AUTHOR's NOTE--- Well, this marks the end of Volume 4. Short chapter since it is an epilogue but eh. Comment about your theories for what Jules might be planning and leave a vote, cause....WHY NOT? JUST DO IT. DO NOT THINK. Ehm, anyways.
I will see you all in next volume.
|JULIAN GREYRAT|
The air hung heavy with a haunting concoction of ash and smoke, a chilling miasma that clung to every inhale, seeping into lungs and lingering like an unwelcome spectre. Swirling in a dance of despair, each particle a tiny wisp of darkness, suffocated the breath.
The sky---a canvas for the sun's warm embrace, had been usurped by a shroud of malevolent black and ashen grey, an impenetrable barrier that denied even the faintest whisper of sunlight's touch. It was an amalgam of desolation stretched across the horizon---a sinister and macabre scene woven from the threads of destruction.
The transformation was recondite and heartrending. The area that had once cradled a lush and vibrant forest, a sanctuary where life had thrived in harmony. Verdant canopies had whispered secrets to the wind, while the ground beneath had teemed with a symphony of creatures—monsters and humans alike was now no more.
The scene was one of woeful metamorphosis. The land lay stripped and flattened, an eerie tableau of loss. The very soul of the forest had been extinguished, replaced by a barren wasteland where the echoes of life had been silenced.
Amid this desolation, the remnants of what had once been flourished lay scattered like forgotten cadaver.
Trees---grand and venerable, were now skeletal husks—charred and bereft of their former vitality. The creatures----monsters and human travellers alike--- that had once roamed freely now existed only in the memories of those who had witnessed their existence.
No one.
The ground itself seemed to mourn, covered in a blanket of ashes, the remnants of lives that had been extinguished. The ashes told stories of lives lived and lost, each speck a fragment of a story abruptly ended.
The devastation was as visceral as it was sorrowful, a dance of destruction that played on the senses.
The acrid scent of burning wood and skin and smouldering embers pervaded the air, intertwining with the earthy aroma of upturned soil—charcoals and greys that held no promise of renewal.
Lost. Gone forever.
The silence was haunting, the absence of life's vibrant melodies a poignant reminder of the enormity of the loss.
"This is..." Orsted's meek utterance was carried away by the fierce gusts that swept through the scene. His words hung in the air for a moment, like the delicate skeleton of a leaf torn from its branch, before being swallowed by the howling wind.
His face, typically a fresco of intimidation, now bore the markings of bewilderment, a complex mixture of emotions woven with threads of uncertainty and disbelief.
"Yep. His magic output increased," Julian's words slipped from his lips, carrying a tone of nonchalant observation. His gaze swept over the surroundings, taking in the aftermath of whatever had transpired. His hands took a comfortable refuge within the pockets of his attire, fingers tracing the edges.
His demeanour held a relaxed air, as if the chaos around him was nothing more than a passing breeze.
With a languid motion, Julian initiated a casual twirl of his finger—a gesture almost dismissive in its subtlety. Yet, from that seemingly mundane movement, wind magic danced to life at his fingertip, a minuscule cyclone taking shape.
This pocket of power swept with gentle yet potent power, summoning a hushed gust that blew the half stub of the tree away.
"Which shouldn't be possible," Orsted's voice cut through the air like a blade of scepticism, his interruption punctuating the scene with a discordant note. His brows knitted in a dubious frown, creating deep furrows on his forehead that mirrored the crevices of his doubt.
The intensity of his gaze, those predatory golden eyes that had witnessed countless unlimited feats, remained unyielding as they bore into Julian.
"Technically speaking, yes, it shouldn't be possible," Julian's voice echoed Orsted's sentiment, his response a subtle acknowledgment of the reality they both faced. However, his words bore an air of detachment. The gravity of the situation seemed to glide off him like water from a well-oiled feather, leaving behind a surface untouched by the ripples of concern.
Julian's posture shifted, his lithe form uncoiling from his kneel. His eyes, usually distant and contemplative, locked onto Orsted's. "What do you think I 'Actually' meant by an increased magical output?" Julian's question hung in the air, a riddle wrapped in a question mark.
His tone remained nonchalant, a casual dismissal of the conventional understanding. It was as if his words carried an unspoken subtext—a whispered suggestion that there was more to his actions than met the eye.
"What did you mean by it?" Orsted asked.
"Magic capacity and Magic output are different. Magic capacity is the general pool of mana that one holds. That is not the same for mana output. Sometimes, people with bigger pools of mana have low mana output while those with lower pools of mana have a much higher output." Julian explained as Orsted nodded.
But then he tilted his head. "That would still not explain the scale of this destruction. One's output and pool stop increasing at the age of 10. There is no way that it increased by this much---even when compared to his prime."
