Chapter 4: The Twilight of the Heretics
The crazed creature wandered through Limbo: a shapeless silhouette crawling over the absolute nothingness that composed that existential plane. There, where time was not a line but a vicious circle of silence and agony, its cry found no resistance. The sharp, malformed sound cut through the void like a blunt blade, potently agonized, ricocheting between the colossal corpses of gods whose names existence itself had made a point to forget. They were carcasses the size of entire solar systems, mountains of divine flesh in cosmic decay and broken armor that served as the only geographical landmarks in that gray and oppressive vastness. The sound repeated itself, an endless curse vibrating in the marrow of reality, a constant and cruel reminder that, there, even madness was eternal.
"That was sad to witness."
The sentence sliced through the creature's lament like a blade of tempered glass. The figure speaking, Ordvinis, seemed not to belong to that plane; his body was a living, unstable tapestry made of overlapping dimensional fragments. Colors that should not exist and lights from long-extinct worlds shimmered across his translucent skin, shifting form with every millisecond. He sighed, a sound that carried the weight of millennia of silent observation, and turned his faceted face toward the man who, amidst that impossible chaos, had not yet moved a single muscle. He had not even opened his eyes.
"You went against everything and everyone, brother. You defied the fundamental laws that we ourselves helped write at the dawn of time, and still... you could not prevent the prophecy," Ordvinis continued, his voice oscillating between genuine grief and cold accusation. "I saw when the Mind Witch drew her last breath in your arms. I saw the spark of life fade from her eyes while you tried, in vain, to hold onto the impossible. Our parents are gone, collapsed under the weight of their own corrupted power, and they left nothing for us but this trail of festering pain and suffering that we now call home."
For a long moment, the silence that followed was so dense it felt palpable, a physical barrier between the two primordial beings. The Limbo ceased to breathe. Then, a voice echoed. It did not come from a mortal throat but seemed to emanate from every remaining atom of that devastated space. It was a colossal sound, a roar reminiscent of a thousand suns reaching the apex of their explosion at once, turning silence into stardust.
"It was necessary, Ordvinis."
The sound pierced through the Limbo with devastating physical force. The dimensional fragments composing Ordvinis's body trembled violently, threatening to disintegrate. The authority in that voice was absolute, born of a will that had shaped the beginning of time and which now, even heretical, still commanded respect.
"Of all of us, you are the one who should know that best. You saw the gears before any of us. You smelled the rot coming from the Primordial Throne long before any of us drew a weapon against our creators."
Finally, the man opened his eyes. What emerged was no simple mortal gaze, but a well of vitality so dense and pure that mere ocular pressure could resurrect millions of the creatures that had fallen and perished in that profane place. It was an unbearable paradox: how could a being with such an essence of life, a source so abundant with creation, be one of the architects of that universal massacre?
"Taepers... you who came first, born from the first touch of Primordial Life, speak of necessity after countless lives have been harvested by our actions? After we have turned entire galaxies into graveyards?"
A low laugh escaped Taepers, a dry and humorless sound that soon transformed into an ear-splitting guffaw, cracking the vacuum around them and making the remains of the gods tremble.
"Hahaha... how dare you?"
Taepers rose, and his simple change in posture distorted the very concept of time and space. Gravity around him became chaos, the laws of physics bending to his ancestral will.
"O born of Order, to pronounce the titles given by them is to deny what we became after the fall. Those names died with the worlds we burned to set ourselves free."
His eyes glowed with living corruption, something that devoured light before it could even be reflected: a darkness that contrasted violently with the vitality he emanated.
"We are heretics, brother. The 'first touch' you refer to was the same one that took everything from me, transforming my blessing into an insatiable hunger that no universe could satisfy."
The Limbo shuddered under the weight of the declaration of identity that followed. Reality seemed to bend, begging for mercy as he proclaimed his names of blood and power.
"I AM TAEPERS CORRUMPERE VITAM. FATHER OF THE DEPRAVITA. HERETIC OF LIFE. LORD OF CORRUPTION."
Taepers took a step forward, and beneath his feet, the essence of the Limbo turned black, pure vitality fighting and losing against the corruption he carried.
"I have fulfilled my role. Now, it is your turn. O heretic of the Primordial Order, you were the first to point your claws at your own father. You knew what this war meant. You knew the price of breaking the shackles of the Eldest, allowing him to feast upon the entrails of the other Primordials for a greater good that only you could see."
