The Primordial Record

Chapter 1791: Scattering The Primordials

Vorthas, Primordial Life, had obtained freedom almost as quickly as Primordial Demon, but he had pretended that he was still bound by time. Inside his core, he was accumulating power in secret, but the problem was that Rowan already knew he was free.

Attacking Primordial Life next was not a mistake, and as Rowan turned towards him, the Primordial already knew the game was up. Wearing the appearance of Seed, the Primordial roared as he exploded into an abomination of foliage and the void, becoming an entity that consumed all life.

His form was a vortex of hungry nothingness, and it swept forward to devour Rowan. From watching Rowan effortlessly sweep aside Primordial Demon—as if this Primordial, who was famed as having the greatest physical strength, was nothing—Primordial Life knew he could not match Rowan on a direct confrontation, and it was a good thing his strength did not lie in this direction.

Rowan was covered by the swirling mass of Primordial Life, and he did not resist as he felt a billion questing teeth trying to gnaw through his skin and drain his essence.

Understanding what Primordial Life was trying to do, Rowan rapidly made changes inside his body, and he opened himself to the hunger of the Primordial.

He let Vorthas taste his essence. And what Vorthas consumed was not power, but time itself, not as it was known by Primordial Time, but as Rowan recognized time—raw, undiluted, and infinite.

Rowan had been able to create raw time before his evolution, and now that process was nearly instantaneous with all the tools available to him from his fusion and ascension.

This deluge of time made Primordial Life freeze in place. Rowan did not know the reason when Primordial Life had nearly been immune to the explosion of Time he had previously unleashed, but he was sure that it was because that power came from another Primordial. Rowan could also make Time, and Primordial Life had fallen into his trap.

Freezing a Primordial would not last long, and Rowan released all the preparations he had laid inside his body.

“You want to consume me, Vorthas? Then take it all.”

Rowan opened the gate to the grief of a billion dead worlds, the cold fury of a murdered family, the absolute desolation of the void between seconds. And this was just the beginning, deeper wounds that only a Reality like him could bear, scars that would not heal, he threw all of that pain towards the mouths of Primordial Life, who, in his frozen state, could not refuse them.

It was a meal that could not be digested. Vorthas’s form bloated, not with power, but with the crushing weight of eons, his addictive hunger turning into a terminal, gluttonous overdose.

He convulsed, his form spasming and distorting, vomiting back streams of corrupted chronology before he was flung away, diminished and sickened. His wounds might have become more terrible, but Primordial Imagination wrapped him up and vanished, but not before Rowan nearly tore her in two as she left half her body behind.

Primordial Time had barely recovered from being suppressed by Rowan; the feeling of intense violation was so great, alongside the grief of losing his sister, that he threw caution to the wind and allowed his Evil nature to take over.

Tentacles burst out of his face, and an abominable power erupted from his six cuboid eyes that sought to unmake Rowan with a single, silent decree of non-existence.

Rowan was heading towards Primordial Memory when he sensed the power of Evil heading towards him, and his head rotated on his neck. His eyes flashed as he clashed with the decree of non-existence, and Primordial Time found his judgment met with a counter-verdict.

Xyris’s power, when paired with his Evil Origin, was absolute nullification, a blink that could erase a dimension. He turned it on Rowan. And it failed.

Rowan was, in that moment, not a thing to be erased. He was the context in which erasure occurred. He was the canvas upon which the act of deletion was painted. You cannot erase the eraser. Rowan’s eyes, twin supernovae of condensed history, locked with Xyris’s own, and Reality rippled.

The silent decree was sent back, reflected, multiplied. Xyris, for the first time, experienced his own power from the outside. He was silently, utterly judged by his own cold authority and found wanting.

A spiderweb of cracks appeared across his form, not physical, but existential, and he was thrust backward, his silence broken by the sound of his own essence fracturing.

He fled, grievously injured as his Origin of Time suffered a heavy backlash, and if he did not find a way to suppress the power of evil, he would be transformed and destroyed.

Dealing with Primordial Time only required a glance, and Rowan was already in front of Primordial Memory when his head rotated back, only to grunt as a wave of power from Primordial Memory slammed into his body, making him take a step back.

Elgorath, Primordial Memory, the First Cause: the one who had conceived the plot to use the Gilded Maw spell to unravel Rowan’s Angels held a special place of hatred in his heart. Latest content published on Nove1Fire.net

What he had unleashed against Rowan was not a specific power, but a wave of pure creative force overlaid by the power of Memory, seeking to overwrite Rowan with a new, benign reality where he had never existed.

It was the ultimate power: the power to make a better past. It crashed over Rowan—and splashed apart.

You cannot rewrite a story for a character who is holding the pen. Rowan stood firm within the storm of unrealized possibilities. He absorbed the wave of ’what could have been’ and answered with the immutable, crushing weight of ’what was.’

If Rowan were still a part of the Primordial system of power and held any shred of Primordial Bloodline, then the powers of Demon, Life, Time, and now Memory would have unraveled him into nothing, but he was now Origin, and an Apex Omniversal Titan… and their power could find nothing to touch.

Rowan stood firmly within the storm of Memories, and he was not shaken. There were many ways he could retaliate, but he did not attack Elgorath with a punch or a kick.

He simply took a step forward. And in that step, he carried the entire, unchangeable history of his own suffering, his loss, his death. It was a history so dense, so real, so factual, that it acted as an anchor, tearing through Elgorath’s beautiful, fictional new reality like a black hole through a dream.

Elgorath, Primordial Memory, met an effect he could not manipulate or prevent. His eyes widened in sheer, uncomprehending shock as the wave of his own power reversed course, infused with the horrific truth of his actions, and struck him full force, hurling him back with the sound of shattering genesis.

It was over.

The entire cataclysm, the unraveling of five supreme beings, had taken one nanosecond! The countless immortals in the Arena were still held spellbound by the reveal of Rowan’s presence in Reality, and they had no time even to process what was happening because the time scale that Rowan and the Primordials were battling exceeded any lower lifeform by a factor of magnitude.

In the next moment, the nullity between them faded. The five Primordials were scattered across Reality, their forms flickering and dimming as they struggled to reintegrate after being fundamentally challenged in a way they had never conceived possible.

Smoke, not of fire, but of spent potential and broken laws, curled from the points of their impacts, surrounding Rowan and highlighting his extreme power.

This was the sight that all of Reality saw. In one moment, Rowan appeared, and in the next, it seemed all the Primordials had vanished, the echoes of their broken cries still shaking Reality.

Rowan stood exactly where he had been, his hands now hanging loosely at his sides. He had not moved. And yet, he had moved through an eternity of violence. The air around him hummed with the aftershock of collapsed possibilities.

He had not just fought them. He had not just beaten them.

For that one, stretched-second, he had exceeded them.

Time seemed to reassert itself as the Arena below exploded, followed by a hundred levels of the Abyss. It was as if the damage from Rowan’s punch against Primordial Demon was so significant that Reality had to take a while for it to process the damage so it could be expressed.

Rowan looked down at the battered form of the Primordial Demon; this was his target. The rest of the Primordials that had been here were not with their main bodies, just the projection of their bodies, unlike Primordial Demon.

“Today, I shall end the Abyss.”