The Primordial Record C.872 Akashic Trell

Rowan's dimension was half a billion light years wide, you could fit five billion galaxies inside or two hundred billion trillion stars, this detail was significant because to understand the scale of this war, size was an essential component.

At this scale numbers became almost meaningless, what was critical was who held the most power in the battle and the precise control of resources.

Rowan understood that for the issue of resource allocation, Eva was better than him, so he was not leading the war and he was watching the Lady of Shadows, and when she placed Tenma into play, he realized that Eva was still playing to their advantage, as she was hiding Rowan's true capabilities behind the demonic armies of Tenma.

Rowan had speculated that there was a gap in information between all the parties that were attacking him, one side knew an aspect of his powers and the other side knew nothing, but he did not know how long this situation could actually continue.

If he was not sure that the Third Prince already knew that he was the one behind this dimension, he would have been able to trick the entire universe, and no one would know who he was or his capabilities.

Eva was banking on using misdirection to limit the power of their enemies' forces for as long as possible while reducing expenditure to a minimum.

The Akashic Trell created by Tenma numbered three and a half billion when completed, a stunning number, but against their attackers, it was a drop in the bucket, and when spread around the entire battlefield, they essentially vanished, after all this battlefield was vast.

From afar the demons pouring through ten million vortices were like dust, their numbers unending, they crushed the stars and every heavenly body in their way, leaving a trail of destruction that extended into the outer universe.

Apparently, someone out in the universe had begun destroying the stars and the planets so that he could no longer consume them. For anyone else, this would be a loss, but Rowan did not care for the surface resources of the universe, its true treasures were yet to come. Although these losses irritated him, in the larger scheme of things, they were meaningless to him at this point.

Most of the demons pouring into his dimension were Demon Spawns, wretched creations that could be as weak as Earth gods or grow strong enough to rival even Major gods. Their shapes could either be animalistic, humanoid, or any variation in between.

They usually had limited spell-casting abilities but tyrannical bodies that could survive in the void of space and fight even without their heads, it would take shattering their bodies to tiny pieces to finish off one of them.

Limited but also in greater number than could be counted were the Demon Knights. Typically on a mount or possessing a far larger physique, the weakest Demon Knight had the strength of a Minor god, they were usually the strongest amongst their ranks, and they were just a step below a Demon General.

A Demon General were creatures that had survived endless battles, some of them were graced with bloodlines from Demon Princes and above, and they were merely a step below royalty.

However, Rowan wasn't concerned with this rabble even though they numbered in the billions, he was only looking at the shining light amongst them.

His seemingly arrogant perception was born from the fact that Rowan had never spent a lot of time weak, his ever-

evolving bloodline meant he had skipped billions of years or more of growth, compressing all that time into three short decades, and so he had no real understanding for the weak and their struggles, he had eyes only for the strong.

In these armies of demons, he saw eleven shiny lights, all from Demon Princes and sadly no Demon Kings, he hoped one or two might be foolish enough to present their heads to him, he could have crushed and halted the entire Demonic assault if he had killed two more Demon Kings, but they were all old monsters who had learned not to overreach.

It would seem that the apparent death of the first Demon King inside the Dimension had made the rest wary and they were sending fodder. Shame.

The Demon Princes were hidden amid the horde and they were subtly releasing large bursts of power to push back the black fog that filled his dimension; they would soon find out that their efforts were useless as Rowan was actively creating more fog to block the sights of anyone who entered here.

This was also not adding the debilitating chill that came with this fog that was causing the demonic horde to slowly collapse given enough time, except for the Demon Princes, every demon that entered his Dimension would be frozen into a block of ice, but the Lady of Shadows was not giving them that time, she could not afford to, the Demons could travel quite quickly, and if they were not stopped they would find their way to the center of Rowan's dominion, which was not as far away as they might think.

The vortices had spread all over his Dimension, and some of them were clustered around his emerging City of Sheol, its form had not yet solidified, there was something missing and Rowan had a hint of what it might be.

Rowan suspected that of the six hundred thousand vortices around his seat of consciousness, the reason that no demon had been able to come through any of them was down to luck. He was sure if his Tree of Desire bloodline had eyes, it would be winking at him, "Luck, yeah right. It's all me baby."

The summoned Akashic Trells seemed to merge with the darkness and when they reappeared they were deep within the ranks of the demons, and for a short while their presence was undetected, lost in their vastness.

Unlike the hulking brutes that most demons' physiques favored, this race was tiny, the biggest amongst them barely six feet tall, their bodies shrunken as if they were a single step away from the grave, and the passing demons ignored them, they had immense demonic essence inside of them and they fit in with the crowd, this ignorance of the threat in their midst would turn out to be costly.

The first Trell that was summoned sparked the war, he negligently held out his hand and grabbed the leg of a passing Demon General. This monstrosity was almost five hundred feet tall, with bright red skin that could barely hold the tons of muscles about to burst out from his body, horns that could pierce through reality, and he held two large axes.

The Demon General was mindlessly breaking off pieces of black ice that were growing on his body when an ungodly force grabbed him by the leg.

He paused and looked down and nearly laughed when he saw the old man holding on to his shin. Only the vice-like grip on his leg made him wary and he noticed a red light shining in the hands of the man that he had missed at first because of the color of his skin, and immediately his instincts screamed 'danger.'

The Demon General had fought wars for millions of years and knew not to doubt this set of instincts that had saved his life far too many times to count. He flipped the axe he was holding in his left hand and swung it at the old man.