Taepers raised his gaze to the void, to where the stars should have been, but where only ash and the echo of ancient screams remained.
"Do the same now. You always knew where this would end. The final sacrifice admits neither cowards nor regrets."
Ordvinis remained motionless, his unstable form finally finding a point of focus. His voice came out firm, almost tired, echoing the fatigue of one carrying the weight of eternity.
"I did not aid in the resurrection of the Eldest so that he would exterminate the Primordials out of mere vengeance. That was never the objective. It was the only path capable of stopping the Youngest, before he consumed the very concept of existence."
"ENOUGH, BROTHER!" Taepers screamed, and his fury made Ordvinis's dimensional fragments vibrate like blades ready to slit the throat of reality itself. "All the Primordials are dead! Including the Eldest! Including the Youngest! Look around you! Everything is over. Now fulfill your part of the deal and complete our vision."
"The vision of the witches, you meant to say..." Ordvinis replied, slowly moving away. His voice carried an existential weight that seemed to crush the remains of the gods around them: a deep and ancient sadness. "We, the heretics. The progenitors. The divine rulers. The witches. The beloved ones. What kind of vision is expected from monsters like us?"
Taepers clenched his fists so tightly that the pressure created small Big Bangs within his palms. Entire galaxies were born and died in seconds within the grip of his hand, microscopic civilizations screaming for mercy before being crushed in the squeeze of his fingers.
"What are you saying? Take our powers! Complete what we started! Return beauty to this vacuum!"
"I have already harvested the power of them all," Ordvinis replied with a glacial calm, his decision made long ago. He raised his hand, and the Limbo seemed to shrink, as if being sucked into his arm. "Every Primordial. Every spark of power. Every dead concept floating in this space. Only yours remains."
Taepers's eyes widened, a late realization illuminating his face, disfigured by corruption and pain.
"Ordvinis... you..."
"But before you perish, there is something you need to know. My vision... is not yours."
Ordvinis's hand closed. A mass of pure, violent, and absolute light was ripped from Taepers's body. The void around them screamed in protest as the connection was severed. Taepers's existential spark, the very essence of Primordial Life he carried, let out an agonized wail as it was separated from its source. That was true death: no rebirth, no echo, no rest.
Still, even without his vital essence, Taepers remained standing for a few seconds, sustained only by an impossible residual vitality, a testament to how powerful he once was. He laughed, a weak and broken sound that was lost in the oppressive vacuum.
"Hahaha... So this is how it is... You are now stronger than any primordial that ever walked upon existence."
He did not fight. He knew resistance was futile against someone who now bore the weight and power of all extinct creation, mingled with the essence of all fallen gods.
"What will you do now? Brother... please. Destroy this corrupted reality. Create the paradise we were promised. We deserve rest after so much pain."
Ordvinis turned to the void filled with corpses, fragments of dead concepts, and echoes of screams that would never cease.
"No."
The word fell like a death sentence for the old reality, echoing through the Limbo and rewriting destiny.
"I will use everything in this hideous space. Everything that was corrupted, sacrificed, and lost. Watch, brother. Watch me use the power we stole to create something truly beautiful. Something that does not need selfish gods to exist."
Ordvinis ascended. The Limbo screamed as its own structure was dismantled to serve as fuel. The light emanating from Ordvinis surpassed any known classification, rewriting the laws of physics and magic in a single, overwhelming pulse. The oppressive vacuum gave way to a symphony of golden light, which began to weave the caverns, the essence, and the system that would govern the future.
"The Primordial Order is dead. But today, I rise as a new order."
Reality began to bend and rewrite itself. In the vacuum that was once filled with the corpses of gods, complex data structures and golden energy now emerged. The code of existence was being rewritten in real-time. An invisible but palpable notification within the very texture of the new world materialized in the vacuum:
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING]
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING]
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING]
The golden essence enveloped Ordvinis, transforming him from a heretic into a cosmic administrator, the architect of the new era. The golden light expanded, touching every corner of that new space, rewriting destiny. The old reality was dead.
Ordvinis hovered in the center of the transformed vacuum, observing the web of potential he had just woven from the ashes of gods. His voice, now devoid of fatigue and filled with the absolute authority of the new absolute, echoed for the last time in that space that was no longer the Limbo.
"I rise as the Genesis Order."