A Chronometric Defect

I Devour the token.

This time, I don't feel any surge of power. Since I know that came from the Rank 3 god, this much makes sense. I'm still absorbing him, so eating this token shouldn't make much of a difference. However...

Status, Lineage.

Lineage: Origin

Type: Void

You are the origin of Void.

Your origin is evolving (21%)

Predictive Inscription:

Your next origin will likely be: Nihil.

It doesn't make any sense to evolve from Void to Nihil. They both mean 'nothing.' It's not like I'm complaining— being stronger is always better. I just don't understand what this has to do with being a time dragon. Time is a measurement. It's not a property which exists. That doesn't explain how I can be something which doesn't exist. That's a contradiction, and contradictions are impossible.

Hence, chronometric. Not chronological, meaning to locate events in time. Not horological, meaning to study time. Just, the measurement of time. How does 'nihil' relate to to a measure of time? How does 'void?'

I have more information. That's good. But the information I have is still too incomplete to tell me anything useful.

[EVOLUTION COMPLETE!]

Hraw, that again. I don't know where it's coming from, because I can't 'see' it. Just like how Chronometric Fixation vanished.

Status, Lineage.

Lineage: Origin

Type: Void

You are the origin of Void.

Predictive Inscription:

Your next origin will likely be: Nihil.

Your next origin will likely be: Nihil.

Reh? Something screwed up.

I check the code. I evolved from 'Void' to 'Nihil,' but both mean the same thing, so it got confused and calculated twice.

Hrem. I truly evolved into what I already was? How does that work?

...

Reh, whatever. I fix the buggy inscription.

Next, I examine my body. I do notice a few changes. First, my horns and spikes have grown slightly longer. I furl out my wings to find that they, too, have yet again grown another size larger. I furl them back up. Other than those, the only major change is that 'mouth' on my chest. It's gone. Instead, the Origin threads are connected directly to my heavily armored chest.

What's this about?

I try to move those Origin threads.

My chest splits apart and forms a huge friggin' maw. Like I'm some kind of... Ragh. Like those horror plants.

I dismiss the thought since I'mma dragon.

Rawr.

I closely examine the new giant maw on my torso.

Contained within it are a slew of Origin threads. They're not thin like the usual ones, nor are they spike-tipped threads as before. They're serrated like a sawblade and affixed to the insides of my new giant maw. It's as if my whole maw— it's like I'M filled with huge translucent teeth ready to attack from all sides.

I try to discern what's going on here, but as usual, I've got nothing. Plus, I was already dubious about the previous evolution. I can change my body pretty much on a whim. However, it's not permanent: it's akin to a shapeshift I have to constantly maintain. I can only alter my size directly by editing my spatial composition.

So, this thing, unlike my previous evolution; actually, maybe it could be useful?

I imagine being in close combat. An enemy attacks my chest with a weapon of some sort. It slides in easily, but I push forward. Their arm is suddenly inside my body. I bite down.

Killshot.

Reah, rokay. I can dig this. Especially since it doesn't affect my external form. Maybe this is why I lost my other internal organs. It was all being replaced by... Well, a giant maw. My whole shtick has been 'eating' stuff, so it makes, rhem, sense? I hope I'm not turning into a disgusting monster, though. Looking somewhat like that horror plant is enough. I definitely don't need all those eyes. But I don't understand the nature of those creatures. I hope I'm not becoming some sort of gluttony—.

I feel a weird squirm within my Will. Like a bit of frustration. Then, it vanishes.

If I could sweat, I'd break out in a cold one.

WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THAT?!

My mind flits back to my uncontrollable instincts, and I know. I just KNOW. I accidentally saved myself from something very, VERY bad. Roh, god.

I mean— myself.

Roh, me.

"Is everything okay, my god?"

"Yes, but I hit a snag a moment ago. You could tell something was off, Dracosect?"

"Not exactly, my god. It was like everything around you became darker for a moment. Heavier. Then, you changed back. I can't fully explain it."

Reah. Whatever that was, it's as dangerous as hell itself. Possibly literally. I know from my previous life that the seven deadly sins were a thing, even if they were often regarded as metaphorical. Pride and Greed are two vices which my hoard almost embodies. Except.

"Hold on for a second, Dracosect. Protect me if needed."

"My god? I absolutely will, but..."

"You'll see."

