Noah stood before THE Primordial Armor with his oath hanging in the corrupted air between them.
Twenty-four hundred Absolutes waited behind him. Countable Infinity burned in his foundations. The Tetras Apeiron Primus, Secundus, and Tertius and others held formation with readiness that defied the impossible odds they faced. Skoll stood at his side. Protos blazed with crimson blue-gold light.
And Beowulf looked at all of it with amusement that made the accumulated power seem trivial.
"This is actually laughable."
The words emerged from the armored titan with casual dismissal that pressed against Noah's consciousness like weight settling upon shoulders that were already carrying too much. The platinum plates shifted in patterns that communicated something between contempt and genuine entertainment.
"You know what? I will not actually do anything for now."
The massive form settled back, armor reconfiguring in ways that suggested relaxation.
