The Primordial Record

Chapter 1242: Traveling Through The Darkness



Lost understood that it was the unending tides of Calamity, especially the Calamity Suns that was keeping them relatively safe, and if they were to fall, this army of golden giants would only last for a few moments before they would all perish.

The progress of the road had passed the halfway point and Lost had already come to the inevitable conclusion that they would soon begin to take losses, it was inevitable at this point.

He growled inside his heart, "Not if I have anything to do with it."

Lost could still feel the resonance inside his spirit, the remnants of Rowan's cry as he proclaimed that he wanted no one else to die for him, and now that he knew the truth that the Rowan he knew was just a Reflection and that his actions might not entirely represent who the main body of Rowan was in its entirety, he still wanted to follow the wishes of the man who consoles him as he cried after the battle.

The first thing that was usually lost on the road to power was selflessness, and it was a noble thing to serve someone who sought to hold himself to a higher standard, and even if he failed to reach that standard, the mere effort that it took to make it, made him an individual that was rarely seen.

The cry of the Calamity Sun seemed to trigger a change in reality as the eyes of the realm above shrank in shock and dismay, and then without any prompt, they turned red as tribulation lightning began to simmer inside them.

With the realm now turning a shade of red as millions of eyes in the sky brewed death, the Cries of the Calamity Suns began to increase, and not just one of them, all seven.

The first casualty from the golden giants happened in a manner that was horribly familiar in a battle like this, following the successful defense by their telekinetic barrier after successive rounds of fire from the silver horde.

A single bolt that was unexpectedly ten times more powerful than what had been impacting the forefield tore through it and by coincidence, Lost had been a few hundred meters away from the golden giant that was struck.

One moment his Spirit had been filled with billions of golden spots that represented the golden giants and countless other symbols that were tracking the battle all around them for thousands of miles, and he felt the breeze of the bolt blowing past him as well as several golden dots vanishing in his consciousness.

The bolts carried a unique power that could freeze any form of energy to such a profound extent it would lead to its destruction impaling a hundred golden giants. It sliced through their defenses and it only lost momentum after the last golden giants threw a punch to break its movements, saving hundreds more behind who would have perished.

Lost looked over in silence as the last golden giant who punched the bolt stayed in the form they had used to blast the silver bolt to pieces-fist outstretched and body leaning forward. Lost knew her name, Paper. As one of the new golden giants who followed the wave of creating their name, Paper was a lovely girl who had some of the most fascinating forms of creation that he had ever seen.

She looked up panting as if she had been running for a thousand years and she saw Lost looking at her, and then she smiled, before going still as the life fled from her body.

Her golden giant form went gray as if it had transformed to stone before it collapsed to ash following the ninety-nine golden giants in front of her that had collapsed to ash a moment before.

Lost kept the memory of her and all of those that perished in his heart, not his Spirit and he continued directing the defenses, patching the hole that had been torn open in their defenses and updating the new power levels of the silver horde.

In the last few weeks of battle, he had made this update thirty-eight times, this would make it the thirty-ninth, unfortunately, this time there was a cost. He would love to push their defenses to the limits, but this was a marathon, not a sprint, and the state of the battlefield was being transformed at every moment and he needed to be flexible, not rigid.

Lost pushed his mind into the battle, trying not to think about how the promise he had just made to himself to keep those around him safe from the madness had just been broken.

'I am not like you, and I don't think I can ever be like you. I want to keep them all safe but I cannot do so... father, where are you?'

R

There was darkness, one that was so absolute it almost seemed incomprehensible that anything could ever exist here apart from this darkness.

Inside this darkness, there was stillness, and it had existed here for countless years without number, and then something inside that darkness stirred.

That stirring was so slight it was almost nonexistent, but the being that made that movement was so massive that it almost defied meaning.

In the darkness a golden flame arose, it appeared out of nowhere, and it flickered as if it was about to go out because the weight of the darkness in this place was so heavy that it could not last for long.

That golden flame was Rowan's extremely powerful soul that he had grown over the time he was inside the realm of Doom Star, a soul that was so powerful it had seized the entire power of time that was inside an eternal realm.

How heavy was this darkness?

The sputtering soul flame began to travel, its speed many times that of light, its destination unknown but with every moment that passed, the light of the soul grew dimmer.

This soul had been strengthened to the extent that it would dwarf the souls of a seventh- dimensional entity, but it was already on its last leg after a while and then it suddenly went out, its energy was spent.

Silence returned to the darkness as the light was gone.

A sound emerged like the sizzling of oil on a hot pan, and a small tongue of golden flame emerged from the darkness from the spot where it had vanished.

This flame even in its slight state still had an air of resolve around it that was extremely palpable. There was no more power in this flame, it should have died out, this darkness would snuff out greater powers that entered into it, but this flame had a Will and a purpose that was

greater than its own.

Dragging itself through the darkness, the tiny flame pushed ahead, it was slow, but it gave a sense that it would never stop until it fulfilled its purpose.

Before Rowan's Reflection perished he had placed all his hopes and dreams inside this soul, and none of them were for him but his children.

He had seen a small part of the grand design that Rowan had made, and it scared him. His main body had sat in silence and plotted his rise to the top of the food chain, and nothing would be standing in his way. The world he envisioned was grand, but the price that he would pay to reach it was incredibly cruel, to others and himself, most especially himself. The Reflection knew that in the grand scheme of things, it did not matter if this soul survived, his main body had made many redundancies to fall upon and he was just a small part of the equation, but still, he did not want his story to end here, not for him, he no longer needed this soul, but for that cold heart who had forgotten what it meant to have one.

The flame traveled for what seemed like forever until it reached its destination, a massive throne made from the bones of every Primordial Keeper in existence.

Sitting on that throne was a body that was bigger than a material universe, but it appeared withered. From the head to the toe of this massive body were ridiculous injuries, and he had been pinned to the throne by nine massive blades.

This massive body was of Rowan, and he was truly dead, but this death had come by his own hands, for on the hilt of each weapon that had plunged into his body, he had manifested seven more hands that had thrust those blades into his body.

The soul shook in awe as he saw this scene, and a voice filled with the profoundness of ages spoke from the darkness,

"The Creator wished to perish, but these pathetic creatures... they failed to deliver on their

promise."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om