Chapter 1717: Consequences(1) The Origin Land had been scarred to the point that it was almost unrecognizable. It was no longer infinite; instead, it resembled an abominable womb of a colossal creature that had been torn to shreds. Rowan let out a deep breath, relaxing the tension that had filled his body. As he did, all the backlash from pushing himself past the limit began to surface. The battle might have seemed under his control from the start, but Rowan had been on the edge of extinction from the beginning Rowan shuddered, a feeling of near-death making his legs go jelly-like, but his physique was like a million-year-old oak tree, and he could never fall. Even if he were going to perish, it would be on his feet, a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, but Rowan had a peculiar pride. Terrible wounds and mutations began to appear all over his body as the price for killing a Primordial was not cheap. However, there was also an intense benefit that came with slaughtering a Primordial, but first, he must accept the baptism of transformation. Rowan grunted in pain and closed his eyes. When he opened them, his form was monstrously changed. A pulsing, iridescent appendage covered in screaming mouths that still chewed on fading motes of soul-dust appeared around his shoulder like a cape. New scars covered his body, and they would not fade, shaped like galaxies being extinguished. His Tri-core pulsed slowly with the power of the Anti-Core he had created and perfected. A killing weapon for Primordials, and it almost seemed alive, but for now, it was sated but still eternally hungry. The chaotic energies of Destruction surged around him, caressing his form like worshippers touching a god. He had not just won; he had consumed a fundamental aspect of existence when he accepted the death of Primordial Soul into his core. Rowan looked down at his hand, the one that had held Primordial Soul’s unraveling wrist. Trapped between his knuckles, almost invisible, was a single, faintly glowing thread. It was the color of forgotten twilight, the echo of a final, unanswered prayer. A single, irreducible shard of Soul that even his nullifying vortex couldn’t fully erase. He closed his fist around it. The tiny light didn’t go out. It pulsed, a weak, trapped heartbeat against the crushing darkness of his being. Rowan, the Eclipsed Creator, Apex Omniversal Titan, Killer of Primordials, and the Devourer of Soul, tilted his head back towards the bleeding sky; his thoughts were unknown. He did not know how many individuals since the beginning of existence had been able to kill a Primordial, but he wagered that it could not be much. Something of his nature as a Reality seemed to be the perfect counter for these beings, and Rowan was not so proud to know that he could only kill Primordial Soul because she refused to flee. She could not return to Reality or to Limbo, and her only choice was to choose whether she would fall by his hand or that of her brethren. It was a testament to the coldness among Primordials that she allowed herself to be killed by him rather than take the chance to be saved by her kin. Rowan sighed at the heavens, but it was indifferent. He didn’t roar in victory. He didn’t laugh. He simply stood, a monument to violence and unmaking, the silence of the extinguished souls a new weight in the Origin Land. The death of Primordial Soul came with consequences, but if anyone could carry the repercussions, it would be him. Rowan was sensing the mortal lives inside of Reality and noticed that the foundation of souls had not been shaken. He frowned in contemplation, feeling the weight of the Soul Origin that he had accepted in his heart and finding it a bit weak. It was not as if Primordial Soul was not dead, but something or someone else was carrying another piece of her radiance. Was it possible that Primordial Soul had foreseen her death and made arrangements before entering the Origin Land? Rowan could not be sure. What he knew was that after leaving here, he would hunt down her remnants, and nothing would stand in his way. The grafted limb on his shoulder twitched, a mouth opening to whisper something in a language that curdled the air. "The battle was over. The feast was concluded. The song of the stars had been chewed down to the last, silent note. And only the Hunger remained." Rowan recognized that this limb came not just from the remnants of Primordial Soul but was also corrupted by the Enochian Cradle. Towards the end, after gaining the power of Destruction Origin, Rowan was beginning to feel the influence of this being more closely. It was time to handle it. Summoning his Primordial Record, Rowan aimed to finish his fusion, upgrade his Class, and tabulate all the changes that he had undergone before preparing for what was to come. ® Primordial Life still sat before the fire where his kin had once gathered. By his side was Seed, who was sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed. After a while, the Old One opened his eyes, and a flash of impatience and anger could be seen in those milky orbs before they disappeared. "Why do we wait here in the lower realm? Do you trust to be safe in the domain of Chaos?" Primordial Life did not respond for a long time, and when it did, Seed rolled his eyes and looked away. The Primordial had said, "You forget that although the lower realm was given to Chaos, someone else’s domain also rests here." Seed eyes penetrated through countless universes before lighting up, "You mean, Soul." Primordial Life smiled, "Yes, Soul... you remember the arrangements I have shown you, but I did not tell you my speculations, at least not entirely." Before this gathering, Primordial Life had gathered all the universes inside of Reality that had a peculiar feature: they contained Underverses grafted to them. "Tell me, Seed, what do these Underverses remind you of?" "Nothing." "Surely you can do better than that." "No," Seed frowned, "I don’t think I can, not before you bring back my daughter." "Your daughter?" Primordial Life laughed, "If I am not wrong, she will soon be here."