Snowy plains.
Two towering humanoid figures clashed in an endless battle, their colossal forms locked in brutal close combat. Each strike shook the heavens and left deep scars across the land from the collision of their fists and techniques.
Their battle had raged for centuries—long enough to erase history and reshape the world beneath them.
What was once a realm of lush forests and vibrant life had become a desolate wasteland.
The green canopy was gone, replaced by an endless stretch of frozen plains.
Snow now blanketed the land for millions of miles. Beneath that white silence, the ground bore the marks of their unrelenting battle: craters, fissures, and shattered divine hills.
Glacethor, the embodiment of ice, stood in the midst of the frozen expanse. Frost clung to his crystalline form, and every step he took turned the ground beneath him to solid ice.
His breaths were slower now, and exhaustion was evident after centuries of relentless combat against Atherion, the Primordial of Light.
Yet his stance remained steady, his resolve as unyielding as the ice he commanded, and his calm gaze locked on his enemy.
Atherion floated a few miles away. Behind him, his circular golden divine ring glowed with an aura of divine radiance.
The snow and ice around him melted in a widening radius, leaving a trail of glistening water.
However, the land, loyal to Glacethor's dominion, fought back. Tendrils of frost snaked toward the pools below, freezing them solid inch by inch, as if trying to entomb Atherion in ice.
The tense silence was shattered by Atherion's deep, ancient voice, which echoed through the surrounding frozen wasteland like a drumbeat.
"This herb," he said softly, his eyes fixed on the radiant divine herb floating around Glacethor's shoulder. Its thirty-six petals glowed faintly, like starlight captured in crystal.
"It carries the brilliance of the First Light," he declared, every word steeped in arrogant radiance. He didn't so much speak as proclaim, as if voicing it were a divine truth made law.
"Ah… so untouched, so unspoiled. So sacred,"he murmured, his voice low and reverent but laced with a hunger he didn't bother to hide.
His gaze burned as he stared at the herb floating beside Glacethor's shoulder. In response, it shimmered faintly, as if acknowledging his presence or indulging his pride.
The glow only fueled him.
His tone turned sharp and disdainful as he snapped his gaze toward Glacethor.
"Don't contaminate it with your filthy aura, you frozen relic."he barked. "It was never meant to be seen by cowards like you, let alone touched."
He reached out with his consciousness, but the moment it neared Glacethor's body,
It froze solid, halted by the overwhelming ice laws surrounding Glacethor.
Atherion narrowed his eyes, but his smirk didn't falter.
"It wasn't born to rot in the hands of the unworthy," he said again, his voice rising like the sun over a battlefield.
Each word struck the air with absolute certainty. "This herb, this miracle, belongs to those who understand its meaning. To those whose very essence resonates with purity, brilliance, and divinity."
He was fully focused now, his golden robes billowing in the chilling wind. He faced Glacethor with disdain etched across his handsome face.
"Step aside." His words rang out as if he were commanding a lesser being.
Glacethor remained motionless, his face devoid of emotion, but the world around him responded for him.
The temperature dropped sharply, and frost cracked across the ground like a living thing. The freezing wind howled louder as it crept forward.
His ancient, glacial eyes narrowed.
"Bold words." When he spoke, his voice was a deadly whisper carried on a blizzard.
"You stand in my domain, speak of worthiness, and dare to claim what blooms on my land as your own?"
He took a step forward and brandished an ice sword he had conjured.
"Tell me, Atherion," he said in a low, cutting voice. "By what law?" What divine decree? What cosmic right do you have to claim something born under my sky, rooted in my soil, and watched over by my power?"
Their words hung heavy in the air as their opposing forces—frost and light—clashed invisibly.
Before Atherion could respond to Glacethor's challenge, a message suddenly echoed in his mind:
"The monolith of time!" Atherion exclaimed inwardly. The mere mention of its existence sent a shiver of anticipation through his radiant form.
His expression flickered briefly, betraying his surprise, but he quickly masked it.
Glacethor noticed the flicker, but his cold, detached demeanor revealed nothing, even though he had also received the message.
Atherion glanced at Glacethor, trying to discern if he had got the summons too. Seeing his unchanging expression, Atherion dismissed the possibility.
"Is it a trap?" Atherion's thoughts raced like lightning. "Should I go? Should I abandon this herb for a chance that might never come again?"
His gaze lingered on the glowing herb floating above Glacethor's shoulder. It had stirred reverence in his heart.
