Novel Full Chapter 270: The Origin Awakens (3)
Chapter 270: The Origin Awakens (3)
As his codex appeared he didn’t plan to use Authoring Potential or anything like that.
Although he could use it and cause this war to end in some interesting ways… Well, Ash for one was never the hiding type. Although at times he may have worn a mask, it wasn’t because he was scared of any fights.
No, it was simply to avoid wrapping his closest people into his nonsense and not have millions of women trying to kidnap him for his looks.
Other than that, he always made sure to put on a magnificent show, even back in Elaris anytime he showed onto the scene he made sure to leave a mark.
And since he’d been back, with him being connected to both Elysia and Creara, he knew just how captivated the multiverse was by the leader of the Originat.
They’d been searching endlessly yet hadn’t found a single clue.
It wasn’t because of anything Ash had done—it was simply because of who he was.
For one, he was fateless, and for another, he didn’t exist in the same framework as those from the lower dimension. How could they ever hope to find even the slightest trace of him?
He began to write, keeping it simple for now, giving himself only one defining trait.
{Infinite Mana}
The moment the words etched themselves onto the page, Ash felt a stirring within his Multiversal Container… yet he only smiled and stayed focused on the task at hand.
He stretched his hand outward, summoning Primordia from thin air, and with a mere thought activated Primordia Truth along with a Talent.
|Endless-Finite Cascade (???)|
It was something that could wipe out not just a single person, but entire bloodlines.
Ash stood high above the wreckage of Universe 57’s battlefield, the chaos below reduced to a faint murmur of clashing ideas and dying stars.
Still wearing his familiar smile, he let the last traces of concealment fade, and the multiverse seemed to hold its breath in recognition.
He lifted Primordia high into the endless dark.
HUMMMMM!
The sword glimmered under the faint glow of far-off auroras, its black-and-pink blade thrumming with a deep, steady hum that rippled through the void like the first heartbeat of something new.
When the veil fell away, everyone on the battlefield felt it—a weight that sank into the soul, a presence so immense it seemed to dim the very stars.
On the ground, the attacking Overlords froze mid-strike, their eyes drifting skyward in shock.
The voices of the Sonic Lords broke and faded to nothing…..
The air itself seemed to thicken, as if the multiverse had drawn in a breath and forgotten how to let it go.
Sonna was the first to look up—her song breaking, eyes widening with recognition and something older, something that had been waiting fifty thousand years. Ash reached out with a single thought.
A golden rift bloomed beside him, and Sonna appeared in his arms—soft, warm, real.
Her wings of light folded instinctively around them both as she looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears and overwhelming joy.
He kissed her—slow and deep, a kiss that held fifty thousand years of longing in one breath.
When they pulled apart, her smile glowed, her voice a whisper meant only for him.
“You’re back…”
Ash’s smile was small, warm, certain.
Then his eyes shifted to the void.
He swung.
FWOOM!
A single, multicolored sword arc erupted from Primordia—vast beyond comprehension, a living blade of light that spanned the entire multiverse in an instant.
It carved through the void like the signature of creation itself—colors shifting from obsidian black to devouring crimson, void-purple to eternal gold—every hue of existence and oblivion woven into one unbroken stroke.
The arc stretched across every universe—clear to all, undeniable, everlasting.
It shaped itself into letters.
Vast. Timeless. Blazing with the weight of fifty thousand years.
Ash Originat – Leader of the ’Cursed’ Originat.
The name blazed across the multiverse—felt deep in the soul as much as seen, a proclamation that reshaped the air, the stars, and the very idea of power itself.
On every battlefield, his lovers looked up and smiled.
Nia’s flames burned hotter—grin wide, obsessive, thrilled.
Vaeloria lowered her sword—eyes bright with quiet pride.
Yonna laughed—wild, ecstatic, the storm winds gentling around her.
Summer’s silence settled deeper—her smile soft, calm, unshakable.
Seris’s summoned legions froze—her own smile sharp and knowing.
The Valkyries’ wings spread in unison—light flaring in the void.
Thalion’s calculations halted—a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Kael and Caelan roared in triumph—storms and frost surging in celebration.
Raven’s hollow eyes glimmered brighter—devotion quiet and complete.
From each letter of the blazing name, arcs of swords split away—smaller but no less destructive—plunging downward like divine judgment forged from pure will.
They struck.
THOOM!
SHK!
HUMMMM!
On Yonna’s front, arcs smashed into the attacking Peak Overlords, shattering spatial anchors and cutting through defenses like divine lightning.
On Vaeloria’s, blades struck blade-saints mid-swing with flawless precision, leaving no chance for deception.
On Sonna’s, silent arcs ended the sonic lords without a sound.
On Summer’s, crimson arcs twisted the blood-lords’ own essence against them.
On Nia’s, Seris’s, the Valkyries’, Thalion’s, Kael’s, and Caelan’s—the arcs hunted down the leaders of the siege.
SHK!
SHK!
SHK!
They struck.
Clean. Precise. Inevitable.
Then… his talent worked its quiet devastation. It started with the struck leaders—their bodies shuddered once, eyes widening in a final, horrified awareness.
The cascade followed.
Across every universe that carried even the faintest echo of their bloodline, it spread.
In far-off galaxies, an elderly Overlord sat in silent meditation, lineage ancient and proud. He opened his eyes once—then collapsed, his form turning to dust as the cascade took him.
In hidden nursery realms, children of marked bloodlines played beneath protective wards. They glanced at the sky, smiled at the dancing lights—then went still, their small bodies dissolving into drifting motes on unseen winds.
In fortified citadels on forgotten worlds, warriors of the besieging clans lifted weapons in defiance—only to drop them as their forms unraveled from within, their bloodlines cut at the root.
In sealed progenitor vaults, ancients who had slumbered for eons stirred, felt the pull, and faded, their endless watch ending in absolute silence.
Entire clans were wiped away—billions across realities gone without sound, struggle, or trace. Legions fell mid-charge, bodies turning to dust in perfect unison. Hidden bloodlines in peaceful universes—farmers, scholars, children—felt a fleeting warmth, and then… nothing.
The cascade wasn’t cruel or kind—it was simply final. The multiverse went still.
Not in peace, but in a quiet filled with fear.
The sieges crumbled.
It was clear that it wasn’t just the farthest reaches that suffered losses—the troops of the leaders were the first to fall. Once the leaders were gone, the collapse swept through, troop after troop, until only Primavus remained.
“Ash…” Sonna murmured, glancing at the man who hadn’t so much as flinched.
“My love, it’s time we had some private time~” he said, completely unfazed by the carnage that had just unfolded. Such matters were beneath him—or at least, they weren’t worth his concern.
Ash was no stranger to wiping out civilizations.
So, such a statement was hardly remarkable. At his words, Creara vanished, off to create… and then portals began opening across the multiverse.
Behind every Originat leader.
Behind every branch legion.
Golden rifts bloomed like flowers in the aftermath—warm, inviting, inevitable.
They stepped through.
Their multiversal conquest had come to a pause—or perhaps it was better to say it was on a brief hiatus—as the Origin Weaver emerged from seclusion feeling a bit… pent up!