The Primordial Record

The Painter’s hands were on his father, and its face was twisted in rage and pain and something that looked like fear. The audience was in the tiers, eating, eating, eating. The board was shattered, and the entire room was a ruin.

Eos stood in the ruins of the game, bleeding.

Andar called out, "Father."

Eos did not turn, not because he did not want to, but because he could not.

The Painter’s hands were on him, and just the weight of these hands was the weight of millions of Existences, and turning was not possible.

But Eos replied to his son, and his voice, when it came, was steady.

"You came."

Andar smiled, these were not the first words he imagined that his father would say to him, and he nodded, "I came."

"You are proto-tenth-dimensional. Good, you did not fail my hope."

"You gave me everything I needed, Father. I am here to help you."

Eos sighed, "You cannot fight him."

"No." Andar nodded, knowing this was the truth, he had felt the power of the Painter and his father, and they exceeded anything that he knew. "At least, I can stand beside you."

Eos was silent, and the Painter’s hands tightened around him, causing more of his blood to fall.

"Then stand," Eos whispered and Andar stood.

®

The Painter saw Andar, a proto-tenth-dimensional being that had emerged from the substrate of its own Tower, the being that was not yet a tenth-dimensional immortal but was no longer a ninth-dimensional being, the first of its kind, and it was standing beside Eos.

The Painter’s rage, which had been focused on Eos, found a second target.

"You," the Painter growled. "The son, the cursed spawn of his blood. The one who crossed the void like the hidden pest that you are. You are here."

"I am here," Andar sneered.

"Are you here to kneel beside your father? There is always more space for more pain in my presence."

"I will not kneel to you. My worship belongs to my father alone."

The Painter reached for Andar with one of its infinite hands. The hand was the size of an Existence when it began the reach, and by the time it crossed the ruined board-room, it was the size of a hand.

Andar did not move. He stood beside his father, and he did not kneel, neither did he run or try to fight back. He only held on tighter to the wooden bird.

The Painter’s hand closed on Andar, and it could not reach him, a barrier that seemed to be linked to the Eternal Tower, yet it was still not part of it covered Andar.

A brief flash of a black tower covered Andar.

"Nice trick, your father had been feeding you a substrate of my tower, the sneaky thief. That would not save you for long."

More hands of the Painter reached across and the shadow of the black tower solidified over Andar, preventing the hand of the Painter from reaching him, but it did not stop the weight of that hand from squeezing Andar’s proto-tenth-dimensional body, which began to crack under the impossible pressure.

The cracks should have shattered and unmade him, but under certain unique conditions, this pressure did not shatter Andar, it began to remake him.

Andar’s proto-tenth-dimensional being was not a fixed thing. It was a becoming, and the becoming accelerated under pressure.

Eos had always been working out how to create a tenth dimensional being outside the path he took.

He had already figured out how to create proto-tenth dimensional entities, but it would not be enough to face the Painter, and so he needed a way to reach the tenth dimension outside the path he took.

It did not take him long to realize that the only way for him to figure this out was to become a tenth dimensional entity himself, and with his enhanced understanding of the substrate of this dimensional layer, he could create a new path.

Eos had been unable to explore the Grand Void to seek inspiration; all of his time had been spent in here with the Painter, and he was not here just playing the game; he was also figuring out how to create a path for the tenth dimensional level.

And it was in this room that he gained the inspiration for this... the Painter’s hand would not be just a weapon; he would use it as a forge.

The cracks on Andar’s body were spreading, and light emerged from the cracks. The light was not the light of the sun or the stars or the tenth dimension. It was the light of becoming, the light that came before the first flame, the light that the Painter had never seen because the Painter had never created anything.

Under the purest light of creation, the Painter’s hand began to dissolve.

®

The audience felt the light, and it was not a flavor, making it a thing that could not be eaten. The light was a presence, and the presence was the presence of a being that was becoming in front of them.

The audience had never seen a being become. The audience had only ever seen beings be, and then be eaten. Becoming was new.

And this shock stopped the audience from eating, as curiosity filled their mind and they began to watch.

The Painter felt the audience stop. The cessation of eating was shocking, and the Painter did not like it; anything that was not under its control was a source of problem.

"Eat," the Painter commanded.

But the audience did not eat.

"They are watching," Eos smiled at the Painter. "Let them watch."

®

In the tiers, the audience watched the light spread from Andar’s breaking body, and the light began to slowly rise and touch the audience.

The light spoke to them in a strange language.

’You are here,’ the light said. ’You have been eating for millions of Existences. You have been hungry for millions of Existences. You have never been full, and you have never been seen. In this place, I see you.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!