The Primordial Record

General Augustus Tiberius had ten seconds to live. 

He roared and channeled the inexhaustible Aether granted by his Incarnations. He burned the roots of his bloodline down to his marrow, as his flesh wilted into a dry husk, but the Tiberius family controlled blood, and he was refilled instantly. 

 Augustus gathered everything into a blood orb the size of a pin head, and he made it explode at the two reaching hands that had been tearing into him for the past three hours.

Space collapsed and chaos emerged, everything instantly was destroyed, his body quaked and shattered into pieces multiple times, and his third Incarnation went lackluster, he was down to his last, but he knew it would not be enough. 

The tool, he thought would be the source of his protection, became the source of his impending demise. 

His mind returned, to a faithful night, fifty-five years ago, when he received a cryptic message from an organization called The Order of The Broken Eye. They came to him when he had just returned from the front lines in the Northern Continent. 

The last battle there had been rough, and he knew he could not take much of this fight before he would inevitably fall. The losses in the last fight had been catastrophic. 

He had nearly died a true death multiple times, but that was not what bothered him. He was a child from the bloodline of Tiberius–The God of War. Likewise, he did not expect he would die in his bed of old age. 

No. He expects to die screaming in his own torn out guts, with endless miles of devastation around him, yet he wanted his death to have meaning. 

Tiberius, unlike the other gods, did not value potential all that much, what he gave importance to, was power! 

Augustus had the potential to become one of the strongest weapons in the hands of Tiberius, but that would take a long time, and he was not particularly unique in that aspect, as he knew of a dozen Dominators with his potential. The War God was not a patient one, he would not wait for him to bloom. 

What he craved was endless battle, and he saw no difference between the fight between two mortals or two dominators. In his lofty position, they were all the same, what he craved was the endless song of blades, the torrential downpour of blood that would flood the world. 

What the War God craved, was a Battle Without End. 

In the endless rat race of a Dominators life, as they strived for powers under the gaze of unforgiven gods, Augustus knew he would not make it. Somewhere in that unavoidable next battles he would fight, he was going to perish there. 

His death would be meaningless, just one of the countless statistics that was war. His life and story would be buried below an ocean of blood and bodies, and the name Augustus Tiberius would be nothing but a footnote, under a pile of footnotes a mountain tall. 

How could he accept this? He had broken past the First Great Cycle and was on the threshold of the second, he had tasted power and longevity, why would he let all that slip from his grasp? 

The Gods were eternal and merciless, and no matter how much the pitiful Dominators struggled under them, hoping for recognition and care, it was nothing but a fever dream. 

"Placing your hopes in the gods, is building a castle on a foundation of loose sand." A few decades ago, Augustus would have killed anyone who made such a blasphemous statement, but now he just gazed at these two figures before him with apathy. 

"Surely, there must be a good reason, why you would speak such words to me." Augustus snarled, "A member of The justice council is somewhere behind that mountain, I scream a little loud, and your heads would lie at my feet in a moment."

"Oh, but we know you would not do anything, Augustus after all, how many people would spurn the chance to transcend the tyranny of the shackles placed on them by the very gods they serve?" The Third prince smiled. 

"You speak of a fairy tale. It is impossible to escape the Pathways of power" Augustus whispered and turned away, his eyes peering far into the horizon. 

"Did anyone tell you that your eyes are beautiful?" The Third prince said. 

Augustus smirked, and looked at the hooded figure, who was sighing in exasperation. The hooded man cleared his throat, and said, "Forgive the thoughtless words of my partner, you get used to his antics after a while. Listen to our fairy tale, and be the judge of the truth."

Augustus Tiberius listened. At first, he was not too invested in their tale, that quickly changed, when he heard more, his fingers went white, and his eyes widened in surprise and dread. He had not felt true terror in a long time, and he felt it now. 

If the stories were true, and with the mounds of evidence this hooded figure had shown him, he could escape this rat race, of endless battles. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Augustus licked his dry lips and said, "If I agree to enter into this venture, then this partnership cannot be maintained by trust alone, the benefits are too massive."

"As is expected, that is the second reason we came to you, of all we could have selected for this partnership." The hooded figure said, "I trust you know the ritual for the Thorn of Blood."

Augustus paused and nodded agreement, he awoke the ability to enhance agreement when he broke past the First Great Circle, if he used it on a binding ritual such as the Thorn of Blood, a technique that could also be enhanced by his bloodline, then it would take a god to break it. 

He had trusted them because of that, not suspecting that they would have a god behind them, for he did not believe a god would ever support any venture to break their control over the bloodlines of Dominator.

Well, he was mistaken, and he would die for his oversights. 

He was fighting two battles, the Thorn of Blood was hampering his abilities, every move he made against the two of them, would tear his hearts to pieces and reduce the might of his techniques. 

His two attackers were not affected by the Thorn of Blood in fact, their powers were enhanced against him, as the Thorn of Blood believed he was the one breaking the pact. 

The very fact, that he was being killed by the very workings he cast, nearly drove him insane from anger. 

He had eight seconds to live! 

In a thousand years, he might be able to reach beyond the Second Great Circle and begin to touch the realm of the gods themselves. 

General Augustus knew that far off hope was gone, and with rage in his cry and despair in his heart, he stripped away the essence of his Incarnations.

He drew forth the Power Of Tiberius from his core, pushing past every restraint his bloodline had over his flesh, down to the very root of his being, and for a brief moment, he touched the next Great Circle, and he would have wept if he were able to. 

He had finally seen the instrument of his desires, had briefly touched it, but he will never experience it ever again. 

The world went still, and even chaos itself went mad from seeing the essence of Tiberius. There was no way he could control this power, he did not attempt to do so, he only gave a single command: Destroy!!!

Existence for a brief moment ceased. Everything was stained red, down to the atoms, a consuming force of endless hunger swept through the endless chaos.

It is said at its end when an Incarnation falls. It would burn brighter than every star that ever graced the skies.