The Primordial Record

This was the first time Rowan had ever uttered words like this with this amount of emotional weight behind them.

His three bloodlines seemed to come aflame, as tremendous eruption shook his Mental Space, and for a while, it was as if the Apocalypse was about to erupt inside his Mental Space, but a calm sound entered his consciousness and Rowan recognized it as the sound of luck emerging from his Tree of Desire.

The Tree was waving its gigantic branches furiously as a bright green energy storm gathered around it, his Ouroboros Bloodline sent a vast river of golden energy into the Tree of Desire and the sound of luck became deeper.

This sound seemed to have crossed a certain threshold and it became louder than ever, able to pierce through the pandemonium in his Mental Space and showed him something amazing that was happening which was being shrouded by the chaos in his Mental Space.

His Sheol Bloodline was beginning to transform during the moment of his anguish, and unlike this time, it did not change into a new city, but a fragmented image was revealed to him that resembled an old Polaroid picture covered by static.

Whatever this image was, it was so powerful that his City of Sheol nearly shattered and was destroyed after showing it to him for a few seconds, before reverting back into its previous state.

However, that brief amount of time was enough for Rowan to understand a small part of what he had glimpsed.

It showed him a ragged throne at the end and beginning of everything.

The throne was empty and seemed to be covered with dust, however, that was not what drew his attention, engraved deeply into the bottom of the Throne was a single word that carried so much complexity that it could as well contain all the endless universes inside the Great Darkness, and yet it would be only a small part of its mystery.

The word was in a language similar to the Enochian Script, yet it was different…. Older, as if it were the source of every language in existence. from the barest edge of it, Rowan had been able to infer a single meaning—TRUTH.

Rowan's Mental Space quaked, as his Primordial Sea of Darkness arose for thousands of feet, he muttered softly to himself,

"If I can make it to this throne at the beginning and end of everything, then I shall understand everything, nothing would be hidden from my gaze and every truth in all of reality would be mine to know."

Rowan whispered these words to himself as a sort of peace came over him, there was much he did not understand of the world, but he now had a goal that would satisfy all his craving.

The path ahead was clear: continue to grow, get stronger, enhance your bloodlines, understand the mysteries of the universe as much as you can hold, and push for that throne. That is all there is— The pursuit of truth.

Everything else was ephemeral, the truth was all that mattered, and he was determined to find it.

All these events might appear as if they took an extended amount of time to take place, but they hardly even took a few seconds, the gods of the Cerulean Galaxy were still too stunned to make any move, and Rowan had been able to pass through his metamorphosis and enlightenment in relative peace, and now his hunger for conquest and growth could not burn any hotter.

Because the Soul Energy was easily collected by him due to the fact that these were all mortal-level beings, he now had a sizable amount with him, 1,350 Soul Crystals, which should equate to roughly 1.3 billion Soul Points.

A sizable harvest from the mortal souls he had gathered, but still far lesser than the harvest collected from a god's demise.

Killing the gods was always the best option for him to grow.

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The image of Rowan and his massive Demonic beast seemed to freeze for a few moments before they resumed their activity.

Such a great shift in their countenance was noticeable and Shario The Scourge stepped forward, her figure holding back barely suppressed fear and fury.

Her gaze pierced through the distance separating them from Rowan until she could see his golden serpentine eyes, and whatever words she wanted to speak stopped, for in those eyes she understood fully that anything she said was futile because she recognized this look, but in those eyes, it was magnified a million times.

This was the gaze a wolf had when it was peering at a flock of lambs behind a fence.

This was the cold gaze of a predator, a creature at the top of the food chain, perhaps even exceeding the damned chain.

For the first time in so long Shario, the Scourge now understood this ephemeral emotion she had forgotten so long ago when she was just a mortal beast. It was one of pure fear. This emotion made her shudder, and then she laughed, it was a sorrowful and confused sound, as she could hardly comprehend why the Cerulean gods had angered such a creature.

Yet she could not find the strength within her to ask Rowan, why he had slain two of their numbers, instead she turned to the fellow gods beside her.

"My brothers and sisters, fellow gods, do you recognize what stands before us?"

A young and beautiful goddess with pink hair turned to Shario, "Sister, what is happening, what…"

Shario smiled sadly at the young goddess, "Death comes, but we are gods, and our will is everlasting. For what are we if not champions who have tread on the bones of tribulations that would fall a billion lesser men? Hold fast, and together we shall purge this cancer stuck on our feet."

Rowan rolled his eyes at being called a cancer, but he felt it was enough for the gods he was about to kill to blow off steam anyway they could, the way he saw it, no god here was innocent, no matter how benign they might appear.

Murrihm the god he just killed valued the lives of his stars over every living mortal, and similar sentiments were rife among the gods.

They were all old monsters that had lived for endless years. Rowan thought that if you had lived for more than a hundred thousand years, then you were fair game.