The Primordial Record

Chapter 1607: Drown Out The Heavens

Rowan did not know if he was dead or still clinging to life. He could not feel anything; his only senses were covered by this endless whiteness, and perhaps it was because of the stark nature of his senses at this time that made him reflect on these recent events.

He had tried to overestimate the abilities of the Primordials, but he had still fallen short, and now that he was on the verge of true death, Rowan was annoyed that his final moments were being crowded by this white light. If this place was death, then he rejected it.

“Break!”

A resounding crack that shattered the stillness followed Rowan’s proclamation, and his single eye flew open. He discovered the broken body of the Archon in the distance, and on one knee was Primordial Memory with a terrible wound that radiated from his shoulder down to his waist, nearly cutting the Primordial in two.

The Archon had lost both of its legs and its right arm. Half of its head had been cleaved away, and on its chest was Apollyon, buried to the hilt. All of the energy of the Archon was focused on suppressing the destructive influence of this blade, and at the moment, the clear winner had not been revealed, but with the broken state of the Archon, it was only a matter of time before this Destroyer would perish.

Rowan was not aware of the attacks he had made that could have grievously injured this Primordial. It would seem that even when his consciousness had scattered, his body did not stop fighting.

His awakening must have been detected by Primordial Memory, who looked at Rowan, and in his eyes, now Rowan could see great unease that was incredibly close to fear.

Primordial Memory groaned and began struggling to his feet, “Why are you not dead?”

Rowan did not deem it wise to answer that question when he did not know all the answers. He only knew he would not fall before this Primordial was dead and all his works were shattered.

He took a step, then another. At first, his gait was shaky, but then it steadied, and soon, he was jogging before he began to run.

Primordial Memory panicked. He harshly gestured to the Archon, “Stop him!”

The Archon responded, dragging itself with its only arm to shield Primordial Memory, who had begun to flee into the distance. Whatever wound that Rowan unleashes with his blade could not be healed, and that made Primordial Memory wary.

He was not a warrior or particularly skilled in expressing himself in the physical dimension. If his Throne were destroyed here, it would take him a long time to train up another Adjudicator that was equal to this one.

Time was meaningless to Primordial Memory, but this loss would mean he had to give more of his share of the prize of Primordial Light.

It was a gamble to challenge Rowan by himself instead of leaving it to Light or Demon, but Primordial Memory had believed that all of his preparation was enough, but who would have ever expected that the child would gain a Fate Origin and possess such potent powers over the laws that was nearing the level of a Primordial even at the seventh dimensional level.

This did not even factor in his heretical tenacity, which kept him alive far longer than any being should have.

Gilded Maw had destroyed everything inside of Rowan. His Essence, Soul, Memory, Time, Space, and all his laws. His Fate was harder to destroy, but that could be slowly consumed in time.

And yet, he was still alive!

“There must be a limit. I have to outlive him for a few moments before he dies. What treasure would I be able to create with his corpse? With it, would I need to remain in this broken Reality? Let them fight for the remnants of Eosah; the true treasure is here all along.”

Primordial Memory had already traveled through many broken dimensions when a premonition of danger entered his mind, and a burning sensation filled his chest, so strong that it overrode the pain of his missing arm and the slash that had nearly torn him in two.

Looking down at his chest, he saw a hand protruding out of it, holding the Archon’s Reality Core.

All the information about the creation and purpose of the Reality Core brushed through his consciousness, and he saw the hand of Rowan beginning to squeeze this miracle, and the eyes of Primordial Memory widened in shock and horror.

“Rowan, don’t, we can talk about…”

The Reality Core cracked, and Primordial Memory knew that it was already too late. The light of the Core was guttering like a candle in the Abyss, but Primordial Memory knew that this was just the beginning of the end.

He felt the body of Rowan rest against his back, there was hardly any weight to be felt, and when Rowan head came to rest on the shoulder of Primordial Memory, he saw that the body of this abomination was more smoke than substance, everything about him had been erased, and yet he remained.

Rowan whispered in the ear of the shocked Primordial, a single word

“Remember.”

And then the Reality Core in his grip detonated.

This space, the Archon, Primordial Memory—all vanished in a silent, blinding eruption of gold and shadow, and for a long time, there was nothing but the purest form of destruction, and a mighty crack as the mesh covering this space was destroyed.

When the light vanished, only wreckage remained: the Archon shattered husk, its Reality Core that was now dark, the cracked remnants of the Eye of Time that was slowly bleeding away the essence of time and was on the verge of death… and a single fading ember of Rowan’s soul that was drifting into the endless night.

There was silence for a while, and then the darkness pulsed.

Multiple great roars of rage that could shatter all of creation arose from all around the darkness as the Origin Ouroboros emerged from it.

Gently circling around the wisp of Rowan’s soul, they began carefully pouring out gentle waves of healing Origin Essence into this wisp of Rowan’s soul.

Not a long time passed, and this wisp shivered as Rowan’s consciousness awakened. His senses swept around him, discovering that Primordial Memory was dead and the Archon was no more.

With a groan that accompanied deep weariness, Rowan pulled upon his will, and he reshaped this wisp of a soul into a body that was barely stronger than an Earth god.

He looked at his six Origin Ouroboros Serpents, especially at the newly evolved serpent who must have devoured Bahamut, and he nodded,

’Good, at least something was going according to plan.’

He knew this serpent had transformed in new ways, but he had no method to investigate these changes in his present state. Even now, his soul was still unraveling, and only the presence of the serpents was keeping him alive and conscious.

Yet, the job was not done. There was still one more thing to do.

Rowan looked around and saw Apollyon lying beside the broken husk of the Archon. He flew towards his blade and reached for the hilt.

Grabbing it, he felt the unwavering will of this weapon, its thirst for destruction, and the pride in its metallic bones. Apollyon had stood against the new Destroyer, and despite the disadvantages they had faced, it still came out on top.

Rowan smiled at the thought of this weapon as he drew it out of Archon’s shell and discovered that the blade had been broken in half.

To gain the Reality Core of the Archon and finish this battle, Apollyon sacrificed itself to tear apart the barrier in front of Rowan and give him victory.

Rowan ran his finger through the length of the blade, now filled with cracks. Still, his touch slowly pulled these pieces together until the half of the blade he held was almost spotless. But he knew this was only a surface healing. Apollyon was at the edge of destruction, but like its master, the blade would not shatter until the work was done.

Fusing his consciousness deeper into the blade, Rowan began to heal its wounds. He might not have much power left, but his knowledge was still priceless, and he knew that sharpening his weapon before a battle was never a wasted effort.

Rowan spoke to his blade as he healed it, a slight smile on his face,

“Apollyon, you bore my strife, my oath unspoken.

At the end of this day, they would sing of my might. But you were the wind that won the fight.

Do you hear that, my mighty destroyer? That sound—that roar in your heart. That is the song of the fragile, the fleeting, the forgotten.

And on this day. It would drown out heaven!”

Directly in the spot where Primordial Memory had fallen, space rippled and parted, and a heavenly city was revealed in its depths.

This was the throne room of the highest heavens, where the throne of Light waited.

Where Eve, Daughter of Old Light, waited.

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