There were no grand palaces or magnificent buildings as imagined. The "space" ahead had already transcended the realm of the material universe.
It was an ocean of light, a boundless sea of will.
Countless pure energy lifeforms, whose forms were difficult to describe, floated, flowed, converged, and separated like stars in this space.
They varied in size, their forms constantly shifting, sometimes like a brilliant stellar vortex, sometimes like the core of a condensed star, and at other times transforming into rivers of light flowing with runes.
They emitted unimaginably vast energy fluctuations; their mere existence caused the surrounding space to groan under the strain, and light here was twisted, devoured, and reassembled, presenting a dreamlike yet soul-shakingly magnificent color.
There was no sound here, only a boundless mental resonance, billions of cold, ancient wills filled with endless wisdom and absolute majesty, pulsating in sync like the universe's own heartbeat within this sea of energy.
Each pulsation made Mark's spirit tremble violently, as if humble dust gazed upon the boundless starry sky, and a sense of insignificance and awe, stemming from life's instinct, instantly gripped him!
This was the Titan race.
They were not flesh and blood, but primordial gods born at the dawn of the universe, condensed from pure energy and the will of the laws!
Compared to them, whether it was Viltrum's proud technological civilization or Mark's yellow sun power, capable of shaking planets, they were like fireflies to the bright moon, dust to the galaxy!
Mark and Trigg's intrusion was like two insignificant pebbles cast into this vast sea of energy.
Almost the moment they stepped into the edge of this area, countless cold, indifferent gazes, as if capable of piercing through everything, silently focused on them.
It was not seeing in the physical sense, but a higher-dimensional, all-encompassing sensory lock.
Mark felt every cell, every wisp of his spirit, and even his soul, being completely analyzed under this gaze, with nowhere to hide!
An indescribable, terrifying pressure, stemming from the difference in life levels, descended like billions of mountains crashing down.
Mark grunted, his knees involuntarily bending slightly, his internal energy surging wildly, struggling to resist the Titan's pressure.
Trigg was even worse; he groaned, his body trembling violently, the Viltrumite's mental barrier tottering under the Titan's gaze, his face ashen, and large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
"Low-level lifeforms of the material universe... and... Mark Grayson."
A will, whose source could not be identified, resonated directly in the depths of both their souls, cold and vast, devoid of any emotion, like a decree of the cosmic law.
"How did you... pass through the barrier of the universe?"
This will was not a question, but more like a confirmation.
The Titan race clearly felt a tiny, almost non-existent curiosity about their ability to reach this place.
Before Mark or Trigg could answer, another, even more ancient will, as if from the end of time, followed, pouring directly into their consciousness like a torrent.
"We are the Wedges of Order, born at the separation of chaos; our duty is to maintain the boundaries of cosmic entropy increase and delay the arrival of ultimate heat death."
Within the vast will, scenes of the universe's birth, with chaotic energy raging and spacetime structures unstable, emerged, with the Titan race, like cold giants, using their supreme power to sort energy and stabilize laws.
"However, the Great Old Ones... are the remnants of chaos, accelerators of entropy increase; they were born from the void before the universe's birth, an eternal erosion of nothingness against existence."
"Their very existence is pollution, is chaos, is... the ultimate blasphemy against our duty!"
The will flowed, revealing terrifying scenes of the Great Old Ones twisting spacetime, polluting galaxies, and transforming vibrant universes into places of insane corruption.
Countless gigantic figures flashed through, their power forming a stark and terrifying contrast to the orderly might displayed by the Titan race.
"We have waged war against them throughout the river of time; purification is the only means, stripping away pollution, annihilating chaos, and maintaining the integrity of the Wall of Order."
"This is... the meaning of our existence."
The will was cold and firm, without a hint of mercy, only absolute maintenance of ultimate cosmic order.
As the will of the war against the Great Old Ones was displayed, the scene abruptly shifted.
Mark's pupils suddenly contracted!
His heart felt as if gripped by a cold, giant hand!
Deep within this vast sea of energy, in a relatively calm area, countless energy chains, condensed from pure Titan will and shimmering, intertwined like a net of heaven and earth, firmly binding a tiny humanoid figure.
It was Nolan Grayson!
His body floated in the void, eyes tightly closed, as if in a deep sleep.
But Mark could clearly feel a vast, suffocatingly immense, and utterly chaotic Great Old Ones' corrupting energy being forcibly injected, compressed, and imprisoned within his body by those cold energy chains!
