Chapter 1801: Dangerous Games Primordial Life sat in the heart of his domain, covered by fleshy tendrils from the roots of his Tree of Life, as they purged the annihilation from his body. Oceans of decaying blood poured from his body, but he had the life force to heal any wound given enough time. Among the Primordials, he was the one who was capable of enduring injuries that should have required him to spend Origin Force, instead of doing so, he just used his concept to cleanse himself. A large wound was on his chest, exposing his beating heart, and the flesh surrounding the wound was filled with countless roots smaller than the silk of a spider, each root injecting enough life force to enrich a dimension. His flesh around the wound bubbled and hissed as if filled with acid, causing a large amount of black blood to pour from it. Reaching out, Primordial Life cupped some of the black liquid in his palm and brought it to his face. The flesh of his palm began to hiss and emit smoke as if the liquid was corroding his hand, but in the eyes of Primordial Life, there was only fascination. He was Life, but he loved Death. Bringing the liquid to his mouth, a long red tongue emerged like a snake and flicked over it, before Primordial Life threw back his head and drank it. As the liquid entered his mouth and poured down his throat, it corroded his tongue and opened holes in his throat before pouring out of the open hole in his chest. Primordial Life closed his eyes in concentration as if he was trying to grasp something elusive, but in the end, he grunted with frustration and sat back, allowing his Tree of Life to finish his healing. It was a rare thing for a Primordial to come across such high-level concepts inside a Reality that was outside their domain. Rowan had struck him with the power to erase life, and it had broken past his defenses like it was nothing. Primordial Life should have been more upset, but he was not; he had felt the death cries of two other Primordials, Chaos and Demon, making him finally acknowledge the truth that Nyxara had told him: Rowan was the key out of this endless circle. Vorthas was the Primordial of Life, and he had embodied that concept for countless Eras. Every time they had the chance to feed on a Reality, he could only collect the Origin of Life as his core. Like a beggar starving at a feast, Primordial Life could recognize all the myriad possibilities before him; he could touch them, manipulate them with relative ease, but he could never own them, never make them a part of his being... the Primordials were perfect but broken. Their perfection made them supreme, yet this perfection denied them growth and change. Vorthas was condemned to spend all eternity embodying the Origin of Life, but he hated this concept with a depth that most would never understand. All Primordials hated their Origin Force. It was their curse. For all eternity, Vorthas had begun to gradually abandon the idea that he could ever be able to embody any other Origin except Life, but Nyxara, once Primordial Soul, had shaken the foundation of their existence and became Primordial Imagination. If she were to leave this Reality and be absorbed by her main body, a new path forward would be open for Nyxara, and she would truly become the ruler of them all. Vorthas had kept her secret from the rest, and the price of doing so was for her to reveal the methods she had used, and the memory of their conversation still lingered in his consciousness. "I have kept your secret, Nyxara. Your transformation was aided by my hand. My tree brought the sapling of Arbor Mentis to this Reality, and your dreams are now truth. Still, you hold back from finishing the end of our Agreement." "Patience Vorthas, I cannot give you what I don’t have. I can only show you the path to follow; the rest depends on your efforts." "My efforts? How could I make any headway when I have spent the diminishing Era in this Reality pursuing your agenda?" "I recognize your effort, Vorthas, but be patient. I cannot show you the truth except you see and feel it for yourself. He will come to the Arena, and he will bring my head alongside Chaos’s own." Primordial Life had remembered how stunned he was by this revelation, "How is he able to do this? You have broken his path forward, and even if he could regain his Inheritance as a Reality, his Origin should be passive; he should find warriors inside him to become his champion, not the other way round." "Vorthas, if I can become Imagination, why do you still choose to remain fixed on a constant that I have already conquered? He would kill Chaos and Soul because I was the one who gave him the tools, and when I want, I can take them back from him." "Would you share these tools with me?" Vorthas asked, greed dripping from his tone as he made no attempt to disguise it, the silence from Nyxara was all the answer he knew he would get. "The important point here is not the tools I gave him," Nyxara pointed out, "it would be the fact that Primordial Demon and the rest would see my head and that of Chaos and believe that Rowan was able to win because he used a trick." Vorthas’ eyes had shone with recognition as he began to see the pattern beneath the chaos, and he grinned, "Xylos would believe that Rowan was able to kill them because he has a way to harness the power of Oblivion. Our arrangement with the Great Desert has left him weakened, and we all know he is greatly connected with Oblivion as he craves to devour your secret. Xylos must have expected Rowan to have used Chaos’s greed to draw him to his doom, and killing you must be easy because of your imprisonment inside Oblivion. If he knows this, he would not flee; instead, he would fight." "Indeed, Vorthas, for my plan to work, and your dreams to be realized, we must kill the rest without staining our hands, and Rowan would be the tools we shall use. Our main bodies outside Reality must not know of our plan, or it would never be permitted. Remember, I used Time as a scapegoat to test their responses, and you can see the result of that experiment." Vorthas remained silent as he deliberated on the mad plans of Primordial Imagination. The moves they were making here were minor, but they would ripple across all existence if everything went according to plan. The greatest barrier to their ascension and transformation would be the other Primordials, who would not want them to gain such an impossible advantage, because the truth was simple. If any Primordial unlocked the secret of embodying multiple Origin Force, then the next logical step would be to consume the other Primordials. He was only accepting working with Nyxara because he knew she had not yet perfected the formula for transformation. He would rather risk learning about this method from her so he could have a chance to compete against her in the future, or another Primordial would take his place. Nyxara wanted his powers because they aligned with the Origin Force she was pursuing, but he knew that if he were stubborn, she would pick another Primordial to work with. This was a gamble between them; if he were able to learn and adapt more quickly than she, then the Primordial who would claim the throne of eternity would be him. Eosah had shown them the road past Origin, but as the Primordials had found out, entering that gate required powers beyond anything their bodies were capable of, and they would have to drastically evolve to pass through it, but how could you evolve perfection? This Reality was broken and would end, meaning they did not have forever to find these answers. If Eosah were utterly destroyed, there might not be another chance for them to see this gate. Finding a Reality outside the Cradle of Enoch was extremely difficult, and this Reality was especially special because it also harbored another nascent Reality growing within it. For such a thing to happen was incredibly rare, if not impossible. Still, the Primordials had lived long enough that even events that were highly unlikely, bordering on impossible, would later occur, given enough time. So Vorthas had to play a deadly game with a partner he could not trust, all in the slight chance that he would be able to win. Finally, he had sighed, "After they are all dead, Time, Memory, and Light, what is the next step forward for me?" Primordial Imagination had smiled, "Then, like me, he shall kill you."