THE PRIMORDIAL RECORD

Chapter 1415  Old Secrets (1)

For the next several moments, Vraegar was brought to the edge of death. Massive booms rang out as his bones that had reached the first Supreme Core in durability were taken to their limit and no single spot was left untouched, the dragon feared that a single massive breeze would cause him to collapse as his stores of energy had vanished a while back, clearly, Drakul was just toying with him at this point.

Under this intense torture, Vraegar’s mind could not bear but return to the moment that his father had granted him the Nosferatu bloodline, at that time Vraegar had stolen Rowan’s essence for his advancement, and with the awakening of his father, the expected rebuke he received had not been that he stole from him, just that his vision was too simple, and what he used with what he stole had been far too rudimentary. His father had been disappointed that despite all of his gifts, he had still failed to use his talents to their greatest effect.

‘Am I going to fail you again, Father? Can I not hold for long enough for help to arrive? Will I ever be worthy of your name…’

Even though his clone had not stayed for long inside Doom Star, he had seen the magnitude of the enemy that his father had been facing. Great Old Ones would make Drakul here appear as harmless as a kitten, and there had been multiple of them, yet the ease at which he had gone into that battle while still at the third-dimensional level was frankly unfair and frightening.

‘I cannot be like you, Father; no one else can, but I will not bring shame to your blood. With all my gifts, how can I fail here? This Old thing would not break me!”

Vraegar sank deeper into his consciousness, no longer trying to anticipate the blows that were coming for him, he instead began to use the last of his resources to firm his bones and preserve his essence for as long as possible. He would endure until the sun turned to the dust if needed.

The dragon did not know how long he lasted under the assault of Drakul, but the voice of the Old One dragged him away from the shelter of his mind,

“Mongrel, you refuse to speak. Good, it means I can enjoy your torture for long. Let me see how your lessers fare against my rage, perhaps seeing their souls burn would bring out your voice… hahaha.”

Vraegar’s rage nearly exploded as he could sense the Memory of Drakul leaving him for what was left of his subordinate. He had taken fifteen million of them with him for this expedition, and after the long years of battle, he had lost only seventy thousand, a number that both pained him and still made him proud because they had been punching high above their weight class all this while. He had intended to make them his personal guards, bringing them to conquer all corners of reality, how could he allow them to fall here?

The altercation with Drakul had not even gone on for a single minute, yet the shockwave from this battle had claimed more than two million lives, and the rest were struggling, and if not for the presence of the forty higher dimensional immortals in his army, they would all be dead. This cost was already too much for him to bear.

Vraegar roared; the sound emerging from his bones was horrifying as he no longer had a vocal cord or any flesh to speak of; but his bones still cried out in anger and despair, he had decided to throw caution to the wind; he still had other avenues to resurrect, and he would not stand and watch as his army were tortured and slaughtered.

Faster than it should have been possible, the Memory of Drakul neared the Children of Ouroboros, and he reached for them with limbs of blood, but a pale silver shield appeared out of thin air and blocked his hands,

“Interesting… who dar—”

A massive force slammed into the Memory blasting it backward for thousands of miles, and reality rippled apart at the spot where Drakul once occupied revealing two figures walking through, Andar and Staff, whose hands were outstretched, she had been the one to push back the Memory of Drakul, turning towards the skeletal form of Vraegar she grinned,

“What’s up, big boy? You are looking a bit rough around the edges.” “No kidding,” Vraegar growled and, picking himself up with his Will, shot towards the two, hoping they had a plan for survival or it was not only him that would be dying here.

The Memory of Drakul that had been pushed back did not seem annoyed, he simply observed what was happening, his inquisitive gaze was like a knife scraping through their soul,

“This is getting more fascinating by the second. That force, it is unusual, possessing more Will than it should ever have the right to hold. I sense the bloodline of the Abyss on you child, yet it had been Obscured, almost transformed, nothing should be able to transform the darkness like that. Which Demon Lord is your sire? I would pay my respect when I bring your dying soul to them.” Vraegar was not stopped by Drakul who seemed to be entirely focused on Staff and he soon arrived beside his friends, Staff was observing the Memory of Drakul, her eyes shimmering with an unknown glow, most likely a spell she used to observe the Old One, like Vraegar, none of them here could acknowledge the presence of an Old One without it tearing apart their mind. Inside the Great Desert, their souls had been protected by the formation, but out here without it, they needed other options to survive.

She tapped Vraegar by the snout as he had shrunk down to a few meters to conserve his dwindling energy,

“He is a talker, isn’t he? No wonder you were able to survive for this long.” “You have no idea,” Vraegar growled, “but we should be running, or else we are all dead.” “I am afraid running is no longer an option,” Andar pointed out as he gestured towards the space around them, “he has sealed the entirety of this space, and the only way we leave is if he dies.” “Child, you are also interesting; I sense the Aura of the thief of fire. He lives still? How fascinating this age must be. It is as if the Primes themselves are dead, and the runts are left to play in a neutered Era.”

“What is the plan?” Vraegar whispered, “In case you are all forgetting, I am all out of energy, and my Heavenly Eyes will soon be dissipated. I have been feeding it with my essence all along, but I don’t know how much more I can bear. You don’t want that thing possessing my body while you are still here.”

“Here have this,” Andar tossed several glowing droplets of golden essence towards Vraegar who swallowed it without even checking and his skeletal face still managed to show astonishment,

“Is that…”

“Yes, it’s drops of his essence that I, em, took when I was in his heart, it should be enough to hold you for a while.”

“Hold me?! Hahahaha, no I can do so much more with this!”

“Oh, why is that?” Andar asked with curiosity coloring his tone,

“It’s ’cause it’s fucking rich! You have no idea how much weight is inside these droplets, if you did, you wouldn’t have given me so much of it. It equals all the total essence in my body and then some.”

The flesh over Vraegar’s body returned and he roared with pleasure as the intense agony he had been undergoing for a while now was alleviated. Instead, he felt so close to the threshold of the sixth dimension that he could almost taste it.

“Your secrets… I must have them.”

The Memory of Drakul suddenly zoomed towards them, as the space around for endless miles reddened with his Will to claim them all,

Vraegar screamed, his voice moving into a pitch higher, “What is the plan!”

Andar looked at the dragon and grinned, a wicked glimmer in his eyes, knowing that the panicking voice from Vraegar would be used as ammunition when he needed to tease the dragon. He hurriedly snapped his fingers and their surroundings immediately transformed to a comfy sitting room with a blazing fireplace at the end.

Looking around in shock, Vraegar asked, “What happened, where are we?” Smiling, Andar gestured around him, “You are in my Magus Tower,” 

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