Primordial Gods?

For the first time, Sylvester and Saint Scepter heard something new about ‘them.’ They had heard about Gods, Elder Gods, but the Primordial God was a different entity they never heard of before.

“Primordial Gods? What’s that? How powerful are they?” Sylvester questioned in a heartbeat. 𝒆𝙣𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝙚𝙩

The Elder God’s voice soon replied, “They are the rulers of time and space, within and beyond the bounds of their realm. Time is something even I cannot helm. They are a different existence, powers nigh infinite, older than the formation of the time itself—

There were many before, but as the True-One faded into the dust of existence, infighting ensued. How many remain now is unknown, for domination they pursued.”

“True-One?” Sylvester caught onto the new name. In any case, he knew nothing could shock him as much anymore. Gods above gods, he just hoped there was an end to it all.

“True-One… The progenitor, the mother of all that is and is not. Beyond the grasp of your mortal minds, or my immortal soul—the one in control.” The Elder God’s voice reverberated. “Beings of my kind have only heard about such existence, but it matters not for the True-One is gone. Leaving us as the Primordial Gods’ pawns.”

Sylvester sighed and glanced at Saint Scepter, “Did you have any idea about this? Why are these Primordial Gods meddling with a small planet if their existence is so far above?”

“None can understand how they perceive the world and time. Their plans are not something I can easily define. I only know that they are supremely powerful, and now Elder God Nehilius has also affirmed the truth,” Saint Scepter replied with some reservations. “In my limited capability, I did what I could to oppose them.”

‘Layers upon layers of confusing mysteries. It’s impossible to find out anything without joining their ranks.’ Sylvester wearily sighed.

“Then what is Solis?” He questioned.

“The realms are filled with minors and major gods—Some weave intricate facades. Take heed of where your allegiance lies, for it could either uplift or afflict you,” Elder God responded. “Speak now. Do you accept my inheritance?”

Sylvester calmly thought about it and remembered all the usual tropes about Elder Gods, “Why would you give me such a blessing? I refuse to believe it comes without a cost. I refuse to believe there isn’t any self-interest in this for you. You’re an Elder God, capable of trapping me in some magic beyond my comprehension and use my body to return to life.”

Elder God Nehilius seemed to have realized that Sylvester needed his inheritance as much as he wanted him as his inheritor. But the ounce of mistrust between them needed to be cleared first.

“If you seek even the slightest chance to rebel against their rule, you must wield my power. I hold no hidden desires, only a wish for my knowledge and legacy to thrive beyond my lifetime. I have lived through epochs beyond my memory’s reach, and faced hardships that nearly heralded my demise—But to know that I am now an anonymous fragment destined for eternal oblivion, does not grow fervor within me.

“My corporal body has died, and this shard of soul, too, shall meld into nothingness. But within you, I shall live forever as a memory, thrive as your power—my knowledge shall continue to serve a purpose. Something I gained painstakingly throughout the expanse of my existence.” The Elder God spoke, maintaining an unwavering, majestic, powerful tone of voice. Even as it almost seemed like a request, it felt like an order.

Sylvester did not know if the creature was lying, “So you’re relying solely on words to reassure me? A being with powers beyond my understanding wishes to extend an olive branch to me.”

“I understand your suspicions. Had it been my sister occupying my stead, she would have attempted to make you her pawn. But I am not her, nor am I interested in returning to life—Knowing that to be among the living is to be inevitably drawn into the tumultuous conflicts among the Primordial Gods,” Nehilius stated.

Sylvester held to his ground, interrogating the being, “Then who brought me into this world? You should know better than any.”

Saint Scepter straightened his back, feeling interested in learning the same thing, “I as well.”

The Elder God was dead, leaving only its resonant voice as a tool to gauge his temperament. “I sense the disparity between your bodies and your souls. However, such actions are not within my or any Elder God’s dominion. Only a Primordial God, a master of time, space, and soul magic, can perform such deeds.”

Sylvester tried to make sense of that statement. In no way he believed that ‘they’ were the ones who brought him into the world. Of course, the past Popes and Saint Scepter were likely their work, but he wasn’t. Since he wasn’t bound by the same chains that Saint Scepter was.

“You said you’ll tell me the names of the two Primordial Gods?” Sylvester continued to question.

“Do you consent to assume the mantle of my heir?”

“If I don’t, do I even have a chance of opposing those even you consider unreachable?” Sylvester replied, indirectly agreeing with the Elder God, the frightening entity whose looks screamed evil and untrustworthy. But again, he had an Emperor Lich serving in the Holy Land, so looks weren’t really the deciding factor.

Sylvester experienced a sudden surge in the solarium around him. The massive bulging head of the Elder God suddenly began to shine even brighter. The scent of death gradually faded, replaced by a newfound scent of hope and delight. Surprisingly, even the dead Elder God seemed to have feelings.

