CG Chapter 123: The Chronicles
A man stood all alone as he faced the seven gods, seven entities so far beyond him that he couldn't even grasp the strength of the weakest one amongst them.
Yet, here he was, unwavering, even when things seemed utterly hopeless.
Under the bone-crushing weight of the giant palm, Tom remained unfazed. And with a subtle grin, as if this moment was what he had long been waiting for, he started to chant, just like Bon Vincent did previously.
But unlike Von Vincent, he wasn't chanting toward the gods, greater beings, or any other entity. Instead, he was chanting toward the only person he had relied on until now and the only person he would continue to rely on until the end of his journey.
It is an undeniable truth that one's belief in others was always limited, no matter how high it reaches.
Even the belief of a child in his mother wasn't absolute, nor should it be. But if there was a single person in whom you could put your blind faith in, it would be none other than yourself.
And so, Tom chanted, not to any god or being, but to himself.
A boundless belief in his own will. A faith that he alone was worthy of his unwavering trust.
His voice was low and subtle at first, but as he continued to chant, it began to grow louder and louder.
With each word, the crushing weight of the palm grew weaker, transforming from the pressure of the void into something weightless, like the weight of a passing cloud that had no impact on him.
"The Traveler who walks past all that is mundane.
The Devourer of countless worlds.
The Defiler of all, the Traitor of Time.
The Ruler of the Last Throne, carved in Chaos.
Aretius, the Vile, I praise your wicked heart.
Your servant calls to thee, grant me the might to defile this world in your unholy name."
A chant might mean nothing but meaningless words to many. But it also could mean everything to another.
Regardless, no matter your beliefs, the words of a chant should never, ever be taken carelessly, because these meaningless words carried not only the faith of the person who was saying them, but also a glimpse of the future that being would turn into if the chant became true.
And from that moment, Thomas Blackwood, the weak mortal, ceased to be. He was devoured and became one with Aretius.
Some might wonder: What difference does it make whether we call him Thomas, Aretius, or something else altogether? Names share many similarities with chants; both are carriers of meaning. A chant holds faith. A name holds identity. In some ways, they are the same. In others, they are completely different.
The best way to think of them is as two sides of a coin, one with faith in the future, and the other as the anchor to the past.
Upon completing his chant, Aretius's presence began to shift.
Around him, an aura of pressure similar to the one coming from the gods' hands started to form.
"Today I die, you say?"
"The end is now, you say?"
"A weak ant, you say?"
"It seems you are mistaken... about who is the hunter, and who is the prey."
He grinned demonically. As his grin stretched, his crimson and azure eyes seemed to bleed together, radiating a subtle purple hue.
Crack!
Finishing his sentence, the two earrings that once seemed indestructible started to crack and fracture.
In an instant, they shattered, turning to a lifeless gray color as if all of their energies had been siphoned and turned into the purple hue around him.
Feeling his new aura, the gods, despite their unimaginable strength, sensed a strange feeling of threat from the ant below.
Some refused to believe that an ant could threaten them and simply ignored him. Others decided to move quickly and finish him off, just in case, to not let him do anything strange.
However, Aretius didn't give them any chance to attack before he continued.
"With mine own name, I call upon mine records to stand as a witness. I summon thee to serve as a memory of time."
"I call upon The Chronicles of ________"
At the end of his speech, the only thing that could be heard was an ear-aching gibberish, as even the gods couldn't understand what Aretius was saying.
It was like the words that Aretius was saying weren't allowed to be spoken, and as if the entity in front of them possessed a power that surpassed even that of the Heavenly Will of Eldervale or the gods' original world.
The only thing they knew at that moment was that they must stop him. This went as far as some of them actually having the thought of escaping and leaving.
The only reason they stayed was the fear of angering their original world's Heavenly Will; otherwise, they wouldn't have come here in the first place.
Being a so-called god might seem like an almighty existence, but in truth, these titles hid the reality of them being completely tied to the whims of the Heavenly Will of their world.
If the Heavenly Will was satisfied, then they could remain ruling the world as long as it remained safe.
But if it got angry, or they got too prideful, then it could strip their divinity and their divine kingdoms just as simply as it had given them.
So, despite it being one of the easiest paths to power, many would still refuse to accept it and would try to carve out their own path to achieve a greater power that wasn't dependent on the will of another.
As Aretius's final words fell, the void began to crack further. But unlike before, what was cracking wasn't simply the realm--but the void itself.
The scene was extremely bizarre.
At that moment, the dark void looked bright in comparison with a hollow darkness that appeared inside it, and before anyone could see what was inside that darkness, an extremely giant purple string holding multiple books appeared.
The string had an odd style of writing on it, and from the multiple books it held together, only one felt real, as the others were illusory, flickering between existing and nonexistent, turning from false to true, and from true to false.
However, the existence of that single book alone was enough to scare the gods, enough to make them not care anymore about the Heavenly Will of their world.