The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1602

Chapter 1602: Source Of Treasure

The Adjudicator—Throne of Primordial Memory cocked his head to the side and he smiled and nodded, acknowledging Rowan’s quick wit,

"You recognize this piece, yes?"

Rowan did not bother to answer the question; of course, he knew this song, he was the one who made it.

In the universe of his birth, he had done the impossible and broken out of the Cycle of Creation. He was no longer man or beast, god or devil, an angel or a demon; instead, he became a Reality unto himself, a living dimension.

Such grand changes inevitably attracted Tribulation, which came in the form of the Reflections of the Eye of Time, the Third Prince and Fourth Prince, the God Emperor Golgoth, and all the armies of demons and abominations they had gathered.

All of these monsters came to challenge his rise and kill him before his light became too bright. Rowan had battled them upon it, creating a bridge of twilight that brought together the past and the present. frёewebnoѵēl.com

He had not been strong enough to easily kill these lesser immortals, and he made this bridge the battleground to settle the blood feud between him and the Reflections.

Luxuriating in his newfound powers and the freedom it promised, Rowan had taken a tool of slaughter, the Sin Weapons of Pride and Envy, and on that bridge, he had used it to make a song.

It was a rare thing for Rowan to make music, as a Celestial Creator with his talents, the music that flowed from him was sweeter than honey and carried a power that could turn worlds into dust.

Yet all of this did not matter to Rowan as much as the fact that music was an open road to his heart.

His fondest memories, his greatest triumphs and regrets, were all tied up in a broken piece of melody floating somewhere in the void, and if he wanted, he could reach into the darkness and pull that part of himself.

With a flourish, the Adjudicator placed the Celestial Harp away, and he sighed, "Such an enthralling melody, and to think you made it out from a tool meant for nothing but killing."

Rowan frowned, shaking away the lethargy that filled his body; it was a tiredness that sapped every bit of strength from him, and he knew that if he allowed himself to relax for the briefest of moments, he would fall to his knees and sleep for many eternities.

The touch of Primordial Memory was not loud or brash; it was slow and ponderous, like a relentless wave that would slowly sneak up on you before you even understood what was happening.

Rowan whispered, a dawning realization of horror filling his veins,

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