The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1791

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. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

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.

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