Chapter 4167: Heavy Weight! II

The question carried genuine interest rather than threat.

This Corpse of the Early Creature was something that had existed since the Earliest Folds, that had witnessed the birth of concepts and the death of impossibilities, and it was genuinely curious about this ragged paradox floating before it.

Schrodinger nodded with appreciation for the question. "How could I not have known the power of an Early Creature? I am not like these children who actually think of utilizing a corpse of something as grand as you without considering the repercussions."

He paused, ensuring his next words carried their full weight.

"Or the fact that even if an Early Creature dies, it is never truly dead."

The corpse’s laugh shook the cathedral of mirrors, a sound that suggested mountains finding humor in avalanches.

It moved then, its massive body stretching with movements that should have been impossible for something dead. As it moved, power began radiating from it...not the careful, controlled authority that Duke-level existences wielded, but raw complexity that simply was.

The measurement was staggering. It had been recovering while playing dead, and its power had climbed above single-digit quadrillions!

More terrifying still, it was recovering by trillions of complexity with every passing moment, each moment making it exponentially more dangerous than the last.

"Living Existences and Fold Dwellers," the corpse mused, its voice carrying the particular tone of an elder discussing children who thought themselves adults.

"During my time, most I met were always fearful, scurrying about, never letting their existences feel even a moment of superiority before me."

Its massive head turned to focus more fully on Schrodinger.

"And yet you... why is it that you seem to know many things that others do not, and yet you still stand before me fearlessly?"

...!

The question wasn’t threat but genuine curiosity. This Early Creature, ancient beyond measure, powerful beyond comprehension, wanted to understand what made this paradox different from the countless beings who had trembled before it across eons.

Schrodinger’s smile widened with genuine pleasure.

"I always did like how Early Creatures were straightforward and got to the point. It saves so much explanation and wasting of time."

Then, with the casual motion of someone reaching for a handkerchief, he pulled something from the impossible spaces where paradoxes kept things that shouldn’t exist.

A leaf.

Simple. White. Unremarkable in every way except for how reality itself seemed to recoil from it.

The moment it appeared, the corpse of the Early Creature- which had been stretching and expressing its terrifying power with the confidence of something that had never met its equal, stumbled.

Its massive body, which could have crushed Folds through sheer presence, fell onto the obsidian paradoxical mirrors below.

BOOM!

The impact sent cracks racing through dimensions, but neither Schrodinger nor the corpse paid attention to the structural damage.

The Early Creature’s eyes blazed with shock that transcended surprise and entered the realm of primal recognition.

It looked at the leaf with the kind of horror reserved for things that shouldn’t exist but did anyway.

Schrodinger floated down with unhurried grace, positioning himself above the weakened corpse like a conqueror above the conquered!

The image was absurd...his small, ragged form hovering over something that could have been mistaken for a fallen mountain range. Yet somehow, he was clearly the one in control.

His eyes, usually dancing with paradoxical amusement, had gone cold and hard as winter stars.

"What tribe were you from in the Earliest Folds?"

The question carried weight that made even asking it feel like violence.

The corpse trembled, actually trembled...before responding with unwillingness mixed with fear that Early Creatures weren’t supposed to be capable of feeling.

"The Blue River Tribe," it said, then added with formal precision that suggested old habits, "I was known as Gargantos, born from the third spawning of the earliest waters of THE Creature."

Its massive eyes fixed on the leaf with recognition that went beyond memory into racial knowledge.

"Where...did you get that?"

The question emerged as barely more than a whisper, which from something that size still shook the mirrors.

Schrodinger maintained his cold gaze, the leaf rotating slowly in his grip as if he were examining it for the first time despite clearly knowing exactly what it was.

"It matters not where I get the things I have. What matters is my order being followed."

He leaned forward slightly, and though the size difference was laughable, it was clearly Gargantos who felt small.

"There is much to be done, and not many of us are truly doing anything crucial. As I said, what I need from you is to open multiple tears to allow The Dead to be more concentrated in the Transcendent Origin Folds. There is something I need in the Heart of Origin. To get it, some existences might have to die."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"But the deaths of a few will be nothing on the grand scale, as they will in turn save countless others."

The leaf pulsed once with light that suggested endings more final than death.

"Are things understood, O Early Creature? If you know what I have in my hands, then you know I can put you in a state of perpetual cessation...where you’re neither alive nor dead. Though given you can be considered part of The Dead, I suppose I could take even that away from you."

The casual cruelty of the suggestion...removing death from something already dead, transcended normal threatens into something that made paradox itself uncomfortable.

"What will it be?"

Gargantos trembled, its massive form creating waves through the paradoxical space.

When Schrodinger finally put the leaf away...tucking it back into spaces that shouldn’t exist, strength began returning to the Early Creature’s form. But it was strength tempered by understanding of its position.

"Who are you?" Gargantos asked, the question carrying weight that suggested it was asking about more than identity.

Schrodinger shook his head with something that might have been disappointment.

"It matters not who I am, only what my legacy will be at the end of all this. Whether I will stand as nothing but ash like countless others, or potentially as someone who used the power he has to save countless more."

The corpse heard these words with confusion that made its massive features scrunch...an expression that would have been comical if it weren’t happening on something that could unmake existence through irritation.

"That... doesn’t make sense," it said, but then shook its massive head as if clearing thoughts that had gotten tangled. "But fine. The Veil shall be thinned even more in the Transcendent Origin Folds. Can you tell me exactly where you want me to concentrate my aura?"

The capitulation was complete, absolute, and somehow more terrifying than resistance would have been.

This Early Creature, this thing that had existed since before existence knew what it was, had been brought to heel by a leaf and the knowledge of what that leaf represented.

Schrodinger began specifying locations with the precision of someone who had planned this conversation before the participants were born.

He spoke of dimensional coordinates that shouldn’t have names, of weaknesses in The Veil that only something already dead could properly exploit.

Through all of this, Duke Diviticus remained frozen in her cocoon of paradox, suspended between states while others discussed her fate and the fate of countless beings!

She who had thought herself the master, the controller, the one who had claimed power over death itself, hung there unaware that she had never been more than convenient camouflage for a game being played on scales she couldn’t perceive.

It put into perspective how one might never truly know, in any relationship, whether they were the master or the servant. Whether they were the player or the piece. Whether they were writing the story or simply being written into someone else’s narrative.

The paradoxical mirrors reflected this truth endlessly...showing Diviticus as master in some reflections, servant in others, and in most, simply absent, as if she had never mattered to the real conversation at all!

Oh!

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