Chapter 312: Chapter 312
He stepped inside in an instant, his battle lust and questioning already filling his chest, and roared towards that realm now saturated with the familiar aura of Destruction, a cry that shook the very void:
"Nanook! You arrogant fool! I ask you, why does a bird fly!!!"
...
Meanwhile, in the deep space far from the Amphoreus star system, within the main force of the Antimatter Legion, nearly a trillion strong, under Celenova’s command.
A resonance between wills occurred.
As if the stars themselves lowered their gaze, the consciousness of countless agents of Destruction was drawn forth and converged by an invisible force.
At the very core of the Legion’s collective will, the power of Harmony, which should have lain dormant, flickered for an instant, like a sleeping volcano forcibly awakened.
She—Celenova—slowly opened her eyes. In that moment of opening, her gaze displayed an unprecedented clarity, starry pupils that seemed to reflect the entire sea of stars.
Yet this unusual clarity lasted less than an instant before it was ruthlessly overridden and eroded by a more familiar, more savage power—the flames of Destruction igniting from the depths of her pupils, spreading rapidly, eventually burning away that brief moment of lucidity completely, leaving only the hollow, cold embers of Destruction.
The Lord Ravager—Celenova—was back online.
Haah.
A faint, almost imperceptible exhale, as if expelling some discomfort.
Celenova subconsciously raised a hand, gently touching her own cheek. A strange sense of irritability, like a faint electric current, flickered within her heart, which should have contained nothing but the will to destroy.
Why was she irritable? As the incarnation and commander of the vast destructive collective will that was the Antimatter Legion, her existence should be utterly pure, devoid of any extraneous emotions beyond carrying out the mission of Destruction bestowed by Nanook.
This irritability was an anomaly, a flaw.
But soon, like icy floodwaters extinguishing isolated sparks, that thread of unusual emotional fluctuation gradually calmed and stabilized under the scouring of the Legion’s endless destructive consciousness—or rather, it was burned away, assimilated, and completely devoured by the vaster, purer will of Destruction.
Her eyes closed again. When they reopened, there was no longer a trace of personal emotion within them, only the absolute cold of a cosmic winter.
That feeling of viewing civilizations as weeds, life as dust, sworn to return all to Destruction, once again enveloped her being like a tangible force.
It was the collective will of the Antimatter Legion, the irrevocable decree of the Aeon Nanook.
The colossal, nearly trillion-strong Antimatter Legion, like an awakened world-ending beast, adjusted its course and continued its advance towards the coordinates of Amphoreus with an even more resolute posture.
This time, her goal was clear and unwavering.
The Emanator of Harmony. The collective will.
She would find this Asterion. Not only would she destroy his body and will, but she would also make him fall into a fate similar to hers—
To completely distort and corrupt every collective he represented, ultimately, to transform him into a part of the torrent of Destruction, to become, alongside her, an incarnation of collective Destruction, sowing finality.
...
Nanook’s colossal form stood silently at the heart of the Pathspace.
His gaze fell with an almost appreciative destructive scrutiny upon the tiny figure—Phainon—who was recklessly burning himself, venting pure hatred and the desire for Destruction towards Him.
Destroy, destroy. Destroy fate, destroy the Paths, destroy the exalted gods, destroy everything within sight.
Even if this raging fire of destruction and hatred ultimately consumes himself and all surrounding existence, never stop.
Similar. Too similar. The soul of this insignificant being burning at this moment, its desperate posture, how similar it was to His own.
Shhh.
The blazing golden flames rising from Phainon, their scorching tips even licked at Nanook’s cheek, which was composed of pure Destruction concept.
Was this pain?
No, to Nanook, this feeling was not pain, but Destruction.
It was the crackling of kindling thrown into raging flames.
Golden blood burned, the essence of life sublimated, the purity of hatred was refined.
His Destruction, his Hatred, his body. Everything needed for the destruction of all was ready. Phainon’s actions were not meaningless, because Nanook knew in the future, the last Path in this universe that needed to be destroyed would be Destruction itself.
Yet, just at the moment when this canvas of destruction, which Nanook found infinitely satisfying and nearly perfect, was about to complete itself.
Something heterogeneous, like clear water quietly seeping into thick ink, infiltrated.
What was that?
This newly infiltrated element. What was it?
It felt like birth. Hope. Resistance. Or light.
Impossible to define precisely. Vague and unclear.
So weak, so unstable, yet it evoked an instinctive disgust in Him.
This weak thing was growing, this unstable thing was sublimating.
Dislike.
Nanook’s will focused. He wanted to destroy this budding path, to deny everything about this heresy.
Clang.
A grand bell toll, not originating from physical collision, but directly vibrating through the very laws of the universe, resounded with force.
This sound was like declaring to the entire universe the birth of an undeniable fact.
Under the pressure and refinement of this ultimate destructive environment, that originally dim newborn light did not extinguish, but instead grew even more radiant.
That newborn path, that vague path, that unstable path.
It had actually negated a part of Destruction.
...
Nanoooook.
A roar tore through the silence of Destruction as Phaethon’s figure forcefully burst into this Pathspace, the Dawnmaker in his hand blazing.
He stared directly at the unchanging god of Destruction, venting his discontent with a roar.
I ask you. Why does a bird fly.
Before the words faded,
Clang.
The World-Saving Dawn in his right hand, already charged with the will of countless beings, transformed into a radiant streak of light piercing the void, fiercely slashing towards Nanook’s impassive right cheek.
Completely different from the minor wounds Phainon had left earlier with all his might, which healed swiftly.
Shhh.
A clear, narrow scar, like a brand, was etched onto Nanook’s face, formed from Destruction concept itself.
Even more strange, no blood of any kind flowed from this wound.
This attack did not harm Nanook’s body with pure Destruction. Instead, using the power of his own still vague, yet already born, nascent Path prototype, Phaethon had directly wounded the very Path of Destruction itself.
