After he finished this lengthy discourse on the nature of probability and chaos, Abaddon looked at THE Youngest.
THE Youngest was looking at him with bright eyes.
As if this answer was exactly what he was looking for.
As if Abaddon had just walked himself into something that had been carefully constructed before this conversation even began.
Because moments later, THE Youngest seemingly became focused with intensity that exceeded everything previous. His golden flames burned brighter. His Absolute Effigy manifested visibly, massive golden fire filling the skies of Alfheimr above them.
"Then, O Primordial Chaos."
His voice carried weight that pressed against Abaddon's very existence.
"What if there existed a one percent, unlike what we believe, that your weavings of existence have already been compromised by THE Entity? By THE Primordial Mycelia?"
The question hung in the air with implications that exceeded anything Abaddon had anticipated.
