Rowan’s soul shivered when he thought about the fate of the Primordial of Time, and even though Rowan had only found out a bit about what had truly happened to the Primordial of Time, his fate was grim. He had sought to rule over everything and when he had failed the Primordials had made sure that he had suffered a terrible price.

The chains that represented time were not one of its Aspects, instead, it was what the Primordials had used to bind the power of Will so it could be accessed by lower-dimensional creatures.

It was one of the greatest humiliations for a Primordial that the chains used to bind him had become the symbol of his power.

Even an average god would go insane if a bunch of mortals were using their body as a footstool to reach a greater height, and a being like the Primordial of Time would suffer a disgrace that was countless times worse.

If the Primordial had any perception left at all, then Rowan could only imagine the rage and madness that would be carried in his heart, but this was of no concern to him, what Rowan was feeling now was the rage and sorrow that was being born from his emerging bloodline, and instead of it influencing his mental state, it only irritated him.

He was used to the intricacies of holding powerful bloodlines and knew that they all came with their quirks that needed careful sturdy and if needed, then suppression, and he would only need to be careful about the influence of this bloodline for the moment until he awakened his dimensional flesh, at that time even if he did nothing, the suppression from his other three Primordial Bloodlines would batter the Bloodline of Time into submission.

With a shrug, Rowan dismissed the influence of the Primordial Bloodline and focused on the Anima before him, it was not a mistake that he was dragged to this place, there was always a purpose to these things, and usually, he would not have to wait for long before it was revealed, but he was not a newbie to these game, and instead of being shown, he would rather search it out for himself.

Rowan bent down and touched the palm of the Primordial and his perception entered within, he saw the direction he was to proceed with, it resembled an endless hole that led into mysteries unknown. Without any hesitation, Rowan plunged into it.

It was almost as if he was tearing his body into pieces and those little pieces were being torn into smaller pieces, and this trend continued the experience was unique, if Rowan would have to describe it.

He knew that time was passing by at a rate that was almost ridiculous, as the piece of his consciousness was hurtling into the past. The vortex his perception had entered was taking him to the past.

The last time he had an experience like this, it was Old Man Seed that had been taking him into history, but his present experience could not be compared to what he had undergone under the old man.

Rowan had been surprised at the speed Old Man Seed had used in bringing him to the end of the Primordial Era, but in comparison to the speed he was undergoing at the moment, Old Man Seed could as well be a tortoise racing against a lightning bolt.

His tearing consciousness could only be sustained by his soul; which he kept upgrading at a frantic pace because nothing else could sustain such a consumption, his soul was being used as fuel to bring him to the past.

However, Rowan was not focused on the pain or the sensation of his consciousness being endlessly broken into smaller pieces but on the length of the span of time that he was traversing.

Using the end of the Primordial Era that he had experienced with Old Man Seed as a reference, Rowan determined that he must have gone back at least thirty Grand Eras before he reached his destination.

His consciousness that arrived in this Era was smaller than any state of existence Rowan had been before, so small that comparing him with a single molecule would make the molecule the size of a universe and him the size of a grain of sand, but because he was working with his soul, size was not too much of an issue.

Rowan saw nothing but darkness at first, and then what came next was the sense of smell… smoke, he smelled a fire, but it was controlled because the flame burned with a rhythmic crackle that was almost hypnotic, and then the smell of roasting meat, followed by an intense warmth that filled his consciousness with pleasure, and then the darkness receded and he found himself to have taken the shape of the wind that was blowing over a vast plain.

He luxuriated in this feeling of endless freedom before reigning himself in and focusing on his environment, quickly finding that on this plain were three men, or who he assumed to be men because the aura surrounding them were some of the strangest he had ever felt.

They sat on large stones that seemed to have been roughly carved but there was a charm to every single chip on this stone that could draw in the minds of anyone who saw it, and in their center was a fire that was roasting a dragon.

It was one of the strangest dragons Rowan had ever seen, for one it had no scales on its body, in their place were eyes, its entire body was filled with countless trillions of eyes, giving it a frightening appearance that would send chills down the spine of anyone who saw it, especially since its cold eyes were especially active and was looking at countless directions at the same time.

One of the men reached into the fire which Rowan noticed was in the shape of a burning purple sphere as if it was a star that had been shrunk down, the man held one of the legs of the dragon and pulled, tearing away the limb with a sickening squelch, and drawing a shriek of pain from the dragon who Rowan realized despite the fact that it seemed to be missing its heart and all its internal organs with a massive log piercing through it, the dragon was still alive.

The man brought the limb to his face and Rowan saw something unexpected that he had surprisingly missed. The faces of all the men were blank as if they were mannequins.

The faceless man brought up the limb of the dragon to his face and it was absorbed into it as if it was a stone that was dropped into a pond, and on the faceless face of the man was birthed a thousand eyes.

The other two faceless men plunged their hands into the flame and they began to tear out limbs from the body of the dragon and absorb them into their bodies until the only thing that was left of the dragon was its skull which held only a single eye.

The features of the three men had changed, one of them had a thousand eyes on his face, the other had only one, and the last had six.

The thousand-eyed man picked up the skull of the dragon that held only a single eye and he proclaimed in a voice that was as dry as desert sand,

“Here lies the first of the Primordial Beast, Torch Dragon, your arrogance has given us sight.”