The Primordial Record novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75 Dawn of Battle (final)

Behind him, the captain and his Guardsmen fell to their knees, except for the captain, who could barely stay on his knees, the remaining Guardsmen faces were pressed to the ground, their faces all held in horror.

"Purdue Mileniuus. Priest of the Dark god Malakith. Would you accept my words of absolution?"

"I would… My lord… but how do you know my last name? I only ever told… Mersha"

Rowan smiled at him, "Does it matter? Know this, proud priest of the Dark one. I have seen your deeds and I do not find it wanting. You have conducted yourselves in a noble manner, beyond reproach, and even under the shackles of evil, your heart was not laid astray. Whatever misdeeds the enemy has done using your flesh as a guise shall not be counted as your burden to bear."

The priest seemed to breathe easier, "Thank you… my lord, for giving me peace. Every night, my soul burns. It hurts… no more. Forgive me for not having the strength to perform the last rites for the fallen, but, I believe, your presence was more than enough to give them rest."

The priest smiled at him, and breathed his last. Rowan gently lay him down, and the fog covered his body.

Rowan bowed his head in grief, he had made a mistake again, he had assumed that everyone responsible must have full knowledge of what they were into, or at least they were like henchmen, only here for a profit.

But something far more diabolical was going on, for the participants in this scheme, may not even know that they were part of it. He remembered the drawing he had of Maeve, and he shuddered.

Rowan felt like a fool. Once again reminded that there was always more that met the eyes, when he played on the same field as a Dominator.

High on the powers the Legendary State of his bloodline had granted him, he became quite rash, although a large part of him knew there was no other option before him. He had made the right decisions, it was his methods that felt wrong.

The priest was simply a shell, his blood, flesh, and bones had been consumed, he was simply a puppet held by strings of an invisible puppeteer, yet he still felt guilt for the way he had approached the situation, although he knew it was quite illogical, he did not dismiss this feeling inside his heart.

Because that was what made him human, and it was an easy thing to forget.

Even in his rage, he had to learn to direct his anger, or he was nothing less than an animal, if he were to kill, it must be clean and precise. He did not have the power to free the priest of such a deep level of corruption.

Nonetheless, the methods he used could have been more humane, he had been too quick to condemn, it would be a different case if he was the weaker party here, but he was stronger, and he had exercised his powers without hesitation, and he had been cruel. That troubled him… deeply.

Waking up in a world, where life was treated like dirt, it would be the easiest thing to change to such a mindset, he could butcher hordes of enemies without a backward glance because it was effortless, and it felt wonderful.

To destroy all those that did you harm, to slaughter until you were bathed in blood, to know he was paying back in the same coin as he was dealt, must feel really good, yet Rowan knew he had to draw a line.

He had no doubt he was going to kill, what he had within him was too valuable, his bloodlines, the Primordial Record, any of it would cause a calamity that would drag even the gods from their thrones to fight over his flesh. He had within him, a potential for endless power, and his power would draw enemies, more than a stinking corpse drew maggots.