The Immortal Game
Part Seven: Time's End
At first, it was just a few. It was difficult to know if they were here to witness, or to fight, but as they continued to arrive it was obvious Primal Earth would not go quietly. Honored heroes with legions of cheering fans and ruthless villains only spoken of in whispers. They loved each other, and they hated each other, but they shared a single purpose, a single burning thought. This was our world, and it would not be taken from us.
Cole, Voice of Rularuu, paid them no attention. His work was subtle, sublime, invisible, undetectable, but all important. He was pulling at the fabric of reality with immeasurable power and respinning it into a new form. The Barrier of the Battalion was close now, in just a few short months it would arrive and with it a scourge of the cosmos unmatched and undeterred in a millennia. RulaCole would not give it that luxury. Under his influence the barrier accelerated, racing towards Primal Earth; it would now take mere days to encompass what had been planned to take months. This did not go unnoticed.
The lead element of the Battalion was its advance forces - the implacable Shivan Destroyers and the Kheldian slaves that formed the spearpoint of the Coming Storm, and their commanders the Vanguard of the Battalion. They were ruthless and unyielding and had devastated dozens of worlds. It was they who rode the wavefront of the Barrier, and they who first detected its alteration. At their command, the first wave of Battalion forces willed themselves to Primal Earth. Someone had interfered with the Battalion. They would have to be dealt with.
...
The early arrivals to the Rikti War Zone were soon a flood. So much power was concentrated in one area it almost seemed like the War Walls bowed from the pressure. As they gathered at the place where all instinctively knew the fight would begin, the voice of Prometheus spoke:
"Defenders Of Primal Earth. Behold The Power Of Rularuu."
For a minute, it seemed as if nothing happened. And then, off in the distance, there was a bright flash from the Rikti Mothership. The powerful war machine, symbol of invasion and destruction for so long, was consumed by an immense fireball. The destructive wave blasted outward in all directions, nearly blowing down the gathered defenders. As the dust cleared, for the first time in a decade, White Plains was free. The great mothership was simply gone, vaporized in the massive conflagration. For such large destruction, the blast wave seemed oddly mild, as if the destructive energies were turned inward, imploding the craft to its core. This wasn't a simple explosion. This was an extinguishing. The last connection between Primal Earth and the greater multiverse was severed, the Rikti destroyed as a mere afterthought. Some paused, briefly mourning the Rikti, enemies though they may be. Some cheered, for a variety of reasons. But that was all short-lived. The Battalion had arrived.
They seemed to come out of nowhere, appeared around them and throughout their ranks. The Shivan army engaged the Primal defenders as they had so many before them. But this time it was different. On a dozen, dozen worlds there were those who fought back, those who tried to defend their world and their own future potential from consumption and annihilation. They were always spirited, determined, and ultimately futile efforts. This would not be the case here. This time, Prometheus the Fire bearer brought the full, raw, untempered potential of humanity to itself. Once before, giving humanity the merest glimpse of their destiny was a crime punishable by the harshest sentence by those Prometheus called his masters. This time, the punishment would be self-inflicted. But Prometheus knew the full measure of the destiny of humanity, and he would not allow an outside force to end that journey.
The defenders of Primal Earth were raised to their full potential. Some to the peak of their abilities, many others beyond that to rise to wield the power of the Incarnate. Such power had been working its way into humanity for some time: it was this very fact that attracted the Battalion. But they would not be facing children, working their way to becoming Incarnates. They would be facing the full power they had hoped to tap.
The defenders quickly made short work of the Shivan army. As fast as they could arrive, by the hundreds they came and fell. Never before had a Shivan army been reaped like so much stalks of wheat. But then the Vanguard arrived. Four of them descended upon the Primal defenders and the real battle began. The Vanguard was protected by powerful incarnate strength and wielded as much Incarnate ability as a hundred incarnate warriors. The tide began to turn, and it was now the defenders that were on the defensive. And yet slowly, gradually at first and then with more conviction the Primal defenders began to bring down the Vanguard. It seemed the longer the fight went on the weaker the Vanguard seemed to become. In fact, it was the reverse: humanity, now in full possession of its incarnate potential, and wielding it with a singular purpose, revealed the Well of the Furies for what it really was. It was not a powerful entity with control over humanity's destiny. In fact it was humanity's destiny itself: it was the embodiment of the potential and the consciousness of humanity. It had no voice save what humanity impressed upon it. It had no power save what humanity itself opened the door to reaching. This was the great secret of incarnate potential, which Prometheus had once tried to protect. The denizens of Primal Earth were always limited by only one thing: their belief in themselves and their ability to control their destiny. No man or woman could control the Well of the Furies. But humanity could. And here, at the place once known as the place where The People could look out beyond the horizon and speak to their inner voices about their place in the cosmos, humanity spoke with one voice, and acted with one hand. And the Well of the Furies responded, by releasing its potential to its protectors. Humanity was no longer on the slow path to Incarnate or the fast path. They were on the path Prometheus opened to them: the path of Destiny.
