Prologue: Bureaucracy of the Heavens
The visual feed resolved within the polished obsidian scrying pool, shimmering layers of Empyrean mist parting to reveal the raw wound below. Sector 734. A fractured realm, unremarkable in its chaos save for the festering divinity that dominated its primary landmass – the sprawling, continent-sized corpse designated Remnant Designate: Phoenix Primus. Xian Zhu, Celestial Inquisitor Tertiary Grade, leaned fractionally closer, his gaze clinically detached but intensely focused. The ambient light within the Starfall Anchor’s Scrying Chamber caught the intricate azure runes woven into his robes, symbols of authority and power that could unmake stars. Below, the corpse lay impaled upon the planet's crust like a moth pinned to corkboard, a testament to a conflict so ancient and so catastrophic it predated the Concordat's own formal establishment. The mountains forming its skeletal structure were jagged peaks of fire-blackened bone and divine adamant, sharp enough to pierce the very fabric of lower realities. Rivers of sluggish, semi-sentient magma – its coagulated ichor – carved paths through valleys of compacted ash that still radiated potent, unstable Ignis signatures millennia after the god’s final scream had torn through the local continuum. Ash fell perpetually, not from simple combustion, but from the slow disintegration of divine matter under immense cosmic pressures, coating the blighted landscape in a funereal shroud.
"Magnificent in its decay," Xian Zhu murmured, the sound barely disturbing the sterile silence of the chamber. His voice, though quiet, resonated with tempered power. "A cautionary spectacle."
This particular Remnant held a certain… professional interest for the Azure Concordat. Not solely for the historical significance – fallen Primordials were scattered across countless sectors, relics of the turbulent Epoch of Unmaking – but for the unique, volatile manner in which its dying essence had infected the local reality matrix. Unlike deities whose power faded into ambient Aether or crystallized into inert god-relics, the Phoenix Primus’s essence actively bled, birthing localized paradoxes and fueling nascent, inherently unstable power structures among the vermin that inevitably colonized such cosmic carcasses.
His ethereal projection swept lower, ignoring the fleeting squabbles of mortal settlements clinging like parasites to the corpse's less volatile foothills. These ephemeral creatures – humans, they called themselves in this sector’s dominant iteration – were predictable. They scavenged divine scraps, developed crude cultivation techniques based on the raw Ignis runoff, formed sects and empires that rose and fell like mayflies, their entire existence a footnote in the face of the celestial drama that had unfolded here eons ago. Xian Zhu had overseen the monitoring of dozens of such infested Remnants, their patterns tiresomely familiar.
What drew the Concordat's attention here, justifying the presence of a vessel like the Starfall Anchor and an Inquisitor of his modest rank, were the anomalies. The Phoenix, true to its mythic archetype even in death, possessed a cyclical energy signature, an echo of perpetual Rebirth locked in a state of entropic decay. This resulted in unpredictable surges of raw power, temporal distortions near the God-Heart cavity, and, most concerningly, the spontaneous generation or resurgence of forbidden expressions of will.
His focus narrowed, zooming in on the scrying pool’s image, bypassing the petty wars and political posturing of the local sects – the Verdant Lotus, the Serpent’s Coil, a dozen others irrelevant in the grand scheme. He directed the sensorium towards specific energy fluctuations the passive orbital monitors had flagged near the corpse's primary ruptured artery network – a region the mortals, with typical literalism, referred to as the ‘Crucible Gauntlet’.
"Log Analysis: Crimson Phoenix Echo," he subvocalized, activating a specific analytical protocol. Tendrils of azure light danced across the scrying pool’s surface, overlaying the raw visual feed with complex energy graphs and probability matrices.
Ah, yes. The Crimson Phoenix Rebirth Art. A fragmented, memetic echo of the Primordial’s own failed cycle, propagated like a virus among the desperate mortals scavenging near the corpse’s core energies. A self-destructive pathway promising rapid power escalation through systematic violation of fundamental physical and spiritual laws. Auto-combustion of flesh, consumption of vital essence, voluntary soul fragmentation, merging with divine detritus. Primitive, savage, and utterly contrary to the Concordat's principles of ordered Ascension through cosmic law integration.
