The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1736

Chapter 1736: I Have Returned

Rowan’s spirit was a manifestation of his willpower, and when that spirit descended with fury, it did not hold back for a single moment. Grasping twenty percent of his dimensional soul, his spirit ripped it out and placed it into Origin of Imagination.

His spirit began to dissipate, merging with the soul inside the seed, and when it was gone, Rowan had become the Seed of Imagination, and because Primordial Soul had laid an exceedingly robust foundation inside this seed, the process was almost instantaneous.

Only then was he able to see the outline of Primordial Soul’s ambition. Rowan could not see much because the core of this plan belonged to Nyxara, who remained outside Reality, but what he could retrieve from it was concerning.

Nyxara had been making certain experiments in previous Realities using the body of a special life form whose talents could almost equal, if not exceed, those of someone like Rowan.

The Arbor Mentis, and this entire Origin of Imagination, was just a sapling from a massive tree.

Primordial Soul had been lucky to collect the sapling of this tree in the past, because the Arbor Mentis was a power equal to the Realm of Death, but its influence was extremely mysterious. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

If Primordial Soul succeeds in possessing this seed and becoming the Primordial of Imagination, she could use this power to gain access to the Arbor Mentis, therefore bringing the corruption of the Primordials into this place.

Rowan had long known that the Primordials were marauders, feeding on different Realities and moving on after they had taken everything, and it was enlightening to see the plans of these entities as they set their sights on other realms that may be more powerful than Eosah.

It reminded him that if not for the lucky discovery of Eosah and the Primordials wishing to slowly excavate the core secrets of this Reality, they would have moved on a long time ago.

He might be special, but he had gotten to this point by sheer grit and pure luck, as he saw that Primordial Soul had a greater agenda than the end of this Reality.

The more he interacted with these ninth-dimensional forces, the more his understanding of how ancient they really were became notable.

He had barely lived a tiny fraction of a Primordial’s life, and he could understand how they had easily underestimated someone like him, even when they gave him enough credits.

All of these deliberations only took the barest of moments. Rowan did not care about the lives of the Primordials, besides gaining the best methods to hunt and kill them. If there were to ever be karma for Supreme entities like the Primordials, then that karma would be Rowan, and he would not care about anything but the potential avenue he would need to destroy them.

Rowan had deliberated on his choices going forward, and his mind had already been made up, with the plans already in place inside his mind. He made his first move.

Rowan created a Minor Seed of Imagination and sent it into the lower realm.

There were already arrangements laid out for such an event, and Rowan saw no reason to change it. This seed was bait, and he was eager to see who would come biting.

Sending the Seed of a Primordial Entity into the Reality was an extraordinary affair. Even though Eosah was dead, she still had certain defenses that had to be deceived or pierced through before this seed could be actualized.

The Seed did not fall. It descended with intent. It drifted through the veils of unreality for eons, until it found the one place in all the dimensions that was both everything and nothing: the Quicksilver Sands of Forgotten Dreams. This was the nursery, the neutral ground where nothing was real and therefore everything could be.

Through time and space, it descended until a call emerged from nothing, telling it to be.

And there, it did not sprout through force. The shell of solidified silence did not crack; it unfolded. It opened like a flower welcoming a sun it had never seen but always known, releasing the contained chaos within.

The first root that plunged into the fabric of Reality was not of wood, but of solidified curiosity.

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