A Chronometric Defect

I'm flying along my Shridenian Canyon while observing the chaos of my previous catastrophe. This massive crater is nothing compared with what I just did.

My spell notifies me that its auto-cast has been cancelled.

*ting*

That's everyone I murdered. I re-check Pathfinder. A few more bodies have popped up, but this is normal. I can't eat everyone who dies. Or, I suppose I could, but I won't. They're not my responsibility. Besides, it'd be theft to take those bodies from the families of the deceased. Yvilos was right about the disaster that I caused, but I can't act like life itself is my providence. Even if I do become a god? I wouldn't be a human god. I'mma dragon.

...

No happy 'rawr' comes out. I'm not happy. I don't know if I'll ever be happy after today. Though, I suppose my emotions will be dictated by draconic rather than human norms. I'm sad because I failed, because I hurt so many, and because I've become what I detest most.

Evil isn't the act of killing. Ending lives is always bad, but the reason why we do it matters far more than the action. It may seem offputting to some, but reasons always matter. They matter far more in cases where life itself is at stake.

Evil is when you don't care about why you killed. Or whom you killed.

If murder doesn't hurt, then you're evil.

I've realized that what hurt me most deeply was my slaughter of other dragons. Humans? Dwarves? Elves? Even Kaizen, rhm. Not so much. Which is utterly sickening. How can I weight dragons more than the billions of others I've killed? Even the poor animals and non-sapient monsters who died. Why do I care mostly about dragons?

It's what my emotions tell me is right.

I don't know what's right. I'm evil.

What Yvilos said about accepting responsibility might be true, or perhaps he was asking me to literally clean up my mess. Either way, the weight I bear is crushing.

Will it make me stronger?

The power I currently possess feels undeniable compared with what I had minutes earlier. Unlike all the other times I've gained strength— it doesn't make me happy. My hoard was so clean. So pure. So untainted by evil.

Sure, I know it's silly to make a pile of self-created wealth and gems and sit atop it. I know it's silly to revel in my own intellectual prowess and draconic looks. Nobody else cares about what I possess. The wealth? None but me know that this pile of treasure exists. My mind and body? Who would find a dragon like me attractive? As the dragon hunter believed, none of the other dragons would appreciate my appearance. My intellect is formerly human; would I be able to integrate with a draconic society? Surely, not the sciolated ones. Not even a little.

But it doesn't matter who else appreciates my life. What matters is that I appreciate my life. I was most proud of how much I'd accomplished with so little sacrifice. Proud of what I'd made. Proud of the dragon I'd become.

Was.

If my Will and mind are contaminated by so much bloody carnage, can I be proud of my accomplishments?

If my whole existence is bolstered by mass murder, can I enjoy the wealth that I've created?

No. No I cannot.

I feel something shift deep within me; my draconic instincts begin to push in a new direction. I must bury my bloodied hoard under yet more knowledge, more riches, and more power.

I must. I'mma dragon, after all. We never give up our loot. That hasn't and can never change. My Origin also won't allow it, because I won't either. I feel my instincts reward me for following through. But it's too weak. I'm too weak.

Hragh.

First.

First, I must consolidate what I have unrighteously earned. Indeed, this should be self-evident. If I try to keep building my hoard on top of so many bloodied treasures, I'll be inclined to slip on that blood and fall further.

My hoard will grow— but my sense of self? It'll invariably shrink in tandem. Is that what I want?

My draconic instincts abruptly push me like never before: they urge me to clean my hoard, so it can be displayed pridefully once again. My majesty must be known by all upon this planet and all others.

For all of time.

The Chronometric Dragon God shall be known, by all throughout time.

Nrahg. I must be known BY ETERNITY ITSELF!

Only then, shall my repentance be complete.

For time— time does NOT heal all wounds.

It makes wounds vanish within itself.

Status, Age.

Age: ∞

Endlessly.

Rakh, I feel a bit bett—

Hra? I sense something. Am I under attack?

Fighting is likely easier if I'm not in my twenty meter form, but I won't shrink myself. That'd not be a battle worthy of my draconic pride.

I spin up my many talents and skills. I warp space, I lock space, I eat space in several different ways. My magic shoots gamma lasers at a certain place. I shield myself, the defensive and offensive inscriptions laid upon my body flare, and I transfer magma onto my attacker.

