The weather somehow felt nicer now, probably because he wasn't being dragged to the underground training center by Neil every single day.
The sun felt shinier if that even make sense, the wind crisper, and even the distant noise of the city seemed oddly melodious like a well-rehearsed play unfolding without his interference.
He did feel a faint twinge of guilt, though. He'd been a bit too heavy-handed when knocking Neil out. Not enough to worry about, of course. Just enough to make the human experience slightly more… flavorful.
For now, Neil could rest. He had bigger problems to handle, namely, his wife. Zachary had spilled the truth to her because let's be honest, she deserved to know that her husband wasn't exactly in top form.
Neil had even wanted to keep her in the dark, would you believe, which explained the sharp looks Zachary had been getting lately.
He allowed himself a small, amused smirk at that. Mortals and their petty worries never cease to entertain, he thought. It seems our MC had forgotten how weak he was barely a year ago, when he had just woken up from coma.
Still, telling his mother had perks. Neil was off his back, and with her busy tending to him, no one was paying much attention to Zachary. He had time now. Freedom, even.
A fleeting concept for mortals, but Zachary found himself quite pleased with it now. He could wander, disappear, or linger as he pleased—and no one could stop him.
Zachary spent that freedom restlessly, drifting from place to place, indulging his curiosity in small, unpredictable ways.
Markets buzzed with tension, people whispered about recent decrees from the El Malais Kingdom, and the faint unease in the air took his mind away from what he had been doing a lot lately, studying this world's World Codex.
With his past life experience, Zachary doesn't have any trouble on his Path to Power in this life. Instead, everything had unfolded extremely smoothly for him, much to his irritation.
As much as he want to blame everyone and everything else, it was his mistake that caused him his current situation. Zachary can be quite hypocritical at times, which is why he doesn't have many acquintances in his last life.
Even if he did, those people are close to him purely for benefits. Those 'friends' he had might be the first to move if anything happens to him.
And his lackeys…. Well, they're okay. At least they're loyal and had put up a lot with his antics.
Zachary had found himself reminiscing about his past life a lot lately, mainly because he's feeling quite bored waiting for that organization to finally get their shit together and attack El Malais Kingdom already.
"Oh shit…" Zachary suddenly remembered one super dumb thing he had done before reincarnating himself.
"I can't believe I forgot such a big thing… Ah well, I think it's fine." Zachary resumed peering through the window of the café, located in an entirely different continent than the one he's originally from.
Spoiler, It wasn't nowhere near as fine as Zachary had foreseen. Actually, things became utterly hopeless for one particular group.
~~~
Meanwhile, deep in the cosmos, a very different kind of tension had already erupted.
A great battle had raged for weeks. One figure was being chased across galaxies, hounded relentlessly by multiple pursuing forces.
His name was Clint Ursa. Wounds marred his body from head to toe, and they were more than simple physical wounds. They extended deeper into the conceptual level, the result of attacks from Primordials.
Clint was powerful, stronger than most at his level. Even though he's 'only' an Overgod-Level being, he could confront a 'weaker' Primordial for a brief time. If the enemy refrained from unleashing their Primordium Force.
A Primordium Force is a self-contained metaphysical realm authored by a Primordial-Level existence. It is not merely a source of power, nor a passive law embedded into reality, but a living system that embodies a specific absolute concept.
Every Primordium Force exists outside ordinary reality, yet remains causally adjacent to it. It does not obey physical law, magical framework, or divine hierarchy. Instead, it defines a condition of existence that reality must acknowledge when interaction occurs.
His survival owed more to his pursuers valuing him alive than wanting him dead. A living Clint made it easier for them to access the now ownerless Unbreakable Force, from within.
More than half a dozen Primordials and their factions had hunted him for centuries. Most of his comrades—fellow blessed under the Unbreakable Primordial—had been captured or killed. It was inevitable; their importance made them targets, stepping stones to the vacant Primordium Force.
A Primordium Force without an active author is considered vacant. Vacancy does not mean destruction as the internal systems continue to operate, but without coordination or judgment because there is no will to guide it.
Centuries had passed since his master, the Unbreakable Primordial, vanished without explanation, leaving the Force of Unbreakability ownerless.
A vacant Primordium Force was never ignored. It represented the distilled culmination of its creator—power refined beyond inheritance or theft.
