The Primordial Record
chapter-909

It was Rowan's story told through a weapon of battle, and Pride did not disappoint, the sentient weapon from an unknown age served as the instrument of Rowan's heart, and she gave it her all. Pride became an instrument of his Will.

The song continued, rising higher and higher, and then ebbing until there seemed to be nothing but silence and then growing again.

It was Rowan's tale that was told in a manner that resounded in the bones of his enemies and crushed them all from within.

The screams from the dying and the dead increased in pitch, but they were added to the song, becoming part of its unique flavor. A song that has never been heard since the dawn of creation was born here.

Only a being like Rowan would make a song like this. It was a shame that only his enemies could hear it.

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The Demon Prince at the forefront of the army had died dozens of times, and every time he was resurrected, thousands of lesser Immortals died to take his place. His Tower Shield which could bear the weight of a million galaxies had cracked and was at the edge of destruction, held only by the stubborn Will of his lord, the Winter King.

He roared as he took a step forward, that single step was as if he was pushing against an entire universe. He felt his Spirit break and shatter before the might of the mortal in front of them, and for a moment he was drowned in darkness before he felt the shift in his soul and he was reborn.

Dying was never easy. Dying like a mortal on this bridge was a thousand times worse, and the strength of mind and spirit that had grown with him over the endless Era was tested like never before.

His bright blue eyes looked past the myriad of flashing lights, calamitous explosions, and screams, it gravitated to a single figure wrapped in a golden and black corona of destruction and creation.

His hair which seemed to hold every color in creation flew in a tempest of energy, his eyes were closed and he seemed to be at peace. In the midst of the hell of his making and theirs, this mortal was at peace.

The Demon Prince roared his fury, but it did not last, even his fury broke before the might of this song and only his conviction made him take the next step. He was the Herald of the army, and every step he took carried the rest of the army behind. Without him, they would be ground to pieces.

He channeled the power of frost, boosted by the essence of the most powerful immortals in the universe and his steps steadied and he pushed forward. Through all the chaos, he could hear it, the melody that broke his heart a thousand times in every moment.

It was a hollow-sounding tone, with harmony that shifted unexpectedly, sometimes rising to the heavens and then descending into hell, underneath all that, there was a soft, almost wistful melody that seemed to have wrapped around his consciousness and it was all he could do to not scream.

His rage had failed him, his hatred had fled, and his only savior was his realization that he was hearing a song that he was not deserving to hear. This was a song that a King would ransom his kingdom so he could be part of the audience. How lucky was he and everyone here that they were going to battle a being that could perform such a miracle?

They never stood a chance, but it did not matter, he was a mortal, and no matter the strength of his Spirit or the miracles it could conjure, he would fall.

He released all his frustration, anger, and fear as he screamed, "Push Forward!" their only hope lay in reaching that enigmatic figure and going into close combat, this mortal had shown that with his music alone, he could silence all of creation. In close combat, perhaps they could turn the tables.

The next thousand steps were the longest in his life, he stopped counting how many times he died. His blue eyes only on the visage of Rowan, and it was then that he noticed something else. Rowan's eyes were closed but something still watched him… with amusement.

His eyes, which felt as heavy as mountains, struggled a bit upwards and he saw the crown of shifting gold on the head of the mortal and the six pairs of cold eyes that watched him.

The next few moments passed as if it was a fever dream, lights, sounds, sensations, they all flowed past the Demon Prince, and then as if he had fought for an eternity, he stood before his enemy and raised his blade, and he pushed it forward until the tip rested against the heart of Rowan.

The song came to an end and the Demon Prince saw the eyes of this being slowly open. His prismatic eyes peered at him, and it was filled with a strange emotion that vanished a moment later.

Those strange eyes looked at the Demon Prince and he nodded. With a cry of determination, the Demon Prince pushed his blade with all the power he could muster and then he fell to his knees. He was spent, but he has succeeded.

"Is this what it feels to be mortal?" The Demon Prince was born in a line of royalty. From the moment of his birth, he had never known weakness like this. "How odd that I am at peace. I thought I would rage… I was supposed to be everlasting."

Pushing his tired eyes to look at the body of his fallen enemy he nearly laughed when he saw that Rowan still remained on his feet, his body still as powerful as ever, on his chest was a slight tear, nearly invisible, and on it was 03:08

a single drop of blood.

his chest was a slight tear, nearly invisible, and on it was a single drop of blood.

The Demon Prince heard the voice of this mortal and he shuddered, it was filled with power, charm, and horror.

"Of all the Immortals, only you stand before me, I shall have your name, demon, for you deserve to draw my blood."

The Demon Prince shook, and then he struggled to look behind him, the mighty army that he expected to stand behind him was all gone. The last of them vanished in a pile of ash as he watched.

As he had struggled forward through the maelstrom of death, it would seem that the toll of pushing towards the mortal had drained the life of the hundred million immortals left in the dead universe. Every god, demon, and mage had perished… except him.

He could see his steps that had scorched themselves in the ground fading away on the bridge. He had burned through his entire immortal lifespan to reach their enemy. He was their herald and he had upheld the might of his brothers in battle.

He turned to Rowan and bared his teeth in defiance. In death, he would remain nameless, and his victory would be complete.

The eyes of Rowan widened in surprise and he nodded. "I will keep this scar in remembrance of the valor of this army."

The Demon King sighed and his head dropped to his chest, and blue flames covered him as he turned to ash.

Rowan was quiet as he watched the death of the noble demon. The Twilight bridge rumbled and fully turned blood red.

He looked up at the figures that had reached the edge of his bridge. Their individual Auras eclipsed the immortal army that had just perished by an inestimable amount.

Shaking himself from his melancholic mood, Rowan returned Envy as the primary component of the weapon and he seized the Great Axe and stepped forward.

"Let's end this."