The Primordial Record novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47 Cocoon Breaks (final)

Apart from his eye peering through his shell, Rowan had not seen his appearance. He knew he still appeared human, but only on the surface. He did not forget that he was still in the Mortal State of his bloodline, and already his bones were metal, his blood was golden and dense as mercury. He had three hearts and around them were three living snakes.

Oh. Was he still missing something?

He was still in the mortal state, yet he could bet his transformation had exceeded most Dominators, even at the Rift state, his growing height and an increasing alien physique was serving as a warning to him about the changes he might expect in the future.

His Sight brushed through his body once more. Maybe this was the most human he would ever resemble going forward. A faceless man behind a shell with the eyes of a Dragon? But who was to say what his future would be like if he survives.

He recalls a catchy song in his past life, that had flashy dance steps, he was not much of a dancer, but with his Agility Attributes he was sure he could throw down with the best of them.

This thought made him smile, and humming the song, he opened the Primordial Record. No matter the obstacles ahead, as long as he kept getting stronger, he was satisfied.

PᖇᎥᗰᗝᖇᗪᎥᗩᒪ ᖇᗴᑕᗝᖇᗪ

Name: Rowan Kuranes

Age: 11/11

Strength : 224.7

Agility : 223.9

Constitution : 362.4

Spirit : 58.7

Class: None

Title: Plane walker

Aspect : Spatial Sight (Tier 1)

Berserker (Tier 1) _{freeweɓnovēl.coɱ}

Skills:

Enrage (Level 10— Mortal State Completed) Vortex (Level 10— Mortal State Completed) Bash (Level 10— Mortal State Completed) Dash (Level 10— Mortal State Completed) Smash (Level 10— Mortal State Completed) Combo Attack (Level 10— Mortal State Completed)

Passive : Decipher language (complete), Icy soul (level 4)

Records:

𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗢𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗢𝗦 [ATAVISM]- level 0 [1540/4000]

𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟 𝗦𝗘𝗜𝗭𝗘𝗥 – level 0 [0/1000]

Soul Point :2.4532

Remark: Divine Squire.

Rowan moved the beakers, pipettes, an alchemical cauldron and a pair of tweezers out of the way and set down his sketchbook. Besides it, he placed the wooden box.

Rowan gently opened the box and within were a dozen graphite pencils, their tips were all sharpened until the desired length. Their colors on the pencil wrappings ranged from dull bronze to green gold, and carefully numbered on each was the number one until twelve. On the side of the box was a circular opening where Rowan knew he could sharpen the pencils if he so desired.

The prince took painting lessons as one of the required learning courses for alchemy studies. He soon came to fall in love with the art itself. Finding the process of placing pen to paper as freeing.

Rowan decided to follow the habit of the prince when he was feeling stressed and despondent. The act of placing his memories on paper seems to dull the edges on the sharper sides of his recollection. Easing him into analyzing his shortcomings and the events that transpired.

As far as he was concerned, this would shorten the time it took him to properly go over the events of the past few days, and maybe reveal to him certain shortcomings he had made.

He opened the sketchbook. It was a relatively new copy and had only a single picture drawn.

It was of a smiling woman. Rowans mother.

The sketch of the woman had been done with utmost care and attention. From an artistic perspective, it had all the necessary elements to bring a face to life, from the shades and the contours to the deft trick he used to make the eyes look real. Yet for all the subtleties here, there was still emotion here. For he kept all her flaws.

A small scar by the side of her eyes when she fell as a child, the slight wrinkle in her nose as she smiled, Rowan had captured his memories of his mother and placed them on paper.

Rowan had created an alive picture. Her hair was long and slightly curly as it tumbled over her shoulders. She had an oval face, and expressive eyes. What drew Rowans attention was her smile. He had been able to capture its warmth in his drawing.

" 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵. 𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴. 𝘔𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘴."

These words were written just below the picture. Rowan's mood when he wrote them was a memory he did not have.