Most iterations burned out quickly, consuming their hosts in spectacular but ultimately insignificant flares of unstable Ignis. Occasionally, however, one would achieve a precarious equilibrium, briefly attaining power far exceeding its peers through sheer, brutal self-mutilation. Such occurrences were flagged, monitored, and, if they showed signs of reaching certain thresholds, efficiently pruned by Concordat assets. Order had to be maintained and rogue elements harnessing chaotic divine remnants were a threat vector that could not be ignored.
The system flagged a recent cluster of probability spikes related to the Art, localized within the Verdant Lotus sect's territory, specifically coinciding with sentencing patterns directed towards their primitive ‘Crucible Gauntlet’. Nothing concrete. Statistical noise, most likely. Another desperate fool embracing self-immolation in the vain hope of transcending their inherent limitations. Typical.
"Maintain passive monitoring," Xian Zhu instructed the ship's intelligence core. "Alert if probability of sustained Tier progression exceeds threshold Delta-7. Cross-reference associated vital signs with known genealogical markers for latent resonance – unlikely, but thoroughness dictates protocol." He dismissed the Art analysis overlay. It was a recurring nuisance, not a genuine strategic threat at this stage. Like predicting which microbe in a petri dish might briefly flourish before succumbing to the nutrient limits.
His attention drifted towards a different anomaly the monitors struggled to categorize. Subtle ripples in the chroniton field near the corpse’s core. Temporal echoes, perhaps, from the Primordial's death throes? Or… something else? Faint disturbances in the destiny-weave, like pebbles dropped into a vast, dark ocean. He magnified the sensorium feed, filtering for probability vortices, nascent nexus points.
There. A flicker. Immeasurably small, insignificant on a cosmic scale, barely registering against the background noise of the dying god’s immense temporal footprint. A tiny, almost imperceptible knot forming in the threads of fate near the corpse's core, coinciding precisely with the Crucible Gauntlet region. A point of potential… divergence?
Xian Zhu frowned, a rare expression on his usually placid features. Destiny-threads were notoriously difficult to interpret, prone to false positives, especially near potent reality anchors like a Primordial Remnant. Standard protocol dictated ignoring such micro-fluctuations. Countless insignificant sparks ignited and died every cycle across the monitored sectors. Focusing on every potential divergence was inefficient.
Yet this one felt persistent. A tiny, stubborn irregularity refusing to smooth out according to probability models. It pulsed with a faint, almost undetectable energy signature characterized by… incongruity. Resilience clashing with weakness. Utter despair interwoven with something like furious obstinance. It resonated faintly with the chaotic, self-consuming energy of the Crimson Phoenix Rebirth Art, yet felt distinct, rawer, somehow more… fundamental.
An anomaly within an anomaly?
He considered ordering a focused probe, diverting resources from more significant threats in neighboring sectors. But reason prevailed. It was likely nothing. A random confluence of energies. A mortal soul burning slightly brighter before inevitable extinguishment. An echo of the dying god’s own fractured will latching onto some pathetic host. Such things happened.
To task a full Inquisitorial asset based on such flimsy data would be disproportionate, inefficient. It would invite scrutiny from his superiors.
"Log entry: Sector 734, Sub-coordinate designation Crucible Apex. Monitor infinitesimal destiny-thread irregularity," he dictated tonelessly to the ship's core. "Classification: Statistical noise, Potential Echo Contamination. Priority: Zeta-Minus. No active intervention warranted at this time."
He leaned back, dismissing the magnified view, the scrying pool resolving back to the grand, tragic panorama of the entire God-Wound. Let the mortals scrabble in the ash. Let them burn themselves out with forbidden arts. Let destiny flicker and fade like phantom limbs. The Azure Concordat watched. It maintained order. Individual sparks, no matter how seemingly irregular, were irrelevant until they threatened the established cosmic structure.
And yet a sliver of unease, illogical and unwelcome, remained. He made a final mental note: revisit the Sector 734 anomaly logs in the next reporting cycle. Just in case the noise learned how to scream. The Phoenix, after all, was a creature of unexpected rebirths, even from the coldest ashes. And sometimes, the smallest embers, fanned by impossible will, could ignite unforeseen conflagrations.
Dismissing the feed entirely, Xian Zhu turned away from the scrying pool, the image of the dying god fading from view but not entirely from his thoughts. There were other sectors demanding his attention, other, more quantifiable threats to cosmic order. The insignificant struggles unfolding on the carcass designated Phoenix Primus could wait.
For now.