The Primordial Record

Chapter 1602: Source Of Treasure

The Adjudicator—Throne of Primordial Memory cocked his head to the side and he smiled and nodded, acknowledging Rowan’s quick wit,

“You recognize this piece, yes?”

Rowan did not bother to answer the question; of course, he knew this song, he was the one who made it.

In the universe of his birth, he had done the impossible and broken out of the Cycle of Creation. He was no longer man or beast, god or devil, an angel or a demon; instead, he became a Reality unto himself, a living dimension.

Such grand changes inevitably attracted Tribulation, which came in the form of the Reflections of the Eye of Time, the Third Prince and Fourth Prince, the God Emperor Golgoth, and all the armies of demons and abominations they had gathered.

All of these monsters came to challenge his rise and kill him before his light became too bright. Rowan had battled them upon it, creating a bridge of twilight that brought together the past and the present.

He had not been strong enough to easily kill these lesser immortals, and he made this bridge the battleground to settle the blood feud between him and the Reflections.

Luxuriating in his newfound powers and the freedom it promised, Rowan had taken a tool of slaughter, the Sin Weapons of Pride and Envy, and on that bridge, he had used it to make a song.

It was a rare thing for Rowan to make music, as a Celestial Creator with his talents, the music that flowed from him was sweeter than honey and carried a power that could turn worlds into dust.

Yet all of this did not matter to Rowan as much as the fact that music was an open road to his heart.

His fondest memories, his greatest triumphs and regrets, were all tied up in a broken piece of melody floating somewhere in the void, and if he wanted, he could reach into the darkness and pull that part of himself.

With a flourish, the Adjudicator placed the Celestial Harp away, and he sighed, “Such an enthralling melody, and to think you made it out from a tool meant for nothing but killing.”

Rowan frowned, shaking away the lethargy that filled his body; it was a tiredness that sapped every bit of strength from him, and he knew that if he allowed himself to relax for the briefest of moments, he would fall to his knees and sleep for many eternities.

The touch of Primordial Memory was not loud or brash; it was slow and ponderous, like a relentless wave that would slowly sneak up on you before you even understood what was happening.

Rowan whispered, a dawning realization of horror filling his veins,

“Why did you show me this music?”

Primordial Memory scratched his head as if in thought before he answered, and at first, his response made Rowan think he was not going to answer his question.

“I nearly missed this melody. Ah, even Memory fails. You are an enigma, Rowan. The miracles you create and discard. It amazes me that someone with your intellect could be so blind until the truth is right before your eyes.”

Taking a step forward, Primordial Memory dropped down from the shoulder of the Archon, fell like a stone, and immediately came to a halt in front of Rowan. The distance separating them was a million miles, and for them, it meant they were too close.

Rowan shrank in response, making his body as small as a mortal man, disregarding the Archon in the distance. If he were still a sixth-dimensional immortal, this Destroyer would have been a problem for him, but at his present level, if he went all out, this titan would fall in three moves. What was in front of him was many times more dangerous.

Primordial Memory glanced at Rowan’s form with pure fascination in his eyes. Rowan felt like an insect placed under the microscope, and the gaze of an unforgiving god riffled through every single piece of him.

“I was in search of the lost Daughter of Old Light. You see, she escaped from my prison, the place where I discard pieces of treasure that no longer suit my needs. Nothing can escape my vault, but if such a thing were possible, it would be from her. Eve. At first, I was deeply intrigued by this daring escape, but as I searched through reality, something astonishing was revealed to me. Eve did not escape from my vault. She was taken!”

All of this time, Primordial Memory was speaking softly, but at the end his voice had increased to a roar that shook Rowan to the core, and he staggered backward, spitting golden blood. In the distance, the head of Teophiel exploded, followed by his body. The Celestial Creator could not handle the might of a Primordial’s voice.

Primordial Memory continued speaking as if he did not care about the effect of his voice, raising his hands and placing his thumb and ring finger close together,

“You know, I nearly missed your presence. It was this close and I would have never known of your existence, but then I heard your song and knew that only someone like you could take Eve out of my vault.”

Rowan shook his head. Whatever Primordial Memory was saying was important, but he knew this was not the crux of the matter. All of his Wills, his bloodlines, his Fate were screaming at him of so much intense danger that he nearly went insane.

With an impressive force of willpower that was enough to resist the death blows from Primordial weapons, Rowan marshalled his thoughts to order and called out to Primordial Memory,

“What is the connection between you and Light? How can you be here?”

Primordial Memory paused, and then he laughed aloud,

“Don’t tell me you have not figured it out yet. No, I think you have, but you don’t want to see the truth in front of you. If that is not ironic, I don’t know what is. But I am not like Chaos, who loves to torture his audience, and I will tell you the truth that you are running from. The essence of angels is made from light, and their bodies are made of divine metal. Where do you think all the treasure used to create the first Angels came from? Where do you think every treasure in existence came from?”

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