The Primordial Record

Chapter 1642: They Shall Tremble In Horror

“You were dead for twenty years, and many things were happening while you were away.”

Noctis had not been expecting an answer to the question he had asked out of bafflement, and he was surprised to hear a strange voice near him when his senses had not detected anyone close to him.

He turned to see a blue-haired woman by his side who was extremely beautiful, but her eyes were filled with irritation and a bit of tiredness.

“You know even when you are dead, you still talk, and the things you say…” the woman shuddered, “What sort of horrors have you seen to twist your mind in this manner?”

Noctis frowned, “You will forgive me for not knowing what my dead body speaks, and who are you?”

“The keeper of your dead body for the last forty years. No need to thank me; you have many things to catch up on. Let’s go meet your lord.”

Noctis’s frown deepened. “I have no lord.”

The blue-haired woman laughed, “Keep telling yourself that. In this war, you either fight for Rowan or you fight for the Primes; there is no longer any third side.”

“Is that a threat…”

“My name is Circe Boreas, daughter of the Storm. No, it is the fact, and I tell you for your benefit.”

Noctis’ eyes went cold, “and why should I serve your lord?”

Circe rolled her eyes as she began to walk out of the hut. “He will give you what you want. The heads of the Primordials on a fucking plate.”

®

Rowan was completing the last of his arrangements for his push towards Space Origin when Noctis arrived alongside Circe. The tattooed man was frowning, and Rowan could see questions that were threatening to burst out of his body, but what drew Rowan’s attention was the profound energy of death that had sublimated in the body of Noctis.

He was already aware of Noctis’s connection with death. Sheba, the castle, had already briefed him about this man, the firstborn of Eosah, who fled into Limbo to find answers to the invasion of the Primordials and the sacrifices he had made that twisted him into what he had become.

There were many things Rowan wanted to discuss about those times with Noctis, but this was not the right time. The hundred-year Agreement with Primordial Demon was coming up, and thirty years had already passed.

He had less than seventy years to prepare for one of the most brutal battles in his life, alongside figuring out how to acquire the origins of all his dimensions, enhance his Origin powers and make it the new path of his evolution, prepare for the overall war with the Primordials, organize the changes across Reality and his to ensure his Origin Land would draw the proper attention the way he wanted it and a billion other affairs that were too numerous to be listed…

Any immortal would be overwhelmed; Rowan could not allow himself to be.

He looked closely at Noctis. When the man was recovering from Death, his tattoos had been a closed-off mystery, but now that he was awake, certain transformations he could see made this man a perfect candidate for the Primordial beheading operation.

Not wasting any time, Rowan pointed a forefinger at Noctis, and a stream of information entered the mind of the man. He halted in place as he rapidly digested all the data Rowan had just poured into his consciousness.

As he had expected, Noctis did not take long before he digested all the information, and he looked at Rowan with a profound look in his eyes. Rowan nodded and waved his hand, revealing what looked like a seed as he began to speak,

“I know that you are a Crow of Death, and I also know that you are aware of my plans to shift the foundations of Reality away from the Primordials. You have seen the New Light and would want the same thing for yourself. In your case, you want the power of Death.”

Noctis nodded at Rowan’s words, “Yes, I have no hope of equaling the power of the New Light; her foundation rests with the first flames and Light itself, but if I can assume the concept of Death inside of Reality, then I should be strong enough to fight.”

“Good, and that fight you will get,” Rowan pointed at the seed hovering between them, “I assume you know who holds the power of Death.”

Noctis smiled, “Of course I do. I was there when he took it, and if not for the intervention of the other Primes, Vorthas wanted to become the Primordial of Death, but he was blocked and he had to pick life.”

“Vorthas,” Rowan rolled the name on his tongue as if he was tasting it, “Yes, this is another name for my enemy.”

Noctis closed his eyes as he looked through the information that Rowan had sent into his mind. There were a lot of things for him to analyze and digest, and he believed that it would take him years to get through everything.

Yet, he could not help but notice that across the plans laid out for him, there were many places where information was vague and others that were plain nonsensical, some of them requiring an extreme amount of coincidences for it to occur.

“Do I trust that this plan will go according to what is dictated here?” Noctis asked, concerned. You are expecting a lot of my trust for a plan like this. Much of what I am seeing here makes no sense, and if I have not seen the result of your handiwork, I will think you are a madman.”

Rowan smiled, his eyes glinting like gems, “Why would you ever think I was sane, Noctis? But we are not talking about my sanity here. I can promise you that everything I laid down there may not come to pass exactly, but it will follow the general pattern.”

Noctis looked at Rowan, and he burst out laughing, “What the hell, let the wind blows as it want. I had no hope before, and I will take anything I have. It cannot be worse than the endless years of despair. Even if I perish, it shall be on the battlefield with the blood of the Primordials on my teeth.”

Rowan smiled. “I might fail, in fact, that is the most likely outcome. Yet as my defeat is not set in stone, that means anything is possible. Noctis, you do not know me for long, but I will promise you that what is to come will be the greatest battle that has ever been seen from the dawn of creation, and the Primes shall see the works of my hands and tremble in horror.”

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