Core is the source of chaos," Nyarlathotep explained. "But we are the Three Primordial Gods of Order."

She gestured toward the heavens, as though the entire universe were spread out before her.

"Everything Yog-Sothoth establishes, every law that governs existence, and every life Shub-Niggurath creates are merely raw materials. My role as the messenger is to bring those elements together, to reconcile them and return them to the state of chaos from which they originated."

Her expression became solemn for the first time in several minutes.

"That is my master’s sole will."

Evenson hesitated, then decided to risk one final question.

"And what happens if your master doesn’t get what it wants?"

Nyarlathotep regarded him for a moment, then smiled faintly.

"That’s not something you need to concern yourself with."

She waved a hand dismissively.

"Your time would be better spent considering what might happen if Yog-Sothoth wakes up one day and decides that one plus one no longer equals two."

Evenson went very still.

For the first time since the conversation had begun, he couldn’t think of a single sarcastic remark worth making.

And that, more than anything else, frightened him.