The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1688

Chapter 1688: I Am Here

Summoning the black book onto his palm, Rowan immediately sensed the difference in the Primordial Record, and it was not because the book had changed; it was because it was Rowan himself who was different.

Previously, he was a child, and so he viewed the world as a child, where everything was simple and written in shades of black and white, and now he was no longer a child, and his eyes had seen countless secrets and horrors, and now he could see all the hidden colors of Reality.

Looking at the Primordial Record, he saw its true form for the first time, and Rowan paused in contemplation for a while.

The black book expanded until it fit his entire palm, and Rowan could sense a faint sense of anticipation from it, as if it was calling him to open its pages and reveal the secrets within.

It appearance was still the same as a black book, but Rowan could sense a yawning void in-between its covers, and he knew that it was the covering of the Primordial Record that shielded all of existence from its mysteries.

The reason he could keep such a powerful entity inside his soul as a mortal being was all due to the black cover of this book, which was so effective that he never sensed the dreadfulness contained within the Primordial Record until this moment.

Rowan brought a finger and ran it down lightly on the cover of the Primordial Record. The surface of the book felt strange under his finger, neither leather nor stone; it just reminded Rowan of something of great age.

Yet with his connection with the Primordial Record, he knew that this cover was made from an unknown material; it was only that it was so old, its name had become lost.

As Rowan’s finger traced down the cover of the book, hidden symbols etched upon it began to reveal themselves. Like living things, the symbols shifted between languages that were dead and those that did not get exist, between impossible geometrics that would scorch the minds of Old Ones, and faint whispers that grabbed unto his fingers, trying to take a hold of it but breaking away before his defenses.

Rowan was not distracted by these changes; his mind was furiously deciphering this unknown language, as he stretched his dimensional senses and capabilities to the limit, and when the meaning slammed into Rowan’s skull, he flinched and his eyes widened in surprise as a single drop of blood emerged from his nostrils.

Comprehending this language had damaged him!

Rowan knew he was not invincible, but it was always surprising when he came across powers that could hurt him, especially those that he could not have expected.

This language must be the oldest and most powerful language he had come across, but its name was lost, and Rowan understood that without his connection to the Primordial Record, it would be almost impossible for him to be able to decipher this language.

Shaking his head from the surprising ache that had begun to build inside his skull, Rowan began to trace the shifting symbols with his finger like a child learning to read.

"You have always been part of the Record. You always will be."

Rowan’s eyes darkened, and he coughed; black blood poured from his eyes and nose. When he had coughed, he had expelled a large amount of black blood from his throat.

This black blood signified intense death energy. A part of Rowan had been killed so quickly and effectively by understanding this language that even his innate resilience and regenerative factor could not stop this damage, and the part of his body that died had to be expelled.

A bright white light flashed from his body, and all the dead matter was eradicated as Rowan regarded the black book in his hands with fresh caution,

"This is a warning," he whispered to himself.

Opening the Primordial Record came with a price, and perhaps if he had a teacher when he was born, he would have been advised not to open this particular singularity until he properly understood the price for utilizing its powers.

But Rowan had no teachers, and everything he had gained had to be fought for with great risk. He did not have the option to consider what could be dangerous because he had no teachers and everything around him was covered by a web of deception and danger.

Rowan had to make moves, knowing he might be making mistakes that could lead to dangers that might end him or his loved ones. However, he knew that indecision and waiting for the correct answers would lead to his perishing much quicker.

In this life, he could either walk through a path filled with blades or swim in an ocean of acid. There was no right choice for him to make, and his only option was to pick his poison and live with it, even if it ends up killing him; at least he had been the one to choose how he would die.

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