The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1781

Chapter 1781: The Ashen Shore of Oblivion

Inside Rowan’s consciousness were countless spots of light representing all the places of interest he was focusing on. Among these spots of lights were twelve extremely large spots, all of which coincided with Primordial level tasks, and above these twelve light spots were four larger spots of light, which represented what Rowan considered to be issues greater than the present Primordials inside this Reality.

They were the Beast of Final Rest, which was Death, Eosah, and her knowledge of the fifth level beyond Origin, the mysterious First Creator, Enoch, and... himself paired with the Primordial Record.

His primary focus, however, was on one of the spots of Primordial interest... Chaos. He reviewed the series of events that led to the imprisonment of Chaos inside Oblivion, and when he was satisfied that he had missed nothing, his main body began to rise... it was time to kill another Primordial.

Rowan reviewed the tools he had to work with and checked his weapons and Origins. Before his body vanished from the Origin Lands, he began to create a new blade inside his heart, one that was specifically made to kill Chaos.

His body began to transform, as his armor and flesh were subtly evolving and changing in a direction that would suit the battle ahead. His new talents were extremely powerful, and as an Omniversal Titan, he was not restricted to a single form of combat.

The Primordials left in Reality were dangerous, but this was his chance to learn and refine all of his combat methodologies in order to properly deal with the threats outside this Reality.

®

Oblivion was infinite, and even though Rowan had pushed Primordial Chaos through its gate, if he had no method to track the Primordial, then he would have to search Oblivion for an eternity before he discovered Chaos.

Obviously, Rowan would not allow such an oversight to happen, as he easily tracked the Primordial with the connection he had with the Origin of Space.

Primordial Chaos had mastered two layers of the Origin of Space, but Rowan had mastered four layers, and if not for the fact that he had not yet seeded his this Origin in his flesh, Rowan would have already been on his way into becoming the Primordial of Space.

By now, he could call himself a Nascent Primordial of Space, Destruction, Fate, Soul, and Destiny. Still, preparations needed to be made, Primordials needed to be killed before he took the last step.

Rowan could feel his connection with Chaos, and if he wanted, he could seize back the minor Authority that the Primordial had over space, ensuring that Reality did not collapse when he was killed, but that would be a mistake at this point; he did not want Chaos to know he had this power.

He would rather leave a road open for Chaos to escape when death came for him, and if the Primordial chose to escape using his power over Space, thinking his salvation lay there, then Rowan would strike.

Feeling the completion of the weapon inside his heart, Rowan stepped into oblivion. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

The transition into Oblivion was not a fall, but an un-making of the fall itself. Rowan did not descend; the concept of "descent" was systematically erased around him.

One moment, he was at the precipice of the Gate; the next, he was... elsewhere. Elsewhere was not a place. It was the absence of place, the corpse of location.

He was in the fourth layer of the void, in a location that he called the Ashen Shore of Oblivion. Rowan looked around, his massive consciousness taking in this layer of the void at a glance.

It was a plane of absolute grey, a fine, static dust that was not matter but the memory of matter. Underfoot, it had the consistency of crushed possibilities.

There was no sky, no horizon, only a perpetual, twilight gloom that seemed to emanate from the dust itself. The air—though there was no air—was thick with the silence of forgotten things.

Sound did not echo here; it was absorbed, its very vibrational nature questioned and nullified. The laws of physics were not broken; they were deceased. Time was a sluggish, dying river, meandering toward a sea that had evaporated eons ago.

Rowan’s senses, attuned to the fundamental frequencies of existence, screamed in protest. He was an intruder in a realm that had voted against being. However, the portion of Space Origin in his body yearned to consume this emptiness, but Rowan held this hunger at bay.

Every particle of his armor, every strand of his will, was under constant, gentle, inexorable assault both from inside himself as he suppressed his hunger and outside from Oblivion.

Oblivion did not attack; it merely insisted that he, like all things, was a temporary error in the eternal equation of nothing. To remain here, whole and defined, required an act of continuous, monumental defiance.

He had expected this. His armor, forged in the death throes of a dimension, was a suit of existential defiance. His will, hardened by the un-making of a Primordial, was a fortress against the null. He was a razor blade of "is" floating in an ocean of "is-not."

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify