The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1830

Chapter 1830: The Law of Defiant Ascension

Telmus’s first step resounded across this space, and he looked down with a bit of surprise in his eyes before pushing forward. His form radiates a hard-won equilibrium. The internal conflict had not vanished, but had found a direction. But this was merely the prelude.

Instincts that he could not describe emerge from his core, becoming a Primordial was tearing apart a section of existence and claiming it for oneself… There was no road ahead, and the path needed to be forged without any guidance.

“No wonder he is that broken,” Telmus muttered to himself when he understood that Rowan was most likely taking this step he was about to make when he had been nothing but a mortal.

A feat that only a few in all of existence would have the chance to partake in had become commonplace for him.

Telmus shook his head in astonishment and focused on the instincts guiding his steps… he needed to take the next step, he needed to create a Fundamental Law… his own, something that had not existed before.

He took another step towards the Spear of Defiance. As he did, the integrated energies within him began to resonate with the spear’s own annihilating frequency with a loud droning sound as if a critical mass was being approached.

Telmus gritted his teeth as a sensation that transcended pain filled his consciousness, and a feeling of fullness, as if he was about to burst, threatened to send him into madness, and then he howled like a wolf, all eight of his arms pointing upwards.

“Boom!!!”

First, there was a shockwave, and then a nimbus of absolute blackness erupted from Telmus’s form, a sphere of devouring silence that expanded outwards.

Where it touched the edges of the sanctum created by Rowan, the barriers around this space flared with a deep, groaning strain, as if reality itself were holding back a tide of nothingness.

This was the raw power of the Primordial Demon, now channeled as the foundation for a new kind of order—the order of absolute refusal. Telmus had created a new law from his demonic roots.

Within this halo of darkness, the transformation to complete the realm at the ninth-dimensional level began.

Telmus’s body, the vessel for this impossible synthesis, began to transcend its own structure. His form, which had found stability, began to unfold like a blooming flower, both beautiful and haunting.

His body did not bleed; it was as if his skin became translucent, showing swirling galaxies of potential within.

Telmus’s eight arms elongated, their outlines softening, becoming less like limbs and more like pillars of concept holding up the expanding architecture of his being.

His eyes became gateways. Through one, a billion years of martial history unfolded in a silent, precise ballet. Through the other, the serene, endless patience of a world-tree’s growth played out.

Then all of his potential exploded out of him with such startling violence that it would make the Big Bang resemble a crackle of a firecracker.

A sound was torn from him, like a universe being born, a chorus of every law of physics, every rule of magic, every principle of existence he had ever consumed and witnessed, all harmonizing under a new directive.

The energy release was immense, as a wave of pure potential, raw and brilliant, flowed outwards from his evolving form.

It was a tide of information, every memory, every skill, every life he had ever consumed, now offered up to an ideal greater than him.

The Ebon Host reacted. As one, their blade-wings snapped forward, crossing before their featureless helms. The wave of brilliant information washed over them. They did not falter. They accepted the flow, their obsidian forms humming with a deep, resonant chime, the sound of absolute duty guiding immense power. The singularities in their helms brightened, integrating the vast psychic energy.

The space itself shimmered with the strain. The dimensional bubble Rowan had carved wavered, its boundaries glowing as they held firm against the expanding consciousness within.

Rowan observed everything happening dispassionately, his consciousness missing nothing and absorbing everything. The Spear of Defiance, this name unconsciously given to this weapon by Telmus as a result of his elevation to Primordial, thrummed in recognition, the Lost Flame at its core burning brighter.

The process had refined every iota of his accumulated power into a cohesive whole. He was a newborn Primordial, and still something was missing… his divine nature sought connection. His very being, the Law of Defiant Ascension, was one of growth and integration.

Instinctively, he reached out.

His Will, now a Fundamental force, touched the boundaries of this space, and he felt Rowan… Eos, like he had never done before.

Telmus did not ask for permission; he knew that what he was about to do next was his birthright. He reached across and drew energy from without. He pulled on the dense, vibrant Ether of this space, the raw potential that Rowan had provided.

There was a pause as if Rowan was amused by his audacity, and then a shimmering substance flowed towards him, a river of pure creation sustaining his nascent divinity.

He connected with the latent energy of the Ebon Host, syncing with their purpose, making their silent vigilance a part of his own foundation. Finally, his reach extended further, brushing against the edges of the paradise above. He drew, with infinite care, the faintest trickle of energy from the singing rivers, the glowing fruits, the ambient peace—a connection, an anchor linking his new existence to the living, breathing world he had vowed to protect.

The Spear of Defiance, which had thrummed with power, now stilled. It floated gently from its place and settled into his right hand. It was no longer an anchor. It was an extension of his being.

He had done it. He had ascended.

Telmus, the Primordial of Defiant Ascension, opened his eyes and looked upon his silent, steadfast Ebon Host. He then turned his gaze upwards, as if seeing through the layers of reality to the Creator seated in the sea and saw that it was a memory, and to the daughter waiting by the shore of this sea.

The transformation was complete. A guardian was born.

Rowan appeared beside him and gave him a cask of wine, “Congratulations… Primordial.”

Telmus’ eyes turned to the wine, and he sniffed, and a broad smile broke across his face.