This was a matter of fundamental correction.
My gaze, now a complex interplay of infinite perceptions, settled on the nearest affected area. A small patch of lumina-roots, just a few feet from where I stood, was subtly wrong. Their glow flickered erratically, not with the natural rhythm of life, but with a stuttering, illogical pulse. It was a localized symptom of the larger conceptual wound.
I extended my will, not physically, but through the Eye of Absolute Control. The wine-colored depth in my eyes intensified, focusing on the errant roots. I didn't try to force them back into their proper state; that would be like patching a leak without understanding the source. Instead, I sought to stabilize their immediate conceptual integrity, to prevent the localized decay from spreading further. It was a temporary measure, a conceptual tourniquet. The flickering subsided, the glow returning to its steady, natural rhythm, but the underlying conceptual tear remained.
The Eye of Omniscience continued its relentless processing. The unraveling of 'Reason' wasn't random. There was a pattern, a subtle, almost imperceptible signature to the decay. It was like a specific type of conceptual acid, dissolving the very glue of logic. The origin point, however, remained elusive, hidden behind layers of conceptual interference. It was as if the perpetrator understood the nature of my sight and had erected conceptual barriers.
A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through the ground beneath my feet. It wasn't an earthquake, but a conceptual vibration, a resonance with the ongoing sabotage. It was a call, a disturbance that echoed through the deeper layers of existence. My quiet farming life, the simple act of tending to lumina-roots, felt impossibly distant. The avatar, designed for mundane tasks, now felt like a thin veil over an ocean of power.
I knew then that this was not something I could simply observe and correct from a distance. The conceptual sabotage was active, intelligent, and spreading. To find its source, I would have to engage with the reality I had chosen to merely inhabit. The dangerous flaw within me, the raw power that could unmake worlds, was no longer a dormant hum. It was a rising tide.