The Primordial Record - Chapter 1404

Chapter 1404: Killing The Light (8)
The Celestial Creator did not even look at the dying dragon behind him, with a wave of his hands, both of his weapons vanished and he walked forward for a bit, each of his steps crossing billions of miles before he stopped and began looking at the devastation wrought on the universes around him, seemingly trying to piece together everything that had transpired, because if he was indeed the Creator of these Angels then he was partially responsible for the destruction of thousands of universes.

Even now, Rowan could not sense any presence from this Celestial Creator that he was familiar with; he seemed almost not real, and if not for his knowledge of Eva and him being a Celestial Creator, he would not have been able to understand who he was looking at. Nevertheless, that was not the primary concern. Rowan could feel something like an itch spreading throughout the length of Wormtongue, and he knew that it was the perception of this Creator touching the Source Level Treasure.

He had planned to retrieve this treasure a moment back, but Vyraak had been felled so fast that he was caught unaware. If he tried to retrieve Wormtongue at this time, there might be a slight ripple across reality that would surely clue this Celestial that someone else was here with them, but he might need to risk it so that he could leave this place, even if he was found out, he did not think they could match his speed if he was pursued.

If he managed to take out Wormtongue without alerting the Celestial, then Rowan felt that he had done a good enough job to deceive anyone who wanted to sift through the debris of the shattered universes he had left behind, but his confidence in this was tied to how quickly that investigation was made.

Whatever arrangement he made would soon be unraveled after time had passed and so if the Creator was going to be investigating his surroundings, that was a good thing for him, but he would need to take out Wormtongue first. He would just have to believe in his capability to precisely control every single facet of possibilities in order to block any chance of being detected while removing the treasure.

Rowan barely glanced at the dying dragon, who cut in two and was still struggling to bring himself together as the life rapidly fled his body, but the blade of the Celestial Creator was potent; he was most likely an eighth-dimensional immortal and one that was much older and much more powerful than Vyraak. Rowan’s preparation to retrieve Wormtongue had been completed in his consciousness and he was about to begin the retrieval process, even though he was confident in his arrangement, there was still a great chance that the Celestial Creator might be able to see through it, and understand that there had been a third party here who was fishing in troubled waters.

However, Rowan barely sensed a strange sensation from the dying Vyraak and he frowned as he thought it was intensely familiar. It was a sensation that filled him with dread and disgust at the same time and yet what was incredibly frustrating to him was that despite his perfect memory that should be able to trace any sort of intuition back to its roots, he could not piece together what he was sensing from the dying dragon.

It teased at his senses, and even when he pushed his consciousness into overdrive, slowing down time around him where a single moment almost became a thousand years, he could not still piece together what made this sensation familiar to him.

As he was deliberating, he noticed that the peculiar sensation was diminishing, and in a moment, it would be lost as soon as the dragon perished. Rowan had a feeling that if he allowed this unknown thing to die, he might regret it, and he groaned internally as he decided to make a move. No longer retrieving Wormtongue, he began channeling the power of the Spell Formation that he had hidden underneath.

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Although his body continued to struggle, Vyraak knew that was dying, and he could not stop it.

This knowledge oddly brought him relief because he felt the weight of expectation dropping from his shoulders. It was a cowardly way out, but he found out that he could not bring himself to care anymore.

Death was not so bad, he thought, it would be like going to sleep after a very hard day of work, and the only difference is that you don’t get to wake up… I don’t want to wake up. I have nothing left to wake up for.

The acceptance of his fate seemed to free his mind from madness, and even as one part of his consciousness was admiring the blow that had killed him, the clean motion of the strike and how that unknown immortal had phased through his body and soul without touching any aspect of his power, he just cleanly sliced apart everything that made him who he was.

His Will, Fate, and Destiny could as well be cheap foil before the power of that blow. Even though this attack had killed him, it was still so beautiful that Vyraak wished that he could see it again, even if it was one more time, and the dragon lamented his weakness, which made him only capable of withstanding a single strike. Was it possible that he would ever be able to do such a thing?

Wrapped in the beauty of that strike, the other part of his mind began reviewing everything that had happened to him and what ultimately led him to this point, alongside the discrepancies in his memories and how he had been able to reach his home after being lost inside the Passage of Time.

Reaching the eighth-dimensional level was also extremely strange when he had barely caught a glimpse of that level; something else had pushed him to the point where he could touch this power, and his sharp mind traced that oddity to its source, and Vyraak wished that he never did.

He sensed it at this moment, a hunger, a perversion that had entrenched itself deep inside his soul and was feeding on it, and although Vyraak could see only a small part of this corruption, he nearly went insane when he perceived it, and his desire to die became that much greater. How could something like that be inside of him?

Something had entered inside of him when he was traveling through the Passage of Time, and that thing was wrong.

His mind seemed to be stretched to the limit, and then it snapped back, and a hint of normality washed over his consciousness once more. Vyraak knew that he was dead, and his consciousness power that was left was simply too weak to contemplate what was inside of him, so he promptly forgot it.

Vyraak thought that it was strange that so many strange revelations were shown to him at the moment of his demise, and so when he felt a new and strange power enter his consciousness, he did not react much to it. Nothing much could phase him at this point, any other unknown forces would simply have to communicate with his corpse, then he heard the voice,

“As much as your soul longs for rest Vyraak, I still have need of you, but I do not take and not give in return. Dragon, Death cannot have you… not yet.”

Vyraak felt his perception abruptly shift, shooting outside his body until he swore he could see the entire universes that were clustered in the Great Darkness, and without the light from the Frozen Road he began to understand why this massive fourth-dimensional space was referred to as such, and then a golden sun bloomed overhead that shone with so much light that the everlasting darkness over this area was shattered and the dragon could truly see all that the universes in existence.

After hearing the voice of his universe, Vyraak thought there was nothing that could match that experience until he saw all of the lower realms spread out before him, highlighted by the glow from a… What was emitting this glow? He forced his perception to turn around to see what was powerful enough to create a power that would overshadow a Primordial Domain and then he saw a massive hourglass.

His mind could barely understand what he was witnessing when a blade that seemed to be forged out of shards of moonlight descended from the hourglass and pierced his consciousness and pain became everything that he knew, but that voice still lingered,

“As I crafted my first Source Treasure, in the two hundredth million years of my toils in the Nothingness, I made my thirty-first failure. I gave them no names, since I will not wield them. This is my gift to you. Now, rise Vyraak, in my presence, Death is not your portion.”