But now, with the knowledge of the monolith, it barely held his interest.
"There will be others at the monolith," he mused darkly. "Greedy bastards and those mad chaos junkies," he reasoned.
Even the most powerful of their kind were ignited with desire by the name alone—Monolith of Time.
Time laws were the most complicated in the universe. Not a single primordial had advanced from the peak of rank two time laws into rank three.
Moments passed. Then, greed won.
"But so what? It's not like they can amount to anything to me," he thought arrogantly.
His eyes lit up and his aura flared with golden brilliance as he thought, "If I obtain the Monolith, my light beam attacks will be faster than time itself. I won't just be unmatched. I'll be untouchable."
His lips curled into a smirk. "Only someone like me—someone created of light by the Supreme Creator—deserves that kind of power."
Without hesitation, he transformed into a beam of pure radiance. The ground cracked beneath the force of his departure. In the blink of an eye, he shot across the sky, leaving streaks of gold in his wake.
Glacethor watched in silence.
He stood motionless as the brilliant trail of Atherion vanished into the distance. Then, he sat cross-legged on the frozen ground.
Slowly, he inhaled the cold, divine energy surrounding him. Frost spread from his body in steady pulses, snaking across the ground like the fingers of a slumbering titan.
"Should I go?" he murmured to himself.
After a moment, he scoffed dismissively, thinking, "No, that would be foolish."
He turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, where the Monolith of Time awaited.
Though it was not visible, its presence was already stirring the realm into chaos. He could feel the madness brewing beyond the frost—a storm of ambition ready to devour anyone who got too close.
"A treasure like that won't just attract the desperate," he muttered, his tone heavy with disdain.
"It'll draw the arrogant, the reckless, the power-hungry. They'll all be clawing at it like starved beasts fighting over divine bones."
"But how many of them truly understand what they're rushing into?"
"How many will gain anything, and how many will be crushed by the very power they seek?" He murmured this as he stood up and walked toward a nearby ice cave, the divine herb still floating above his shoulder.
He raised his hand, and the herb floated gently toward him, hovering just above his palm. Its glow pulsed softly.
"Should I consume it now, or wait until it fully matures?" he wondered, narrowing his eyes as he studied its radiant form.
Devouring it now was tempting. Even in its current state, the herb would grant him immense power—enough to advance his cultivation by a full rank.
But Glacethor was not a being ruled by impulse.
Seconds passed in silence in his mind.
Finally, he closed his hand around the air beneath it, not touching the herb but gently guiding it back down to its resting place.
"No," he decided. "I'll wait. Let time ripen it. When its essence reaches perfection. When it blooms fully, not even a fragment of its power will be wasted."
Even if it took eons, he would not be swayed; patience was his weapon. When the time came, the harvest would be divine.
••••
Vyrinox sat cross-legged in the heart of a dark cave, his gaze fixed on the incomplete Monolith of Space that floated silently before him.
Though the cavern was cloaked in darkness, faint pulses of spatial energy emanating from the monolith lit up the cave.
Vyrinox studied it in silence, his expression caught between awe and lingering regret.
After a long moment, he exhaled and muttered, "Without this monolith, I never would've reached the fourth rank of space laws."
Vyrinox discovered a profound truth through the incomplete monolith: all laws were structured into nine ranks.
Each rank contained four primary aspects, as well as countless sub-aspects, most of which were necessary to understand in order to progress.
Comprehending even a single rank was an immense undertaking. Each aspect required time, unwavering focus, and relentless effort.
The fact that he had reached the fourth rank in such a short time was nearly miraculous.
Under normal circumstances, it would have taken hundreds of thousands of years of nonstop comprehension and refinement to achieve the same.
The further one progressed, the harder comprehension became. Although some resources could increase the rate of progress, these resources were rare.
However, the existence of monoliths changed everything for the primordials; only they could possess one, while lesser beings were unaware that such monoliths existed.
Even in its incomplete state, the space monolith had enabled him to reduce the time needed for comprehension.
Yet its incompleteness lingered like a thorn in his mind.
No matter how far he'd come, the missing fragments reminded him that he had only seen a glimpse of the full path, and that glimpse was no longer enough for him.
Vyrinox let out a deep sigh. The sound echoed softly within the cave. He traced the cold, smooth surface of the incomplete monolith before him with his clawed hand. Its fractured body still pulsed faintly with the remnants of ancient power.
"I should've taken the whole damn thing," he muttered, his voice low and bitter. His eyes were locked on the incomplete monolith.
