The Primordial Record

Circe was sitting inside a grand hall where there were a thousand elaborate platforms set up. She had organized their arrangement in a circular pattern with her in the middle. For the last eight months, it had been an endless whirlwind of activity as she prepared the candidates selected for the last stage of Ascendance.

The first stage was the selection stage where Circe had to find the right people who were not just hungry for power but carried a great grudge against the seven royal families of Trion.

Not surprisingly it was incredibly easy for Circe to find people like this, from rebels and freedom fighters to maids and gardeners… entire generations over the last million years who were nothing but slaves, their lives worth less than dust.

During the selection process, Circe had been able to come across the seedy underbelly of the Empire and she almost wept in anger and sorrow over the suffering that countless billions had endured over the millennia.

During her time in service to her family, Circe had not stayed in the seat of power, Aroth, and had been sent to a far-off planet Jarkarr, so she had never truly understood how sick and depraved the royal families had become inside Trion. She had heard rumors of course, but it had always seemed so fantastical to be considered as truth.

Cannibalism, blood rites, genocides, sickening experiments and so many other depraved acts that seemed to come from a fevered dream of a mad demon, but those were all happening.

There was a rot growing inside of Trion that had festered and manifested in ways that sickened the mind and for a while Circe wondered why she had ever asked Rowan to save these people.

Their gods were insane and considered them nothing but food, what sort of good could come from a society like this?

These were Billions of powerful individuals who were aware that they would never become immortal in their entire lives, no matter how much of a genius they were or how powerful they became.

Drunk on an equal dose of power and apathy, they began to find other ways to find comfort in their mortal dilemma, to forget for a little while about the shackles of their bloodline.

Rowan had been correct in his assumptions, to truly push Trion into a place of anarchy, the best weapon was to touch on this sore point that had worried their populace for so long, yet Circe was sure that even Rowan was not aware of how deep this wound imposed by the shackles on a Dominator's bloodline went.

There was a sickness here that Rowan in his lofty position could not see. Circe had been amazed by the city of Aroth when she had arrived eight months ago, but that joy had been left far behind, and she had seen true horror.

It would have been different if a Dominator could not feel it—that barrier in their blood.

Nonetheless, whether by accident or design, every single Dominator who reached the peak of their bloodline as an Earth God could all feel the shackle blocking them all from becoming gods.

This nearly drove them all insane, it was not as if they could not become gods, their bloodline was powerful enough for that to become a possibility, but a chain was placed over it.

What sort of a world would Trion become if every royal bloodline was free to become gods?

Circe shuddered at this thought. For the last million years, the seven royal families had become a breeding site for the most poisonous of vipers, and if they could all become gods, with the power of a Dominator bloodline, they would wash the entire universe in blood.

Imagine billions of Boreas, Kuranes, or Tiberius running around in the universe? Could anything be able to stand against them? Circe believed in Rowan and she had not seen the true reaches of his powers, yet she was worried that this move from them might not just sow anarchy, what if it led to the Gods of Trion finally freeing the shackles over the bloodlines of Dominators?

This and many other considerations placed Circe in a constant state of tension. She created a way of reducing the tension in her mind by picking some of the tortures inflicted on these people onto Rico, and no matter how horrifying the torture she selected, every day it seemed that a new one would come to light that was ten times worse.

Rico was a proud member of such depraved parties, and it was a miracle that he had kept his appetites under check while he was in Jarkarr.

"The only reason he kept himself in check was because there was no opportunity to let loose, not like here… this place is cursed. Rowan was right, it is corrupted to the core."

Circe shifted in her position, adjusting herself into a more comfortable cross-legged style, as memories of what she had just seen once more brushed across her mind. She flinched and channeled it into a memory of Rico suffering the same thing, but it was not enough.

Take for instance the torture she assigned to Rico where he would lick the entire beggar's quarters and its sewers with his tongue. This form of torture was a popular part-time for some of the youths of the seven families.

What made it worse was that the ones who usually suffered this fate were children. The sick games of the elites were uncountable.

She understood that the fate of the conquered was grim and in this world, justice was a concept only given to the strong, yet the degree of suffering on Trion was considerable. She was sure no other civilization in the universe would treat their slaves in this manner.

She had not gotten a precise figure, but she was sure that daily, at least eight hundred thousand people were slaughtered in Aroth alone for the amusement of the noble houses.

To distract herself from her grim thoughts she focused on her tasks, rechecking the Runes on the platforms of ascension. Circe could not imagine the sight of a thousand gods being created at the same time, but that future was not far off.

Rowan had sent a brief message to her two hours ago, that today would be the day he began making gods.

A list appeared on her hand and she frowned a bit as she went through each listed name, recalling the haunting process she had gone through just to select the best prospect for this earth-shattering benefit.

From this multitude of candidates, she began by selecting the smartest and the most dangerous. It took some time but she was able to narrow down a list of about 5,345 bloodlines. From here she proceeded with nearly the same formula.

There were only a thousand platforms and she needed precisely a thousand people.

She continued the process by vetting and processing the candidates by placing various trials and rewards in their lives to see who would respond best to the precious gift they were about to receive.

As a Major god, the task had been easy for her but the execution had taken a toll on her psyche.

Circe was aware that Rowan did not just want to create gods that were self-centered or had other pressing agendas they had to pursue. He wanted chaos, and Circe had to select those whose only purpose of existence was to bring about hurt to the Empire.

Becoming immortal would change the priorities of anyone, yet these candidates should not care about their lives, only seeing this power as an opportunity to tear Trion apart.

They were talented and smart, and against the odds they had grown to become Earth gods, facing trials that would shatter a million strong men, they prevailed because of only one thing—

Hate.

The selection process was complete. Circe paused as she considered that if she sent this list to Rowan to get his final permission then the ball was out of her court.

She almost hesitated at this point, these thousand new gods would bring about great chaos on Trion, her home, but then with the memories of everything she had witnessed for the past few months entered her mind again, that uncertainty vanished, replaced by resolve.

Trion needed to burn for something new to arise.