The Primordial Record-Novel

Chapter 75 Dawn of Battle (final)

Behind him, the captain and his Guardsmen fell to their knees, except for the captain, who could barely stay on his knees, the remaining Guardsmen faces were pressed to the ground, their faces all held in horror.

"Purdue Mileniuus. Priest of the Dark god Malakith. Would you accept my words of absolution?"

"I would… My lord… but how do you know my last name? I only ever told… Mersha"

Rowan smiled at him, "Does it matter? Know this, proud priest of the Dark one. I have seen your deeds and I do not find it wanting. You have conducted yourselves in a noble manner, beyond reproach, and even under the shackles of evil, your heart was not laid astray. Whatever misdeeds the enemy has done using your flesh as a guise shall not be counted as your burden to bear."

The priest seemed to breathe easier, "Thank you… my lord, for giving me peace. Every night, my soul burns. It hurts… no more. Forgive me for not having the strength to perform the last rites for the fallen, but, I believe, your presence was more than enough to give them rest."

The priest smiled at him, and breathed his last. Rowan gently lay him down, and the fog covered his body.

Rowan bowed his head in grief, he had made a mistake again, he had assumed that everyone responsible must have full knowledge of what they were into, or at least they were like henchmen, only here for a profit.

But something far more diabolical was going on, for the participants in this scheme, may not even know that they were part of it. He remembered the drawing he had of Maeve, and he shuddered.

Rowan felt like a fool. Once again reminded that there was always more that met the eyes, when he played on the same field as a Dominator.

High on the powers the Legendary State of his bloodline had granted him, he became quite rash, although a large part of him knew there was no other option before him. He had made the right decisions, it was his methods that felt wrong.

The priest was simply a shell, his blood, flesh, and bones had been consumed, he was simply a puppet held by strings of an invisible puppeteer, yet he still felt guilt for the way he had approached the situation, although he knew it was quite illogical, he did not dismiss this feeling inside his heart.

Because that was what made him human, and it was an easy thing to forget.

Even in his rage, he had to learn to direct his anger, or he was nothing less than an animal, if he were to kill, it must be clean and precise. He did not have the power to free the priest of such a deep level of corruption.

Nonetheless, the methods he used could have been more humane, he had been too quick to condemn, it would be a different case if he was the weaker party here, but he was stronger, and he had exercised his powers without hesitation, and he had been cruel. That troubled him… deeply.

Waking up in a world, where life was treated like dirt, it would be the easiest thing to change to such a mindset, he could butcher hordes of enemies without a backward glance because it was effortless, and it felt wonderful.

To destroy all those that did you harm, to slaughter until you were bathed in blood, to know he was paying back in the same coin as he was dealt, must feel really good, yet Rowan knew he had to draw a line.

He had no doubt he was going to kill, what he had within him was too valuable, his bloodlines, the Primordial Record, any of it would cause a calamity that would drag even the gods from their thrones to fight over his flesh. He had within him, a potential for endless power, and his power would draw enemies, more than a stinking corpse drew maggots.

Nevertheless, he did not have the habit of submitting to fate, or laying down and taking countless abuses, and so he was going to fight, and yes, he was going to kill, and perhaps the number of people he might end up killing would end up to be greater than every piece of sand on an endless beach, but he would never glory in mindless torture.

He was taking a life… Even in his rage, he should respect that.

He would be a killer, but never a monster. The difference between both was a very fine line, but he suspected that if he did not keep an awareness of that line in his heart, he would be capable of far more terrible deeds than what was happening here.

It might seem as if he were overreacting, but his abilities, made it straightforward for him to abuse it for evil.

This world is an abyss. He was not just gazing into it, he was inside of it, and the only thing holding him back from being one with the abyss was the warmth inside his soul—The people who have up their flames of life so that he should live.

For their sake, he would do better, he would be better, for he would not let this abyss take him.

Although his head was bowed, his sight still covered the entire room, and he captured everything happening inside of it, he could clearly see, the apparently dead priest whose eyes now shone with a glow of new intelligence, slowly rising from the ground, the two sets of arms he had, making him resemble a giant cockroach, he could also see the Captain and his Guardsmen also silently pulling out their swords.

Were they going to attack him, or this creature?

Yet, Rowan's attention was not really on them, he had sent his snakes to scrub through the entire manor, now that he knew the methods for detecting the hidden wolves among the sheep, he decided to strike while the iron was hot.

Two of the snakes descended to the basement below where most of the survivors and staff were, Rowan discovered they had sharper senses than him when it came to the aspects of energy. They had discovered an excessive amount of energy inside the priest, that even his Aura could not cloak the excessive energy from their sights.

They were to search through everyone inside the manor, and detect the outliers, when they did, he gave only a single command—Eat.

It would be quick and painless, for these people, taken without their wills, do not deserve his wrath. Of course, he sent the One and Two eyed snakes, for their temperament was suitable for such delicate work.

The last snake– Three Eyes (He really should give them names) was the far more energetic one, his quest was to search for Maeve, a cursory search from him did not reveal her presence. It was also to eat every single flying eye it saw.

Though he reduced its search radius to within the grounds of the manor, forbidden it from entering the fog. Even though he suspected that without killing him, his snakes were virtually immortal, they tended to draw a lot of energy from him when they resurrected. He needed to be at his peak state to avoid a state of weakness at a critical time.

They were already drawing a lot of energy from him, and this was them at their base forms. He had not even started upgrading the Legendary State level of Ouroboros; when he did, he expected that the expenditure would increase drastically anytime they resurrected.

Feeling the smelly breath wafting in his face, he turned most of his concentration to the creature in front of him, it was wearing a grin, making the mouth of the priest stretch unnaturally wide, its eyes blazing yellow.

"Greetings, O' Fallen Prince." The creature said to him.

"To whom do I speak? " Rowan said.

"Your death." It replied, and Rowan smiled.