The Primordial Record - Chapter 811 Take Me Home

What could she ever do at a time like this, when her master needed help that she could not give? The answer came to her, it was simple, she would just have to do the same thing he had once done for her.

Maeve looked up to the sky and then she grinned before saying, “This burden of yours my Lord, I know I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.”

Rowan’s gaze was distant, he had been thinking of other things but when he heard her words, he stilled in her arms and he eyed her suspiciously, “Where did you hear that?”

Maeve looked away, her green wings fanning nervously behind her, “Oh, it was something you said to me long ago… In a dream, I think. It has always stayed with me. I never knew how to relate to it, until now. I also have other anecdotes from you, most of them are truly hard to understand. What do you mean by, Get Into Tha Chappah! Or May the force be with you?”

Rowan groaned in embarrassment and looked away, he remembered having a vision when he first merged with Envy so long ago when he was still a Legendary Dominator, in that dream, he had seen Maeve suffer countless tortures in her quest to protect him from his father. She had borne all the pain until it became too much more for her.

Rowan had found her broken, showing wounds that had shocked him to the core, and he had stayed with her for weeks inside that dream or a vision, he could not tell the difference, at that time, this world had been nothing but horror for him.

To console this loyal woman, he had told her many stories, rambled on for days on end, and he was sure in all those times, he had managed to recount his favorite stories to her from a life that was so far away. At that time he had given up the Rowan that came from earth and chose to embrace the horror of this new one.

Maeve had been the one he had given his story of the man from Earth, he never expected her to survive and he had not cared that no one else would know his story, but she did and his story did not die.

Rowan had never sought glory or power for the sake of loading over others. From the beginning, it had always been about survival, but the visions that the Primordial Record had shown him had begun to brew a new type of fever in his mind.

His battles had mostly been silent and unknown, he saw no reason to change that, but now he had so much to prove besides survival.

The visions from the Primordial Record were true, with this treasure, he would be brought to the edge of a Primordial, but he never crossed it.

Rowan believed that this future was wrong.

The Primordial Record could only show the future that it could understand and control. Its powers had brought its previous hosts to the edge, but it had forgotten to account for the presence of Rowan.

The words it spoke were enough, the Primordial Record did not believe in his potential or anyone else. Rowan closed his eyes, during the moments when the weight of survival was too much to handle, he could hear them… in their billions… he could hear the voices of his children.

He heard the songs from his Angels. They called him Creator. The one whose light would illuminate the ages.

Who was he to prove them wrong?

Rowan smiled, “Take me home Maeve, bring me to Trion. it is time I took back what belongs to me, and begin my journey of conquest.”

Cradled in the arms of Maeve, the tortured minds of Rowan fell asleep. Enduring billions of years of torture had nearly ruined his mental state, but the important part was that it did not succeed.

Rowan would return, stronger. He always did.

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The entire capital of Aroth had been shaken with unexpected changes that swept throughout Trion, one of them that did not draw much attention was the news that a lot of Earth gods had gone missing. This was terrifying news, but when the nobles learned that these Earth gods were slaves, their concern shifted to mild irritation.

The seven houses in total should have millions of Earth god slaves between them, and everyone expected that this should be nothing but a prank or a subtle move between the heads of the houses as the coronation for the next ruler of Trion drew near and the competition grew heated.

Nevertheless, there were no concerns among the higher echelon on this matter, everyone was focused on the coronation and other major news, they had other things disturbing their minds, chief among them was the fact that the gods were strangely quiet about the upcoming coronation and the new policy that had brought up.

According to history, this period in Aroth should be one of the most terrible times for the mortals both slaves and nobles alike, as the gods would begin actively interfering with the affairs of mortals, playing their deadly game in order to see who would win the throne.

It was not unknown for hidden scandals to be dug up that could shake entire families, and battles fought that would lead to the deaths of millions in the unlucky houses. The commoners and slaves suffered the most in this time as every noble family of Aroth would begin making large blood sacrifices to appease their ever-hungry Primogenitors.

They would shift the attention of the gods away from their houses by feeding them an ocean’s worth of blood and suffering.

Massive altars erected on the feet of each Anima of the gods would see the heads of millions of people in sacrifices to please them, and great bonfires on the rear of their temples would be filled with the screams of children as they were led to become burnt offerings.

Unspeakable horrors would be committed in their name, and in the skies of Aroth, there would be nothing but the laughter of the gods.

This period of unrest would only end when the new Emperor or Empress had taken their seat, leaving a city that had become solemn and pacified when they realized the number of people that had been sacrificed during this period.

Madness usually followed for many, but they were soon culled. The noble houses grew strong on suffering and horror.

But this year was different, the gods were not asking for blood sacrifices or blood sports, but were instead all focused on pushing more noblemen and women toward the battlefield.

It was normal that a lot of Dominators sent to the battlefield should have returned during this period, but their request to celebrate this coronation was denied and they were tasked to push deeper into the battlefield instead.

In some quarters of Trion, there were jokes about how the gods wanted the blood of nobles rather than slaves in this coronation event, but the laughter never lasted long, because everyone here knew the truth.

The reason for the decision of the gods soon came to light and it stunned the entire planet.

Whatever clamor about the missing Earth gods died away when a notice came from the heads of the houses that this year’s coronation would not be decided on Aroth the capital but on the Great battlefield.

This war that Trion had fought for a million years would be ending.