Lord Shadow

Chapter 1940 1940: New Songs, New Colours, Wind Breeze

He did not believe that any of his attack could slow down that hand. This is an instinct that he had cultivated along the years.

He instinctively knows that any of his attack would not work and probably would not even slowdown that hand and so he chooses to run

The kind of beings that dares to do this kind of thing must be some powerful being at the same level of Odin

Or even surpassing him

That is the only way that it could even ignore the causal effects that is present in all of those timelines and space.

Azief however is not interested in calculating the cause and effect right now.

The energy in his body that he used now is not the energy that Samara gave him.

This is the foreign energy that suddenly appears the moment that hand appears.

That hand wanted to capture him and probably it would have succeeded if not for this foreign energy that suddenly helped him

Azief notice that from the moment that hand sappers, all time and space around him seems to froze.

One could only imagine his shock.

The time and space continuum freezes. This is the space and time of the Omniverse that allows him to travel through the Omniverse.

Even if one section of this tunnel is frozen, it is almost impossible to freeze all of it.

Or even such a large portion of time and space to be frozen like this.

But that hand did it.

Azief did not know how far this hand power to freeze time and space is frozen but just from what he could feel it must be a majority of the time and space that is being frozen

A section of the Omniverse that has all its time laws and space laws being frozen.

It also means that this hand could even commands laws of different worlds and is not affect by any repressive powers

Faster! He thought to himself.

All around him the fragments of space and time are frozen, yet each time he takes a step the foreign energy that shrouded him would dispel the magical power of that hand and allow time and space to move according to his will

Azief could not wield this energy but this energy seems like it is helping him.

It is like there is a barrier between him and this energy.

He wanted to absorb it to understand its composition but no matter how he tries to absorb it, like a substance that is separated by oil and fire, this energy would not even move an inch toward his direction

But now, is not the time to ponder these mysterious things. He focus only on his speed. He did not know where he is running and when he is running towards

All he knows, he must not be caught by that hand

And he keeps running. In this place, time seems to hold no meaning. He is not able to discern whether he is running for a few moments or for eternity

All he knows is that that hand is suddenly slowed down.

”An opportunity” in that moment, he remember with all of his heart of Earth and the time stamp he had put before and run toward that direction

Swoosh!

That was all it takes. A moment and he escapes!

…

Click, clack

Click, clack

Tting

Click, clack

Click, clack

Tting

There is the tapping sound of a typewriter echoing inside a quaint study. A house at the End of Everything

The walls are white…today. It is glowing faintly at certain time of day in this dimension.

A cottage that remembers eternity and see the rise and falls of everything

Inside this small study, there is a typewriter.

It is hard to determine the age of this typewriter. Its frame is ivory, polished but worn smooth as if it has been used for so many times

The alphabets on the keys has faded because of prolonged tapping.

But to call it alphabets, it is unlike any alphabets one could recognize.

But when the paper is out of the typewriter, those who read it could understand. A letter that could bring understanding and knowledge to whoever that sees it.

The keys are not labelled with letters that is recognizable, but with some kind of symbols that shift when you look at them. Sometimes, it is runes.

Sometimes, it takes the shapes of the constellation of the stars.

Sometimes, it seems like hieroglyphic. Sometimes, Romanic. Sometimes, it is just lines and circles. Sometimes, zeros and ones.

Those who sees it for too long might be driven mad by it.

Sometimes, one could see nothing at all at the keys.

Usually when the keys is struck, they donʼt clatter but sounds like drops of water falling into a deep well.

There is a rhythm to it.

The words written it become the Absolute Truth and it is Fate and Destiny

Some people perceives it as a Song.

Some see it as colors.

Some feel it in the breeze of the wind that passes by them

Woven into every reality.

Each word, each letter wove the living reality itself.

It is in the curve of a galaxy, the beat of a sparrow wing, the explosion of stars, the movement of dust, of life and death, of thoughts of feelings.

In the room itself there is many things that would make anyone see it become amazed with wonder.

There is a globe on the table on which the typewriter is on.

This globe shows a cosmos.

One could use it to see everything from nebulae to its atom.

There is a shelf of hourglasses, each filled not with sand but with motes of enchanting golden light.

Each of these lights is tricking down at different speeds.

Was it marking time?

Or was it marking the unceasing beat of the footsteps of fate and destiny?

There is a lamp that burns with a flame that seems to cast no shadow in the room.

It is filling the room with a warm radiance like a perpetual dawn

One must wonder what kind of fire is stored in that lamp

In the kitchen of this quaint little house, there is a bowl.

A bowl of still water.

But this water is not ordinary water.

One could see scenes from across creation, as thought it could see all places at once.

Once you think of it, it would show you.

There is many such things.

Ordinary things that is not ordinary at all. From the clocks on the wall, to the cushions and the sofas, to the television set, to the carpet, each of these ordinary things is not ordinary at all.

Nor is this their true form.

Just like the form of the one writing in the typewriter is being restrained by the form he inhabits, most of the things in the house has also been restrained because of the power of the one writing the stories

Because the true form of the writer that writes on the typewriter is incomprehensible to any minds.

Just like normal minds could not comprehend infinity, one could not comprehend his true form.

Looking at it ensure madness.

The house on this place secluded from everything in existence yet controlling everything in existence, is usually very quiet.

And at times, there is no one in the house.

The Gardener would do his job on the garden, the River Keeper cleaning the river and a few other existences would come here sometimes to check in and just wander around the garden or coming to this house to seek some answers

But…. today…. the house is different today.

Today the clacking sound of the typewriter fills the house.

It has been a long time since the typewriter moves at all.

The story of everything…. has already been written

Sometimes, the one in this house would write some side story. And at times, he added a few additions or subtract some things from the stories he had already written, a revision or sometimes a new version

A way to pass the time maybe.

But the main story has long been written

But today, the Gardener was showering the trees and the plants and hears a new Song. Feel a new breeze.

Sees new colors.

And so, he knows.

The story has changed. And the sound of the clacking echoes all over this dimension.

Those who are in this dimension with enough power could hear the Songs, feel the breeze and sees the colors

And they would notice. All of it is new.

The Gardener hearing this stop pouring the water from the watering can on a dead plant and instead, his eyes look toward the house.

His eyes narrows.

Outside of this garden he is Loki of Asgard, the Cosmic Trickster. Inside this place, he wear a patched robe, a straw hat on top of his head and he sweats and feel fatigue like a normal farmer.

He looks at the dead plant in front of him and the dead plant seems to revive. A new song is being Sung, a new wind breeze is blowing all across the garden and Loki eyes widened

So, he put down the watering can, hang up his straw hat on the wooden pole and walk toward that house

..