For what seemed a long time the battle raged, but then RulaCole, who had been indifferent to the battle that raged just below him, spoke:
"It is done."
The Primal defenders detected no sign of anything changing, but the Vanguard did. The barrier which once confined humanity now trapped them. And their brethren, on their way to join the battle, felt it also. The barrier now enclosed all of the Battalion, and it no longer allowed them beyond it. In their shock the Vanguard were finally cut down by the Primal defenders. Far beyond the remaining Battalion turned to the Barrier, hurling themselves towards it in a vain attempt to escape. But escape was now not possible.
Cole knew what would happen next: the power of Rularuu told him as much. For an instant, he reflected on his fate. His energy, including much of the power of the Well of the Furies, would be quickly siphoned by the Barrier. He would become a part of the Barrier, trapping the Battalion within it. And in a few days when the Barrier reached its nadir, his power would join with the rest of the Incarnate power within Primal Earth and germinate a new world within a new Primal dimension, a world that was a reflection of this world in Dreamspace. Their world would survive, within the land of Dreams. For Cole, this instant was as a day. He saw a young man going off to war, and coming back changed forever. A girl who would become a woman. A woman who would become his wife. A wife he would ultimately betray. He saw the unforgivable destruction of nuclear fire, and he saw the threat of it end under his slammed fist. He saw the gleaming citadel of Praetoria rise under his rule. He saw all the good he accomplished brought down from without and within. He saw the future of humanity, and the ugliness it held. And he saw the ugliness he created in an attempt to shepherd it. And he saw all of it threatened by these cosmic criminals, these assassins of destiny. He would stop them. And in the end he would help give birth to a new world. The new world would be just as messy, just as ugly as the one he once tried to reshape. But it would forever be protected from those who would steal its potential. Humanity would always have a chance to flourish. Whether it did or not was up to them, and them alone.
This was a good fate, Cole decided. As his essence began to dissolve, his last thought was of her. "Forgive me, M-" And then he was gone.
...
We Have Saved The Innocent: Faathim the Kind expressed.
The Enemy Has Escaped Our Grasp We Must Pursue: Ruladek demanded.
We Must Not Allow These Incarnates To Escape Servitude To Rularuu: Chularn stressed.
Let Us Unravel This World And Entwine It With The Realm Of Rularuu: Lanaruu opined.
Should We Not Take What We Will From This World And Leave: Kuularth inquired.
It Has Happened Again: Uuralur observed.
The many voices of Rularuu, now freed from the Incarnate power of Marcus Cole, now rose up as one and returned to their eternal war. Rularuu was pulled apart, and as he became the individual voices of Rularuu again each returned to their places of power within the Shadow Shard. All but one. The last Voice sought out a human, standing far off from the battle.
"I Would Speak With You, Human."
Mender Silos turned to face Aloore the Watcher. Aloore towered above him, but Silos chose to remain standing on the ground. He looked up upon the expressionless face of the aspect of Rularuu. "I would listen to Aloore the Watcher."
"It Was The Godling That Came To Us, But It Was You Who Was The Chessmaster, You Who Commanded The Pieces, You Who Made All This Occur." It was not a question.
"I would say I was the primary architect of this day."
"And You Know The Price." This was also not a question.
"I know the price." Silos repeated.
"You Are A Planner, A Schemer, A Manipulator. You Did Not Need To Sacrifice. There Is Always Another Way."
"None that wouldn't cost someone else more." Silos stared into the face of Aloore. "I was a schemer, a manipulator, and the truth is I will always be. But today I was not a plotter, I was a general. I was fighting a war. A war that required tactics. A war that required a strategy. And I would not sacrifice my army just to save one man." Mender Silos paused. "Even if it was me."
Aloore seemed to think upon this, and then with no further acknowledgement he turned to go. But then he stopped, and turned to face the Mender again.
"Farewell, General." Silos nodded. And then Aloore was gone.
...
