The Primordial Record

Elias Tiberius began taking out various ritualistic items and placing them in a pentagram around him, he seemed to be taking orders from the golden eyes floating above him, as he paused for a second before he made any action.

These items had been cleverly disguised, so their true purpose was hidden, as he had to take apart various different items to combine before using them for the ritual.

Although he was following instructions, he still acted quickly and when he understood the pattern to assemble the ritual items, he blitzed through the process.

When everything was done in a manner that satisfied him, he began to chant in Medan. It was an Arcane intonation that resounded in the air and made the house begin to visibly tremble. The air inside the house were all forced out with a whoosh, and only a vacuum was left.

With a final harsh sound, a visible dome of purple force field covered the entirety of the house before it went invisible, and with the chaos from the Abomination attack nobody noticed. With this ritualistic method Elias Tiberius had isolated this area from the influence of the Nexus.

Elias Tiberius discarded the sounds of chaos outside and focused on the upcoming ceremony. He knelt on the floor as he cast off all the pieces of his white bone armor, his eyes held a distant look as sweat beaded his forehead, the pain from taking off the Bone Armor was intense, it was as if he was pulling out his own bones and tendons from his body

He severed his Spirit connection to the Armor, for if he was distracted or in peril, it would snap back to him… His trusty armor.

Elias ran his hands through minor cracks and blemishes on the Armor, that he never repaired, it was testament that his armor had served him well, although he had never appreciated that service, always dreaming of what he could not have, while ignoring what was beside him.

He gave a small laugh. Shame how we always ignore what is dear to us until the moment we are about to lose them.

How many fights, and near death situations had he survived and triumphed, with just the help of his Armour? Yet he had always neglected its importance, cursing its weakness and disregarding its strengths.

He ran his hands through the rigid plates, and whispered his parting. He steered his spirit through his body once more, making sure there were no pieces of Armour left inside him. He had made a habit of supporting his bones with the Armour, it was not recommended but he did it anyway.

At the Rift state the Bone armour could be withdrawn into the body to be nurtured by his massive blood essence, it was all to transform the bones to a Red Shrike. If he could achieve that, he would transcend the Rift state.

This would only be possible because of his Tiberius bloodline that forcefully enhanced this Pathway, any other bloodline would have their path ended at the Rift state when walking the Bone Army Pathway.

He closed his eyes and whispered prayers to their Ancestor Tiberius. He prayed for him to keep his spirit safe, even as he performed his duties.

The light from the floating eyes flashed more rapidly, and Elias appeared to finally make up his mind, as he drew a dagger he had kept by his side.

The dagger was thin, almost like a Shiv, but the glinting by the edge showed it was eerily sharp. Elias never liked pain and a sharp dagger made cuts a little less painless.

He made three quick horizontal lacerations to his chest, the wound did not bleed and Elias made a gesture with his left fingers in the shape of an eye, and the cut began to bleed rapidly, in a short while, his blood had pooled around him.

Elias slowly brought the dagger to his eyes, the tip of the knife shaking, before he steadied himself and carefully began slicing off his eyelids.

During the ritual he must not blink, Elias did not trust his resolve and he did what was advised by the family annals.

He brought the dagger to his mouth, and began slicing off his tongue. He must not speak any words aloud during the ritual, and understanding that he hated Augustus, a man who inspired no loyalty, and whose greed for power was all consuming, so cursing this man that was about to take his body was natural, so he did what was necessary.

The reason he was here now, about to die, was also his fault. He lacked talents in the Pathway Of Flesh, and his bloodline potency was weak. So he switched to an easier wasted Pathway, one that his bloodline could easily enhance, which would grant him an easy Breakthrough in the State of Change.

With this lesser Pathway, he would never be able to surpass the First Great Circle in his lifetime, but as an Incarnation, he would be able to live for a thousand years at the least, and at the latter part of his life he would be able to settle and create a family of his own.

With that change to a lesser Pathway, he progressed quickly through the earlier State of change. Becoming a Rift State Dominator in less than twenty years. Yet he had languished in this State for three centuries and his lifespan was running out.

Nevertheless there was still hope, his choice proved to be correct, for he knew in a decade or two, his Bone Army Pathway would transcend its State. But regrets would be his only recourse, for he was still too slow.

With his Tiberius bloodline, he should have lived for much longer, but as a side effect of boosting a wasted Path, his lifespan had slowly been devoured.

Now, with all his struggles and expectations, this was the final result, the end of his path. Every power comes with its price. And the price for the ease of breakthrough was that he would be called upon if a direct line of Tiberius required his body for resurrection.

This was not an everyday occurrence, and the probability of this happening was quite low, so he had felt it was a manageable risk. Clearly he was wrong and the trash of a Lord he served needed his body for resurrection.

His Path has come to an end, he should go out with the dignity of a Tiberius. He brought the daggers to his ears, he must not be distracted by anything, two quick stabs and the world fell into silence.

Suppressing his body healing capabilities he began to chant in Medan, even without his tongue, words still bubbled out of his mouth.

The Medan language was based on intent. It served as a normal means for communication among the elites. Medan was also a bridge to the Spirit. This was knowledge only utilized by Dominators at the Rift state and above.

Although it appears as if the words he spoke came from his mouth, that would be wrong. It came from his Spirit.

Elias continued his chants. His voice was sometimes low and sometimes high, his words were like quicksilver, shooting from his lips without any barrier and sometimes they were heavier than mountain, and he strained to speak.

The blood flowing from his chest increased in intensity and he went pale, but he did not stop chanting, in a while the blood flow stopped. He had been bled dry.

Elias suppressed his marrow from making new blood and he raised both hands in a supplication pose—Two hands outstretched as if he was a begging for alms and his head fell on his chest as if he was asleep, his part was done. Now it was for Augustus to finish his.