- Recap -
"Undo the seal."
His guilty and sad voice ringed in Regis's ears as a hurricane of emotions flooded him.
/// Regis POV ///
"Regis"….. "undo the seal"
These words struck my ears like the crackle of a loud thunder. Like a gong the words repeated in my brain. The words I never wanted to hear. The last ditch method.
"We are in control. With Lady Myre's help we have begun to suppress Kezzess's pawns. Just give me a few more minutes…"
His pain reached me through our link as a flurry of emotions invaded my mind. But the one feeling that was the most dominant one. Fear. He was afraid. Not because of the opponent in front of him. But afraid to lose everyone again.
"Regis please." He said again, deflecting another attack from Kezzes.
"I'll be done with here and will come to assist you as soon…" I was cut off as he screamed through our link.
"YOU KNOW THAT'S NO USE." He said as he was constantly being pushed back by him.
I went silent. It was true. I knew it better than anyone else. Only he was able to go against Kezzes, while we would just get in his way. But I couldn't lose him. He was the first person I called family ever since being born or manifesting. I just couldn't let him die.
I was brought out of my thoughts as a huge aetheric beam blew Kezzes away making him crash inside his castle. I looked at Arthur. Blood trickled not only from his wounds but from his very pores.
"Do it, please." He begged, his desperation evident in his voice. I felt the strength leave my limbs as I steeled my resolve. I looked at him one last time to somehow talk him out of it. He looked at me as I shooked my head. A refusal far more adamant than I was normally capable of.
Fully aware of my intentions, Arthur's intent fell on me like a wet blanket forcing me to buckle to my knees.
"That was an order from your master. Release the seal, Regis."
For the first time in centuries he spoke to me not as his brother but like his vassal, the weapon I actually was. I lost control of our link making Sylvie understand what was happening here. Even her emotions started to storm inside my brain.
An unrestrained tear went down my cheek as I looked at my master and my dearest friend one last time.
"Uncle Regis." Sylvie's voice quivered inside my mind. "Do it. I'm sure he'll be okay. He always comes back." She said,
"Yeah, I hope he does." I lied. He couldn't. There was no coming back from this. Taking a long breath I raised my hand as I siphoned all of aether I could muster as I started to undo the knots and chains placed on him. Or rather what was inside him. Something wielding so much power that it could kill Kezzes immediately. But the price was his life.
Not wanting to dwell on it I undid the last chain. Aetheric chains visibly manifested around him pushing Kezzes away. The aether seemed to tremble not only around us but all around the world. Aether seemed to act submissively as I chanted the aetheric spell Azreal taught me as the last resort.
"Duaedetroni"
- Flashback -
/// 3rd person POV ///
"Feeling that child? You've started hitting a wall. A cruel limitation put on you by Mother nature."
Collapsing on all fours in the cold basement, Arthur listened to the even colder tone of Azreal. The words may seem warm but they carried an air of disappointment. For 35 hours straight, they've been training non-stop leaving Arthur's body in excruciating pain.
He had already lost count of how many bones he had broken or how many times he had fainted. Only the sensation of pain lingered on, making every part of his body feel like crumbling down. Liberal use of aether arts and some potions like drinks had healed him, but all those couldn't help bolster his fighting spirit any farther.
"Kaaah, hah, hah"
Arthur panted as Azreal circled around him with a metallic whip in hand which he used as a primary weapon.
"That's the limit of your talent. Obtaining any techniques above your level will take ages, or prove entirely impossible. Only the truly gifted can overcome that wall. And I'm afraid you have no such talent."
Azreal said.
There was no hidden spite in his voice. Every word uttered carried a brutal amount of reality. Arthur knew it too as he tried to stand up.
Even with his disciple on the brink of death, Azreal's tone stayed flat. No trace of any emotion. The purpose of this attempt was to break his desciple's body and mind; they had no use for feelings here.
"Physical growth and experience can supplement it to a degree, but that won't be nearly enough. Each of your targets are real powerhouses among your realm who stand at the pinnacle of power" he told Arthur .
"That's where Ophelia Rivermoore's soul comes in. Inputting the experience of a genius—an experience you could never hope to reach—will allow you to break through this wall and nothing more. That is, of course...only if you can withstand the soul merge."
Azreal mentioned his wife's name with a hint of emotion as a warm smile graced his face. Too tired and hurt to speak, Arthur still somehow managed to grasp his master's words. Thought alone must never be abandoned. The cessation of thought meant the loss of all meaning. If meaning was lost, then the pain to come would be unendurable.
"Do you know why we hurt you to your limits before we attempt a fusion? Because we require your soul to feel the need. To convince it that your flesh will not survive otherwise," Azreal explained.
"Human souls are fundamentally not capable of accepting outside input. The shells of ourselves are very hard and can only be changed via the filter of our own experiences. That remains true even with the soul-sucking progenitor power. But if we meet a number of conditions, that can change. And one of those involves weakening the soul's resistance to the merger."