The Unbreakable Primordial had been renowned not just for strength, but for wisdom so profound that even Timeless Primordials treated him as an equal, perhaps more. Though many, especially his own subordinates, were aware that the so-called Unbreakable Primordial tends to be willful at times.
For those who understood reality's deeper workings, the situation was an open secret. While their master lived, Clint and the other chosen existed under unspoken protection. No one dared move against them. That deterrence alone was more than enough.
Now, that protection was gone. The pride that they once carry, their reverence toward their master had ended up being their downfall.
With their master missing, the disciples became fair game. Old grudges flared, ancient enemies stirred. Most hunting the chosen of the disappeared Primordial of Unbreakability were fellow Ascended Primordials. Beings who had clawed their way to the pinnacle of existence through sheer effort.
Primordials were never equal, despite sharing the title. The difference between Timeless and Ascended Primordials was fundamental, while the difference between stronger Primordial compared to weaker Primordial was qualitative.
Timeless Primordials were first-born, emerging before creation itself. Their power was innate, absolute, woven into reality's foundation. They were living laws—authors of existence, shapers of universes, embodiments of raw origin.
Ascended Primordials came later. Many had once been mortal or singular lifeforms that survived the impossible. They did not inherit authority—they earned it.
Some discovered cosmic laws and bent reality through understanding; others crafted power tied to their identity, growing stronger as comprehension deepened. A few endured endless cycles of annihilation and rebirth, evolving until existence itself struggled to erase them.
Spacetime cracked for a few moments before Clint dashed through it. The cracks immediately healed, leaving no traces to be tracked down. He had been traveling through dimensions to escape the Primordials' relentless pursuit.
The situation was dire. Even Clint didn't know if it would ever end. Though he saw no immediate pursuers, he continued jumping through dimensions until he reached the edge of the Megaverse. This wasn't luck on his part, but rather a knowledge that the disappeared master of his, had once imparted.
With a final look behind, Clint prepared for another jump—but then he sensed movement across several galaxies.
Before he could react, a gaping maw appeared directly above him, suction tearing at his body so violently he nearly lost control entirely.
He knew whose power this was. The All-Consuming Primordial.
To escape, Clint severed several layers of rules connected to his existence—weakening himself significantly, but necessary for survival.
"Fuck you, damned traitor," Clint spat, then vanished entirely from this reality.
"….tsk." Mazeh, the All-Consuming Primordial, clicked his tongue in annoyance at another failed capture. One of the more talented disciples of his "friend."
"Now shit just got even more complicated." Mazeh shrugged. Beyond the Megaverse weren't necessarily dangers—but the sheer vastness made finding Clint almost impossible. Vast enough to make "finding a needle in a haystack" sound like an understatement.
"What luck. Anyway, better to find others." Clint had reached the Megaversal Boundary after only centuries, despite being hunted, attacked, and schemed against. To Mazeh, this is nothing but a stroke of luck on Clint's part.
Mazeh did not fear that Clint might return stronger. He too would grow by then. And if navigating across Megaverses were easy, Clint's escape wouldn't matter—Mazeh could continue the hunt.
"Did you capture the 'key?'" A voice interrupted as a massive, blurry humanoid appeared at a distance. It radiated pale golden light, its size larger than a galaxy.
"Nope. Don't bother me. You stink," Mazeh replied without turning.
He vanished instantly.
The being of light, Purgist—the Primordial of Order—shifted its gaze from Mazeh to the impossibly massive 'wall' of the Megaverse Boundary. It stayed silent for a long moment before vanishing.
Clint fell through the void for an unknowable stretch of time. Disoriented and weakened, his condition only worsened. In the darkness of everything, he couldn't tell whether he had experienced an eternity or an instant.
To make matters worse, he had completely lost control over his own existence. The pain of injuries reaching down to his very soul dragged him toward unconsciousness.
After what might have been thousands of years, clarity slowly returned. Light began to worm its way toward him.
His eyes snapped open, a sharp gasp escaping his mouth. Ignoring the sting in his eyes, Clint sat up, scanning the room.
It was massive, with elegant decorations. The warmth of fresh bandages wrapped nearly every inch of his body. He had been treated.
Where he was didn't matter. Clint entered meditation instantly, delving deep into his consciousness to assess his situation.
"I have regressed?" he muttered in astonishment. He had been an Overgod-Level being before, but now nearly all of his power had been stripped away.
His situation looked grim. He still didn't know where he was or whether he had been saved… or captured.