The icy cold of the void had never felt as solid as it did in this moment. The Egg of the End hung suspended, its grayish-white shell completely solidified, resembling a tombstone weathered for hundreds of millions of years in a cosmic graveyard. Those halos of light that had once flowed without end, those precise and interlocking logical mechanisms of natural laws, were now entirely frozen within this primordial grayish-white.
It was no longer a vortex or a black hole; it was merely a lifeless, heavy, alien stone that refused all response. The macrocosmic torrent of the universe's order and laws continuously washed over it, like tides beating against a piece of rotten driftwood stranded for eons, failing to raise even the slightest ripple, leaving only imperceptible traces of frozen condensation on the egg's smooth, chillingly grayish-white surface. Invisible scanning beams of logic, like the shovels of the most ruthless grave diggers, probed this silent tomb countless times, eager to unearth its decayed core, but every single time they could only touch that absolute barrier of death that rejected all interaction, and were forced to retreat in defeat.
Time lost all meaning of measurement here, leaving only an eternal stalemate and the spreading of dead silence. Inside the egg, the realm once swept by violent logical storms was likewise stagnant. Interlacing crystal walls of logic resembled frozen tree roots, maintaining their twisted postures from the exact moment of death…
Chapter 123