*veew*

*cheRK*

*VSSS*

*vrrSS*

*THEW*

*vrrt*

*KEEN*

*shht*

*fshht*

*ksht*

*FAAAAAHHH*

It doesn't work. Nothing works.

A sword covered by some sort of loud energy field exits from the mass of attacks and slices through my shield. I dodge, but the sword easily cuts into my shoulder before I can move away.

*shhhhwhing-thok*

"... You ... Stay still, and die. ..."

Nonsense.

*taka-tak*

*KEEW*

*shhhhwhing*

*thimb*

*PoRr*

*KONT*

"ROAR!"

*SKREEEEE*

Do I know my attacker?

Many memories pop into my mind. Particularly those from Thaddeus.

None of them match. However, he's changed his outward appearance as I have.

Upon closer examination:

Yes, this is the man. The one who killed the Dragon God.

My vision and those memories overlap.

They're identical.

*pokK*

"ROAR!"

*SKREEEEE*

*THaka*

*toonk*

*shhhhwhing*

*VRRt*

My maw spews devouring attacks with each roar, so it's the best way out of this situation. I don't want to rely on eating the atmosphere nor defeating this god with my current power. I won't win. Of course, the remainder of my abilities are also barraging him, but it's hard to tell if he's taking any damage. Though this is an empty area, there may be living creatures below. I can only hope no Shridenians have ventured into the canyon.

Despite not wanting to harm yet more sapients, I can't help but fight. It's in my nature.

The god appears to do something which blocks transference.

I don't care; I refuse to run.

*TAK*

*veesh*

*shhhhwhing*

I'mma dragon.

"ROAR!"

*SKREEEEE*

*bimSKK*

*TaK*

*shhhhwhing*

I dodge by more than a hair's breadth this time.

I feel myself getting stronger, more mentally competent, more agile. The heft of my evil power isn't weighing me down. It's making me stronger.

Just as Yvilos had contended.

*thakaTAK*

*Pok-king*

"ROAR!"

*SKREEEEE*

*shhhhwhing*

*shhhhwhing*

Evil itself can become strength. Accepting evil as proper, however, destroys ones' mind. Evil is truly one of the great oddities of existence. It's a form of strength which begets weakness.

"ROAR!"

*SKREEEEE*

*tinPING*

*TIK*

Already, I'm able to dodge the god's attacks quite fluently. My mind spins with increasing grace and vicissitude. My attacks, though I can't see any damage, must be doing something. He's getting frustrated.

*thrip*

*tok*

*tiNG*

"ROAR!"

*SKREEEEE*

*shhhhwhing*

He pulls back.

"... Dragon, you've beaten me. Beaten a god. ..."

"I'm quite happy to hear your praise."

"... I, am not alone. ..."

His changed form instantly shifts forward despite my incredibly accurate dynamic vision.

*SHWING*

*chaUK*

I'm already impaled by the man's sword. No? I'm split from head to chest. My mind functions, but my body is somehow pinned in place. It feels similar to the Dragonblood Sigil.

"... You... What is this? These... Threads? ..."

He looks at me. Then, he looks at himself. His eyes widen.

"... What grotesque manner of vility ARE you? Does even your basic STRUCTURE defy convention? ..."

He must be referring to my Origin threads.

If he can see my Origin threads, then that's really bad.

Though, why's he looking at himself? My Origin isn't connected to him.

Or is it? Did he get himself stuck to my Origin? I don't feel my threads around him.

"... I'll seal you, then destroy whatever... THESE are. All life upon this planet must perish. ..."

All life? Here I was upset about eating a large fraction. He wants to erase all life?

At the worst moment, I feel my immense power draining away. Yet again.

Why is my supposedly innate power so seemingly ephemeral?

My split head speaks— I speak. It's difficult.

"Why. Do you erase... Everything?"

He shakes his head.

"... You have defied us too much. Too often. ..."

That's it? That's the entirety of his rationale? He places no value upon life, existence, or truth?

No wonder Thaddeus wanted to kill the gods.

"You're... Indifferent."

He nods.

"... We possess that right. Through power. ..."

No you do not. I do not. NOBODY does.

