The Primordial Record

Chapter 2169  Make Music From Screams

Eos did not like the way she was looking at him; there was a sort of unknown perversion in her gaze that even he found to be sickening.

“Who are you?” He asked, and his question was echoed by the silence of Xylos and Vorthas, the last two Ancient Primordials.

Nyxara cocked her head to the side, and she knocked the side of her head repeatedly, “That is the question, isn’t it? Who am I? Tell you what, I will answer this question when you complete the purpose for which you were born… I think that is fair, don’t you?”

“What purpose is that?” Eos growled.

Nyxara cocked her head to the side as if in puzzlement, “Don’t you understand by now? Hmm, have you not wondered why I broke our Agreement, Eos? Why did I give you time to prepare, and I waited?” She gestured at the devastation around them. “Because I wanted to see this. I wanted to see them fall. I wanted to see what you would become when you stopped pretending to be their pawn.”

She pointed to herself, “And that includes this delightful shell. To tell you the truth, it delighted me to no end that you were able to place mercy in her heart… her torture was the primer that woke me up, but I need more than that. I need you to become what you were created to become.”

Eos’s thousand eyes narrowed. “And what did you think I would become?”

Nyxara’s almost-face shifted, and for a moment, Eos saw something that made even his transformed heart skip a beat.

She looked proud.

“I thought you would become the end of them,” she said. “And you have. Three of them are dead. The others are nothing. And now…” she spread her arms wide, “…now you have to decide what comes next.”

“What comes next is killing you all.”

“Oh, I do not doubt that, Eos. Kill us all, and I will remember who I am. You will free me from this damned prison, and even though you don’t want it, what choice do you have? Hahahahahaha…”

Eos frowned, still trying to understand what was happening with Nyxara. Was it possible that the Luminious was not a single united body, or was there something else happening here?

Inside him, the memories of Memory was slowly being taken apart, but this entity had lived for so long that even for Eos, it would take at least a few million years to decipher the entire thing, and he was rapidly using his instincts to slip across vast layers of memories in order to go to the beginning, where he would find his answers.

At this moment, Xylos, the Primordial Demon, suddenly attacked.

With everything that had happened, Eos had a faint sense of expectation that the Ancient Primordial would attack Nyxara, but the Primordial Demon focused on him, and at the moment, it was undoubtedly irritating.

Perhaps it was fear and desperation, or it was the realization that he had been a puppet in a game he had never understood, and the fury of that understanding drove him to do something that was, by any measure, insane.

He attacked Eos with everything he had.

And for an Ancient Primordial… that was a lot.

Primordial Demon was not weak; his martial might was king inside of Existence due to his personal talent that did not just draw upon the power of Demon.

He was among the few that Eos believed could shake Existence if given time, but at the moment, against what Eos had become, he was a candle in a supernova.

“You think I fear you? Any of you?” Xylos roared, his form expanding, becoming a demonic tide that consumed all things. “I am DEMON! I am the force that cannot be denied! I am the hand that grows in the cracks of your destruction, the blade that breaks your foundations, the…”

Eos reached out with his new arm, the arm that was a question, that existed and did not exist… and touched him.

And in that touch, Xylos understood.

He understood what Eos had become, something that had never existed before. He was not the Creator as those in the Origin Realms knew him to be, or a Destroyer that the Ancient Primordials feared he would become; he was something that could not be named, something that took the raw materials of existence and made them new.

In the mind of Primordial Demon, he remembered the moment that he and all of his siblings had been free from their curse, and they had looked down at Eos, who was shaken and broken.

They had wielded the power of knowledge and foresight against him, and in that moment, Xylos could have killed him, but he disdained raising his hand against the weak.

He had looked at Eos, and he had only seen someone broken, but that was a lie; he did not truly see Eos; he only saw what he wanted to see, and now it was too late to change the past.

“You are not my end,” Eos said, and his voice was not cruel. It was simply true. “You are a corruption of order and a perversion. You should not even exist, Xylos, for all your powers, you have only taken and consumed, and have made nothing new.”

The hand of Eos seized Xylos by his face, and his palm covered his entire head, “You are the rot, and have lived far past your time. This battle is now beyond you.”

Xylos screamed as his form began to change. He was grieved away from his demonic form to that of bones and screaming flesh.

This body of his began to shake and then, like a flower… it bloomed.

It was a horrifying sight to see a body of flesh made to spread out like this, and Xylos nearly went mad with pain, causing his flesh to scream in a much louder tone that escaped the boundaries of the Hollow and touched Existence.

If anyone were to pause what they were doing, at this moment, they would hear the screams of the Primordial Demon.

“Your voice is distasteful,” Eos frowned, and then light poured from Eos’s hand, and the screaming flesh of Xylos became silent, and then began to sing.

Eos had always loved music, although since he had been living for a while without his soul, he was able to push aside his craving to make and listen to music, but now that he could feel the heat of his soul rising above, he made the flesh of Xylos sing a song of growth, renewal, and hope.

It was a cheesy selection in a grim battlefield like this one… but this was his battlefield, and he would play whatever damned song he pleased.

“You cannot—” Xylos’s voice was fading, being replaced by something softer, “I am what I was made to be. I am—”

“You are what you choose to be,” Eos said. “And I am taking that choice back from you.”

He pulled his hand back, and from Xylos’s chest a sapling emerged, and it was not the seed he had harvested from the previous Primordials.