Chapter 4283: Civilization! II

Away from Aethelgard.

In the Early Laboratories.

The Omega Lab was a cathedral of glorious silent creation!

In its heart, amidst a forest of crystalline glass and white metal, a being of impossible, terrible power stood in quiet contemplation.

This was Dr. Flamel. He was an Elderborn, an Early Creature of such profound antiquity that his very presence was a law of nature.

His power, a calm, contained ocean of three thousand Quadrillion in Complexity, was cloaked in the simple, unassuming guise of a white laboratory coat.

He was a scientist, an architect, a Creature in the clothes of a scholar!

Surrounding him, arranged in perfect, silent rows, were his creations. Hundreds of them.

Living Existential Armors, Justiciars, their pristine white forms gleaming under the soft, ambient light of the laboratory.

They were a legion of silent, sleeping weapons, each one a testament to his genius, each one a weapon of unimaginable destructive potential!

His ancient, starlit eyes, which had witnessed the birth of concepts, were fixed on his work.

"The initial production run is complete," he murmured, his voice a low, resonant hum that seemed to make the very air vibrate.

"But they are untested. We have had no time for proper field tests, no data on their performance under duress."

As he spoke, a new voice, a melody of seductive power and ancient amusement, echoed through the lab. "Why worry about field tests, my dear Doctor, when you are about to have a whole war?"

A figure floated down from the upper levels of the laboratory, a being of such breathtaking, impossible beauty that she seemed to be a living work of art.

She was an Early Creature, her form clad in a flowing, crimson chiton robe that did little to hide the dangerous grace of her every movement.

She laughed, a sound like shattering crystal and honeyed wine.

"THE Living Concept," she purred, her eyes, the color of a dying star, fixed on Flamel, "thought you were lacking in numbers. A beautiful, but ultimately insufficient, collection of soldiers for the coming contest. So... I was given a small gift to bring over. The Concept to Multiply."

As she spoke, she raised her hands. In her palms, a small, shimmering object, a thing that looked like a single, perfectly cut diamond of pure, conceptual light, pulsed with a power so immense it made the very fabric of the laboratory groan!

It was a fragment, a sliver of the authority of a Level One Scale existence!

The beautiful Early Creature, with a smile that was both a promise and a threat, released the object.

It floated towards the silent, waiting legion of Justiciars, and as it did, it released a pressure, a wave of pure, unadulterated creation so profound that even Dr. Flamel, even the other mighty Early Creatures in the lab, felt their very existences shudder, a primal, instinctual urge to fall to their knees before a power that was absolute!

The diamond of light touched the first Justiciar. And then, the multiplication began. It was not a simple act of copying. It was a bloom of creation, a violent, beautiful genesis that was both horrifying and magnificent to behold.

The few hundred armors did not become a thousand. They became a forest. Tens of thousands of them, a sea of pristine white and gleaming gold, now filled the vast expanse of the Omega Lab, their numbers a silent, terrible promise of the war to come!

A few hundred were multiplied to tens of thousands!

The vibrant Early Creature laughed again, her voice filled with a light of pure, unadulterated veneration for the power she had just wielded.

"Okay!" she exclaimed, her tone now that of a general reviewing her new army. "You have part of your legion here. Let us heed the commands of THE Living Concept and go test them out."

She paused, a flicker of something new, something almost predatory, in her starlit eyes.

"Oh, and the newest Elderborn, the one who was taken from us, the one who forged another, interesting little model... I have been instructed to bring him before The Limbs of THE Living Concept. So, let’s be on the lookout for our lost little anomaly, okay? Haha!"

Her laughter echoed through the now-crowded lab, a beautiful, terrible sound that was the overture to a new, bloody act in the grand play!

The Early Laboratories, a place of quiet, intellectual pursuit, was ready to set off.

It was a testament to a simple, terrible truth: the most profound knowledge, the greatest art, the most beautiful creations, are often just the prelude to the most efficient, most devastating forms of destruction.

A new weapon had been forged, not for the sake of power, but for the sake of an idea. And there is nothing in all of existence more dangerous than a being who believes their violence is a form of philosophy!

—

The Forges of Creation were not a place of chaotic, fiery industry, but one of quiet, profound, and terrifyingly efficient artistry!

The air hummed with a contained power, the light of captured stars casting long, dancing shadows across the black stone floors.

Here, in the inner sanctum of Aethelgard’s power, Noah was not a prisoner. He was a highly valued, highly productive, and utterly captive artist!

His work had become a steady, methodical rhythm, a silent symphony of creation he conducted from the throne of his own mind.

He had been doing this for the last hour, a bargain struck with the master of this forge.

For every Living Existential Armor he made, Forgemaster Vulcan would provide him with Loot in the very currency of concepts...glorious and magisterial Units of Everythings!

A resource he and all other beings needed, for a task that, thanks to the boundless ocean of his Mana, cost him absolutely nothing.

It was the most profitable, effortless labor he had ever undertaken.

WU!

His thirteenth was complete. A pristine, white Justiciar armor and its corresponding Core Modulator floated before him, their lines clean, brutal, and utterly without flaw.

And how could they have any possible flaws?!

A part of him, the part that was RUIN/EDEN, observed and cataloged, her voice a cool, analytical whisper in the back of his thoughts as they echoed out.

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