The Chronicle of Dingir-Titan-ki-en-gi-ka

This is how it begins in the temple of Huà Mèng, where the bronze tablet of madness rests:

There, where the sky yawns from stifling darkness and the winds chase through the gorges like suffocated cries, they stand – the Black Pillars of Liúshì. Forests of silence and glass. Not trees as known to earthly mortals, but treacherous structures made of fermented ether and the petrified breath of the ancient gods. Their roots do not suck water, but the blood of the earth – that twin dragon's breath (C₂H₂) that boils in the veins of Titan. Their leaves? Scaly shadows that transform the three-horned snake spit (C₂H₆) into life. Height: 13 Zhàng, 3 Chǐ (≈31.5 m). Those who touch them have their souls frozen into Yōu-Guǐ jade – for they are the guardians of oblivion.

And behold! Out of the mists crawled Zhūyàn , born from the seed of the Yīn fire (CH₄ lakes). Wide as ten war chariots, long as the shadow of the moon. His mouth: a gulf with a thousand sifting needles that filter the fleeting spirit of the swamp. His weight: 500 Jūn (≈300 kg). His skin: tanned leather made of stardust, impervious to the Blue Poison (HF acid).

But woe betide anyone who threatens it! It breathes the breath of damnation—a foul odor (CH₄) ignited by lightning from the sky! Its death is its birth: when its body explodes, it gives birth to a hundred new hells (methane sources) where the ancient archaea (methane bacteria) thrive.

It is not an animal. It is the equation that cries out for flesh. Its veins pump liquid horror (CH₄), cooked in Yáos' forge (-180°C). Its teeth: calculations made of diamond. Its cry: the roar of a chain reaction (C₂H₂ + H₂ → C₂H₄).

But its true horror? It knows no loyalty. When the swarm is hungry, it eats its own heart. The alpha animals lure with the scent of despair (trimethylamine) – but when the first wounds bleed, mathematics turns to madness. Lifespan: one Shíchen (10 years). His end? Only the beginning, because his death lures the others (mutations).

His name? Wúmíng zhī zhǒng – the seed of the nameless.

Whoever reads this, listen: The Great Ancients do not sleep... they wait. Huà Mèng, alias Aldhar Ibn Beju, wrote this.

Thus ends the chronicle in the Book of the Three Lodges:

Black Pillars: 30 Zhàng (≈70 m)

Zhūyàn: 800 Jūn (≈480 kg)

Thanatophages: 1 Shíchen (10 years)

But who measures time in a world without sun, without mercy, without end?

© 2025 Q.A.Juyub alias Aldhar Ibn Beju

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