Bleeding Edge, the Primordial Weapon claimed by Berrion the Undying had not been fully unlocked, there was still a final seal left which would be broken when Rowan summoned the last waves of enemies that were killed by the Primordial Demon on Doom Star, but Rowan had already suppressed the Spirit of this weapon for a while and he could use some of its innate abilities without unlocking it final seal. Rowan still has reservations about fully unlocking a Primordial Weapon and if possible he would be granting this weapon to someone else, an ally or if possible he could use it to create a trap for his enemies, if there was any possibility for him claiming this weapon, then he would require more knowledge about Primordial Weapon and how they were crafted. He could not risk any unknown factor this early in his new life; a more durable foundation would need to be built before he began dabbling into the issue of this Primordial Weapon; for now, it would have to serve its need in whatever limited fashion he could harness from it. This Primordial Weapon could easily pierce through Will, Fate, and Destiny, shattering them in a single thrust, and it was with this method that Rowan had been able to manipulate the destruction inflicted by Vyraak while taking care of the annoying aspects of the abilities that came alongside it. It also helped that the mental state of the dragon was fully focused on killing what was in front of him and was not bothering with the remnants of the power he was flinging out into reality. "How careless," Rowan muttered to himself as he continued his work, at least it worked out to his advantage. It had stopped surprising him how few immortals could not fully control their thoughts when they were brought to the limit, but perhaps it was just him that was extremely abnormal, also it could not be helped that the evolution of his bloodline in the past made him a freaking robot, but who was checking all those little bumps? Not him. Without the barrier imposed by the Great Desert, Rowan could easily scoop entire universes into his coffers, Will and all. The destruction inflicted by these conflicts between two higher-dimensional entities was all the excuse he needed. No one would be able to find his hand in the wars plaguing reality, and for the moment, he wanted this to be the case. He had barely finished processing the first hundred universes when shockwaves from the battle erupted that would shatter approximately four hundred more universes. Rowan sighed and went to work, it was a good thing that he could feed Wormtongue with Soul energy, because without completing his Origin Land, his body was not producing any energy, Aether or otherwise, he suspected that if he completed the process of creating his Origin Land then he would no longer have access to Aether or Aetherium, but something else, and so before then he would have to make do with using soul energy as a substitute and what remained of his energy stores. However, the rate at which his Soul energy was being drained was alarming. His Source Level Treasure—Wormtongue was durable enough and could recover from damages imposed by eighth-dimensional immortals, but the catch was that there must be sufficient energy to power this process. Although for Rowan, this issue was not even placed into much consideration, no matter how much soul essence he was sacrificing, he was gaining the potential to collect so much more in the future. Already the battle between the Celestial and Vyraak had shattered more than a thousand universes, all of which became ripe pickings for Rowan, and no matter how much he was running ragged, he was making enormous gains, not just in the universes he had snatched, but learning more about destruction from the dragon wielding it. His application of Will, Fate, and Destiny was also eye-opening, and Rowan’s perfect memory engraved every single detail of this battle. Barely recreating the scene of another ten-destroyed universe, Rowan paused to take in a breath. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢 To preserve his soul energy, he was using the barest remnants of Aether that he had left inside his dimensional soul. His dimensional flesh may lack Aether and Essence after they had all been consumed in the transformation, but the energy stores left inside his dimensional soul were left largely untouched; he could not just regenerate anymore after they were used off. The first thing Rowan had done was to kill off the multiple consciousnesses in his energy stores. The trait of his Aether gaining a limited type of sentence was interesting, but it was distracting, he would investigate this matter later, but for now, hearing their enthusiastic voices as he used them up was becoming a bit annoying. With his expenditure, he was burning trillions of units of Aether at every moment, and hearing trillions of voices shouting his praise as he virtually murdered them was no longer noteworthy. Although his stores of Aether were impressive, enough to rival perhaps multiple trillions of immortals at the fifth-dimensional level, the difference in quality when going against forces of the higher dimension was so great that he was using so much of it for every little action, and even his near infinite stores began to run out. The other issue was also coming from his dimensional flesh who had reached the point where he was comfortable in creating the Origin Land, and he was beginning to pull consciousness power from every source that he could find, and with the dimensional soul having a greater amount of consciousness power than the flesh, he was being placed under a significant amount of strain. "Just another day at the office." Rowan chuckled, his deep baritone voice resounding in his consciousness. He did not see the difficulty he was facing as a bad thing. Instead, he was grateful that he was still here to be able to face this sort of challenge, despite all that he had witnessed. A shocking reverberation erupted from the mist that had been shrouding this battle for a while now, Rowan did not want to peer deeply inside it for more details so that his presence could not be detected. He knew that this mist was most likely created by the Celestial for two reasons, the first was to lock in as much damage as he could in order to reduce the amount of destruction that would have ravaged the lower realms, and the second was to create a battlefield where more of its powers could be expressed without crushing all of reality around them which would ultimately lead to his banishment to the higher realms since there was no more foundation to hold his weight. Rowan did not know who would win this battle but if he had to place a bet, it would be the Celestials, although Vyraak was powerful, a genius who had been able to accomplish something truly wonderful with the universe of his birth, he was far too young and inexperienced, and he lacked essential aspects that would lead him to victory, for instance were weapons. Although he had obtained great power by burning everything for it—This was something that Rowan could easily decipher from watching the events that had transpired so far—Vyraak had no way to properly take advantage of all that power. He was literally burning himself alive to use the flames to hurt his enemies. If he had even a Proto-Source level treasure, he might be able to change the state of the battlefield, not as he was now. The Celestials, on the other hand, were using far fewer resources to break an esteemed eight-dimensional immortal, and Rowan knew that for them, this was not a battle; it was simply an execution, and they should be very experienced in this process. If anything, this battle was a learning experience for Rowan because his intuition and everything around him were pointing out that his confrontation with the Celestials was inevitably drawing nearer, and watching them work was a valuable experience. With that massive reverberation that erupted from the mist, it was finally torn open and Rowan could see the result of the battle that had taken place. As he had expected, Vyraak was in very bad shape. He had lost most of his mass and was now the size of a small star, with massive gashes that filled his body, his two wings that had been torn out of his body and lying in the distance, and he was no longer healing. That could be because of the multiple spears in their thousands that were plunged deep into his body, especially his head where he had almost a thousand spears that had almost transformed his head into a pincushion. These spears had nailed his mouth shut so he could not roar, and the eyes on his chest had also been sealed with this spear. A normal weapon should not have such a detrimental effect on the dragon but Rowan could feel even from this distance the powerful vampiric nature of the spears dotting the body of the dragon.