The Primordial Record - Chapter 1739: The Laughter of The Creator

Chapter 1739: The Laughter of The Creator

The first Archai to rise burst out of his shell of stone, and as if a dam had exploded from the backup of an extraordinary stress, more Archais began to explode from their shell, causing the space of the Origin Land to warp.

Even though Rowan understood what he created, he was still amazed by what he was witnessing.

Knowing that Primordials could not truly create, only copy. Rowan fully understood that Celestial Angels must be from other devoured Realities, and Primordial Light had harvested their form to make them his servants.

Celestial angels are beings of light and spirit, born from a formed and structured heaven, often to serve a divine will, which was the Celestial Creators and Primordial Light himself.

The Archai, on the other hand, are extrusions of the Rowan’s Will and power; they were pieces of his Origin power given sentient function.

Describing the form of the Archai would be impossible for lower-dimensional immortals; even Old Ones could not properly discern their form with any degree of accuracy. Only Rowan, their creator, knew that he made them from abstract concepts, and their bodies were purely functional.

A Celestial Angel was a being of great beauty; it took a form inspired by living creatures, such as wings and a humanoid shape, to interact with creation. With his Archai, Rowan did not bother going through that route, due to his sense of beauty had changed.

The Archai were a shifting equation, a silent geometric solid, a wave of transformative energy, a concept given terrifying visage. To perceive one directly is to witness a law of physics, like gravity or entropy, with a consciousness and a purpose.

Rowan saw them as an utterly black geometric solid, their shape was a complex higher-dimensional polyhedron, whose surface was etched with pulsing glyphs denoting the Will of Eos.

However, when the first of the Archai saw the form of their creator, they detected a lack between their form and the perfection that was the creator, and a silent consensus that was instantaneous passed across all of them, and they began to merge and transform.

It should be noted that originally, the Angels of Char summoned inside Rowan’s dimension were broken into pieces, so even with their numbers in the hundreds of billions, their original number should be much less.

This case was not unique to the Angels of Char alone; real Celestial Angels also suffered from the same problem, and the Celestial Creators themselves might not understand that the Angels they were making were distant echoes of a once Supreme power.

Through merger and fusion, Rowan had slowly been rectifying these flaws in the roots of his Amgels, but it would have taken a long time for it to be completed. However, his Archai were a marvel of creation, and in the instant they were born, they saw this lack, and they began correcting it themselves.

At first, there were hundreds of billions of the Archai, but they began to merge, perfect geometries clashing and growing into a form that Rowan was eagerly following with his senses.

He did not need to inform his bloodline avatars to create a massive barrier over this area due to the emanations of power erupting from the Archai that would have scoured all life from the Origin Land as they began merging.

Their numbers began to shrink, from hundreds of billions to billions, then down to hundreds of millions to millions, before settling down to a mere hundred!

Rowan did not know this, but Primordial Light had collected the Essence of a hundred Primordial Celestials and made them the foundation of his Origin, but his Archai had been able to perfectly trace their roots.

Before Rowan, there were a hundred black higher-dimensional polyhedron-shaped figures larger than an eighth-dimensional realm, second only to a Primordial Domain in size. Their bodies drew upon every law that touched them, leaving a field of profound silence surrounding them.

Then they began to fold into themselves. The unbearable silence surrounding the Archai became a low, bone-deep hum that vibrated throughout the Origin Land as the reality of this space warped to accommodate their new form.

The infinite sharp edges of their higher-dimensional geometric bodies were forced into a finite, bipedal scaffold. The absolute blackness of their form bled away, leaving behind a substance that resembled polished obsidian, then alabaster, then finally a material that looked like stone but shone with a soft, internal light. It became a tall, humanoid figure whose shape vaguely resembled that of its creator.

Rowan sighed at this self-imposed limitation when it came to their form, but he knew that this in no way reduced the powers they wielded.

Slowly bringing one of his palms upward, a single Archai sensing his intent, appeared on his palm; the process of crossing through space was instantaneous.

Rowan brought it closer to better observe the features of their body like a creator of the most perfect artwork, drawing his creation closer to see every line that made them up.

As he brought the Archai closer, they were able to sense more of Rowan’s form, and their transformation continued.

Where there once was a perfect, faceless void, a mask formed over their faces.

It was androgynous, serene, and utterly expressionless. The features were not carved but seemed to be the result of light and shadow falling perfectly upon a smooth surface. It was a placeholder for a face, a symbol of perception without any true organs behind it.

There was no need for a face, but the creator had one, and so they made a face. It was alien and cold, but they were newly born, and Rowan knew that in time, a heart would grow to soften their features.

Then the Archai he held noticed the two massive wings floating behind Rowan, and all of their bodies shuddered before they began making this transformation to this form.

This was the most jarring transformation. From the back of the Archai, the concept of its unmoving, absolute nature was translated. Six vast planes of shimmering, geometric light erupted—not feathers, but projections of solidified law.

They resembled intricate, stained-glass windows depicting impossible, non-Euclidean patterns. They did not flap, but hung in perfect, motionless arrays, each one a diagram of a cosmic constant. They were not for flight, but a representation of its function: to be a fixed point, a foundation.

Seeing this transformation, Rowan laughed, the sound made all of the Archai buzz in what could closely be described as happiness, as a purpose for their creation was fulfilled… They had made the creator, a being of infinite power, laugh.

In this moment, the nature of the Archai changed. The soul-crushing weight of the Archai’s true form was reined in, contained within their shell. They were not just the arbiters of the law; they had gained a soul that would be glad when they saw beauty, and a heart that would bleed when they saw pain.

Rowan, their creator, was a being who felt great emotions, and so they began to soften their spirit.

The effect was like moving from the crushing pressure of the ocean abyss to the still, heavy air before a storm. It was bearable, but intensely oppressive. A aura of absolute authority and ancient, impersonal power radiated from them, making even the most powerful seraphim in a Celestial Host feel like ephemeral children.

And so the hundred Archai stood before Rowan, with vaguely angelic forms—a masterpiece of divine approximation. Yet, to any being with true sight, the disguise was terrifyingly transparent.