Chapter 15: The Calm Before the Cataclysm
The sky over Elenthar Plains was painted in false peace.
Soft winds blew across endless stretches of golden grass, where the sounds of chirping mana-sparrows and echoing wind flutes gave the illusion of serenity. But underneath that calm, the world was bracing itself. And at the heart of it all… was Chris.
No, not Chris.
Not anymore.
That name still lingered within him — fragile, cracked, like a photo buried under ash. These days, he simply existed. An anomaly wrapped in a man's skin.
T-minus One Week
News had started spreading across the continent:
"A Primordial-Class Artifact has emerged."
"A convergence of military forces are gathering."
"One man holds it — and he's refusing to surrender it."
Chris knew the stories. He had fed them himself. Planted rumors. Left "leaks" in the right noble circles. He let the myth of The Eye of ??? grow beyond what it truly was — or perhaps what it would become.
And now?
They were all coming.
Governments, guilds, rogue sects, heretical orders, militarized hunters, divine emissaries… all converging like blood cells rushing toward a wound. And Chris was the wound.
He sat alone inside an abandoned chapel three days from the plains. The Eye hovered before him, pulsing silently — no longer dormant, no longer mysterious.
Its synchronization had hit 100%.
But it didn't announce itself with fireworks. There was no grand unlocking, no thunder shaking the heavens. Just... a whisper.
A single question:
{Are you ready to use it?}
And Chris had answered:
"Not yet."
T-minus Four Days
He traveled to an old contact, a relic of his facility days. The Amender.
A man who once tried to help him cope with grief. Who still sent letters. Who still tried to treat Chris like a person and not a variable. His name was Dr. Halven.
They met on a bridge under the shade of violetleaf trees. The water ran below. Time felt slower there.
"So… it's time?" Halven asked.
"Yes," Chris said, staring at the sky. "I've let the world keep moving long enough. I've seen its gears grind innocence into dust, over and over."
"You're not a god, Chris."
"No," he said. "But I hold something that gods fear."
Halven's eyes trembled. "You still haven't forgiven them."
Chris paused, his voice lowering. "Would you?"
"...No."
They stood in silence.
"What will you do?" Halven asked.
"Burn a path through their lies."
"And after that?"
Chris said nothing.
Because he didn't know.
T-minus Two Days
Chris reached the edge of Elenthar Plains.
He camped near a ridge, watching military drones and scouting units arrive. He counted four factions:
The Federated Army of Eleris — claiming authority and national protection.The Arcanum Guild — scholars with weapons.The Noble House Coalition — snakes dressed in velvet.The Heretic Reclaimers — cultish zealots demanding the Eye for "reconciliation."
Each of them hated one another. Each of them wanted him dead or detained.
And each of them had no idea what the Eye truly was.
Chris exhaled slowly.
"I gave them chances. I really did."
He had planted messages, tried to expose the truth, offered peace with anonymous tips, even asked — politely — to be left alone.
But the world didn't like anomalies.
It labeled them threats.
And now? They'd gathered every weapon and warrior they could find to "contain" him.
T-minus One Hour
He stood now in the center of the field, dressed in black jacket and pants. The Eye hovered silently above his hand — no longer chaotic, no longer unreadable. Its form had refined:
A white eyelid, and within it, a pure, ink-dark iris that shimmered with tendrils of non-light. It didn't glow. It absorbed light.
The Eye no longer read "???" in its panel.
But the world wasn't ready to see what it now showed.
Chris looked out as troops and hunters surrounded the plain, forming a semi-circle wall of tanks, spell circles, mana artillery, and all kinds of weaponized resolve.
"CHRIS!! HAND OVER THE ITEM!"
He didn't turn. He simply listened.
"If you do, we—"
"Hand over? When you know what happens?" he interrupted, calmly.
The voice on the other end went quiet.
"That item will be the pivotal reas—"
"Yeah. For research, right? For preservation?" he scoffed. "Funny how you keep using that word when it always means destruction. You call it preservation. I call it my family's lives."
His voice didn't crack. It rang like steel.
A silence passed.
Then a voice stepped forward.
A man — Enderson, leader of a vanguard unit — brandished his sword, confident, eyes sharp with training and ego.
"I don't know who you are, but that item will be ours for the taking."
Another stepped up — a girl with violet hair, holding both wand and tome, her smile sharp as glass.
"That's going too far, Enderson. Let's not pretend this isn't for the government now. Hehe."
Two more figures emerged behind them. One with a crystalline rifle, her demeanor cold and efficient — Ravenna. The other, a man in alchemist garb, casually swirling vials with smoke curling from his gloves — Torrick.
"Just a boy," Torrick muttered. "And yet… I smell a storm on his breath."
They were legends in their own right.
But Chris?
Chris wasn't moved.
He looked down at the Eye.
[Eye Of Null Origin]
Holder: Chris (Synced)Status: StabilizedTier: PrimordialConcept Bound: [Desire]Bound Law: [Denial of Defined Reality]Passive: [Truth Distortion Immunity]Active: {Use It? Y/N}
They threatened. They postured.
But Chris?
He smiled, voice low, almost a whisper:
"But a burning world doesn't seem bad… does it?"
"Huh?"
"What!?"
"Don't you dare!"
"Stupid—!!"
A general screamed, "Chris, don't!!"
But he wasn't listening.
His hand moved.
The Eye pulsed — and the question returned.
{Use it? Y/N}
Chris exhaled one last time.
"Yes."