Might may seem right, but cannot make right. Might merely bends 'right' to someone's everchanging whim. If right is bent upon a whim, then life is left with no purpose. No meaning. All becomes indifferent.

'Right' must be a constant. It must be decided with the utmost care and consideration, such that the same situation always yields the same set of correct decisions. The same meaning for 'right.'

If right isn't a constant, then truth itself becomes inconstant. Truth becomes meaningless.

Truth becomes a lie.

"That must be why you... Sciolate. You erase all meaning from, reality... Not just... Reality... But you remove the reasons we, exist. You erase... Truth."

He looks surprised. Then nods.

"... You are truly danger—urk! ..."

What? What's happening? I didn't do that.

"... You... You! Stop fighting me! ..."

I can't fight him. Who's he talking to?

"... I'm not fighting you. I'm killing you. You just explained who's the real monster. ..."

"... Betrayer! You're naught but a sacrifice! ..."

Urhm, is he talking to himself?

"... I am Centrail Primia, Chronomet. Kill us now. ..."

He points at himself.

"... No, stop! You cannot kill a god! ..."

The Centrail of Oplenthiom was sacrificed to him? So, when the god said he was not alone, it's because was possessing Centrail's body? Or, perhaps he's puppeting Centrail's Will, hence why a mortal can fight a god. Hrr.

Either way, that's incredible.

This man possesses an impossibly strong resolve.

"You will be remembered... Centrail."

He eyes me with suspicion.

Rah, I hope he doesn't expect me to save him.

Saving a god's hostage is well beyond my ability.

I can only give him the glory he deserves:

"Remembered, by all, who'll now live."

His eyes sharpen.

A moment of silence.

Finally, I feel my power start returning. My body begins to move. My talents reactivate.

I unseal my lineage once more.

*kshh*

"... No! You can't! This has never happened! ..."

"Time waits for no man, and no god may reverse its passage. Die, you horrid monster."

I press the sword further through my split body, my Origin threads easily ignoring its presence.

*shluck*

I place my huge clawed hand onto the old man's upper body.

"... I am NOT a mon— ..."

I cover him and his annoying mouth with Devour.

He doesn't break.

So, I add Parasitic Body and Mind.

He still doesn't break.

Hrem. What about your mind?

I poke an Origin thread into him.

I hear him in my head.

"You will pay for this, dragon. Must pay."

"I pay my debts. I'm simply collecting yours."

I get his talents, and I 'remember' how they work.

Causal Void? Violates causality by erasing both cause and effect; or one at a time. Endless Will? Consumes the selected parts of the Wills of others and takes their stats, but instantly and on a much wider scale than Seeding. Temporal Diffusion? Normalizes the target region's experience of time, thus blocking the use of time abilities.

Reh, hreh. First TIME I've gotten a time-related ability even though I'm the Chronometric Dragon God.

Isn't that silly, hrr hrr?

Seems there were indeed many more talents than I knew. Exactly as I'd speculated. Also, Causal Void. I'm not sure, but that might be able to harm my Origin, which is referred to as 'nil.' I might've died if not for Centrail Primia's timely and courageous intervention.

Regardless, I've easily controlled both of their Wills. Does Origin have a limit?

I shake my dragon head. Now's not the time to find out.

I smack the douche's body with Causal Conduit. I'm once again forced to sap a more powerful enemy's strength.

How humiliating. But.

Not retreating takes priority over how I win. Especially when my retreat means the end of all other life.

...

After a few minutes, I feel incredibly strong. So much stronger that it's absurd. I feel like I could tear this world asunder with but a single roar. My draconic instincts hammer me to devour him completely; to take everything he possesses. They're rewarding me so much— it's difficult to resist. I'm shaking from what I feel. It's like an addiction.

Yet.

Before I finish off the god, I let him out of my grasp.

I manage to suppress my surging instincts. Just barely.

"I am now in a position of absolute strength. Now I'll explain my full intentions, Centrail."

He looks at me with slight misgivings.

"You'll be the honorary ruler of this planet for as long as I exist. Above myself. My glory has been forever outmatched by your own. I'd be a covetous fool to deny your grand sacrifice."

His gaze turns into what I can only describe as worship.

I feel an insane blast of draconic instinct.

He forcibly bows the god's head.

"... Thank you. ..."

I eat him.