Except, I don't want pride or greed either. I'mma dragon.

ꌗꀘꋪꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟ!

This time it's not a little sensation. I feel two large blobs squirming and shrieking within my Will.

They're not going down without a fight. I feel a powerful urge; a compulsion, even, to submit to my desires.

To display my prideful hoard. To expand its wealth endlessly. I feel my instincts joining in again, trying to force me to submit to my draconic needs or at least go sleep it off. Fighting against myself like this is incredibly tiring.

Neither pride nor greed is why I build my hoard. It doesn't represent my emotions or desires. My hoard represents everything I was, am, and who I want to become.

'My' instincts should've already known:

I am my hoard. My hoard is me.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

ꌗꀘꋪꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟꍟ!

I hear more freakish screeching inside my own thoughts.

They're fighting, hard. But they'll lose. Because it doesn't matter how hard you fight.

If you fight for the wrong reasons?

It's a futile struggle.

Futile, because a struggle isn't a fight.

It's a contention that can't be won; at least not directly.

Fights? They have a clear victor.

I won't struggle. Any fight I start is a fight I win.

You can't understand because you aren't a dragon.

You can't be a dragon.

It's that simple.

...

I feel the struggling weaken. I also feel a bit of...

Regret? From both blobs.

Which means it's time to strike harder.

You'll lose when you don't. You'll lose when you think you've won. You'll lose, when you believe with every fiber of your being that what you're doing is GOOD and PROPER because, ultimately, you MUST lose.

Because your errant emotions, your reasons for winning? They made you lose sight of the meaning of 'winning.' You've become indifferent to the very idea of success.

As for you? Whatever you are— you've lost.

You never had any choice but to lose.

And. Since you refuse to leave?

Parasitic Body and Mind.

I'll eat you right up.

My talent begins chewing apart the two stubborn blobs.

I let out a proper victory roar as the creatures hidden inside my mind are shredded to bits.

####ROOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRR####

(~KKKKZZSSTKKKZZTTSSSTT~)

Not an instinct-compelled roar, no, this is simply how a dragon celebrates victory over its enemies. Enemies whom thought they could usurp my everything by hiding.

Fools! Dragons NEVER hide!

I feel a ridiculous amount of power flood, not into my body, but into my Will. My Origin. It's not an evolution— just a strengthening of who I am at the most fundamental level.

Then, I feel some other small things squirm and try to leave. Roh no you don't!

Parasitic Body and Mind!

I snag them too. My Will grows stronger. Then, hrem... Temperance. Faith. Justice?! Do you want my mind too?

WELL YOU CAN'T HAVE IT!

I feel something less evil, but still invasive. Like the heavy weight of responsibility. It? No, they. They all try to leave. I realize that the blob symbolizing 'Justice' is even larger than Pride and Greed put together.

Do you think it 'just' to invade my Will without my explicit or implied consent? Without so much as a threat against what you claim to represent? Without offering me a choice, even if I would follow your Will regardless?

HYPOCRITE! You want to LEAVE?!

Not a chance.

PARASITIC BODY AND MIND!

My Will eats up the blobs' power— particularly the bloated so-called 'Justice.' Pah, imposing compelled righteousness? You're no better than the sins themselves. If a person cannot choose to be righteous, they are indeed not righteous at all. You have stolen from them precisely what you claim to represent.

You have stolen from them, justice itself.

The Justice blob emits an immense wave of shame; as though shame had become a physical force.

Yes, because you know I'm right. My freedom should begin where yours ends, yet you violated this most basic tenet of every, single, virtue. That makes your behavior blindingly hypocritical. Justice? I'd call it 'corruption.'

I feel something different this time. Like chilly ice water flowing into my Will. The justice blob stops trying to run and instead grows. But, it doesn't fight my attempt to break it apart. As it grows, I keep breaking it apart.

My Will continues to strengthen, but the blob stays the same. It stays the same for minutes, hours, then I lose track. I've only been on this planet for five—. No, six days? I can't remember. How strange. I can remember everything but that.

Yet, I know a long time is passing. Days. Weeks. Maybe months. A year, here, is 808 days. It takes a long time for this planet to revolve around its sun.

But, still. I— I don't know.

Finally, the blob emits yet more sensations.

A bit of regret, but mostly guilt.

Then, it breaks apart.

And emits...

Light.