The Primordial Record

". . . ’ . . ."

An emaciated boy, with white hair, walked slowly towards the village, his directions were towards the shores of the lake, he held two bundles in his hands and at every set interval they vibrated, and muffled sounds came from them.

He shivered when an intense explosion happened ahead, and was blown to the ground when the resulting shockwaves hit him, he did not wait for long before he picked himself up and began walking again.

The boy had shocking wounds running all over his body, he had deep clawing wounds as if he was mauled by a bear and his legs were bereft of any skin, just a bleeding pile of muscles and ligaments holding his bones together.

He must have been suffering an incalculable amount of pain, yet he still walks with them, and from his mouth whispers, that sounded like different people, some whispers were high-pitched, some were mellow and some were nothing but growls.

" ?.

. ."

’ ? ’!

The open wounds of the boy had stopped bleeding red, and were slowly turning yellow. Yet after a while it turned back to red.

This was not necessarily a good thing, for he would have collapsed a while back, but the yellow blood healed him enough and in so doing prolonged his suffering.

.

His eyes began to change, his brown eyes that often exude warmth and laughter began to turn yellow, and the whites of his eyes turned blood-red.

.

The bundle on his arm was the head of his mother and sister.

Steisa eyes were closed as if she was asleep, tears had dried on her face; her skin was pale.

Rose had an annoyed look on her face and her mouth was curled in a snarl, from her open mouth fragments of whispers emerged, and the boy seemed to nod along, and every so often he would shake his head in disagreement.

But his steps were sure. He goes to the lake.

!

Rowan’s journey back home was in a haze.

His heart was in turmoil.

He dimly heard the whispers of the people inquiring about who he was. Yet, he was too distracted to hear the reply Maeve had given them.

Rowan did not think his appearance would cause undue alarm to them, for as a Noble, he was permitted a level of eccentricity far more than regular folks.

Besides, his shell now had an appearance of armor. All he knew was that they went silent, and followed him, he could not ask for anything more.

He walked ahead of them, with Maeve was directly behind him, followed by the captain, the rest of the people and finally the last three Guardsmen.

As he moved, he sought to clear his mind, and deliberate on what he had seen and the hidden link between them all.

A while back, when his Attributes of Strength and Agility broke past the Rift State, he felt a familiar sensation. It was the same as what he felt when he transmigrated to this world.

He had felt suffocated and tied down, it was as if he was weighed down by countless chains, that had wrapped around his body, and they were being tightened.

He had felt a deep disgust in his soul, as if he were being violated on a fundamental level, and as the sensation reached its peak it vanished.

Almost as if someone adjusted the parameters to correct a mistake, for, he was certain, that he was not supposed to notice.

He had felt this particular feeling three times, the first was when he came to this world, the second time was when he touched that mysterious tattoo on his chest, and now he had felt it again.

The Soul point he gathered from the last eruption with the Axe was 532. It was a lot, and he expected his growth to enter another explosive phase soon.

Currently, he felt assured enough about his chances for survival, as his bloodline had stopped evolving and if he was not dying in the following days, he had a shot of becoming a Legendary. He hopes he was not that unlucky for his lifespan to end in the next hour.

That world with the Red moon that he visited through that yellow rock held a deep attraction to him. It may be more dangerous than he could fathom, but it was undoubtedly the key to his salvation.

If he could gather soul points without having to wade through a mountain of corpses, he would take that options any day.

This new option to grow give him leeway to think. He did not have many chances to with all the events occurring around him, with the speed of the crowd, it would take at least one hour to get to the manor.

Who knew what he might find when he returned, he trusted nothing, and he needed a few moments to gather his thoughts.

It was a surprise that there were few injuries among the remaining people, with none debilitating, Rowan did not know whether he was to attribute that to divine intervention or the sheer effectiveness of the Abominations at killing.

The children were mostly silent, which Rowan attributed to shock, but no doubt when the dust settled and the full weight of this day came to bear, it would leave scars that would never heal, yet they were not out of danger yet.

He shot a burst of Spatial sight into the sky, he heard reports from Captain Titus about a winged Abomination, but it retreated before Rowan reached them.

He also peered deep into the ground, he could not afford to be careless, even though his Spirit was at its limit.

His Spirit still felt strain from the amount of power he had just slung towards the Abomination and, unlike his body, it was not recovering quickly enough, and using it in this manner was torturous.

But these were a minor concern to what plagued him. Rowan felt like a rat in a maze, he should be seeing something that had been placed in front of him, but he could not.

It was like an itch he could not scratch, and it gnawed at his mind, reminding him that he would pay a price if he ignored it for long.

What was he missing?

Well, let’s return to what he knows, he woke up in a slaughterhouse with a disorganized memory, and with a special condition, his lifespan was short. He was knocked out by his father and woke up in his manor, which was shortly attacked by Abominations, and the only thing that had kept him alive was the Primordial Record.

Was this the Singularity his father spoke of? If it was, then it meant they knew or at least suspected he had it, and if that was the case, do they have an idea of the sort of power it gave him?

If they even suspected half of what the Primordial Record was capable of, there would be no way he would be left out of their sight. Does that mean he was being monitored, but by whom?

His sight swept through everyone behind him, there was a total of a hundred and seventeen people behind him, including Maeve and the Guardsmen. There were seventy-three children and youth, which included boys and girls, twelve men and twenty-seven women.

Among all these people, who was the spy? At his manor, who could he trust? And if he were to look at it on a deeper level, what information had he been fed that he took for truth but was false.

He was a stranger in this world, with a bad memory, if he was told black was white and assumed that to be the truth, every inference he drew from that point forth would be incorrect.

He would be like the fool, who sells himself and helps his buyer to count the money. He needed a source of clean information in other to take effective actions, that should be his next goal.

Trying to find a traitor among people he hardly understood was a lesson in futility, even though the princely part of him frowned at this line of thought, he would not deceive himself.