The Primordial Record-Chapter 1381: Acquiring A Class (final)

Rowan stood straight, solar winds blowing his long black hair and striking sparks through the armor he wore. He appeared like an unreal apparition floating through the void of space, and he sighed internally, all of the dangers he was facing were because he always craved to be the best that he could achieve, and after building every foundation he had with excellence, the grounds that he was striking upon was meant for the rulers of existence, but he was not begging for their powers, he was seizing it.

The path that was laid before him was clear…

Class Formation:99%

He was a single step away from achieving his Class, but that step was an endless ravine that he would need to cross.

"𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍."

Every time that he had shattered a Supreme Circle and the heavy flashes of pain wrecked his consciousness, it had been death clawing at his door.

At first, that door had been strong, Rowan had grown to become an immortal that even death could no longer easily touch, and he could hardly hear the call of death even when it had been declared by the Primordials, but this door was slowly breaking down as he continuously broke the Supreme Circle, and with the seventh Supreme Circle broken, he could hear

Death clearly, because it was here with him… literally.

If Rowan had not reached the fifth-dimensional level, he would not have noticed it, if he had not captured an ephemeral being as powerful as Nemesis, he would not have been able to feel the traces of Death, and as if that knowledge was a doorway to see into this unknown dimension that he had just found, his heart became opened.

A cold wind brushed across his spine, his heartbeat fluttered and his eyes shrunk to a dot. Rowan exhaled, and chilled fog emerged from his mouth, many times colder than the void of space.

Rowan looked at his shoulder where a hand had appeared upon it. The hand ended at the wrist with nobody behind it. It just rested on his shoulder, silent, waiting. It was almost as if from the moment he was born that hand had always been there beside him, and only now could he see it. Only now could Rowan see the Hand of Death.

He grinned.

This time Rowan did not wait for the Primordial Record to break down the Supreme Circle, he aided it. Seizing the second circle with his consciousness, he crushed it, and as it was sucked into his core, Rowan waited for what was to come.

At the edge of his consciousness, he heard the sound of laughter from the Primordial Record, the Singularity was deeply pleased with his actions, and its mad laughter was echoed by Rowan’s increasing grin that transformed his beautiful face into something almost feral.

~Live or Die. Thou shall ever be my master~

The Singularity swallowed the Supreme Circle, and what blasted out of it was no longer a whisper, at this point, Rowan’s defenses had been worn thin and the voice came to him as a roar,

"𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍!"

A silence seemed to descend on the entire universe and everything went still, even the vibrations of atoms and molecules, and then, every star went out, every light in the universe was extinguished, and every life passed away. Rowan became the only life remaining in this place.

There was only darkness, and the Hand of Death on Rowan’s shoulder suddenly blazed with green flames brighter than the sun, its light shone on the entirety of the universe, and this light was old.

Rowan, who had returned to his feet, collapsed fully to both knees as his strength vanished from his frame, the flames blazing on his shoulder spread across his entire body in mere moments, and his dimensional flesh began to collapse.

His blood was instantly vaporized and massive chunks of flesh and bones began to collapse into dust, his eyes blazing with golden light grew dull and collapsed from his socket, and as he struggled to get back to his feet, his legs crumpled into dust, but despite what was happening to him, Rowan began to laugh.

He laughed because he was happy… this happiness came from the depth of his being.

From his skull that had nearly collapsed, Rowan’s voice rose, tainted by the eldritch energy of death but still carrying all the strength that had defied countless calamities along the way,

"So, death… You are real. Hahaha…. I can feel your touch and so I can find you… I can touch you… I can kill you! Ah, the Primordials should not have shown me how limiting my vision had always been."

The ever-burning Hand of Death did not leave his shoulder, his body continued to crumble, and even his jaws collapsed, but Rowan’s laughter still rang out, strong and endless.

"This trap was meant to kill immortals, but I am not just an Immortal, and I have lots of life to burn. Let us see who runs out of fuel."

From the core of Rowan’s being, deep within his dimension, his life force which had grown stronger with every dimension that he conquered, blazed to life, and the green flames that had been covering his shattered body brightened to the extent that Rowan turned into a green sun.

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When the flames of death began to burn, it had directly been feeding on Rowan’s lifespan.

As an immortal in the fifth-dimensional level, he should be able to live forever, he should have an infinite lifespan, this was a truth that was known to all immortals who had crossed the threshold of the fourth dimension. It was said that unless they were killed, they would exist forever.

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Death laughed in the face of an infinite life, and it showed Rowan that although his lifespan would appear to be infinite, there was still a number attached to it. That number was also attached to every so-called immortal in existence, and although that number was ridiculously long, so long that it was almost impossible to see its end… it was still there, and Death, bound by the Wills of the primordial, at the right time, when summoned, was able to feast.

Rowan would be one of the countless immortals that it had laid low, however, a whisper entered through the burning flame, emerging from the consciousness of Rowan and reaching Death,

"You are not worthy of putting out my flame."

In reply to his words, Death showed Rowan a glimpse of the past. It showed him countless scenes of great powers, endless worlds, countless dimensions older than all living memory, brought low, everything became nothing under the green flames of Death.

Another whisper arose from Rowan,

"That is not enough to hold me down. Let me show you my flame. Let me show you the reason that you shall fear me."

It had been a long time since Rowan compared himself to an immortal. At this point, it was almost silly to do such a thing. However, Death was treating him like an average immortal, he did not know what was more insulting, the fact that the Death that was here was not the true concept of Death, just one of its many branches that was spread across all of reality or the fact that it felt it wanted to seize his lifespan using such a small portion of itself.

Many things led to the downfall of Nemesis, but if it was traced back to the root it was the fact that its servants, the Primordial Keepers had stolen Rowan’s lifespan. Death here was doing something much worse; it was devouring Rowan’s lifespan.

Rowan had promised himself, that he would no longer be weak, so weak that something so central to who he was, could be taken away so easily, and every single moment after he had been granted a second chance, he had worked hard to the point where his vision could be actualized, and so he showed Death the result of his hard work, he showed Death his flames.

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Death had been feasting on Rowan’s lifespan, every moment that passed, it devoured so much potent lifespan that it should have exploded like a mosquito pumped full of blood. There was so much life here, and it was so rich, and then there was more and more, and more…

The green flames of Death exploded in intensity, as the life pouring into it reached a ridiculous extent, and then it saw what it was connected to, the Ender of Epoch, Death, it faltered before this sight.

Class Formation: 100%

"You are not worthy to end my flame."