Chapter 129: Tiamat's Embrace
Entering Imaginary Number Space again naturally drew the attention of Tiamat.
Rowe's current body had been reshaped by Tiamat's own hands. It carried the mark of the First Mother of the Mesopotamian plain. Being sensed the moment he crossed into this domain was not strange at all. It was inevitable.
Yes.
Even after that extreme metamorphosis, even after "defeating" Zeus, Rowe knew the truth better than anyone.
That victory was a trick.
In terms of specifications, he still only possessed the level of a high ranking chief god, a god king. He was weaker than Zeus, and even weaker than Tiamat.
And he had no illusions about it.
He was already at a disadvantage. Then there was the mark, and the history attached to it. Earlier, Zeus had forcibly severed Tiamat from him. Since then, she had been searching everywhere, trying to force a path into the present world, trying to find him.
Now he had returned to her sea.
Tiamat was surprised.
Tiamat was happy.
So in the vast, empty Imaginary Number Space, the cry of the primordial goddess rang out, clear and almost childlike in its joy.
She held Rowe in her palm again.
Beneath him was the same soft, cloudlike sensation, as if the void itself had turned gentle just to keep him from falling.
Rowe stared at the goddess before him, and this time, she had reverted to a human form.
Sea like hair cascaded down her back.
The horns on her head spiraled backward.
Her delicate face carried those star filled eyes, bright enough to make the black ocean look pale.
Her full chest rose and fell with a slow breath, and her waist narrowed into a curve that became fuller below, an inverted triangle partially covered by a corner of dragon scales that glimmered faintly, as if threaded into openwork.
Her legs were crossed and held together, inner thighs pressed so tightly they deformed against each other, calves descending into the chaotic black sea newly opened beneath her.
Tiamat was very happy.
Rowe did not know how much "time" had passed in her perception since he left. Imaginary Number Space did not measure seconds the way humans did. But he could feel her mood, immediate and unmistakable.
It was a pure, innocent happiness at reunion.
Then, after that happiness, worry surged in, fast and uncontrollable.
Because she saw it.
Rowe's current state was wrong.
He was dead.
Not the death of the surface world, not the death of an Age of Gods where the soul remained and went to an underworld.
This was complete annihilation.
And yet he was here, present, breathing, looking back at her.
"My situation… is a bit special," Rowe said.
Not being able to die was a helpless matter, but now that they had reunited, he would not avoid it. Tiamat had been good to him, and his impression of this goddess was, in a word, warm.
That was enough.
So he told her what had happened in Greece.
He spoke of Zeus.
He spoke of Chaos.
He spoke of the gaze that fell like judgment, and the thing that was left behind, lodged in his chest like a curse that refused to end.
Tiamat still could not speak human language.
But compared to before, she seemed to understand more of humanity, more of "story," more of cause and consequence. She listened without moving, eyes fixed on him, as if she were memorizing every word.
She understood.
Her gaze shifted, and confusion surfaced.
'Chaos Seed?'
"Yes," Rowe replied, nodding. "Chaos is what they call the seed of both order and disorder."
He explained what he had learned from the fire seed itself.
Atlantis was a silicon based civilization that had existed somewhere in the universe.
Their earliest life was born in flame.
Flame gave "life" to machines, and the machines, in turn, absorbed energy and made that fire seed flourish. It was a cycle, self sustaining, self advancing, and terrifying in its elegance.
Within the information Rowe received from that fire seed were countless shocking images.
Massive machina gods drawing energy without restraint from the cores of planets.
One world after another dimming and dying in the sea of stars.
One galaxy after another cut apart, harvested, and extinguished.
All of it to nurture one fire seed after another.
The fire seed was the source of life for machina gods, and also the core of Atlantis.
Their civilization was magnificent, vast, awe inspiring.
It expanded almost ceaselessly.
And it was precisely that unrestrained development that led to collapse.
Energy chains across the universe broke. The civilization that had reached its peak suffered catastrophic loss. In the end, only a single fleet remained, carrying the last fire seed, fleeing that exhausted universe.
That fire seed represented evolution.
It could absorb all energy to maintain its existence.
And whoever possessed it could continuously transform their own machine body.
"That's roughly it," Rowe said, finishing the explanation.
He hoped, at least a little, that the primordial mother might offer help.
Tiamat was the incarnation of the primordial sea, born in the earliest stages of planetary gestation. Her knowledge should be deeper than his.
Perhaps she would know how to deal with it.
Because if he could not resolve the influence of the fire seed, Rowe feared he would never be able to die.
He waited.
No answer came.
The vast Imaginary Number Space fell silent.
Because Tiamat disappeared.
The enormous shadow that had held him imperceptibly transformed into a divine statue, solidified from surging black and red seawater. It stood there like an altar, like a memory, like a god returning to being a symbol.
And then Tiamat appeared again.
Right in front of Rowe.
Only the size of a normal person.
Even slightly slender and small.
Freely changing size was an ability Tiamat inherently possessed, yet it was the first time she had manifested like this before him.
Rowe froze.
Then he watched her slowly open her arms.
She embraced him.
It was not interrogation.
It was not a demand for details.
She simply cared about his state.
She simply wanted to say, without words, what she had been unable to say for so long.
Welcome back.
I am glad you are still alive.
I am glad I am still alive.
The primordial goddess wrapped her arms around Rowe's back and held him tightly, as if letting go would allow him to be taken again by the void.
To her, someone who could understand her, who could accompany her in this Imaginary Number Space, was proof that she existed.
As the First Mother, Tiamat's attitude toward Rowe was difficult to define.
She had reshaped him, so part of her looked at him with the softness reserved for a child.
Yet Rowe carried an older primordial power than her own, and that made another part of her want to face him as a companion, a fellow traveler who had walked too long in loneliness.
Complex.
Hard to understand.
And yet, genuinely benevolent.
Rowe could feel it.
Still.
This was… close.
Very close.
Too intimate to be dismissed as mere contact.
Tiamat pressed her whole body against his. She rose slightly on tiptoe, full chest pressing into him. Her delicate face hovered near his ear, breath warm, presence overwhelming, and though she did not intend anything, the distance between them made the world feel smaller than it had any right to be.
Even the areas that should have been hidden were difficult to ignore, a corner of scale providing thin cover, faintly shimmering like a fragile boundary.
Her warmth radiated into him.
Soft warmth, vivid warmth, a warmth that made his mortal nerves remember that he still had a human brain, even inside a body that should have been beyond such things.
"Aaaaa…" Tiamat parted her crimson lips and looked at him with confusion.
She asked what was wrong.
"No, nothing," Rowe said, turning his eyes away.
He took a slow breath and suppressed the instinctive pull of his flesh.
Primordial or not, his body still carried the habits of mortality.
Tiamat smiled again.
It was the kind of smile that made the void feel less cold.
And then she moved closer.
Not out of teasing.
Not out of seduction.
Simply out of affection, out of relief, out of that innocent joy that did not understand the concept of distance the way humans did.
The soft, beautiful pressure landed directly on the nerve lines of Rowe's mind.
For a moment, the Sage of Uruk forgot how to breathe.
This feeling was genuinely difficult to put into language.
However, perhaps sensing his discomfort, Tiamat's joy settled. She released him quickly, hands withdrawing with a gentleness that was almost careful.
Then, her lips parted again.
And she spoke words that startled Rowe.
'The fire seed… I know it.'
'I know Atlantis, Chaos… because I have seen them before.'
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