The Primordial Record

Chapter 1910: Experiment With End (Final)

“It started softly, but I was too drunk on the allure of my creation to care.”

After all this time, Rowan had acclimated to the vision of the past, and now the voice of Enoch was in the background, and the memories of that time took center stage in his consciousness. And Rowan knew instinctively that this memory could not be faked, and Enoch could no longer hide anything from him. The truth had a certain momentum, and after a threshold was crossed, there was no longer anything holding it back.

Rowan could see it; in the distance was a bright violet star, so massive that the present size of his body would be lost inside of it, and if he wanted to travel across this entire star, it would take him thousands of years, even with his greatest speed that made the speed of light appear like the crawling of a snail.

This star flickered when Enoch looked away, as if unsure whether it was allowed to exist without his constant attention. Not far from the star was a glass forest whose melodies were beloved by Enoch, and its song paused midnote without Enoch’s ears listening to it; even the many new gods who were aware of a vast presence watching all over existence began to sense that he was becoming more distant.

But Enoch had not fully understood what was happening, this were minor incident in an ever increasing expanse, and Enoch did not concentrate on what was behind him, he kept pursuing infinity and scattering new creations, delighting in every new things he was making… he had long forgotten to check if the price he had paid for the miracle of creation had run out, because a part of him believed that it would never end.

Not once did the process of creation feel strenuous, and Enoch could not understand why the magnificent power of End would ever have a limit; a thought like that was almost blasphemous to the senses.

However, even though he was not paying attention, the thinning continued, and Rowan was watching everything firsthand.

At first Enoch who had lost his wings still retained his beauty and vitality, his long white hair were luscious and bright, signifying his esteemed bloodline and power, Rowan was well aware that the bloodline of the Luminious should be ranked as the greatest bloodline to ever exist, and existence as it was should not be able to create or hold this bloodline anymore, because for a bloodline like that to exist, then this existence must change, and if for any reason tha bloodline appeared, then it influence would slowly change all of existence, transforming it into a realm of order.

Enoch had lost a lot of power when he cast away his Wings of Lumina, but he was still incredibly powerful, and judging from the memories, Rowan believed that Enoch, even without his wings, was strong enough to challenge and kill all seven of the Primordials in the present, including his main body.

Yet as he watched, he saw the white hair of Enoch turned black before it started to whither away, his body that was perfect and filled with strength began to shrink and slowly but surely, Enoch was losing his immortality and growing old, but he did not care… creation in all its wonders was at his fingertips and he kept pushing, the mad light in his eyes growing stronger with every passing moment.

The awareness of how deeply he had fallen came to Enoch when he created a world, which was a sphere of living fire where mountains screamed and rivers wept diamonds and tried to touch it the way he once touched the crystal spires of the Luminous.

He wanted to feel the heat, to press his palm against a volcano and know he had made it… and his intention passed through the planet like breath through smoke. The volcano kept erupting, indifferent.

For the first time since the end, panic flickered in what remained of him.

Enoch turned inward, and what he saw made him scream, but no sound emerged from his throat.

There was no body; he no longer had one. There had not been for longer than he realized. Only a filament now, a single glowing thread stretched thin across the vastness of his creations.

Rowan tried not to see the familiarity in this thread when he transformed into a dimension and became a one dimensional being.

However, unlike him, this thread was fraying, strand by strand, like a rope made of light and regret. Each time Enoch had used End to force change upon the void, each star he ignited, each god he birthed, each law of physics he twisted into a new shape, a piece of that thread unraveled and became the change itself.

He had been paying in installments and the boosts of power he had gained for destroying existence once had long been exhausted.

Every screaming mountain, every backward-orbiting moon, every creature that lived and died in glorious, terrifying freedom, had been bought with a piece of his soul.

Enoch understood then, with the clarity of a last breath: End was not a tool. It was a transaction. He had asked for change, and change had agreed, but only on the condition that he become the raw material.

He knew that the creations were not his children. They were his corpse, animated, and so he tried to stop.

Still, Enoch had made a grave miscalculation. He had been born in a realm that was extremely massive, yet still had a limit, and when he was in this new realm created by his actions, at first it was many times smaller than the previous existence he had known and although he knew that it was expanding, caught in the allure of creation, Enoch had not checked how much this realm was growing.

His actions stirred the void, forcing existence to stretch and expand faster than it should have, until it became faster than he had once calculated when he saw the expansion of this realm for the first time. By now, the present state of existence was already a million times greater than his previous realm, and Enoch had filled it all with endless creation.

Enoch wanted change, but this change was supposed to serve his amusement, he was not creating for the act to take from him; he was creating for the act to serve his needs.

Aware of this, Enoch stopped his act of endless creation and decided to pull back his power, and he discovered to his horror that End did not accept refunds.

He was like a rubber band that had been stretched beyond its limits, and he discovered that he no longer had any elasticity to rebound back to his previous self. But the bad news had not ended.

The power of End surged through him without permission now, like a tide that had learned his name. His fraying thread vibrated with it. A new galaxy spiraled into being against his will, full of worlds where gravity sang opera and the stars were made of regret. He felt himself pour into them, thinning further.

He screamed and screamed but his horror was quiet. Enoch had long passed the threshold, and even if he wanted, creation would not stop until every part of him was gone.