"Yeah. But you are looking at the outward results." Julian explained further as his eyes started to glow a pale shade of green. He looked around with his [Mana Eyes], observing the motes of disintegrated mana. "Normally mana disintegrated after a spell has served its purpose, however...." he paused before deactivating the eyes, "....his mana is still lingering here."
"Hmm. That shouldn't be possible." Orsted expressed his disbelief again.
Julian raised his hand and ignited flames that were akin to being shot from a flamethrower before cancelling it. "I think I got it."
"What?"
"He overlapped the mana particles. It's hard, but someone with a mana pool like his can definitely pull it off." Julian explained.
"What do you mean by overlapped?"
Julian picked a stone and threw it casually at Orsted's head. The little pebble bounced off his skin, disappearing under the heaps of ash under their feet. "Did you feel it?"
"No."
Julian picked two stones and stacked them on each other. He threw them in the air and let it land on his head. Orsted let him continue with his antics as he took the blow again. "Any difference?"
"Stronger than before, but negligible."
"This is what he did." Julian finished his explanation.
"Stacking rocks?" Julian deadpanned at him before sighing, "He compounded mana particles on each other. Since mana particles function somewhat like atoms that are also the building blocks of the world, their nature is somewhat similar. Just like compatible elements combine to form compounds, mana combines together to form compound forms like spells."
"I see."
"By compressing and force bonding of mana with similar properties, like fire mana, one can increase the individual potency of that spell. For example, let's say I make a fireball with 10 power, and it has 50 fire mana in it. What if I were to stack 50 more mana into the already 50 and force bonding between them?"
"I do not know." Orsted replied flatly.
"The mana amount would stay 50. But...." Julian posed as he conjured 10 rocks made with earth magic and combined them into a similar sized rock but with 10 times more density. Then he shot it towards Orsted. Orsted's eyes widened and he coated himself in his aura. The stone exploded on impact.
"That would've done more than just grazing my skin." Orsted spoke with a frown.
"Well, his spell did more than just burn a 'part' of the forest, yes?" Julian ended his explanation as everything fell into place for Orsted.
"He wasn't able to do this last time." Orsted spoke, looking down.
"Last time and this time are different. You keep forgetting."
"Hmm, yeah." Orsted has a conflicted expression. Shaking his head, he talked again. "Do you think the princess has a chance of escaping......from this?"
"The princess has escaped."
"How do you know?"
"Because I orchestrated it." Julian spoke, looking back from the corner of his eyes.
"Wha---"
"I knew Man God will go after Ariel. So, I had sent a letter beforehand. It was months before you had told me about her survival. Although the motive for saving her wasn't because you wanted her alive. I had my own reasons." Julian started his explanation, "I went on with the assumption that Eris would go somewhere to train as a swordsman while Rudeus will train his magical skills after his defeat at my hands."
"That much you've told me before."
"I know. Man-God cannot see you or me. And given how gullible Rudeus is, he will likely manipulate him into thinking that I am Julian....which I am but with something that would dwindle his faith in me. The most plausible course of action would be to have an apostle pose as me and have him fight Rudeus, to better establish his faith in the Man-God."
"Are you certain?"
Julian pointed at a trail of blood, "The blood isn't Rudeus'. It belongs to a swordsman."
"How?"
"It has traces of touki around the place where he stepped."
"Oh, ok."
"That person should be around here." Julian said and activated his demon eyes for a while. After a few seconds he deactivated them. "It's faint, but I found him."
(***)
With his back against the wall, a person's chest heaved up and down rapidly. His left side was blown off while his eyes were closed. He had white hair and a pair of blue eyes.
Suddenly the sound of leaves crunching echoed, the crisp foliage breaking under the steps of two figures-----Dragon God Orsted and Julian Greyrat.
"He indeed looks like you." Orsted commented as he looked at the dying man.
"Not quite so." Julian spoke as he moved closer and placed his hand on his head. The next instant he yanked his skin off from his skull......or that is what it seemed to be happening. The fake skin came off, revealing a white-haired man with totally different features.
"Lapse of judgement?" Julian asked without looking at him as Orsted snorted.
"You don't have to rub salt in the wound...also, he is dead."
"He is not breathing. But he is not dead." Julian replied as Orsted let out a confused grunt, "At least his brain is. He is in a dream-like state, suspended. Since his soul is being interfered with."
"Interfered?"
"He is an apostle. His mind is in a trance right now. Which shouldn't be possible given his whole left side is blown up."
"That means Man-God succeeded. Is he trying to push him over the edge by making him kill this fake "Julian" or is he trying to gain his trust?"
"Most probably, both."
"I see." Orsted's voice rumbled in his throat, like a distant thunder. "So, we have been playing in his hands."
"Not quite." Julian responded as the wind whisked his dense volumed hair and he looked from the corner of his eye, "I have Hitogami right on the path where I want him to be."
