The forest was silent. Even the wind seemed hesitant, brushing past the trees with a nervous whisper. Rayon walked forward, slow and deliberate, the Black Primordial's presence radiating like a pulse through the air. Vorthalaxis, now partially merged with Rayon's subconscious, wrapped around his arm, its black markings shimmering faintly in sync with his essence. Erethon hovered nearby, unseen by anyone else, his form leaning casually against a tree but his gaze sharp as ever.
"Erethon," Rayon murmured, glancing at him. "After a primordial dies… what happens? Really."
Erethon's voice was low, almost conversational, but it carried weight. "It depends on how it dies, and who ends it. If the primordial is killed directly by a being capable of killing it, the entirety of its essence—the authority, the powers, the influence it wields—transfers to the killer. You've already done this with Oblivion."
Rayon tilted his head, thinking. The aftermath of that battle lingered in his mind: the way Oblivion's presence collapsed and reshaped itself into something entirely his own. The Black Resonance that flowed through him now felt heavier, older, sharper. A subtle vibration ran through him as if the universe itself was acknowledging the shift.
Erethon continued. "If a primordial dies through any other means… natural decay, entropy, or some force incapable of wielding it… its essence disperses. Fragmented. Dissipated. And in that dispersion, the universe itself seeks to restore balance. A new primordial could emerge, born from the scattered remains."
Rayon's gaze hardened. "So there won't be a next Oblivion?"
"No. Not for now. Its essence is yours. Every law it enforced, every authority it held, every power it commanded—now belongs to you. That ripple you feel," Erethon's eyes glinted in the fading light, "that is the universe noticing. The strongest beings across all planes, across all existence, feel it. They know a primordial has died. They know Oblivion is gone… and they are alarmed."
Rayon paused mid-step. His hand went instinctively to the timeless hourglass bound to him. The artifact had changed. Its sand shimmered darker than before, threads of black and violet swirling in slow motion, as if aware that its master had ascended beyond the mortal scope. One use a day, but now… it pulsed with a strange resonance, tied to Rayon's new form, his full authority. He could feel its intention, almost as if it were aware of the universe's new imbalance.
"A ripple," Rayon muttered, staring at the artifact, "and yet, the balance is mine to guide." He flipped it over in his hand, watching the grains fall in reverse for a fraction of a second before the artifact reset itself. Even in this primordial state, he could still cheat death once per day. Once per day, the universe would bend for him—but it could be more than that, eventually.
The faint tremor beneath his feet wasn't the forest settling. It was the echo of Oblivion's demise, stretching outward, brushing against the other seals, the other vessels, the ancient figures, and… something far beyond.
Erethon's voice broke through, sharp and almost amused. "Prepare yourself, Black Primordial. They already know."
Rayon exhaled slowly, letting his awareness sweep across the continent, across the seas, and beyond. Every force, every being of strength, would be looking now. From the awakened circles to ancient forsakens, to beings far older than anyone could comprehend, the death of a primordial was not subtle. It was a loud announcement to the universe: the balance had shifted.
And somewhere, far beyond the reaches of any known plane, the universe itself seemed to tremble.
A deep, oppressive darkness. No stars. No light. Only silence, broken by the faint echo of chains rattling. They rang across a cavern larger than any forest, iron links scraping against stone as if shaking in warning. A figure stirred within the shadows, a presence that carried weight like the air before a storm.
A low, deliberate voice echoed through the cavern. "A primordial… has died, huh?"
It was calm, almost indifferent, yet the tone held authority, history, and a subtle curiosity. "Interesting."
Rayon didn't hear it—not yet—but the ripple of that voice touched the edges of reality, a resonance so old it vibrated through the very Black Resonance he had just absorbed. He tightened his grip on the hourglass, feeling its power thrum as if warning him of what was to come.
Erethon chuckled softly behind him. "And now, we wait. The universe is shifting, Black Primordial. And everyone… everyone will look for you."
Rayon tilted his head, dark eyes narrowing. "Good. Let them come."
And with that, the forest exhaled. The air carried the weight of a universe on the verge of chaos. The ripple was spreading—and far, far away, in a place untouched by sunlight for centuries, a new game was beginning.