How exactly did one quantify age or oldness?
Some would claim it came through wrinkles carved onto the flesh like glyphs, the slow decay of joints and bone, or the graying of hair kissed by countless suns.
Others would say that it was measured in experiences- a ledger of moments, some sweet, others shattering, that shaped the weight of one’s existence.
Others believed age was the accumulation of self-reflection, of pain endured with grace, of love accepted and lost, of wonder that never faded.
And some deeper beliefs would describe age as a layering of consciousness across dimensions, a story told not in years but in the evolution of understanding.
And then, there were those who knew age wasn’t a number at all, but a scent- musky and deep- or a gaze that saw you and every version of you, all at once.
Whatever it was, age was presence!
It was weight!
And in this moment, Noah Osmont- still, unwavering- gave off the feeling of age so deep it made the air dense.
On the sands of the Early Veiled Shore, golden light shimmered as if hesitant to drift too close.
He stood with the bucket still warm from his hand, the Sacred Mead of Existence quietly standing against its crystalline walls. His bare chest shone with a soft, ancient glow, and from beneath his skin, something pulsed.
Noah’s eyes were closed. And inward, he saw it.
The Ventryalis.
The Primal Root Atrium of Echoes.
It pulsed with solemnity, a chamber of silence and memory.
This was no ordinary part of a heart.
It resembled a chambered vault made from living obsidian vines, with glowing arteries that pulsed with multicolored light, threading outward in fractal branches like the roots of a celestial tree.
Its texture was both biological and mythical- fibers like the sinew of existence itself forming the atrial walls, while its floor resembled an endless spiral carved into living stone.
At its center, a bulbous node pulsed with a steady rhythm, each throb emitting pulses that sent soft echoes throughout Noah’s body, into the Towers of Osmont, into the glyphs shining along his bones.
It was complete.
A prompt bloomed before his closed eyes.
|The Ventryalis – The Primal Root Atrium of Echoes has been fully formed.|
|All systems within your existence are now accepting and digesting the Sacred Mead of Existence.|
|You can now freely generate 1 Drop of Blood of an Early Creature every minute.|
|You can now begin nurturing a Concept or Idea from your Towers of Osmont into your own True Absolute Existential Resistance, even before surpassing the Originus Venerant Realm as from this point forward, limitations based on Realm boundaries defined by Living Existences and those lesser than them no longer apply to you.|
...!
The prompts were overwhelming.
And there were many as even now, they werent done!
|Due to the formation of the Ventryalis, the complexity of your existence, your Glyphs, Towers, and other Collective Factors, your strength has been assigned an Age.|
|Age Assigned: 1 / 1,000 |
|Note: The Age system for Early Creatures measures their authority, complexity, and presence relative to the foundational archetype of an Early Creature. An Age of 1 / 1,000 signifies a nascent but True status.|
Noah opened his eyes, the bucket still in hand, its golden milk reflecting a dancing starlight.
He smiled faintly.
He was given an age.
An age of an Early Creature! 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺
And it turned out...he had not even reached 1 years old! He was a thousandth. 0.001!
This was fantastical and terrifying to think about as if Age was a measure of strength, how terrifying would Early Creatures be at this moment?
Would their Age continue rising with the passage of time, or if an Early Creature had their power stall at 100 years of age, even a million years later, they would still be 100 years of age?
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