Noah arrived in a region of THE Wastes where everything felt wrong.
The corruption here was different from corruption elsewhere, carrying weight that pressed against his existence in ways that the proto-matter mixed with his Infinities had never managed. The very fabric of reality answered to something other than the principles that normally governed Observable Existence, bending and warping according to will that operated on levels his perception could barely comprehend.
Information barely flowed from the Infinities here to tell him a few things. The identity of the enemy, but only because they freely permitted their identity to spread.
THE Primordial Armor stood before him.