The voice droned on, no variation to it. All the training and pain so far had merely been preparations for the real goal. Being able to dwell the soul of someone powerful enough to go against all asuras at once.
Arthur felt a cold wave of fear— fear he'd thought long since paralyzed. He couldn't begin to fathom it. Suffering greater than this? How was that even possible?
"The pain will be unimaginable. There is no guarantee you'll endure it. When you are ready, say the word."
He offered no smidgen of reassurance, merely a promise of a future filled with agony. And his master was well aware how merciless it was to demand a
decision from him here.
"...Will...?"
Arthur feebly tried to string the words together. He hadn't spoken in hours, and now that he did, it was not to voice his own suffering but to ask an urgent question.
"...Will it hurt...Her...?"
"...!"
All this time, Azreal had kept that mask of indifference over his heart, but these words caused its facade to crack. His nails dug into his quivering cheeks, stilling them. Between those fingers, Arthur caught the briefest glimpse of the man he once was. Of the time when he had been happy.
"...A being that exists only as a soul does not have a conscious mind like the living. Only when the body, soul are assembled in tandem with aether, only then does the mind truly function. Ophelia is not capable of feeling the pain you do."
This was the first and only respite Arthur had been granted since this training began. A small hint of relief amid the pain he'd been through and had yet to experience, none of which would reach the kind lady, whom he came to know through Azreal's memories.
"Put that unneeded concern out of your mind. Focus, else your personality will be lost on the first attempt."
The man aimed his white cane at the room's sole door, calling,
"Come in, Regis ."
Opened with a spell, the boy plastered to the door this whole time and came tumbling into the basement :Arthur's companion and weapon.
"Princess!"
Seeing his master barely breathing, Regis scrambled over to him, wrapping his arms tight around his frame. The corners of his lips twitched. He could barely feel anything but pain, but his warmth pushed through.
"Do it. You belong to the fate genus; you know far better than I do that this is the duty your world demands, If it requires to survive.."
And his master was already snatching away that small comfort. Arthur knew that was for his benefit. If he was allowed a rest here, if the thread of tension snapped, then he could never endure the pain to come.
"...Do it...Regis...."
And so he sought it himself. So that his companion —who felt his pain so deeply—would blame himself less. So that all this pain would be his and his alone.
And Regis got that, too. He hesitated for a long, long moment, then stood up and pointed his hand towards him.. There was never a choice. This was a burden carried by fate, and from the moment of his birth, he was at the heart of this.
Duaedetroni
His voice shook as he chanted, and something massive flowed into Arthur. Like the fate of a ceramic dish into which lava has been poured. The first crack in his soul.
"ahh… gaaaaah"
The first instant evaporated all the pain he'd felt so far. It was so much worse. Like he was losing the essence of himself, a sensation that could not be contained within concepts like pain or suffering. His body's rejection was extreme, surpassing the rotary limits of his joints, and Azreal and Regis were desperately holding him down, lest he destroy himself by his own hand.
"Arthur….?...Arthur.....!"
Regis had already finished the soul merge on his end. Only a portion of Ophelia's soul had poured into Oliver, a mere drop mixed in with him. But that was already a fatal dosage.
"You see now? This is the torment brought by an invasive soul."
What seemed eternal was but a few minutes. The self-destructive rejection began to subside. The hyperventilation died down, but it took a few more minutes before the light of reason returned to Arthur's eyes. Seeing that Arthur had not died, his mentor spoke again.
"A minuscule degree of her experience has flowed into you. Experience by a master you could never hope to match through mere training. But that is not yet your experience."
He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and poured the contents into Arthur's mouth. He swallowed, and the liquid slid down his throat. The resulting heat spread to all corners of his body like a fever. An elixir so pure it was said it could wake someone from death's door.
"Only by making use of that experience will your soul accept it. And this must take place immediately after the soul merge. Like hammering iron while it's hot."
Azreal stood up, moving to the center of the room.
"Draw your blade. We've got more training to do."
His whip was at the ready. Arthur had endured a lifetime of pain to body and soul, and he planned to fight him more. The first to move was not Arthur but Regis . He pointed his sword at the man.
"Let him rest." Regis said, his voice filled with blatant fear.
"That will make this all for nothing." Azreal replied nonchalantly as he dispelled Regis' aetheric sword
cutting his courage down with a single line.
Seeing this, Arthur forced his leaden body to move. It took several tries, but at last he was on his feet.
"...Thank you...," he whispered.
Oliver took his extended hand, pulling him aside, facing Azreal in his stead. Seeing Arthur's quivering arms raise his sword , the man nodded.
"Good. That's how it should be. Unless you swallow the pain, we will get nowhere," he told Arthur..
"And we'll repeat this process more times than you can count."
Heknew that. He'd never once desired to reject it.
This had never been forced upon him. This suffering was not at his mentor's command. By his own free will, he had inherited the higher being's intent, sworn revenge, and sought the power that lay within her soul.
