"BOOM!!!"

The impact of the meteors against the shield was apocalyptic. The leading spearhead meteor, a mountain-sized spear of crimson and black, hit the shield first.

For a fraction of a second, it seemed it would punch through. The shield dimmed at the point of contact, the interwoven golden light compressing like a bruise. Then the meteor simply... stopped.

An arcane chant that resembled the songs of Angels emerged from the shield, and the meteor that was the size of a mountain was simply… unmade.

If this process had been slowed down, it would have been possible to see the crimson surface of the meteor flare once, then fold inward into itself, layers peeling away into threads of violet plasma that spiraled back toward the crack they had come from.

The smaller meteors followed in the same fate, each one meeting the shield and simply ceasing to be, their momentum, their heat, their very existence absorbed and returned to nothing.

All of these meteors had life and intelligence, and in their final moments, their screams of pain resounded for trillions of light-years, but even these ungodly cries were sucked into the power of erasure, and it was dissipated.

The barrage continued for what felt like hours.

Meteor after meteor hammered the shield, each impact sending ripples of light cascading across the golden surface like waves on a pond of molten sunlight. The shield never cracked. It flexed. It sang like a vast choir of Angels. It drank the violence and spat it back as soft, warm radiance that bathed the realms below in gentle dawn.

Inside the central realm, beings of every kind stood on towers of living crystal and watched the sky burn white. They had never seen power like this before, as seeing the power of Origin wielded in this manner broke the shackles in the minds of many mortals and immortals who witnessed this sight.

At this time, it was impossible not to know that a war was coming, and most believed that it would happen in the future. The unexpected arrival of the meteors had shaken the fate of many here, but the sublime defenses of their realm gave them confidence and assurance.

There was a reason in all of Existence that creation and all that was good could be found here, and it was because they had a ruler whose hands were powerful enough to hold the heavens above, even if it collapses.

The Primordial of Victorious Genesis, still wearing the body of a child and refusing to give himself a name despite the insistence of his mother and father, looked at the heavens above and laughed, his voice resounding all through the Prime Axis.

"Look at those smelly backstabbers, they come for our light, but they shall not pass." His boyish tone was high, and yet the power in it was undeniable, and even as his voice resounded through the air, what astonished all life inside the Prime Axis was an ancient voice that replied to the boy, powerful and majestic beyond reason, and it belonged to Eos.

"Indeed," Eos said, "They shall not pass."

His voice drew a resounding cheer across all life in the Prime Axis, even the trees and stones rejoiced from hearing it. For most, this was a glory they may never have again in their lifetime, to hear the voice of the Creator and protector of all life.

The crack above the Origin Realms began to close almost reluctantly, almost as if the one who sent the attack could not believe that it could be dispelled so easily, and the last meteor, a small, vicious thing trailing violet lightning, struck the shield one final time and vanished without a sound.

The shield held for a long moment longer, as though making sure the threat was truly gone, then it gently faded away, accompanied by the humming of angelic voices.

®

Inside the realm created by Eos, Noctis took a step back when he saw the rage in the eyes of Eos. He wanted to run, but he knew that this was useless. A sense of helplessness flooded through his body, but when he realized what this attack meant for Eos, he realized that there was still a chance that he could bend the situation in his favor.

"My realms still remain unbroken, Noctis, despite the efforts from the Temple of End," Eos suddenly said, and Noctis shuddered.

"You know," Noctis whispered.

Eos shrugged, "It was pretty obvious, Noctis. Not many powers inside of Existence are able to call upon a Primordial-level barrage against my Origin Realms. The risk for them is too great, but there is one party who could easily do this."

Noctis smiled, "There is a reason that I like working with you, Eos. You make everything simpler. Yes, that barrage was a warning to you and not our entire might. You have a terrible war in front of you, and you do not want to be distracted by a party that is not bound by your Agreement. Your enemies are not fool Eos. Now they know there is a new player in this fight, unbounded by the Agreement, and they would be searching for the Temple for its aid. Eos, we give our help freely, but you cannot keep denying us for long."

Eos bowed his head in thought, and Noctis, seeing his silence, figured that he was slowly penetrating the thick skull of this man, and he struck when the nail was hot,

"The battle against you is difficult, and it is unknown if you would be the final winner, but what I am about to say is the truth, and you and I know that is the case. If you do not work with the Temple of End, you will lose this fight."

Eos slowly raised his head up, "You know what I have been thinking about these last few moments, Noctis?" Not waiting for him to reply, Eos continued, "I was thinking about the fact that the Temple of End should be located outside of Reality, but their strikes against my Origin Realms were too precise. You have been dead even before I entered this realm, and I resurrected you in a place where your perception cannot reach any of the realms, so how has the Temple been able to acquire such precise tracking details?"

Eos smiled, "You are not the only Architect I have in my ranks."

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