The Primordial Record

If he were to live up to his full potential, and not let fear of his future dominate his choices, he would need to step up to his full potential. He would need all his Empyrean bloodlines, for they both served to shore up the weakness he had.

His vision of that future changed his perspective on things. He remembered the end of that vision. He had torn the universe to dregs and an army of Empyrean stood against him, yet he had felt no dread.

Rowan’s fears came from a series of chains that extended from beyond the universe. These chains felt familiar, for they reeked of the Primordial Keeper’s stench.

His body had been inviolable and indestructible, and the only time he felt fear was before the chains of the Primordial keepers, there was a lesson there; it was one he did not choose to ignore.

He could no longer run from the backlash of this bloodline, and whatever dangers he might face, it would be better if he had a sort of defense from it.

In addition, his one greatest weakness was his Spirit. Before, Rowan had comforted himself with sweet lies that his Spirit Stat were still very impressive, and that he was a Dominator at the Legendary State, yet his Spirit Attributes were at the peak of the Rift State.

Not to take anything away from his accomplishment, he knew that the Spirit Attribute was the most difficult to raise. It was unheard of to see a Dominator of his level having such a high Spirit.

But those views were before he still saw himself as a Dominator first, and an Empyrean second. He had seen the end of that path, and he would inevitably fall and lose his fragile human mind, and it would not be so bad if the results only affected him alone.

No, he would pull all of creation down with him, as he would not be there to control the powers of his bloodline, and it would follow its instinct to consume and grow, until everything was gone.

Wasn’t it said that with great power comes great responsibilities? How pitiful would it be to destroy all existence because he could not control his powers?

Plus, he had sworn an oath to destroy the Primordial Keepers, for he knew they wanted nothing more than to destroy him, and it stung that even at the end, at the height of his powers, he still felt fear.

He was no human, the frailties, and limitations of the human body were not his to share, his baseline was something even the gods could not touch.

He was done thinking of his weakness as strength. If he could not fight the Keepers with all the advantages he had, then he did not deserve to have those advantages.

Rowan sensed a movement in the convoy, which was possible by the arrangement he made before he left, after all he was no longer alone, and he smiled, knowing he should clean out all the horde here, so he could fully concentrate on that other matter.

Taking in a deep breath that sucked all the air around him, creating a mini twister, Rowan summoned his Primordial Record, and looked at the Soul Reaver bloodline.

After it had evolved from Soul Seizer following the accidents during his ascension to the Legendary state, he had not activated that bloodline. It was at Level Zero, and although the passive effect of Soul Seizer remained, the truth was that it was only a shell. A vestige of his previous Soul Seizer bloodline.

This decision he was about to make was monumental, and Rowan knew the moment he activated the second Omnipotent Bloodline, the fraying cord between him and humanity would collapse to nothingness. For this, bloodline in some way was far stranger than the Ouroboros Bloodline, and the influence on him would be tremendous.

It would change him, in ways he may never anticipate.

Yet, Rowan found out that some part of him was welcoming that change, a part of him that craved the thrill of the unknown.

Decision made, Rowan pushed a single Soul point into the Soul Reaver bloodline, and he activated it. Everything was calm for a moment, the beasts down in the plains and in the air moving as one, the three moons becoming more visible as the night approached, and the breeze going along its merry ways as it blew past events both miniscule and monumental.

Then something in the atmosphere shifted.

Rowan felt a feeling of weakness in his Soul, and he looked inside him, and seeing no difference, checked his mental state, only to see his Golden fog representing his spirit beginning to drain out of him.

It disappeared into an invisible spot three inches behind his head, as if it was being channeled towards another dimension outside the universe.

Creating a pathway to somewhere outside of everything that was known.

The rapid regeneration of his Spirit served him well, as it kept that channel open, and his Spirit quested far into the darkness, and it finally touched something, so cold Rowan nearly screamed, for it was a pain he had never experienced before.

His Spirit turned into a blade and pierced through that cold membrane and entered another place, and with a click that made Rowan know that he was finally part of this darkness, he felt within himself the drain from his Spirit finally ending.

He did not have any time to catch back his breath before his Spirit began to drain once more, and this time it was far worse than before.

Rowan now knew that he should have raised his Spirit to the Incarnation level first before he activated this bloodline, for his Spirit could hardly bear the strain of its activation.

In a short while, all of his Spirit disappeared from his Mental Space, and every new regeneration of his Spirit was rapidly consumed.

Rowan felt a sting at the back of his spine, with a thought, he discarded all his clothes and stood naked. Every single activation of an Omnipotent bloodline was incredibly violent.

At this moment, a part of the horde had detected him, and he could sense much of the horde began to shift towards his direction, but he wasn’t much concerned about that. His focus was on what was happening inside his body.

He felt a tingle like electricity run down his Spine, and tiny holes that began bleeding black smoke that was tinged with purple emerged from his spine. The smoke did not dissipate, rather it began to gather behind him.

No, not holes, a closer observation would be eyes, tens of thousands of tiny eyes that filled the length of his entire spine pouring the black and purple smoke out of his body.

The smoke began to thicken and take shape, as a dull cry escaped from it. The sound was chilling, not something that could emerge from anything natural. In a few seconds, the gathered smoke stood behind Rowan on two feet, its shape was the same as a man made of smoke.

Its back was to him, and it stood a few feet away from him, suddenly it moved, a bizarre motion for its feet did not change position, but it shifted, and it closed the gap between them.

Like a reflection in the mirror, it came to rest on Rowan. For a while, they stood like this on the plain, as if they were two tired travelers who find solace and strength only when they lean against each other.

With the black shadow resting on him, the drain on his Spirit accelerated once more. It was drawn from his body so violently that Rowan blacked out for a moment, and he had to bite his tongue until he was bleeding golden blood before the pain drew him away from the darkness.

Rowan Spirit was now being drawn faster than it could replenish, as the shadow behind him had a sickening appetite.