- Flashback End -
Arthur felt a familiar presence join him. A great and powerful soul, using him as a temporary solace.
"...Ah..."
It overlapped with Arthur's soul, merging with it. Pouring into him like molten gold.
" kk "
Dizzying heat, pain racking his body. Every ounce of his flesh rejecting the invasion, resisting, trying to force it out. This response was a defense mechanism fueled by aether, one Arthur had to override with inflexible willpower. That intractable contradiction caused yet more pain—yet that, too, was but a taste of what lay in store.
" AH ah "
In accordance with the golden flow, the change advanced from his soul unto his flesh. The flow of aether expanded and accelerated, rebuilding his very bones, causing an eruption of hurt a hundred times that of growing pains. An orchestra of maddening torment that the boy squashed with incessant loathing for the enemy at hand.
"——-A———A——ahhh"
(E/n I know he's in pain but why does it sound so wrong.)
(A/n (-_-)Are you for real?)
He embraced the pain, like a cup of hemlock willingly downed. From the depths of his melting reason rose an ironic relief. This was an apt punishment for defiling Ophelia's soul.
The blood vessels in his eyes were ripping open. Crimson tears flowed from both eyes, flowing down over his mask and onto his cheeks below.
" GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
With a howl, he hurtled himself into the air. The aether around him was quick to react and he took flight standing on an aetheric sword.
Aboard the sprinting sword, Arthur assumed a stance, turned right, hand low. A heretical form found nowhere, a form that contradicted common sense,—but one he'd shown a hint of before, when dueling Agrona.
Fusion arts- A perfect blend of aether and martial arts combined together in such a grace that anyone aside the maker will break before having the chance to use it.
Arts once lost, now reborn. By swallowing the soul of a genius, the boy became a comet, trailing tears of blood in his wake as he shot toward the asura's king.
He swung his sword in passing. The impact of the severing spell struck the self proclaimed god's shoulder, and shards of torn-off adamant that covered his armour fell through the air.
"You broke through the armor with a single strike?!" Kezzes gasped.
Behind the tyrant, Arthur wheeled around, coming back in. The asuran god swung its arms conjuring multiple projectiles made of pure mana to swat him out of the sky, but he evaded this with daredevil maneuvers and dove beneath the arm, raking the torso's side with a double strike severing spell. A screech assaulted everyone's ears, and once again, a deep gash appeared in the armor.
"An adamant piercing technique?" Kezzes gasped visibly. Adamant was the strongest metal found in the land of true deities which Kezzes had laid his hands on after somehow fooling Ophelia Rivermoore, the very soul providing nutrition to Arthur.
The mad dragon's voice had dropped deep and low.
His palms went out, aimed at Arthur's trajectory. A transparent-purple light that had decimated the small hill now became a barrage of shots peppering the vicinity. The blasts were far too dense to evade, no matter how good you were with flying.
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
But faced with that unavoidable bombardment, Arthur leaped off his broom. Freed from his weight, the huge aetheric sword easily slipped safely through the gaps, and Arthur stepped on the air itself, dashing in three dimensions through the onslaught. A few steps later, the humongous sword wheeled back, and his feet landed on it once more.
This was one of Ophelia's techniques. Instead of normal flying she relied on a huge aether sword.
"...Acrobatic tricks mixed with Spatium's Sky Walking..."
All these moves defied magical combat de rigueur, making the word masterful seem like an understatement. But the old dragon had seen them all before.
"Who taught you to fight like that?" Kezzes demanded.
In lieu of an answer, Arthur fired a severing spell at the machine god's head. He used his arms as shields, weathering the strike with more adamant growing over his arms as Kezzes remained fixated on deciphering the situation.
"...No. Nobody did. Even if she personally trained you, they're not moves you can imitate. Moreover—how are those absurd maneuvers not tearing your body apart?!"
Flying a sword at impossible speeds, pausing only to dash across the air well beyond the limits of what Spatium's Sky Walking could do. These maneuvers were beyond what even true deities should be capable of. Forcibly turning that hard would crush your organs. Kezzes had seen someone prove him wrong on that before.
"...Mm—"
But there was one clear difference here. The red stream of blood left in the boy's wake was no longer mere tears. Blood was pouring from every inch of his body, his long-since-sodden robe unable to soak up any more. Kezzes tweaked his observations accordingly.
"...They are tearing you apart. Yet, you are healing in tandem. Maintaining a healing spell to match the toll on your physique? Who is...? Where? How?"
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(A/n would've written more but yeah, suffer and wait a week for the next chap. 🙂 Actually I've started working part time to gain experience. Although my manager is a nice guy it's rude to write in the office, and I'm working 9-7 almost 10 hours with a 2 hours drive. So I'm too tired to update like before but well with Eid approaching I think you'll get some but don't expect much from me.)
Enough of my rambling, Happy Reading and stay blessed.
Sayonara-