"An-Ki... An was the Sumerian god of the sky, and Ki was the goddess of the earth. I guess by that note, I would be An, and the Primordial Dragon Queen could be considered Ki," Atlas mused idly as he drafted the oracle for the slumbering Queen.
This time, no dwarves were atop the mountain, so he didn't have to worry about burning out their eye sockets and flaying their skin when the Oracle descended. The first time he Oracled, he wasted twenty-five Divinity because of that mess and couldn't afford to make the same mistake or spend more Divinity to tone it down.
'Selective wastage.' Atlas chuckled inwardly. 'Like selective calories.'
His fingers paused over the console. "Celeste? The female version of Celestial? That might work since she doesn't have a name yet. Or maybe Azura… Sky…"
"Do names really matter that much to you Weavers?" Wisp asked, puzzled.
"Why not? It's easier than rattling off a bunch of descriptors. 'That Bird.' 'Primordial Dragon Queen.' Names carry meaning, like Celeste for Celestial or Azura for blue."
"So… Wisp is because?"
"The orange wisps you leave behind when you fly. The color suits you, thinking about it. Helpful but also annoying- ouch."
A sharp little peck struck the side of his head.
"Anyway," Atlas coughed, rubbing the sore spot. "I need shorter names for communication. Typing out 'Primordial Dragon Queen' or 'Primordial this or that' gets tiresome. There are at least six Red Primordial Dragons. Am I supposed to just keep calling them all 'Red Primordial Dragon' with no distinction for their merits or personalities?"
Peering at the bird, he asked, "What were you called? Assistant? Or Assistant 666?"
Falling silent, Wisp chirped weakly before murmuring, "Assistant 33729…"
"That's your work number. That's not- no way. That's your real name?" Atlas frowned. "I thought you were just being professional, considering how long and how many Weavers you've worked with."
Watching Wisp, he noticed its usual lively presence had dimmed. It gazed downward, lost in realization.
'You were created and assigned a number. Nothing more. Nothing to set you apart or make you feel special. A product; a part number and an SKU.'
Strangely, and something he recognized himself, this moment struck him harder than Eleos's death and his grieving parents. Yet, the next words still felt like a struggle to say.
"I'm sorry," Atlas said softly, turning back to the console to deliver his Oracle.
A small tweet sounded near his ear, but nothing more.
------------------
Oracle (-10 Divinity)
Divinity: 122 (-10)
Message:
Celeste Regina, Celestial Queen of the Sky and the World's Summit, your continued success far exceeds my expectations. The Summit, your home, has become the nexus of this world's magic. Consider it your reward.
I have witnessed your kin's wrath and unyielding desire for vengeance against the Black Primordial Dragon who slaughtered your children, and those of your kin.
I grieve for your loss, and the losses of your kin, as I grieve for the burden I must place upon your kin once more.
You have my permission to enact your vengeance, but only after you and your kin have averted a growing disaster. A calamity that, if left unchecked, will consume this world.
Send a scouting party of Primordials to the northern landmass. The land is hostile, its fate bound to a singular tree that controls it. You will understand when you see it, for you must summon all Primordials and scorch the land.
Burn it to ashes.
Do not let the Smiling Tree of Wishes destroy the world.
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After sending the message, Atlas quickly rotated the world and marked the Primordial signatures. Around a fourth of the Primordial Dragon populace and dragons still resided on the central landmass surrounding the Summit.
Most regular dragons were spread out or in transit between locations, acting as messengers for the Primordials. Even on the eastern continent, where the Black Primordial Dragon resided, many had made their homes across the mountain range, deliberately keeping their distance.
"Strange... I can only guess that they already know," Atlas mused, perplexed by the lack of dots in or around the Smiling Tree of Wishes' landmass. Rewinding his replay to observe their dispersion following his first Oracle, he noticed that some had indeed traveled north.
At that time, the fog of war had briefly lifted, revealing glimpses of corrupted creatures and the twisted landscape. This had caused them to veer off in other directions. Spiked protrusions and sharpened bones shot up like ballista bolts, but they bounced harmlessly off Primordial scales, deepening Atlas's frown.
"This will be a massacre. The attacks couldn't hurt them."
Wisp, silent until now, finally spoke. "Why did you give them permission to enact revenge, Weaver Atlas? Doesn't this contradict your interference with the elves?"
"Yes, it does. But the circumstances aren't the same."
Atlas zoomed out and examined the spread of red energy. It was most concentrated around the Smiling Tree of Wishes, Selena, the Dark Elves, the vampiress, and a few scattered signatures elsewhere.
"My current theory is that Primordials are immune to this red magic... energy... mist..." Atlas trailed off, searching for the right term to describe it. "There are a few humans and beastkin carrying traces of it, but they've been separated from their settlements."
Atlas continued, his gaze sharpening. "So what separates the Primordials, who have been grieving and thirsting for vengeance all this time? Why didn't the Black Primordial Dragon's magic change?"
"The Primordial Gene," Wisp answered without hesitation. "That is the only separating factor."
Nodding, Atlas redirected his globe's vision back to the Summit.
"You should have advised caution, however, Weaver Atlas," Wisp said, drawing Atlas's gaze back to her with blinking confusion.
"Why? You saw the attacks. Their spikes couldn't harm—" Atlas froze. "They couldn't harm them before I changed the world's magical system..."
Wisp nodded. "The entire landmass is now corrupted, holding a higher concentration of this energy than any other location, including Selena and Myra."
"It would take a massive invasion with anything less than Primordials then..." Atlas said slowly. "Normal dragons might still stand a chance, but any other creatures? It would turn into a numbers game."
As he watched Celeste deliver the message and saw the other Primordials riling up with eager anticipation, his expression darkened.
"So... how does this compare to a Weaver War? And when do I have to start worrying about that?"
"In a way, it is similar," Wisp answered with a strict tone. "Primordials usually clash with other Primordial-level beings, while lesser creatures battle in hordes. However, common units can kill Primordials under specific conditions. 'Chosen by God' units from your console would be an example, as well as creatures who have, through their own merit, achieved their highest potential."
"As for when you need to start worrying about it..." Wisp trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.
"Yes...?"
"After the... Year 500 mark..."
"..."