My distinction as the Origin Prime Osmontian Infinitum bore the brunt of it.
The pressure of endless folded time did not tear my Lineage apart.
No.
It tried something else.
"Ho?" My eyes sparkled.
It pressed upon the authority contained within my Lineage, tried to eat away at the very complexity and purity that fueled it, the lifeblood of its existence.
The Authority that powered up the Existential Dimensional Lattices of my Lineage.
The moment I sensed it, I understood something and smiled.
This was why others failed.
Why, after a few hours, even the strongest Primarchs faltered.
The Cradle was not simply crushing their True Sources.
It was grinding down their authority.
The very essence that maintained the complexity of their Lattices, the regenerative fountain that allowed them to maintain their existence in this suffocating realm, it was siphoned, worn away.
And slowly, inevitably, they would be hollowed out.
Until they collapsed.
Until they were ejected.