(RUDEUS GREYRAT POV)
In the heart of a mediaeval fortress, the grandeur of an era long past unfurled before me within the confines of the throne room. As heavy wooden doors, adorned with intricate carvings creaked open, a tapestry of sights and sensations unravelled before my eyes.
The air seemed imbued with an aura of history; the weight of centuries settled upon the walls like an invisible mantle.
Vaulted ceilings rise overhead, supported by stout pillars.
The mellow light of torches set into sconces casted flickering shadows, dancing along the expanse of stone walls embellished with faded frescoes and coats of arms, testament to the lineage and legacy that has flourished and waned within these hallowed walls.
A lavish crimson carpet, woven with threads of gold and silver, stretched from the entrance to the elevated dais where the throne itself was. The carpet's fibres seem to tell tales of distant lands and legendary quests, as if the very fabric of history was woven into its intricate patterns.
The air carried a subtle scent of incense, adding to the sensory tapestry that envelops the room.
The throne, carved from the finest mahogany, was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, adorned with intricately detailed scenes from the kingdom's sagas, each character and scene brought to life with an artisan's touch.
Padded cushions, adorned with velvets and silks in hues matching the royal colours, offering a regal seat for the monarch. Gilded armrests curl into sinuous shapes, reminiscent of dragons in flight, adding an element of fantasy to the room's historical splendour.
Well, not fantasy since they do exist.
On either side of the throne, imposing banners of the Asura Kingdom hung, the vibrant colours of their sigils catching the eye. Shields and suits of armour, artefacts of battles fought and won, were artfully arranged along the walls, their glinting metal and ornate embellishments standing as a proof to the valour and chivalry of the knights who once donned them.
Glimmering candelabras flanked the dais, their flames casting a soft, warm light that accentuated the shadows and highlighted the ornate details.
I reached the middle of the room and got to one knee. "Prince Grabell. I have completed the mission."
The prince who was standing in front of the throne and looking at me with hungry eyes looked at me, "Very well. Good job, Rudeus Greyrat, or should I say, Rudeus Boreas Greyrat? Well, I guess it doesn't really matter much."
"About the deal....." My words lingered away.
"Ah yes. This should be enough. Boreas Greyrats have proved their loyalty. Also, my sources told me you fought and mortally wounded, even killed the person who the Water God was after. Seems like you unintentionally got us a new ally."
The prince seemed in a good mood.
I wanted to tear the whole palace down.
"Stand proud." He spoke.
Stand proud? I killed my own brother. Stand proud? How about I cut those legs of yours so you can't stand again.
Hold in in Rudeus.
I kept telling myself. He is the future king. I might be angry for Julian, but I have Eris to take care of. I can't be selfish.
"Thanks, your highness." The gratitude felt like a slap to my own face.
"Well, you are dismissed. You are free to do whatever you want. Your reward will be handed over to you in a day or two. Do not fret, I have the heaviest of rewards ready for you."
"Thanks, your highness."
He kept blabbering nonsense. But all of it fell on deaf years. A single chant kept resonating in my ears.
Kill the Dragon God.
K̶̅̎i̵͐͐l̸̑̊l̵͊͘ ̵̰́t̶̐͝h̷́̋e̵͆̃ ̸͑̇D̵͙͒r̶͂ã̶͆ğ̷on God.
K̶̅̈ì̸͆l̴̙̋l̶ the ̶͇́D̴͐̽r̶͎͂a̴gon God.
𝕸ͦ͐̄𝖚̊ͬ͌𝖘̶̄̍𝖙́ͥ͒ ͆ͣ͢𝕶̈́̑̓𝖎͛̽𝖑𝖑 𝕺𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉
He took him away from me.
He WILL pay for it.
"Are you o-okay?" The prince suddenly asked. As I looked up at him, his features suddenly scrunched as if he had seen a dead man. My eyelids were heavy. And my body was too fatigued to control the killing intent leaking out from me.
"Apologies, your highness. A bitter memory resurfaced." I explained and turned around. I don't want to stay here. I have to get strong. I don't want to lose someone as close to me as Julian again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHARACTER SHEET.
Name: Rudeus Greyrat.
Age: 13 years old.
Height: 5'2'' (157.48 cm)
Occupation: Magician.
Marital Status: Engaged to Eris Boreas Greyrat.
Sword God Style: Intermediate Rank
Water God Style: Intermediate Rank
North God Style: Intermediate Rank
Water Magic: Saint Ranked.
Fire Magic: King Ranked.
Earth Magic: King Ranked.
Wind Magic: Saint Ranked.
Name: Julian Greyrat.
Age: 13 years old.
Height: 5'9'' (175.26 cm)
Occupation: Swordsman.
Marital Status: Single as shit (Just like me fr fr).
Sword God Style: King Rank
Water God Style: King Rank
North God Style: Emperor Rank
Water Magic: Advanced Ranked.
Fire Magic: Saint Ranked.
Earth Magic: King Ranked.
Wind Magic: Advanced Ranked.