The Primal defenders began to catch their breath. They had won. The Vanguard was defeated. And then it happened. From under the ground emerged a giant orb of power, surrounded by a swirling mist. Hamidon. And it wasn't alone. Rising from the Earth with the being known as the Primal Hamidon was another creature, the Avatar of the Hamidon: voice of the being known as the Praetorian Hamidon. The Hamidon of two worlds were here on a single world. The Avatar spoke, but its words were almost impossible to hear above the din. The Primal defenders elected not to wait for Hamidon to make the first move. As one they attacked. The Avatar of the Hamidon was an incredible force on its own world, but here it seemed slightly weakened, and posed less threat to the commensurately more powerful Incarnate forces of Primal Earth. Strangely, as they defeated the Avatar and turned to the nucleus of the Primal Hamidon, it seemed more powerful. Surrounded by its phalanx of mitochondrian firepower it was more difficult to destroy than it had been in the past. Unbeknownst to the Primal forces, the same reason for the rising power of Primal Hamidon was also the reason for the weakened condition of the Avatar. The Avatar had brought its core essence, the Will of the Earth, from Praetorian Earth and allowed it to germinate on Primal Earth. There, the Primal Will and the Praetorian Will combined, fusing into The Will, and The Hamidon.
On Praetorian Earth, Hamidon Pasalima became one with the Will of the Earth on a world devastated by two nuclear wars. In response, the Praetorian Hamidon never reverted to the primitive raw state it had on Primal Earth. It retained much more of Pasalima to use as a weapon against humanity. The Hamidon on Praetorian Earth had will, it had awareness, it understood the threat of humanity and sought to destroy it. But with that strength came a weakness. The Primal Hamidon became much closer to the Earth, much more of a raw force of nature. It became a much more pure entity. It wasn't burdened with the yearning, the pain, the fear, the anger of the Praetorian Hamidon. And in return, it became far more powerful.
Mender Silos had gone to Praetoria to address the Praetorian Hamidon. He knew that the Praetorian Hamidon yearned for the destruction of humanity but lacked the sheer power necessary to accomplish that feat outright. But for a being such as Hamidon, there was a path to power. It had no connection to the Well of the Furies; Incarnate power was outside its grasp. But there was another way. Ascension. Few beings attempted Ascension, and fewer succeeded on any level. Those who tried typically destroyed themselves. Occasionally they became destroyers: Rularuu was such an Ascended being. And it was a path to the power Hamidon sought: a way to gain the power to completely obliterate humanity for all time, to return the Earth to its natural, undespoiled state, and to guard it against all future threats for all time. And Mender Silos was willing to give this secret to Hamidon.
But there was a catch. To Ascend, one needed a purity even Praetorian Hamidon lacked. On Praetoria, Hamidon fought a constant war against humanity, made deals with its representatives, plotted attacks against its weak spots. Ironically, Hamidon was too human to Ascend. On Praetoria. On Primal Earth, it was different. The Will of the Earth on Primal Earth had reverted to a much more primitive state. Hamidon himself reverted to a highly primitive, *pure* state. Hamidon was the Will and nothing else. On Primal Earth, Hamidon could Ascend. It just didn't want to, or have any awareness of the possibility at all.
Silos opened the door to a possibility for Praetorian Hamidon. This Hamidon could come to Primal Earth and join with the Will of the Earth of Primal Earth. There, it could be the guiding voice of Ascension, and use the pure raw power of the Primal Will of the Earth to do it. The Avatar was not there to defeat the humans, it was actually there to be killed by them. As it was destroyed and the Primal Hamidon was destroyed, their essence would combine in the very ground, and soon a new Hamidon would emerge. An Ascended Hamidon. A Rularuu with one Voice. The process would not take long. Silos asked for only one thing from Hamidon. A cease fire for two days. After that, Hamidon could destroy all of humanity if it so desired, if Silos did not keep his word to remove humanity from the Earth. In the meantime, Silos told Hamidon, it was free to destroy anything else that it perceived to be a threat.
The Will of the Earth was now The Will, the Ascended guardian of Earth. Its power built exponentially with each passing moment. Its power was not of the Well of the Furies, but rather it tapped the raw elemental power of the Earth itself. Its power was the power of life, and death. As Rularuu was the keeper of the Shadow Shard, so was The Will now the keeper of Earth. Here, in its place of power, The Will was the ultimate authority, the ultimate power. It would become the transcendent force of Earth, which would bear no unwanted intrusion from the outside.
The Battalion had ultimately lost its war with humanity, but it would ironically gain the Earth. An Earth isolated from the rest of the cosmos. An Earth from which there would be no escape, no new worlds to conquer, no more Incarnate power to feed upon. A world humanity would abandon to them as they left to seek their own fate.
A world ruled by an Ascended Hamidon.
There was a Storm coming. And this time, it was the Battalion that would be feeling its maelstrom.
...
Note: the last part, Epilogue, will be posted tonight, and crossposted here.
