NOVGO.NET Chapter 3063 - 3063: Dawn of The Beginning (4)
A profound chill settled into Yun Lintian’s soul. This was worse than simple destruction. This was a perversion of free will on a cosmic scale.
The Creator, in her desire to protect, was now directing her followers into holy wars. Yin, in his embrace of uncreation, was fostering fanaticism and despair.
The lives he was witnessing were not their own. Their struggles, their sacrifices, their brief moments of joy and long eras of sorrow—it was all part of a game. The justice of the Light and the nihilism of the End were both just tools used by the players.
He saw a mother on a besieged world comfort her child, telling her the Creator would protect them. He saw a young man join the Heralds, believing he was bringing a merciful end to a suffering universe. Neither knew they were puppets, their strings pulled by forces they could barely comprehend.
The universe was no longer a masterpiece. It was a playground. And its inhabitants were toys for gods who saw them not as living beings, but as instruments for their eternal contest.
Yun Lintian felt a crushing weight of helplessness. This was the truth behind the Primordial War. It wasn’t a battle of good versus evil. It was a conflict of concepts that had spiraled out of control, consuming all of creation in its wake. And the fate of every single soul hung in the balance of this divine, indifferent game.
Yun Lintian watched, his soul growing heavier with each passing eon. The initial, controlled proxy war between the followers of Light and the Heralds of the End did not remain contained. Like a spiritual plague, the conflict spread.
It began in isolated star systems, but the ideology was virulent. The promise of purpose in destruction, offered by the Heralds, appealed to the lost, the angry, and the hopeless in every civilization.
The righteous defense of creation, preached by the Children of Light, resonated with those who feared oblivion and cherished order.
Soon, entire galaxies were divided. Nebulae that once blazed with the birth of stars now became battlegrounds for massive fleets. Planets were scorched not for resources, but for faith.
The universe, once a tapestry of diverse life, was being torn into two monochromatic halves: blinding white and absolute black.
Yin observed this expansion not with concern, but with satisfaction. The scale of the conflict generated an ocean of negative energy—hatred, fear, despair, the agony of billions—that flowed directly into him, making him stronger than he had been since his birth.
The whispers from his chasm became clearer, more compelling. His influence grew. He began to intervene more directly, no longer content with subtle temptations.
On a world where the Children of Light were about to achieve a decisive victory, the sky would suddenly darken. Not with clouds, but with a palpable aura of dread.
The Heralds, moments from defeat, would find their wounds healing and their weapons blazing with newfound void energy. Their eyes would glaze over with fanatical zeal as a cold voice whispered promises of ultimate victory in their minds. They would fight with reckless, unholy strength, turning the battle.
The Creator felt these blatant violations. She would manifest at the edge of the battlefield, her form a pillar of furious light. “Yin! Cease this! You break the unwritten rule! You directly possess them!”
Yin’s form would materialize opposite her, a smirk playing on his lips. “Unwritten rules? We are the rules. Their devotion empowers me. I am merely… answering their prayers. Are you not doing the same?”
He would gesture to a champion on the Light side, whose sword shone with a borrowed fraction of her power. “You grant strength. I grant strength. The only difference is the source. Do not pretend your interference is more noble than mine.”
His words were a twisted mirror, reflecting her own actions back at her in the most cynical light. He didn’t care for morality, only for the result: the intensifying conflict fed him.
The Creator was trapped. To stand by and do nothing was to watch her children be slaughtered by Yin’s empowered fanatics. But to intervene further was to escalate the war, to pour more of her own power into the grinder, making the conflict even more catastrophic.
With a heavy heart, she made her choice. She could not abandon them.
She began to intervene more forcefully as well. She would shield entire planets with her light, making them impervious to the Heralds’ attacks.
She would imbue her greatest champions with more of her essence, creating paladins who could shine with the intensity of a small sun, capable of purging void corruption with a touch.
The scale of the conflict exploded.
It was no longer a war of mortals influenced by gods. It became a war of gods fought by mortals.
Yun Lintian witnessed star systems wiped clean of life as a direct result of a clashing divine intervention. A wave of Yin’s unmaking energy would be met by a wall of the Creator’s light, and the resulting shockwave would vaporize every planet in a dozen-light-year radius.
He saw a faithful priestess of the Light pray for salvation for her dying world. The Creator answered, pouring power into her. The priestess became an avatar, her body unable to contain the energy.
She unleashed a wave of purifying light that saved her world but burned out her own soul and incinerated the Heralds’ fleet—along with the millions of conscripted, desperate souls aboard who had been forced to fight.
He saw a Heralds’ cultist, a man who had lost everything to the war, scream his hatred to the void. Yin answered, filling him with such potent void energy that he became a black hole of despair, sucking the life and hope out of an entire continent before collapsing under the weight of the power, taking millions with him.
Countless lives. Lost not for a cause they understood, but as collateral damage in a divine argument. They were ants crushed underfoot by two arguing giants.
The Creator fought to preserve life, but her methods led to death. Yin sought to unmake, but his actions created more intense, focused life in the form of fanatical devotion to ending itself.
“What is this…?” Yun Lintian murmured to himself.
Everything obviously headed to a wrong… a very wrong direction…