The Primordial Record

Seed frowned in contemplation, even as his vast mental powers began sweeping through the Land of Miracle. No matter how fast Romion moved, he could not have escaped from the Primordial Domain when that unknown spell had held Seed back.

This child had shown time and time again that he could achieve the impossible, but even that sort of impossibility should have a limit, unless…

Cries of anguish and anger arose from the Eldar Branch in the distance as the clash swept through it, leaving untold devastation. They were so piercing that Seed frowned, distracting him from his search.

Seed cursed in anger, countless years sheltering these insects in the domain of Life had left their mental state weak, most of them here did not see the battles that ended the Primordial Era, or the devastation that followed, they were not used to life ending so abruptly and randomly that such an event could bring forth such shock and horror.

If Seed had not been so focused on locating Rowan, he would have been savoring this moment. It was a hard thing to live beside such weakness for so long.

He knew several prominent voices buzzed around him like mosquitoes. Still, Seed was not focused on them, and he was a bit amazed that they had been able to organize themselves and gather in this location so quickly, knowing how sluggish they moved during times of crises.

His thoughts were a bit distracted when he felt a slight sting in his chest, and Seed looked down to see that a blade made from silver flame had been rammed against his chest.

Seed blinked. The blade had barely managed to penetrate his skin, and the cut was less than a single inch. A part of him was hoping that the power behind the blade could increase so it could pierce his chest more deeply, for him to feel pain. What he was experiencing now was just a slight itch, and it was distracting. Seed would have preferred pain over irritation.

Tracing the blade with his eyes back to the hands of the wielder, he was confronted by the enraged gaze of one of the Eldarah, Mulsef, the Old One with the physique of a child, and if he was not so distracted he would be happy that this insect had been able to rise above his baser instincts and attack him with the intent to kill, but the words from the mouth of Mulsef only added to the irritation he was feeling from the itch from the blade that was still digging into his chest,

“Crazy bastard. Does your madness have no limits? What have you done? What disaster have you brought upon our land? Do you know how many died in—”

Irritated, Seed grabbed the head of Mulsef, his hand covering the entire head of the Old One, and only his eyes could be seen between the gaps of Seed’s fingers, and Seed slowly began to squeeze. This action was almost automatic; his mind was still focused on Rowan, and Mulsef had just been in the range of his hand.

Fear began to arise within those eyes that had previously been filled with great rage and venom. Mulsef had suffered a great tragedy; he and the rest of the Eldarah had been focused on the storm above, especially protecting those who would have succumbed to the allure of gazing into those immortal eyes above, and they had not expected that a wave of destruction would emerge from behind them.

They had no chance to react to the devastation and could only helplessly watch as this wave swept through the entire branch. The loss of lives was inestimable. Mulsef had charged over to the Memory of Primordial Life, knowing that the source of this disaster could only come from this place, and this madman had orchestrated all of it.

Arriving here, he had expected to see a reason that was relevant enough for Seed to allow this devastation, because it would have been easy for him to stop it, but what he had seen was a man not concerned with the life of his people, his gaze far away, contemplating on matters that were fucking meaningless!

Mulsef did not know where he had gained the guts to attack when he should have used this as a means to push the Eldarah to banish this monster once and for all, but a rage that almost defied meaning had filled his body. Drawing his weapon and infusing it with all the power it could hold, Mulsef had struck.

The rebound he had faced from this act had crushed a greater part of his Mental Space, and he barely left a scratch; his wounds had not had the time to heal before Seed had grabbed him, and now Mulsef was beginning to know fear and regret.

Many tales about Seed floated around the Eldarah, and if a fraction of those stories were proper, this was not a creature that should be treated without great caution. Why did he place himself in a situation where his survival depended on the whim of a monster?

Seed had no intention of killing this annoying pest because something about Romion struck him as incredibly odd. It was at the tip of his tongue, so he needed a bit of peace and quiet to figure out what his instincts were screaming at him to notice.

There were so many little clues that he needed to piece together, but the overall pieces were here with him; he only needed to fit them together in a pattern that made sense.

The dull cracks and pops inside his fist as Mulsef’s skull was slowly being crushed were a soothing balm to his soul, and Seed was nearly touching that sense of disquietness that he was feeling from Romion.

From the fact that he had to mentally urge himself to refer to him as Romion and not Rowan, to the unknown Primordial behind this child, to his unknown Will, to his…

So many pieces were here with him, and Seed’s mind was in a blurry state as he rapidly brought them all together. His awareness of his surroundings was nearly non-existent, but he knew that the cries of outrage surrounding him had grown, and this only pleased him. Seed preferred rage to fear. A prey filled with fear stank to his senses with a foul odour, and their battle heart was almost non-existent.

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