The Primordial Record

There were three towers and four turrets in Rowan’s manor, the largest of them housed his lab, Maeve unlocked the door to this lab with a huge ornate key, the door must have been at least five inches thick and made from thick wood and metal, it must weigh at least three tons, though Maeve pushed it effortlessly with a single hand.

The lab was silent, and the air was dry, Rowan kept it this way, many of the ingredients he used for potions and alchemy experiments got spoiled if left in a damp environment.

Rowan remembered a passage he read previously. The laboratory of a Noble is a wonderland where miraculous cures and pseudoscientific abominations are spawned from the minds of geniuses in varying degrees of madness and torture.

This could aptly describe this laboratory, moonlight poured through two huge ornate windows, shinning it glow on various alchemical equipment, the lab was mostly filled with beakers and huge transparent tanks, where floating in liquid solutions were various unidentified specimens, and the walls held mounted shelves that contained various tools of the trade.

This laboratory was Rowan’s pride and joy and represented one of his greatest achievements, he had schemed and saved and slowly gathered materials from various parts of the kingdom to aid him in his journey of discovery and enlightenment.

He needed that aid at this very moment, he was pressed for time, and the only solution to his plight would be found here.

This occurred to him when he saw the uses of Soul Seizer, his fading lifespan, and the knowledge that he would get to live if he could become a Legendary.

Rowan wasn’t very knowledgeable about the Paths of Dominion, this was knowledge that was highly restricted. But he knew that the next step was to become a Legendary on any Path a Dominator decides to take.

If he remembered correctly, Legendary Dominators had a Lifespan of a hundred and fifty years, more than enough for him, if he could become one.

His salvation was here and Rowan was nervous, he hoped his speculations worked as he braced himself.

Maeve switched on a hand-held gas lamp and looked to him for instructions, Rowan wet his lips and spoke, "I am going to use the Warding Room, but first I need to retrieve the Heavy Runic Glove on the top shelve, "Rowan smiled at Maeve in a self-deprecating manner, and gestured to his body, "I seem to have lost a lot of height recently. "

Maeve brought down the gloves, they were brown with various metallic circuitry etched into the fabrics, Rowan stretched out both hands and Maeve helped in putting on the gloves, making sure the gloves were properly fitted. She looked at him, "Master, you will recover everything you lost, and more." she gestured to the gloves. " You are going to need help handling arcane ingredients, I must insist I be by your side."

Rowan tested the gloves, they were oversized but were not cumbersome, his small hands were accommodated perfectly inside the gloves; they were cool inside, "No problem Maeve, I would need your strength in what I am about to do now!"

Maeve seemed to have done this before, as she went to fetch a pair of gas masks, she donned hers after she finished placing the mask on Rowan’s face, "Ready when you are, Master" her voice came in hisses like a snake.

Rowan cracked his neck, "Open the Warding Room!"

Maeve walked up to a lever, that was attached to a pulley system, placing her feet in a position she felt comfortable in, she braced herself and began to turn, deep clanking echoed through the room, as the "Warding Room "emerged from the floor.

It was a dais that held four Magitite stones cut precisely in the shape of a square, the square was four feet across on all sides, and on top of the square rested four items, which were a nine-leaf clover, a pair of shear, a mortar and pestle and finally a purple wolf with gleaming red eyes.

The wolf was held down not with straps or manacles, but with a formless force that exerted bone-breaking pressure on the wolf, it lay on its side, and its opened eye slowly turned to Rowan, and it was filled with endless malice.

This wolf was a Demon.

It was the biggest wolf he had ever seen, with his new height, if it wolf stood up, it would be at eye level with Rowan.

Its eye-catching purple fur resembled a poisoned flower. Its purpose was not only to draw your eyes but to keep you transfixed as it killed you.

He remembered that the wolf was poisonous, and a single bite if left untreated would lead to rapid necrosis, like a spider, the Demonic Wolf preferred eating prey that had been softened by his poison.

Rowan ignored the gaze of the wolf and turned to assess the shears, it was a gleaming silver all through from tip to handle, they were most likely made of Mythrill, and on the blades was written a symbol in the shape of a corkscrew, Rowan easily interpreted that symbol, it meant "Six." Not bothering to infer the meaning, Rowan picked it up by its handle.

The gloves began to emit an acrid green smoke, that was poisonous and smelled like rotten flesh, the Heavy Runic Glove served two purposes, one was as a key to access the Magitite Stone, without the glove, anything placed on the Stone would be placed under a formless pressure that could range from a minor pull to bone crushing pressure.

The second purpose was also as important, it was to help Rowan, a mortal, although he had a Noble bloodline, to be able to touch a Divine Weapon.

The shear, of course, was a Divine Weapon, although it was a low-level armament. There were many divisions of Divine Weapons based on their capabilities and usage, but he did not know them.

A surge of warmth flowed into the gloves, but it was suppressed, the inlaid circuitry shone with a blue glow and the gloves became cool again, Rowan turned to the Demon and opened the shears, he adjusted it in the other to fit the opening over the neck.

The Demon opened its lupine jaws and struggled to speak in a wheezing voice that felt like fingernails running through a board. Rowan knew the Demon could speak, when it was purchased, there was a spike driven through its jaws. For a minor Demon, he was told it was quite cunning, and it was unknown why this Demon refused to advance given its intellect.

" Mortal, why do you seek to destroy my flesh, I have neither harmed thee nor any of your kin."

Maeve replied to the demon with a sneer, "Demon, your life has been bought and bargained for, you have taken the lives of countless innocent, and killing you would not tip the scale an iota in your mercy, even if you are killed a thousand times over!"

The Demonic Wolf spoke, his eyes still trained on Rowan, "Yet, I harmed none of yours, my business was done far from your shores, would you not reconsider setting me free? I can serve you for the rest of your mortal life."

Rowan fitted the shears properly against the demon’s neck, surprised at the Demon’s offer, for its gaze was still filled with malice. Even if its demeanor changes, he would be a fool to accept its proposal. "Your bargain is rejected Demon, I can smell the blood on your breath and I have seen the souls you have torn asunder over the centuries. You have taken pleasure in killing others, why fight against it when the blade now rests on your neck" Rowan looked at the demon, during the purchase he had seen images and vivid descriptions of the carnage this demon had committed, "You squeezed every last shred of pain you could collect before you killed your victims. You do not deserve to live"

The Demon glared at Rowan, fury now competing with the malice in its eyes, " Do what you will mortal."