Chapter 317. The First Contact with the Eternals (Part 2)
The wind howled across the desolate landscape, whipping frozen grit against Ikaris's stoic face. To any observer, he was a paragon of celestial duty, but beneath that golden-threaded uniform, a storm of desperation was brewing. The primary reason he had resolved to kill Ajak was not merely a clash of ideology; it was a twisted act of preservation. She saw him as the future leader of their kind, a mantle he never asked for, and one that threatened the fragile sanctuary of his heart—his love for Sersi. This crushing weight had finally pushed him toward a radical, blood-stained resolution.
Unlike the other Eternals, who spent seven millennia believing they were cosmic guardians sent to Earth to shield humanity from the predations of the Deviants, Ikaris had always carried the rotting core of the truth. He knew that their "protection" was a farce, a shepherd's lie. They weren't guarding a garden; they were fattening a herd for the slaughter. In the end, every human life would be nothing more than bio-fuel for the birth of a new Celestial. And once the Emergence was complete, the Great Reset would follow. Their memories—the centuries of laughter, the warmth of the sun, and the way Sersi looked at him in the golden hour—would be scoured away like chalk from a slate. It would all be for nothing.
This realization was a cancer, forcing him to live in a state of perpetual, silent agony. Yet, he was a soldier first. He had spent an eternity as the loyal blade of Arishem, the Judge of the Celestials. Even with the truth burning in his mind, his resolve had remained unshaken—until a few days ago.
Ajak's confession had shattered the status quo. She intended to betray Arishem.
Ever since he had left her presence, Ikaris's mind had been a labyrinth of conflicting shadows. Ajak planned to gather the Eternals, reveal the true nature of their existence, and defy the cosmic hierarchy. But Ikaris was no dreamer. He knew the terrifying scale of their creator. They could no more resist Arishem than an ant could resist a mountain. Even if they somehow managed to halt the Emergence by some miracle of luck, they could never survive the Judge's cold, absolute wrath.
If it came to that, Sersi would be the first to suffer. His opposition to Ajak wasn't born of malice toward the Matriarch, but a frantic, possessive need to keep his wife from the firing line of a god. He had made a silent vow: if Ajak truly moved to strike against the Celestials, he would stop her heart before she could start a war they could never win.
There was also a darker, more ambitious seed planted in his mind. When Ajak spoke of the future, she inadvertently revealed a crucial detail: the Prime Eternal does not lose their memories. A flicker of hope, sharp and dangerous, had ignited within him. If he became the leader, perhaps—just perhaps—he could carry the memory of Sersi into the next cycle.
Until now, these were merely the desperate fantasies of a grieving man. But the world had shifted. Ajak's "treason" was the perfect catalyst. He would kill her, frame the resurgence of the Deviants for the deed, and ascend to the leadership. It was a clean, surgical solution.
Of course, Ikaris was operating on a fundamental misunderstanding of his own biology. He did not know that the Prime Eternal is not chosen by merit or succession, but by The Orb—the golden conduit that allowed direct communion with Arishem. It was a living symbol of office. Unbeknownst to him, Ajak had already made her choice. The moment she fell, the Orb would seek out Sersi, drawn to her hidden strength.
In another timeline, this tragic misunderstanding would lead Ikaris to a moment of ultimate weakness, where he would watch Sersi turn a god to stone, unable to strike down the woman he loved more than the universe. Noah, standing in the present, knew this. He saw the cracks in the soldier's armor. Between the mission of the Celestials and the life of his wife, Ikaris would always choose the woman.
Noah smirked. What was more potent than the charms of a goddess? When the time came, Sersi would be the key to turning this golden boy into an ally. As for the Celestials... Noah wasn't worried. He had his own cosmic insurance policies—Aurelion Sol or the devastating power of his Dark Star form.
For now, Noah was content to toy with him. He hadn't killed Ikaris; he had merely dismantled him. The Eternal lay in the dirt, a broken mess of blue fabric and bruised ego. He wasn't dying, but without intervention, he wouldn't be flying anytime soon.
Noah watched as Ajak approached the unconscious warrior. She knelt in the dust, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of maternal pity and profound sadness. She reached out, her hands hovering over his shattered chest. Faint, intricate geometric patterns of gold light began to weave through the air—celestial circuitry responding to her will. A warm, humming energy flooded into Ikaris, knitting bone and sealing flesh.
She stopped short of a full recovery. The deep purples and blues of his bruises remained, a reminder of his folly. She didn't want him waking up with enough strength to cause more trouble. Satisfied he was stable, she stood and turned her gaze toward the young man who had just casually thrashed a god.
"Hello, Mr. Noah," she said, her voice like aged wine—smooth and resonant.
"Hello. You can drop the 'Mr.' and just call me Noah," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't one for titles or the stiff formalities of the elite. While he maintained a polite distance with strangers, Ajak's presence felt too ancient for such trivialities.
"In that case, Noah, feel free to use my name as well. I assume the Ancient One has already briefed you on who I am? Or rather, did she find me because of you?"
Ajak offered a serene smile. There was no trace of the horror she must have felt moments ago when her closest confidant tried to murder her. She had lived for millions of years; she had seen empires crumble into sand and stars wink out of existence. A betrayal, however personal, was just another ripple in the vast ocean of time.
"You're right, Ajak," Noah nodded, his eyes flicking toward the prone form of Ikaris. "I know why the Eternals are here. I know about the 'seed' in the Earth, and I know exactly who pulled your strings to get you here."
Ajak's smile faltered slightly. "The Ancient One spoke of your power, but I did not expect you to dismantle Ikaris with such... ease. You have exceeded my expectations."
The Ancient One had warned her that Noah was a variable—a being capable of challenging the Celestials, yet one still in the "larval" stage of his growth. Seeing the strongest warrior of her kind beaten into the dirt like a common thug changed her perspective. If this was him "developing," then the Celestials were in for a very rude awakening.
Just as Noah opened his mouth to respond, the ground groaned. Ikaris's eyes snapped open. He didn't scream or strike; he didn't even look at them. With a thunderous crack that shattered the surrounding ice, he ignited into a streak of gold and blue, surging into the atmosphere. He was gone in a heartbeat, a fading star in the midday sky.
"Ikaris..." Ajak whispered, her voice lost in the vacuum of his wake. She stood there, a lonely figure on the edge of a cliff, watching her family fracture and fly away.
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