The Will of the Origins shrieked in agony as the laws of reality began to melt.
Neighboring verses felt the shockwaves as their stars blinked out of existence and their gravity turned into a suggestion.
"Stop this madness at once!" Aegon roared.
For a man of pure intellect, Aegon's greatest weakness was the absence of a pattern.
He excelled at reading sequences, at predicting the "next step" in a logical chain.
But Chaos, in this state, was the epitome of randomness.
He was a storm with no center, a fire that burned cold, a direction that led nowhere.
Aegon tried to manifest a defense, but his constructs were absorbed by the entropy before they could solidify.
Even his Mystic Eyes failed him, they provided a high-definition view of the destruction, but they couldn't find a foothold in a world where nothing followed a law.
Chaos extended his domain, and within that sphere, meaning died.
Order was nullified.
Time became a tangled knot.
Space had no direction.
