The Primordial Record

Chapter 1570: Threshold Of Fate

The weight of Fate’s presence was resounding across this space, and Rowan could sense a growing connection being created in his dimensional flesh and soul that was resonating with its arrival.

This dimensional space that was incredibly stable began to loosen at its seams, and Rowan considered his action here to be the right choice. He was in great danger with his present actions, but he realized he might not have been able to summon this version of Fate if he was anywhere else in Reality.

Rowan did not know how the Primordial Beast was able to create this space. Still, it was as close to Limbo as he had ever seen, and perhaps only in the depths of a Primordial Domain would he have been able to find a space that was stable enough to hold the arrival of a ninth-dimensional level Fate.

In this space, there was only the presence of the Primordial Beast that was still being suppressed by his power, and because this beast was not fully awakened, his control of this space was nearly non-existent, and if there was any chance of success, it was now.

The power of Fate exploded in intensity as a threshold seemed to have been crossed. Rowan chuckled within because he knew that even if Bahamut were to awaken fully, it would be nearly impossible for him to banish Fate from this space because too much of it had made it across. Now, it was feeding on this space to sustain its existence.

As if fully acknowledging Rowan’s presence, the dimension of Fate made a connection with his dimensional flesh. Rowan observed this power for a moment, hesitated, and then rapidly reviewed all his actions from the last few moments, deeming that he was satisfied with it. Then, he accepted the power.

The change was immediate, as his dimensional flesh rippled with power that blasted outwards from his body in visible purple shockwaves that devastated the space around him. However, in all these transformations, Rowan’s left hand was still upraised as he continued his suppression of Bahamut.

This new transformation of his body was close to the evolution of his form as he transcended his previous limits; it could not equal his transformation to an Origin Lifeform, but it was close to it.

It was as if he was metamorphosing from a larvae to a butterfly as new spaces and dimensional thresholds were being created in his flesh and soul that had previously not existed.

Above him, the voice of Fate traveled from outside Reality as more of the heavens were replaced by its might, and the changes in Rowan’s body accelerated,

“Voryndar, keth’mir ulthar. Droth’vei neth’is zor’amal?”

“Truth Seeker. You seek the Spindle of Fate. The Lock of Ages. Yet many have been sundered before its edge. Are you worthy?”

This voice slammed into Rowan’s consciousness, and his flesh was shattered into pieces, birthing endless dimensions that exploded into the distance. As the infinity of this space was stretched to the limits, it exploded into a greater infinity to hold the weight of the increasing presence of Rowan’s flesh and the awakening Primordial Beast, who was almost going insane with rage.

Fate’s dimension was rapidly feeding on this space it had created, and Rowan was unaware that Fate’s presence was delaying Bahamut’s awakening.

At the dawn of the Primordial Era, Bahamut created this space using his ethereal flesh. Awakening would mean that Bahamut would collect his flesh once more, but with the consumption of Fate, his flesh became the fuel for Rowan’s ascension to the seventh dimension.

How could Bahamut endure this humiliation? Its nature had always been one to take. It was the basic instincts of the Primordial Beasts that their hunger could never be satisfied, and every moment when Fate fed off his flesh, the madness in Bahamut rose uncontrollably.

If this continued, he would helplessly have to watch Rowan reach the seventh dimension—not the broken-dimensional state available to all lifeforms in Reality, but a connection with Fate itself.

The Primordial Beast knew that Rowan would not survive this transformation. It did not matter how talented he was; there was something that a lower-dimensional form could not take, and the actual manifestation of Fate was one of them.

Even if Rowan were to fail this Tribulation, Bahamut would still take a significant loss, and the ultimate winner in this game would be the Primes, who would not wait to descend into this space to feed on the rich remnants of Rowan’s flesh.

Bahamut’s mind shifted across countless possibilities until he selected the one that would serve his purpose well enough, and with an internal cry of intense rage, he began to channel his attention toward this possible future,

“Your Flame shall be extinguished by my hand, and everything you are will be mine.”

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Inside Rowan’s head was sheer pandemonium. The forces his consciousness was channeling were ridiculous, and he had been truly pushed to the limits.

“I can do it… No matter the stakes, no matter how heavy the burden may be. My heart is limitless, and nothing can stop my Will!”

All of Rowan’s waking moments were a struggle to carry the weight of his existence, a struggle that most immortal minds could not imagine.

Now that he was in battle with a ninth-dimensional entity while simultaneously pushing for the higher dimension and enduring the transformation of his flesh to handle the dimension of Fate, the Tribulation sent by the gathering power of Fate above nearly shattered Rowan’s consciousness to nothing.

The Tribulation of Fate came in two forms: the harsh transformation of his flesh, which would have killed him if not for his abundant Essence, and second was his consciousness.

Carrying Fate did not seem as easy as he once thought, and it tested his consciousness in every manner. Every single syllable in the voice of Fate hammered his consciousness, and Rowan could only endure and adapt rapidly.

If he had not gone through a trial of consciousness the moment he stepped into the sixth-dimensional realms of memory, he would have failed this Tribulation.

However, the power that Rowan was trying to collect was never meant for a lower-dimensional being. He was accessing the ninth-dimensional realm of Fate, and he needed to be at the level of a Primordial to house this sort of power.

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Rowan believed that with all his advantages, it was possible that he would succeed. Still, he was rapidly slipping toward the edge of annihilation if he did not try to bolster his reserves.

He was transforming too quickly for his body and consciousness to adapt. He needed to find a way to sustain a transformation meant for beings of the Primordial Level when he was still a sixth-dimensional entity.

The ability of his Origin Land to give Rowan more time to consider his actions was rendered useless before the might of this higher dimensional space where time was almost meaningless because any of the forces here could effortlessly touch and control time as easily as breathing.

If he wanted to take any action, he could not spend time thinking about it; he would only trust that his abilities and state of mind had reached a high enough level that he should be able to make the optimal choices.

With his flesh under the influence of modification to the higher dimension, Rowan’s dimensional soul emerged from the shattered remnants of his transforming flesh, shining like the first star in existence.

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