The Primordial Record-Chapter 1248: Passion Of The Craft (final)

To complete any great treasure, it must draw Tribulation, because the act of creating a treasure was seizing a portion of the authority to power in reality and binding it into a corporeal entity.

In the case of the treasure Rowan had just created, that meant that he was essentially taking the dimension of this Spectral Titan and everything it contained and molding it into a shape that he desired.

This was a dead realm of a seventh-dimensional creature, its powers and vitality still lingered in every single part of this realm, and Rowan would have to prove that he was worthy if he wanted to change the state of this place into the form he desired.

The Tribulation for the Tower of Greed had been a strange one, it had drawn Rowan into an Abyssal Space, since the root of the tower came from the Great Abyss, as the first building block was created from the skull of a Great Demon King.

In this space, he had seen the creation of the Tower of Greed, a process that took countless trillions of years, and for any immortal that would have been quite easy to go through, but the tribulation was much more sinister. Rowan had to experience the life of the Tower of Greed, every single brick that was laid in it had an enormous history behind it, and he had to experience all of them.

Rowan had no problem with this, even if he had to experience the life of countless trillions of parts that made up the Tower of Greed, he was already a Creator and his children grew in number every day, as a living dimension he could experience every single aspect of this process that would drive an average immortal insane in a matter of moments.

This Tribulation did not strain Rowan at all, and with ease, he experienced everything associated with the Tower of Greed, further deepening his understanding of this treasure, for a Tribulation did not only bring danger but benefits as well.

In Rowan's hand was his finished creation, or shape had not taken a single aspect and it resembled a crustal whose form was always shifting, and it almost hurt the mind to observe it closely.

Rowan closed his eyes and waited for the Tribulation to come, and for a moment he thought that perhaps there was something wrong with his creation and the tribulation would not come, leading this to become another failure, but then he realized... it was already here with him, the tribulation.

There was a reason why he did not quickly realize that the tribulation for this weapon had begun, it was because it was... small.

A man stood by Rowan's foot looking up to him with awe in his eyes. At this time, Rowan's body had shrunk, he resembled an old titan, with sparse white hair and wrinkles on his face, but even as he was, the clouds above barely passed his waist and his height was measured in miles.

His eyesight was failing but he could still pick up the traces of the man who by his own height standard was smaller than an ant.

With curiosity in his eyes, Rowan waved his hand, bringing the tribulation to him with a gentle burst of telekinesis, because he had detected that this man was mortal and anything more would have crushed him to pieces.

Rowan observed this mortal closely, his gaze stripping through every facet of his being, and he knew that this man was in his early thirties, precisely thirty-two years, months, three days, six seconds old.

He was of perfect health, and except for the strain building up in his neck from crooking his her upwards to stare at Rowan, he was a perfect specimen for a mortal. A man at the peak of his physical capabilities. Rowan had already read through his DNA and knew of every cell in his body, and he could take the man apart down to the cellular level a billion times and put him back together with nothing out of place.

Understanding the material, he went deeper into the immaterial, and he immediately understood the problem, this man had a soul but it was an extremely strange one, it was as if it was real, and not real at the same time, and as far as Rowan could tell, his soul was as old as his body yet it was born a minute ago.

The man looked around him animatedly, and he laughed aloud,

"I can tell you this for free, this is the weirdest dream I have ever had."

Rowan cocked his head to the side, the gesture making the clouds rumble as they were dispersed,

"You think you are dreaming?"

There was something in Rowan's tone, and the inherent majesty in his voice that made the mortal gasp and stammer in a bit of confusion,

"Yes, I have to be dreaming, how else can all of this be possible? How can I be standing under a sky like this and talking to an old man who is bigger than a mountain? Or else I must be hallucinating, but I don't remember taking any hard substance before I..." freewёbnoνel.com

"What is your name?" Rowan interrupted the mindless mumblings of the mortal,

"Wha.. What, I don't.."

"Your name mortal, what is it?"

About to say something the man paused in confusion before he smiled almost pleadingly,

"I don't know, for the life of me I can not remember, but I think that is also a feature of dreams, or I could be wrong."

Rowan looked at the mortal for a moment before he asked,

"If you have no name, can I give you one?"

The question seemed to surprise the man, as he scratched his head in thought before he

slowly replied,

"I mean, I don't know if I would want that, just because this is a dream and I can't remember my name, does not mean that I don't have one."

"Yet if this is a dream," Rowan pointed out, "Then giving you a name should not matter, because when you wake up you would have forgotten it. Would it not be a shame, that in this wondrous dream where you are with a talking giant under a sky filled with a trillion broken worlds and countless bleeding stars, you have no name that could be added to the grand tapestry that has unveiled itself before you."

The man seemingly engrossed by the words slowly nodded as he smiled, "When you put it that way, then I think I shall have a name, even if I don't remember it when I was up."

Rowan smiled, "A thing is not beautiful because it lasts. There is beauty in the fleeting and if this is a dream, then your name should add color to it."

"Yes," the man nodded enthusiastically, "I want a name."

"Good," Rowan grinned, "I shall call you Wormtongue. It symbolizes deceit and betrayal, and

the loss of everything that one can hold dear to their heart."

The enthusiastic smile on the face of the man vanished and a look of caution replaced it,

"I don't think that is a... um, a good..."

Rowan's smile also froze, "You don't like it?"

Looking at the face that was larger than a mountain the man stammered, "No, no, I like it, but

it is just a bit... confusing," checking weakly he whispered, "almost nightmarish."

"Ah Wormtongue but you forget," Rowan said, "The only difference between dreams and nightmares is how we perceive it. Now say it."

"Say what?"

"Your name."

"Um, okay, Wormtongue?"

The moment the man said the name given by Rowan, his skin began to blister, and he looked down in shock as massive blisters and smoke began to fruit from all over his body, before he had time to scream, he spontaneously combusted, burning so hot that in a few moment he was ashes, and in his place was... the Spectral Titan.

Its form was clearly female, although its skin seemed to be made from pale blue crustal and she had three pairs of massive horns that curled around to create a natural crown on her head. Her eyes were bleeding pale green flames, and they were filled with wrath as she peered at

Rowan.

"Hello Wormtongue." Rowan said as his massive hand came down over the Spectral Titan, "I like collecting Tribulations, and you have piqued my interest."