THE PRIMORDIAL RECORD

Chapter 1414  Memory Of An Old One

Vraegar response to that unexpected question was with fire. He had lived long enough to know when one was being considered as prey, and the being here was only sating their curiosity right before they drove the blade into his skull.

Red flames exploded from his mouth with so much intensity it was as if a star had exploded. The flames covered his entire body with a massive whooshing sound that pushed the space around him backward for miles as the impossible heat from his fires sent reality quaking, and even as he sent clear orders for his subordinates to retreat towards the edge of the dimension and close off all of their perceptive abilities, he began launching a spell taught to him by the Lady of Shadows on his insistence, called Heavenly Eye, after he decided to roam reality outside his father’s dimension.

This spell was supposed to be strictly available for Celestials alone, and not just any minor Celestials but higher order Celestials like Seraphim. However, Vraegar had been able to learn it to the shock of Eva, and the dragon had preened for many millennia when he recalled shock in the eyes of Eva, and even now, the memory still made him proud, reinforcing his belief in the power of his omnipotent blood.

His eyes blazed white as if two suns had been ignited within and he could finally see a shadow standing in the midst of his red flames. It was humanoid, seemingly the size of a human and simultaneously the size of a universe, and even though what he could see was barely a fraction of the Memory of this immortal, the greatest feeling he was receiving from this sight was of a vast ocean of old, cold blood, so voluminous it could quench every star in creation.

“Interesting… You can see me, dragon. This makes you better than all the wretched spawn that has emerged from my remnant. I have been asleep for too long and my Dominion has weakened to nothing. Worship me as your master, or grant me your body. This Era has changed from the one I know, but with you, I can rise. You can be my slave or my tool.”

The language spoken by this Old One was extremely strange, archaic, and possessing far more power than it should have, but it was a good thing that this was the language mostly used by Rowan, and Vraegar was already used to its power and weight. Whatever fear that rose in his heart was suppressed when he knew that the root of his bloodline was older and far more terrible.

The words from the Old One carried authority that almost compelled Vraegar to reply and if not for the effects of Heavenly Eyes and the knowledge that the Lady of Shadows had bequeathed him, Vraegar would have responded to that shadow and doomed himself. Even looking at the Old One would have been acknowledging his presence.

The Memory of an eighth-dimensional Old One gained power when it was acknowledged, and Heavenly Eyes shielded the dragon from the effects of this Memory because it made the heavens themselves his eyes, and so it was not Vraegar that was acknowledging the presence of the Old One, it was the heavens of this dimension, and if he made the mistake of responding to him, then Vraegar’s mind would no longer be his own, as a Memory of an Old One could wipe out his soul in a single breathe.

In their higher realm of existence, their greatest weapon against those who were lower than them was the sheer complexity of their existence and the weight that it carried. Simply by placing themselves in the area, their Will would make that area their own.

Not falling for this trap, the dragon roared, and the unceasing red flames jetting out of his mouth brightened until it was almost white, Vraegar placed his claw into it, but he was not burned, instead, he drew out a blade made from his flames, and he swung it down on the heart of the dimension, which was the bleeding black moon.

Reality parted and a long wave of dense energy that flared with the color of a dying sun streaked toward the moon faster than light, Vraegar reeled back from this move, he had used all of the energy he had harvested from the seventh-dimensional immortal, and also nearly half of all of his energy stores for that single slash. He inferred that attacking this quickly was the only chance he would get to make a worthwhile attack against this Old One.

The falling blood from the black moon froze in place before unexpectedly reassembling itself into a giant web that covered the entire moon. More of the blood kept stitching into place to create more webs faster than it should have been possible as if time was being delayed for this action to be completed, but the slash from Vraegar was too quick, and it slammed into the black moon.

He had concentrated all of his power into tearing into the moon, his entire Will and Intent focused on the single task of cutting it in two and destroying its entire structure, yet a fraction of the energy of that slash escaped from it due to rebounding against the solidity of that move, creating a light that was so bright that it could be seen for billions of light years and the resultant shockwave shattered the remnants of this dimension to pieces. At the edge of his consciousness, Vraegar could feel many consciousnesses of his subordinates being wiped out by the light and shockwave from that blast despite the fact that they had more than forty experienced fourth-dimensional immortals shielding them.

The shockwave seemed unrelenting as Vraegar was being pushed back as a storm of ash, flames, and blood blasted past him. Although he had unleashed all this power, a majority of the energy he had utilized was not from him, and he did not have a full understanding of what he had accomplished, but he still smiled because he could hear the screams of rage from that Old One despite all the cacophony that erupted from his slash.

Even when he felt great pain on his side as a force sent him blasting through enormous chunks of land that were the remnants of this dimension, he still smiled when he saw his handiwork through the Heavenly Eyes.

Twenty percent of the black moon had been destroyed, leaving a deep crater in the enormous moon that revealed bleeding flesh and rotten bones. The black moon was the heart of this Old One that had slowly gone rotten over the endless years that his Memory had languished in the Great Desert.

The dragon would have laughed if he was able to. Here he was a fifth-dimensional immortal, yet he had struck a blow that harmed an Old One.

Vraegar did not need to check to see that the pain he had felt a while back was a result of the Old One, which he had judged was most likely Drakul himself. That pain was a result of a blow that had torn out his left wings and claw, but since he was still holding on to his blade of flames using his right claw, he still had the means to defend himself, and with the message from his clone that he was expecting reinforcement, Vraegar needed to survive for a few moments more, giving him hope.

“For these despicable acts against my Throne, dragon, I shall impale your soul and spirit upon a spike of pain till the end of this Era. Your flesh shall serve as my footstool and your bones shall be the foundation of my new world. Your Will shall scream forever, and the tale of your folly shall be known to all who walk upon my realm for eternity.”

Vraegar tried not to listen to the rage of Drakul; if he did, the powerful Memory of this Old One could begin twisting his words into reality, and the dragon’s Fate would be as he had spoken. Vraegar had one last major move in his tank before he was all out of energy, there was nothing else for him to steal except he began draining his subordinate, and the Memory of the Old One was far too powerful and strange for him to be able to gain a single handhold. His only option was to defend and survive long enough until he received help.

‘I can do it… I can survive. At least long enough for those who followed me to be rescued.’

He failed to follow the next series of blows, Vraegar only felt the pain several moments after he had been struck, as massive mounds of flesh were stripped from his body and his bones underneath fractured, as he was tossed from one corner of the broken remnant dimension to another. The dragon roared in pain and swiped his blade of flames to catch his opponent, but it was useless, this Memory of Drakul did not seem tangible, yet it could hurt the dragon.

Vraegar no longer thought he could survive what was to come. He had been nearly flayed to the bone, and all his energy was placed into keeping the embers of his vitality burning.

“Why do you not speak, dragon? Do you believe that your silence would preserve the last of your soul from my hands?”

A long black tongue emerged from the darkness and it began to lap the blood of Vraegar that had spilled across trillions of miles,

“Your blood… is foul. Too much power contained within it, and not enough Will to make it tangible. You are nothing but a fattened pig that should have been properly prepared for slaughter. Your owner has given you too much freedom!”

Vraegar growled internally but refused to be baited by the Memory of Drakul.

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