The Primordial Record

He quickly called up the Primordial Record, for he was sure that the new Aspect he received had altered the harmony inside his body, and he was right.

He had gained far more than he had expected, and with the new revelation from the Primordial Record, his most glaring weakness had been patched.

PᖇᎥᗰᗝᖇᗪᎥᗩᒪ ᖇᗴᑕᗝᖇᗪ

Name: Rowan Kuranes

Age: 11/11

Strength : 116.7

Agility : 115.9

Constitution : 200.4

Spirit : 56.8

Class: None

Title: Plane walker

Aspect : Spatial Sight (Tier 1)

Berserker (Tier 1)

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 [1000/4000]

𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟 𝗦𝗘𝗜𝗭𝗘𝗥 – level 0 [0/1000]

Aspect Gained: Berserker [Strength +20. Agility + 20. Constitution –10 (Negated)]

Soul Point :9.7654

Remark: Divine Squire.

There were many changes in his Stats. They were simply night and day in comparison to a few days back when he came to this world, and he received the Primordial Record.

His Attributes had been in single digits, and the current him could turn his previous self into a smear on the ground with no effort at all.

What does it mean to become hundreds of times stronger than he was a few days back? The feeling was simply unmatched, and even though he was drowned in a swamp of sorrow and carnage, it was hard to deny, the pleasure of continually growing stronger.

Wielding power and abilities far beyond what was capable of mortals was addicting, it was no wonder a world like this was mad.

In his previous life, men committed countless atrocities, made heart-wrenching sacrifices for what simply amounted to a measly pile of paper.

What would the men of this world do, to acquire powers such as this. He already knew the answer.

They would do anything!

In a world like this, weakness would always lead to sorrow, here the lambs do not inherit the earth, they get tortured, taken advantaged of… They got devoured.

He was but a weak mortal, easily bent to the whims of fate, but now, he had begun to see hope, all his Attributes had broken through the Rift state, and he could 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 it.

He felt more steady, sturdy and sharp, and his mind was clear. The Berserker Aspect came with many great attributes and skills, and his bloodline negated all the negatives the Aspect brought.

What gave him great joy was the skills that came with the Aspect, his body was still digesting the wealth of memories that came with the Aspect; he knew it was only a matter of time; he would grow these skills to their full potential.

This had patched a big hole in his combat style, and he looked again at the Axe. This weapon was too strange and powerful and all these while it had been tugging at his body, like a set of icy teeth seeking to bite into his flesh, only his shell kept them away.

Rowan should be glad about his progress, but something bugged him.

Was it not too easy? Maybe he had become used to setbacks and suffering, so that when he now had so many goodies dumped on his lap, he grew suspicious.

Awfully convenient, wasn't it? Where is the hook?

Sigh. Why am I thinking about this at this moment? Where I can drop dead in the next instant.

Rowan guessed he was just deeply wary.

Yet, you only had to look at the events of his transmigration and the subtle warnings from the Primordial Record, and the suspicious events surrounding this disaster, and it was easy to see why he should be cautious.

When his stats all broke through the Rift state, something peculiar happened, his eyes had narrowed in shock, but he dismissed the sensation for the moment. There would be time for deep soul-searching after now.

He remembered why he was here and the promise he gave the dying man, at least one thing he had learned from the past days was focus and committing yourself to one action at a time.

The Axe had a powerful technique intrinsic to it. To activate the technique requires consuming the Body Essence of the wielder, in simpler terms, it meant Vitality.

If there was one thing he had in spades, it was Essence. His constitution was enormous, and his vitality would put a cockroach to shame. His only weakness was the soul, or Rowan knew he would be unkillable to a large extent.

It was impossible to drain him of his vitality and he had a show to give the dying man to send him on his way, deeply suspicious of the Axe as he was, you do not slap a smiling face. He had been given a mighty gift, and the least he could do was send Glenn home with a smile on his face.

This weapon brought its unique sets of problems, but he would accept them, anything that gave him more power would be utilized and if he survived to the Legendary state. Well, he would have the time to start untangling himself.

He opened himself to that devouring mouth, and something inside the Axe clamped on his body, and the Axe gave a hum of pleasure.

Rowan breathing slowed when the Axe began to draw on his physical essence. Disregarding his regenerative abilities, for his Constitution that had broken through the Rift state, it was not a considerable expenditure.

In fact, the recovery capabilities of his body rendered any amount of essence the Axe collected moot, and Rowan would have been able to wild this Axe even if he was far weaker than now.

This weapon was a Great Battle Axe. It should normally be deployed two-handed, but the Axe fit comfortably in his one hand. The shaft had enchanting runes that resembled the trunk of a giant wood.

The drain of his body essence slowly began to intensify. To him, it was negligible, but for a normal human being or even a Dominator, it would almost feel like your skin was slowly being peeled away. The feeling of aging years in a few moments must be a torture few could accept.

Rowan, of course, remembered Glenn, he was now old and feeble and not far from death. Nevertheless, he remembered the jolly drunk with a crow's mouth. Judging by the time the battle began and for how long Glenn fought, he should already be dead ten times over.

He had mentioned his bloodline. Was Glenn a part of a Noble family? And was this weapon an intrinsic weapon of that family? Except for the Tiberius Noble family whose emblem was a pair of great axes, he did not recall knowing any Noble family with a Great Axe associated with their bloodline.

Nevertheless, that was not too surprising, there were many minor Noble family, that had various broken bloodlines, it would be impossible to know them all. Compared to the chief seven Noble bloodlines, the rest were not that important.

A green phantasmal Axe image silently appeared above Rowan, The light had a penetrating quality that pierced through the fog showing scattered patches of Abominations, who were slowly withdrawing.

Glenn smiled in satisfaction. It was nearly impossible to find somebody that the Axe would acknowledge outside his bloodline, he had tried.

That was what made his family unique. And that uniqueness brought their doom and also endless shame to Glenn, as the last surviving member of his line.

He was too weak and cowardly to wield this weapon until the end. He had given it up for family, a decision he did not regret, and he was willing to bear the shame of it.

Rowan felt a slight release, and the drain from the Axe began to decrease, yet Rowan felt it was not enough, this had not even scratched a single itch, and if his vitality was an ocean, the Axe had only collected a few buckets

So instead of lessening the amount of essence it was attracting, he pushed more to the Axe. There was a slight hesitation from the weapon, and then it accepted it with maniacal glee.

Show me everything you are capable of.

Another spot of light appeared again, it grew clear and another Axe blade floated. He continued pouring Essence into the Axe and slowly another image appeared and when it seemed like the limit had been reached, another phantasmal image appeared.

The light from the Axe drove away all the mist, and like four pale moons rising, the phantasmal images illuminated the area. The air seethes with potential for incalculable menace!