The Primordial Record

TWENTY–ONE YEARS AGO.

Rowan had scattered his Berserker Clones into various positions to perform varied crucial tasks, one of which bore fruit not too long ago as they located the missing page of his Primordial Record.

Another had achieved something similar far earlier when they succeeded in unlocking a portion of the mysteries behind the blood he collected from the Third Prince.

He had gained this boon In the surprising ambush he had planned against whoever might be pursuing him when he was in Jarkarr after escaping the Nexus, and Rowan had caught a far larger prey than he had expected, the Third Prince, and at that time he did not know how incredibly lucky he was that this event had occurred because this was the first time his past was revealed to him.

Elura the Empyrean of Life who had been imprisoned inside the body of his father had taken advantage of the chance created by Rowan and broke free from the Third Prince's control, even if it was only for a short time. She had revealed to Rowan that she was his mother and Rowan had used this opportunity to steal the blood of the Third Prince when his mother had burst out from his body.

At that time Rowan had no powers to manipulate this blood and unravel its secrets but he chose to slowly sturdy it and he hoped that he would be able to find something from this long shot. In his desperation against such a powerful foe, he would never let any advantage he had go to waste.

He had partially succeeded in this venture, but as always he had been left with more questions than answers.

Unlike the Berserker Clone that had entered the Underverse, the clones that Rowan used to investigate the blood taken from the Third Prince all aged unnaturally fast. It was as if Time was accelerated a million times faster around that blood, and Rowan had to change these clones every three minutes.

It was a good thing that Rowan was capable of this feat, or else even a god would have drained their entire Divine Kingdom in a month, but Rowan had effortlessly held on for twelve years before he saw any meaningful result.

He had been changing his clones so frequently that he did not even think about it, as the five Consciousness Pillars assigned to investigate this blood drop expanded the number of clones he used from one to ten thousand.

Every three minutes ten thousand Berserker Clones would perish and another ten thousand would take their place.

Even with all this sacrifice it was difficult for him to unearth anything from this blood, and the difficulty only increased when the Blood was rapidly decaying and a larger portion of his energy had to be channeled into keeping it viable.

The only breakthrough came by accident, Rowan had already given up on gaining anything from this blood and expected that no matter how much effort he placed into this experiment the blood would be destroyed in a few months.

It was then that a Berserker Clone who had the appearance of a ninety years old man, with long white hair and a beards unlocked a small corner of the blood, a single cell.

Rowan had caught a brief glance inside and saw the structure of the Third Prince's blood.

The cell resembled a polygon, but that was not what was strange about it, as the shape of Rowan's cells changed after every evolution, and he knew his cells always changed to fit his growing powers. What was strange about this cell was that on the four sides of the polygon were four different faces and one of the faces belonged to the Third Prince, his father.

The faces were vivid and clear, and he had placed them all in his head. The first was the fat face of the Third Prince, the second was the slim face of a young man who resembled him, the third was the grizzled face of a man who seemed to have fought many wars, and the last was of an old man.

Four faces, four different people.

At that time Rowan did not understand what this might signify. Were these the shapes his father could take? His clones? Why were they branded on his cells?

All these questions could have no answer with the evidence he had on hand, but everything changed with the words from Boreas. This was information Rowan had no idea about, but he had feared the possibility that he did not have a single enemy, but four.

The Third Prince…. He had never really thought about the significance behind that name, seeing it as a title, but what if there was a first prince, a second prince, and a fourth prince?

How many of these bastards were out there? The history of his father was still too much of a mystery.

Rowan thought of the story of Erohim and Orum, the fact that he knew there was more to that story than was revealed. Would he be getting his answers here?

Rowan's Reflection was a direct copy of himself, but that did not mean that the Reflection of his father would be the same, and with the experience he acquired from his Berserker Clones and the Reflections he had created, he knew that time could cause unknown changes in an embodied technique.

His Berserker Clone had acquired a soul after two decades of wandering inside the Underverse, who was to say what unknown changes might have happened to the Reflection of his father after countless years, that could not even be measured using a mortal sense of time?

At this time his technique was complete, and it was just in time, Rowan was tired of the endless prattling of Boreas. Before he acquired his Will, the gods of Trion might have been a challenge that would have taken all of his power and concentration to win over.

Now he had so many tools to use that it was not even funny. He had taken the best weapon that was available to him, while still keeping himself hidden.

He would kill Boreas without even showing his face to him. This wretched Reflection of his brother did not deserve the honor of fighting him.

Calling up the soul of Circe he asked her, "Are you ready for round two."

She cracked her neck, "Release me Rowan."

"Careful fierce warrior. For I will be fighting with you too."

Rowan made his move and from the back of Boreas who had been talking, hoping to draw out Rowan exploded, pushing a ton of flesh out that coiled like a snake and separated into two.

Boreas screams were heart-wrenching and he turned around as the two snakes transformed. One of them took the shape of Circe and the second took the shape of Ohrox, the Demon Prince of Destruction.

"Ohrox, impossible, you are dead."

The Demon Prince grinned…

No, not a Demon Prince, Boreas face went pale, this was a ducking Demon King!

"Keep talking little god, soon you will be screaming for me."