Nolan's body was like a vessel forcibly stretched, with dark, writhing patterns similar to Great Old Ones' remnants appearing on his surface, emanating an aura of pain and madness.
He was no longer the powerful Viltrum Warrior, but a living cage carrying cosmic-level horror!
"Father—!!!"
Mark's soul roared silently, his molten golden eyes instantly ignited with endless rage and pain, his body instinctively wanting to rush over!
"Foolish!"
Trigg's mental shriek, like an ice pick, pierced into Mark's mind, forcibly holding him back.
Trigg also saw Nolan; his eyes were filled with shock and a hint of... bone-chilling dread at the Titan race's methods, but he understood the situation faster than Mark.
The moment Mark erupted, a cold will, like a freezing current that froze spacetime, descended instantly.
"This individual has been deeply corrupted; his spiritual imprint resonates with the source of the Great Old Ones, becoming a natural vessel for the Great Old Ones' power in the material universe."
The will pointed to Nolan.
"Stripping away his corruption would cost the annihilation of his cosmic coordinates along with his existence; the efficiency... is low."
The vast will subtly fluctuated, and the scene shifted again—this time, to countless planets and galaxies polluted by the Great Old Ones' power, like festering sores on the universe's skin, scattered and innumerable.
"The optimal solution is to concentrate all scattered Great Old Ones' corrupting energy here, attracted through the vessel's beacon characteristic."
The will locked onto the painfully struggling Nolan.
"Gather, compress, and here... perform the final purification."
"A one-time, complete eradication of the source of the Great Old Ones' corruption."
There was no emotion in the will, only cold logic and efficiency calculations.
"What will happen... with the purification?"
Mark forcibly suppressed his boiling anger and fear, using all his will to transmit this question.
The vast will seemed to pause for a moment, as if contemplating how to explain the destruction of stars to an ant.
"The energy level released by the purification process... is equivalent to a cosmic singularity-level explosion; its affected range... will cover ninety-seven point three six percent... of the currently observable universe's radius... centered here."
Cold data was directly imprinted deep within his soul.
"Upon completion of purification, the Great Old Ones' corruption will be eradicated, and the cosmic order's entropy increase rate... will return to a controllable threshold; this is... a necessary sacrifice."
Ninety-seven point three six percent of the observable universe!
Including Earth! Including the Solar System! Including the Planetary Alliance! Including all known and unknown intelligent life!
Everything, absolutely everything, would be reduced to nothing in the light of this final purification!
The Titan race was not evil.
They were the guardians of cosmic order, performing their duties with absolute rationality.
But in their logic, to eradicate corruption and maintain the health of the universe, sacrificing almost all cells within the universe was a necessary and efficient price!
Mark felt as if struck by lightning, his body cold and stiff.
His molten golden eyes stared fixedly at his suffering father within the energy chains, then looked at the indifferently flowing sea of energy.
Save his father?
At the cost of all life in the entire universe?
Stop the purification? Allow the Great Old Ones' corruption to spread, ultimately possibly leading to the collapse of the universe?
Trigg's face was also extremely grim.
All his calculations, ambitions, and pursuit of power seemed so ridiculous and insignificant in the face of this cosmic-level cold logic.
The resurgence of Viltrum?
Meaningless in the face of cosmic-scale purification.
The cold Titan will sounded again, like a final judgment.
"Low-level lifeforms, your appearance... is a variable."
"But... it is irrelevant; the purification process... has been initiated, the vessel's gravitational field... is strengthening, the final countdown... is irreversible."
As the will fell, the energy chains binding Nolan glowed brightly!
More and stickier dark energy seemed to be torn and gathered from various corners of the universe by an invisible force, like a black torrent, frantically pouring into Nolan's body.
Nolan's body convulsed violently, the dark patterns on his surface writhing and expanding like living things, his tightly closed eyes seemed about to open, revealing endless pain and... a glimmer of light about to be completely devoured!
At the same time, the energy flow throughout the Titan Sanctuary became more intense and orderly, and an indescribable, terrifying pressure, as if to end everything, was slowly condensing deep within this sea of energy.
Mark stood on the precipice of the universe's ultimate fate; ahead was the purgatory of his father being used as a sacrifice, and behind him was his home galaxy, about to turn to dust.
In Trigg's unfathomable eyes, there was only pallor and bewilderment in the face of absolute power.
Despair, like a cold tide, instantly engulfed both of them.
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