The solarium engulfed Sylvester from all sides, shredding his clothes and armor and leaving him naked. Despite the pain, Sylvester was shocked; his armless shoulder showed open wounds, and the regenerative process rapidly picked up its pace. Visible to the naked eye, the arm grew to its full length within a second. But that wasn’t the end, as Sylvester’s body seemed to go through a transformation.

His already muscular and well-built body changed for the better. His height increased by three inches, and his muscles were now even more sharply defined, carrying more explosive power. However, the main changes occurred within his body, with his lungs gaining strength and his veins adapted to handle more solarium. His reserves massively grew as the Elder God forced a portion of his powers into him to form a connection.

Sylvester coughed after a while, and his mouth began to bleed. He felt a sharp pain in his chest; clearly, it was his heart’s turn to become stronger. One by one, every single part of him went through an invisible, barely noticeable change.

“If I grant you all my power now, your body will break, unable to evolve any further,” The Elder God Nehilius said. “Visit my realm periodically to inherit fragments of my power—No more within your realm, at least, you’ll need to cower.”

‘I don’t feel any hidden curse or harmful magic.’ Sylvester checked his body in depth. He had no idea to what extent the improvements would affect him. Or if his magic had received any boons. His sole desire was to exit as swiftly as possible.

But there was one thing that gnawed at Sylvester’s mind, “What if I surpass the threshold of a Supreme Wizard? Will I be cast out to confront the Primordial Gods?”

“Aveda and Ashraska are their names.” Nehilius promptly added, fulfilling his end of the deal by revealing the names.

Saint Scepter heaved a long sigh at that sudden revelation and interjected, “Sylvester Maximilian, for you to grow stronger and unite the continents, you will require a magical curtain to keep your presence hidden from ‘them’ at all times. I shall use my soul as a sacrifice to cloak your uniting rhymes.”

Sylvester stared at Saint Scepter. Knowing that the man wasn’t as simple as he seemed, and he had his motivations behind everything. He couldn’t help but ask, “What about you? What will you do next? Centuries lived just to die like this? Who are you? What’s your story? Why are you different from others who came before?”

Saint Scepter resolutely said, having made up his mind already, and nothing would change it any further. “When I was born to a minor “I can’t venture outside in any case. As that would mean I would have to follow ‘their’ bidding and oppose you in your just endeavor. Do not feel for me, Sylvester Maximilian. I have lived a long life.” Saint Scepter resolutely said, having made up his mind already, and nothing would change it any further. “When I was born to a minor Baron in the Highland Kingdom, I didn’t know my existence was a curse to those around me. At the age of five, ‘they’ came to my thoughts and ordered me… to eradicate my bloodline.”

“Jamesken bloodline?” Sylvester exclaimed, remembering something from the history books. “It’s been the most famous case of a noble family massacre. Even the newborns were not spared—No culprit was ever found.”

Saint Scepter continued to speak, “I was akin to you—calm, collected, and constantly plotting my tenth step ahead. But, in the end, it meant nothing, as they ensured I grasped the fact that my life was never in my control. Anything I held dear, I was ordered to kill—Anything I came to cherish, I was made to destroy. Only Axel survived, for he was a pawn in their grand schemes—I pity him, for he met a demon while looking for a friend. One who eventually led to his end.”

‘Agony.’ Sylvester smelled the scent of a broken mind from Saint Scepter. It seemed like he genuinely cherished Pope Axel.

“With time, they revealed to me my destiny. I felt the lure at times, but in the end, before the shackles they placed, all the power felt like nothing. I have committed grave sins in this life, Sylvester Maximilian, and I demand no forgiveness for them. I agreed to do them, knowing very well they were wrong—I was selfish for my own survival and perhaps curious to know what had made me their puppet.” A hint of despair emanated from Saint Scepter’s words. “Our life is what our thoughts make it—I believed in such and tried what I could to bring us here. I never knew it would end this way, but now that I stand here, I feel content and gratified.”

It was a strange place to be having that conversation. With a new piece of cloth draping his body, Sylvester created light steps for himself and moved closer to Saint Scepter in that endless void before the carcass of the Elder God. He gently placed his hand on Saint Scepter’s shoulder.

“One’s experiences are one’s own; no matter how much I try, I can never feel them firsthand. But I can imagine how desperate and anxious you must have felt against the two Primordial Gods. Taking every step with care, avoiding even a whisper of suspicion. Considering it all, I hate to say it, but you did decent work.” Sylvester said appreciatively. “I believe you have earned the right to know it—Johnathan Colt Westerling was my name once in the times I have forgotten.”

Saint Scepter looked at Sylvester’s face. Both of them had a similar shine in their eyes and a sense of familiarity, for they suffered from almost the same fate. Unwittingly thrown or pulled into a world with a task they didn’t understand, nor a desire to fulfill it.

“Once upon a time, in a world far removed from this one—I was an emperor.” Saint Scepter muttered, reminiscing. “They used to call me… Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus.”

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