"Although Vastoth would have hunted me like a rabid beast. But if I'd played it right, I could have slipped away. I escaped Timorath, who is far worse."
Regret tinged his words, sharp and sour. He had risked his life to obtain this fragment, and though it had advanced his understanding, the knowledge that he had left so much behind gnawed at him.
He stared at the monolith for a long moment before slowly exhaling, forcing the rising tension down.
"But this is enough, For now," he murmured. Even as the words left his mouth, doubt clawed at the edge of his mind. His fist clenched tightly.
"How long can I really run from him?" The thought darkened his expression, and he cursed, "Vastoth. That bastard."
The name alone made the air in the cave feel colder. Vastoth's mastery of the law of space was terrifyingly fluid and absolute.
Even with his Deception Law at middle rank six, he knew he was at a disadvantage.
"The only way I'll survive," he growled under his breath, his eyes glowing faintly, "is if I master Deception completely. No flaws. No gaps. I need to become something even space itself can't pin down."
But that was easier said than done. "To reach that level, I need a monolith attuned to Deception."
His mind began to race as he calculated, theorized, and searched through his memories and every hidden clue he'd uncovered in the Divine Realm.
He knew, however, that the Divine Realm was immensely vast and dangerous. It was a place where countless treasures were being born and countless predators waited in ambush.
Still, he had no choice. "I'll find it," he said softly, more of a promise than a hope. "Because if I don't..."
"I'll die." This fact was definite.
But then, like a spark in the dark, an idea struck him.
"Time," he whispered. The word lingered on his tongue as his eyes widened. In the next breath, his entire aura changed.
"That's it. Time is what I'm missing."
Power. Comprehension. Mastery. All of it could be his if he had time. But right now, that was the one thing Vastoth would never willingly give him.
His fists tightened as he stood. The decision weighed heavily on his shoulders, but it was clear.
If he stayed in the Divine Realm, it was only a matter of time before Vastoth found him.
But if he left and vanished into a lesser realm that Vastoth wouldn't think to search, he could buy the time he needed.
Even if Vastoth tried to search, there were countless realms and endless galaxies in which he could hide.
This would give him the time he needed to master his Deception Law, although he would have to do so without his monolith.
"Vastoth would never expect me to leave the Divine Realm," he said under his breath, a sharp smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He thinks I'm too proud and stubborn to run."
Relief, swift and fierce, flooded through him as his path became clear. For the first time since his conflict with Vastoth, he felt control slipping back into his hands.
But just as he took a step forward, a sudden, piercing message slammed into his mind.
It was a summons impossible to ignore. He froze mid-step, his body tense. His brow furrowed deeper, and his eyes slowly turned eastward.
His jaw tightened, muscles twitched as uncertainty sank its claws into him. The message was so tempting that he became conflicted.
The eastern part of the Divine Realm is infamous for its volatility, chaos, and death. It was the last place he had promised himself he would never return to.
He'd nearly lost his life there, right before his fateful encounter with Vastoth.
Now, that cursed place was calling to him again, and the temptation of the monolith of time was hard to resist.
Vyrinox hovered in midair. The wind was cold against his skin, yet he was unable to shake the storm brewing within.
Indecision painted his face. "This..." he whispered, the word catching in his throat like broken glass.
He stood there, motionless, for hours, the incomplete monolith floating behind him silent. His mind, however, was anything but.
Inside, a war raged: hesitation versus ambition. Fear clashed with desire. The hunger for survival battled the fire of purpose.
Finally, his lips moved again, slowly but steadily. His voice was resolute, no longer uncertain.
"There's a ninety percent chance of not obtaining the monolith of time," he said quietly. "But ten percent is still a chance. Better than none."
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, and told himself, "If I turn away now, I'll live, but only to hide. Always looking over my shoulder. Forgotten. Mediocre. A shadow of what I could become."
He forced himself to stare into the distance, to the east, to fate itself.
"This is the only way. The only path to freedom. It's the only path to what I deserve, and the only path to the peak of the universe."
He drew a sharp breath, then let it out slowly.
Then, his eyes sharpened, becoming cold, clear, and unflinching. "Fear won't change the odds."
"Hesitation won't shift fate. I've gambled with less before."
A thin smirk curled his lips, not from confidence but from conviction. "This time, the stakes are worth it."
With that, he stored the incomplete monolith in his pocket dimension and shot eastward in a streak of dark light, vanishing into the storm of destiny.