Chapter 4964: The One Percent III

After he finished this lengthy discourse on the nature of probability and chaos, Abaddon looked at THE Youngest.

THE Youngest was looking at him with bright eyes.

As if this answer was exactly what he was looking for.

As if Abaddon had just walked himself into something that had been carefully constructed before this conversation even began.

Because moments later, THE Youngest seemingly became focused with intensity that exceeded everything previous. His golden flames burned brighter. His Absolute Effigy manifested visibly, massive golden fire filling the skies of Alfheimr above them.

"Then, O Primordial Chaos."

His voice carried weight that pressed against Abaddon’s very existence.

"What if there existed a one percent, unlike what we believe, that your weavings of existence have already been compromised by THE Entity? By THE Primordial Mycelia?"

The question hung in the air with implications that exceeded anything Abaddon had anticipated.

"What if you have already been infected without even knowing? That the unity THE Entity seeks has already found purchase within you? That your very confidence in your uncompromised state is itself evidence of compromise?"

THE Youngest’s golden eyes burned like twin suns.

"What if you are actually her greatest move and triumph? The most powerful piece she has claimed without anyone, including yourself, realizing it?"

His voice hardened.

"Would you do anything you could to clear and erase even this one percent? Even if it meant doing something contrary to your weavings? Even if it meant accepting help you would normally reject?"

His flames pressed against Abaddon’s chaos with intent that exceeded mere presence.

"Even if it meant taking in my Infinities?"

BOOM!

Abaddon frowned.

In the surroundings, rivers of chaos began to churn with violence that exceeded their previous flowing patterns. Obsidian currents crashed against each other. Entropy spiked in ways that made reality itself uncertain about its own configuration.

What was this now?

He, Abaddon, was compromised?

His gaze became extremely heavy as he looked toward THE Youngest. The rivers of obsidian chaos around them churned with violence that reflected his internal state, currents crashing against each other with force that made reality itself uncertain about its configuration.

THE Youngest continued speaking with voice that pressed against Abaddon’s existence.

"You said it yourself."

Golden flames burned brighter around the young Absolute’s form.

"A percent chance is still a percent chance. The one percent is not less real than the ninety-nine percent. The improbable is not impossible. The unlikely is not avoidable. And the one percent that seems negligible today may be the guaranteed outcome."

THE Youngest’s eyes held no mockery. No triumph at using Abaddon’s own philosophy against him. Only the cold calculation of someone presenting a logical conclusion that could not be easily dismissed.

"The one percent must be erased, or it may be guaranteed to happen."

He paused, letting those words settle like stones into still water.

"I believe with a high degree of certainty that THE Primordial Mycelia has taken purchase within your existence. But due to your nature, due to the vastness and complexity of your Chaos, she is doing everything she can not to reveal it."

His voice hardened.

"Until her hooks are irreversible within you. They are not irreversible yet. And my Infinities are things that THE Primordial Mycelia cannot touch. If you allow my Infinities to flow inside you, I can scorch any weavings of infection and purify completely. I can take care of that one percent."

THE Youngest’s golden flames pressed against Abaddon’s obsidian chaos with intent that exceeded mere presence.

"Which I remind you, your own philosophy says that as unlikely as it is, sometimes it is the only path."

...!

Abaddon looked at THE Youngest with a complex gaze.

Inside of him, his Civilization burned as he cycled ancient and Primordial Chaos that others could not even fathom. He dove deep into the foundations of what he was, searching through currents that had existed since before THE First Cause, examining every aspect of his existence for signs of infection or compromise.

And he found nothing.

He only found his glorious, unmitigated Chaos.

Rivers of entropy flowing in patterns that only he could perceive. Probability spaces that bent and shifted according to his will. The raw potential from which all differentiation had originally emerged, pure and untouched and entirely his own.

But THE Youngest would also not say foolish things for the sake of saying foolish things.

When it came to this infection, when it came to THE Primordial Mycelia and the unity she sought to impose upon all of existence, the Infinities of THE Youngest were one of the only solutions that actually worked.

So the offer was genuine.

The methodology was sound.

The logic was impeccable.

But just like THE Youngest and THE Creature had their pride and arrogance, Abaddon’s was even grander.

He was THE Primordial Chaos.

He had existed since before THE Infinite Unfurling gave shape to Observable Existence. His chaos witnessed the birth of differentiation itself, had been present when the first concepts separated from the formless potential that preceded them. His Chaos was fundamental to reality in ways that most beings could not comprehend.

