The Primordial Record - Chapter 1409

Chapter 1409: The Tyranny of The White Dragon
Rowan was poised to activate his Origin Land, he simply needed to link his Class to his Bloodlines in order to give them Omniscience and Omnipotence over this portion of his dimension, and he could finalize his ascent to an Eclipsed Creator.

His bloodline had to work in tandem with his Class to fully control his Origin powers. Now that he was no longer using a Primordial Bloodline, he was essentially the first of his kind, and there was no higher power beside him.

Rowan felt like he was both the mortal and the god. He was praying to himself to grant his wishes, but this was still an oversimplification of what he was about to do.

To finish the process of activating his Origin Land, he only had to give a mental nudge, and it would be completed, but when he brought up his Will, Rowan hesitated.

This hesitation was surprising, and it made him pause his actions and re-evaluate his consciousness.

He never hesitates when his mind has been set on a course of action, and it was not long before he determined that the only reason he was hesitating was the brief flash of memory that he had when he opened his eyes a while ago. A memory that he could not recall, and went by so fleetingly that any other immortal would have missed it, but Rowan was here because he never left anything to chance.

His memories were more than perfect, and if he had something that he could not grasp, it meant it had exceeded the limits of his powers. The accident with Vyraak and his dimensional soul that revealed the hidden machinations of Primordial Time was an example of this.

Rowan sighed and stopped the final push to create his Origin Land; after all this time, he had learned to trust his instincts; something was wrong, and he had an idea of how he needed to solve it. He simply needed to become a sixth-dimensional immortal and conquer the dimension of Memory/Mind.

‘I became a fifth-dimensional immortal in almost an instant; how much longer would it take me to get to the sixth?’

Rowan tried to cheer himself. With the power of Memory/Mind, he believed that it would be almost impossible for the truths to be hidden from his sight. However, taking this step meant he was crippling himself and halting his complete transformation.

What he had decided on was incredibly risky. Without finalizing his Origin Land, the growth of his overall power was grounded to a halt, and apart from the rapidly diminishing amount of Aether and Essence inside his dimensional soul, Rowan would not be able to regenerate any form of energy on his own.

However, this was worth the risk, and he would not have made this decision lightly if he did not have a way to work around this hindrance. At his level, he could not afford to make a decision as important as finalizing his base of power without understanding everything that he could about the creation of a power such as this one.

Rowan had once believed that he should be able to create his Origin Land with the foundations that he had, but as it turned out, it was not enough. His instincts, these forgotten memories, all were showing him hints that he was not ready to create a foundation that could rival those of the Primordials. He needed more information, and he needed more power. If not in the sixth dimension, then he would conquer Fate and Destiny. Nothing would stop him.

He needed to understand more of the past and the mysteries that had led the Primordials to their current level.

Rowan gave a mental command to the Cherubims beside him,

“Call my children home. It is time I show myself to all of existence.”

®

Realm Of Drakul.

Land masses the size of a planet were shattered by the clash of countless immortals on a battlefield that stretched across the entire planet. Flashes of energy and other extra-dimensional forces filled the surrounding space as reality buckled and heaved against a tide of destruction that reaped the lives of many like grass.

The cries of the dying and the dead and the roar of the combatants were constant and had been growing in intensity as the years passed. Conquering an entire realm was not an easy task, but it was one that this Child of Rowan was eager to accomplish.

War had been unceasing in this dimension for a million years, as an invader from an unknown realm gained access to it, and wished to claim the throne of Drakul in order to gain the power to control this dimension.

These invaders were dragons, or at least that was what their appearance suggested, however, their leader was indeed a dragon. He was Vraegar, and he had proclaimed himself to be the firstborn of the Creator.

Although Drakul was not a beautiful dimension, war had ravaged its surface and it was a shadow of what it once was. Its inhabitants were stubborn and had grown fat on the power inherently contained inside this dimensional remnant, and they resisted the invasion of the Dragon.

Its creator was a powerful immortal with a weird extra-dimensional bloodline that made him an entity who feasted and controlled the power of blood and essence. At the height of his powers, he called himself a Vampire God. Drakul, the God of Vampires.

A being who could refer to themselves as a god of an entire class of bloodlines was usually at the eighth dimension. Like many eighth-dimensional entities who had once lived in the Primordial Era, most had not survived the great purge, and Drakul the Vampire God had perished in that battle, with the remnants of his dimension ruled by his descendants and offshoots of his bloodline.

For a long time, they had imposed their might on the multiple dimensions around them, conquering many and amassing a great amount of wealth that was built on the suffering of countless species, and they might have continued like this forever, but Vraegar came from the throne of Drakul and war followed him.

The realm of Drakul was a place without sunlight. Instead, there was a massive black moon the size of a universe overhead that bled unceasingly, and this blood fell on the remnants of the realm, watering the vitality of those that resided below and preserving the realm through the ages.

This blood poured on the combatants in the fields below as the Children of the Ouroboros led by the Dragon Vraegar laid siege to the realm of Drakul, and after a million years of war, they were at the edge of conquest.

Fighting on the black moon was Vraegar himself; although he was at the fifth-dimensional level, he alone battles a seventh-dimensional immortal alongside four sixth-dimensional immortals and eleven fifth-dimensional immortals.

All of these powers had to be arrayed against the dragon to slow him down, but Vraegar could not be held back. After a million years of battle, his blood was slowly heating up, and he had forgotten the reason why he began this fight in the first place; what he found more interesting was the battle itself.

It was unknown if the inhabitants of Drakul would curse at this dragon if they knew that he was not fully focused on destroying their resistance, he was just burning time until his father returned and called upon him to unleash his flames on all creation.

At this moment Vraegar was was the size of the black moon over Drakul suddenly froze as a thought entered his mind. The immortals who had been resisting the dragon did not let this opportunity go to waste as they drew upon a healthy chunk of the power contained inside the black moon creating a black arrow that shot towards the great white dragon.

This arrow slammed into Vraegar with so much force that the shockwave that erupted from the clash nearly destroyed a third of the dimension. The dragon was blasted into the distance accompanied by his roar of pain and fury.

Vraegar collapsed to the ground millions of light years away, and his white eyes turned red with rage. Bringing himself to his feet, the dragon looked at the scorch mark on the scales around his chest and growled, and his gaze zoomed across the distance to the flustered immortals on the black moon who, despite giving their best shot, had only managed to push the dragon back without his suffering and injuries.

A rumble that the sound of a billion thunderstorms began to arise in the chest of Vraegar, slowly painting the scales around his chest red, and this color began to slowly head up his throat. He spread his wings wide and their massive size covered the realm of Drakul in its shade.

The dimensions around him began to burn and collapse into their basic components. Even without spewing out his flames, the heat that was escaping outside his body would have destroyed universes.

The sound of his flames traveling from his chest up his throat to his mouth was something that would haunt the minds of the survivors till the day they died.

For the first time in a million years, Vraegar spoke to the immortals he had been waving war with,

“All your thrones shall fall. Your civilization, erased!”

Flames as red as blood erupted from his maws.