The Primordial Record

Chapter 1600: Sing For The Fallen

The shockwave of power that rippled across creation at the deaths of three Celestial Creators was nothing before the power that was released by their deaths inside this space. Apart from a few Powers who could barely survive, every other Angel had been shattered into nothing by the explosion of might released from the bodies of the dead Celestial Creator.

Each of them dying was similar to a million big bangs going off at the same time, and nothing that had not reached the peak of the higher dimension could survive such a release of power.

Rowan, who was responsible for the three deaths, had to bear the brunt of the explosion, and although he was tough enough to resist them, he was a bit staggered, and against opponents of this level, such an opening was not wasted.

Thaleriel, The Sundered Wing, lashed divine bindings around Rowan’s limbs, their edges searing into his flesh and leaving runic markings across his bones that pulsed with the light of Celestial punishment.

This runic branding screamed into his consciousness,

“DEATH! DEATH! DEATH! DEATH!”

Rowan’s flesh blackened, and his bones began to char as more runic marks were added to his bones, and the chanting of death filled every corner of his consciousness.

He staggered and gripped Apollyon tighter, and Rowan pulled upon the power of Creation. From the beginning of the battle, he had been using only one of his Aspects, and now he called upon Creation and imbued it with all the power that his dimensional flesh could pull from his Origin Land.

Muscles straining as the chains binding him snapped—then spun, decapitating Thaleriel and the two Seraphims on his shoulders.

Weakened by the branding of the chains, Rowan was blasted from the heavens by the death cry of Thaleriel and the two Serphims, and he did not fight against it. All of his consciousness was channeled into healing the branding marks in his flesh, as he allowed a sliver of his dimensional soul to emerge to coordinate the movement of his body.

His dimensional soul was under severe pressure as it helped Rowan resist the pull of extermination from going up against so much power crafted by the Primordials that were meant to end an immortal’s life.

These weapons were made to kill Thrones and Avatars of Primordials, and even being in their vicinity was because of the work his dimensional soul was performing in the background.

Flipping his blade around, Rowan stabbed himself with it, triggering a blast of destructive will that flooded his body, destroying his flesh and bones, but also importantly destroying the divine runes that had branded itself across his entire body.

He screamed in pain as each rune that shattered caused Rowan an incredible amount of suffering.

This wound was meant to be recovered slowly across billions of years. Even for someone as powerful as him, it should take tens of thousands of years of slow recovery, but in the midst of battle, Rowan could not afford to have this obstruction in his body.

Rowan knew he was robust enough to withstand the cost of several mistakes, but that was a gamble that he would most likely lose, and he was reminded how close he was to the edge of dying as the Celestial Creators and the Seraphims, keeping their distance, began to rain fire down on him.

A volley of arrows from the Celestial hosts slammed into him, each bolt powerful enough to cut through multiple dimensions. Rowan hastily pulled out Apollyon from his chest and swung in a wide arc, pouring the power of Creation into the blade.

The Destroyer resisted for a moment before swallowing the power of Creation, and a blinding golden radiance exploded from the blade that swallowed the volleys of arrows that had nearly pierced through Rowan’s flesh. Still, the momentum behind the bolts was so strong that Rowan was blasted into the earth, shattering it for countless light years.

A massive cloud of destruction exploded from the crater in a gigantic mushroom cloud that could have covered a thousand universes. A harsh scream erupted from the mushroom cloud, and it was torn in two as the Destroyer Apollyon flew out of it, thrown by Rowan, it headed uneeringly towards the Celestial Creators, and in its path was Valandriel, the Silent Judgement

The blade slammed into his chest and tore out of his back without losing momentum. It continued to smash into Zukiel, the Unbroken Will, before all the power of Creation and Destruction that Rowan had pumped into the blade exploded out of it.

These two Celestial Creators did not survive, and their screams of death hung in the air, accompanied by the laughter of the Destroyer as it began to fall from the sky into the hand of its master below.

In the distance, the Adjudicator watched the battle with gleaming eyes. The shock in his gaze only continued to grow as the slaughter intensified. He could no longer call this a battle.

Although Rowan’s power on the surface was primarily destruction, that was simply not the case. There were countless profound laws in every motion he made, and all of them came from his bloodlines, his titles, and the numerous laws and concepts that he had mastered.

Rowan was already fighting at a level of Primordials, where a single slash appeared simple, but the complexity inside of it had reached such profound levels that it was impossible for any of these Celestial Creators to resist them.

Even if he gave them the chance to decipher a single one of his blows, they would take an infinite number of years for there to be any chance of success.

Teophiel, the Golden Song, the last Celestial Creator left, retreated, rage and shock gone, only fear remaining.

Rowan grabbed his falling Destroyer and looked at the Celestial Creator,

“Teophiel, it is said that your voice is among the sweetest in the Celestial Court. I left you for last to sing your brethren off.

Voice shaking Teophiel replied, “The heavens shall not be mocked by the likes of you.”

Rowan cocked his head to the side, “If not me, who else is worthy?”

The eyes of the Adjudicator flashed when he heard these words but he still chose to remain silent, not making any move to lend any assistance to his Host that had nearly faded into nothing.

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