And truly, he did not think that one percent chance THE Youngest talked about even existed.

His Chaos was too grand to be grasped by another. Too vast to be infected without his knowledge. Too fundamental to be compromised by an entity that was itself merely a product of existence rather than a shaper of it.

But again, the words of THE Youngest were not simply foolish ones.

Two things could both be true without them competing against reality.

Abaddon could be uncompromised, his Chaos pure and untouched as he believed it to be.

And THE Youngest could be correct that the possibility of compromise needed to be addressed regardless of how unlikely it seemed.

So this was a problem.

And it had to be corrected.

It seemed... that the time of staying still had come to an end.

Abaddon’s obsidian rivers began flowing in new patterns as decision crystallized within his existence. His presence expanded, his Chaos pressing outward with authority that exceeded anything he had displayed during their conversation. The backdrop of Alfheimr seemed to fade entirely as his power filled the space around them.

When he spoke, his voice carried weight that pressed against THE Youngest’s golden flames with force that made them flicker.

"I have observed the Civilizations of many Absolutes across eons uncounted."

His words emerged slow and deliberate, each one settling into existence with permanence that exceeded mere sound.

"I have seen walls built from crystallized authority and pillars forged from compressed Depths. I have witnessed foundations that spanned territories and architectures that defied the very concepts they were constructed upon."

The rivers of chaos around them stilled as he continued.

"Grand things. Impressive things. Things that made their bearers believe themselves complete."

He paused.

"But the Civilizations of Primordial Architects are not walls or pillars or foundations. They... are not things that can be observed and understood through observation."

His obsidian eyes fixed on THE Youngest with intensity that exceeded everything previous.

"They are the reasons that walls exist. The logic that permits pillars to stand. The mathematics underlying foundations themselves."

...!

"Where an Absolute builds a house, a Primordial Architect builds the concept of shelter. Where an Absolute forges a weapon, a Primordial Architect forges the principle of harm."

His voice deepened with implications that pressed against reality itself.

"Their Civilizations do not exist within existence. Existence exists within their Civilizations."

The weight of these words settled across the space between them like a verdict being delivered.

"This is why they cannot be fought as others are fought. This is why they cannot be overcome as others are overcome."

Abaddon rose to his full height, his presence filling the skies of Alfheimr with obsidian chaos that blotted out the twilight entirely.

"To defeat a Primordial Architect, one must first become something that their Civilization did not account for."

His final words emerged with conviction that exceeded mere philosophy.

"One must become impossible."

...!

Abaddon’s gaze became something ancient and terrible as he looked down at THE Youngest one final time.

"I have always strove to become impossible and do the impossible."

His Chaos began coiling around his form with intent that spoke of departure and violence in equal measure.

"This Entity. This thing that is a product of a Primordial Architect. I will face it with this same impossibility."

His eyes held no gratitude for THE Youngest’s offer. Only the determination of a being who had decided upon his path and would not be moved from it.

"Your Infinities are not needed, Youngest. My... Chaos is sufficient unto itself. If I did not believe this, would I truly be following my Way? Would I truly be...Chaos?"

...!

And with such words, THE Primordial Chaos, Abaddon, disappeared.

The obsidian rivers that had filled this region of Alfheimr vanished alongside him, the signature weavings of this Primordial Realm reasserting themselves in his absence. The twilight returned. The ancient mountains became visible once more. The forests that had stood since THE First Cause reclaimed their presence.

Everything returned to normal.

Except that THE Primordial Chaos was now moving toward confrontation with THE Primordial Mycelia.

Noah’s body here was silent.

He didn’t chase and he didn’t call out. He didn’t attempt to convince Abaddon further with words that had already proven insufficient.

Because he was always where THE Primordial Chaos was going.

He already had a body looking straight at THE Secretive Eon, the target of THE Primordial Chaos who was currently on the move. His consciousness maintained awareness across multiple locations simultaneously, observing the pieces on the board as they shifted toward collision.

"Pride," Noah said aloud to the empty space where Abaddon had stood. "It makes fools of us all eventually."

...!

He had failed in convincing THE Primordial Chaos before he even began. He knew he might. So maybe his only mistake was proceeding ahead to do this anyways.

The argument had been sound. The logic had been impeccable. The methodology had been proven through Amser Modred’s successful cure. Everything had been aligned perfectly to demonstrate that accepting Noah’s Infinities was the safest path forward.

But oh!

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