The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1714

Chapter 1714: Killing The Thirst

The clash between Rowan and Primordial Soul was taking place in a higher-dimensional realm with properties of the ninth dimension, yet the Origin Land was beginning to suffer nearly irreparable damage.

The void had transformed from an inert space to something eerily consumable. It tasted of rust, ozone, and the metallic tang of freshly spilled divinity, the likes of which had long been lost from Reality.

The land around them for countless light years wasn’t earth; it was the scab of a reality torn from normality into madness, a crust of ossified screams and crystallized despair over a churning abyss of primordial chaos.

Above, a bruised sky pulsed with veins of sickly green and bruised purple, where distant, lidless eyes blinked with the slow, indifferent rhythm of dying suns.

This was the result of higher-level laws of Will being created and destroyed in great magnitudes; this was the wound between Realities and was the fallback option for a higher-dimensional realm to contain the spillage of such a clash.

Rowan had lost thirty percent of his soul, and even with his great tenacity, his Aura had begun to diminish, but his battle capabilities had risen. Being pushed towards the edge of nothingness, he was not weakened; instead, he grew stronger. The same thing seemed to be happening to Primordial Soul, yet hers was different.

Every time Rowan destroyed her body and she sacrificed her Origin to return to life, it was as if he was peeling back layers of flesh like an onion to reveal her core. It was as if everything he had been killing was the masks she wore to deceive all of Reality, and Rowan had succeeded in breaking through the many masks to the real Primordial within.

This was the first time he was seeing a Primordial, and if not for the strength of his consciousness, Rowan would have fled.

It was easy to forget that Primordials were not limited to their Origin. The Primordial Soul was just a mask borne by the Primordial, who stole the origin of souls from this Reality. Only after shedding this guise would their true nature be revealed.

The First Thirst, known as Primordial of Soul, stood not just as a woman, but as an absence given dreadful form.

Her silhouette was woven from the negative space left by extinguished consciousnesses, a painting of stolen sighs and silenced prayers.

Within her, Realities filled with endless lost souls flickered and screamed, trapped fireflies in a jar of obsidian glass. Her face was a shifting mosaic – a child’s terrified sob one moment, a lover’s final gasp the next, an ancient sage’s bewildered stare the next, all dissolving into the hungry void beneath.

She radiated a crushing melancholy, the weight of every unfulfilled longing, every forgotten dream. This Primordial wasn’t just essence; it was memory, and the First Thirst was the archive of all that ever wept.

All whose cravings could never be satisfied, the betrayer and the betrayed, everything that was wrong, given a voice.

This thing spoke,

"You must always have known that meeting here, this battle, was entropy’s inevitable tide. Seeing me as I am, you have seen the end of your path."

Rowan shook his head in irritation, "And is that the path of soul?"

"What else is there?" the First Thirst crooned, " Endless possibilities bloom at our command, and I shall save all of existence when I become complete; all other paths lead to him."

Rowan’s eyes lit up as he asked, with great weight in his voice, "Who is he?" He feared and expected the answer.

"Your wretched father... Enoch. Now, I end another of his children!"

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