The weight of exhaustion hit me like a tidal wave, every muscle in my body screaming for rest. Mythweaver had pushed me to the brink. Even with my newfound power, breaking into Immortal-rank and undergoing the second body metamorphosis, the act of rewriting the essence of an Ancient-grade artifact to create living eyes had left me drained.
"Fuck, it hurts," I muttered under my breath, grimacing as I leaned against a shattered column. The air around us shimmered unnaturally, reality itself beginning to warp.
"You pass," a voice echoed, deep and resonant, as though the fabric of the hyperfragment itself was speaking. The world twisted, and a figure cloaked in shadows stepped forward, its presence filling the room with an ominous, oppressive weight.
"Incredible, Arthur," the figure said, its tone both impressed and curious. "You surpassed the design itself. The measures I took with Lillian weren't even necessary. How does it feel... to awaken?"
Awaken.
The word reverberated through me, settling uneasily in my mind. This entire ordeal—the hyperfragment, the trials, the pain—had been engineered. For what purpose, I couldn't yet say. But this was no coincidence.
'Awaken, huh?' I thought, mulling over the figure's words. This was a forced awakening, thrust upon me by whoever or whatever this being was.
I felt their eyes on me before I even turned to face them. Seraphina's silver hair gleamed in the soft light of the fractured reality, her pale blue eyes filled with a mix of awe and disbelief. She stepped forward hesitantly, as though afraid I might vanish if she got too close.
"You... you gave her new eyes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's... impossible."
Cecilia was the next to move, her crimson eyes narrowing as they darted between me and Rachel, who was clutching my arm tightly, her new, radiant eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "You manipulated an Ancient-grade artifact," Cecilia murmured, her voice tinged with incredulity. "Arthur, do you even realize what you've done? No one can do that—not without destroying the artifact entirely."
"I didn't destroy it," I replied, my voice hoarse but firm. "I rewrote it."
"You rewrote its essence," Cecilia countered, her tone somewhere between admiration and exasperation. "Arthur, that's not supposed to be possible. Not even for an Immortal-rank."
Rachel's hands trembled as she touched her face again, her fingers brushing against her new eyes as if to confirm they were real. "They're warm," she whispered, her voice breaking. "They're alive." She turned to me, her sapphire and gold-flecked gaze locking onto mine. "You gave me back more than my sight. You gave me hope."
I swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on me. "I promised I'd protect you," I said simply. "This was the only way."
Seraphina's expression softened, her usual stoicism cracking as she stepped closer. "You always do this," she said quietly. "You take everything on yourself, push yourself past the breaking point for us."
"And I'd do it again," I replied, meeting her gaze. "For all of you."
Lucifer crossed his arms, his verdant eyes narrowing. "That's all very noble, Arthur, but you're missing the point. Mythweaver isn't just a Gift. It's... something else entirely." He gestured toward the shadowy figure, his tone sharp. "And this thing clearly knows more about it than you do."
The shadowed being tilted its head, as if amused. "Indeed," it said. "Mythweaver is a key. A power meant to bridge the gap between what is and what can be. But even I did not foresee the extent of your potential, Arthur. You have surpassed every expectation."
Ren stepped forward, his violet eyes flickering with restrained energy. "What's the catch?" he asked, his voice carrying a hard edge. "Nobody goes to these lengths for free."
The shadowed figure chuckled, a deep, unsettling sound. "The catch, as you put it, is that Arthur's awakening was necessary. The world you know is on the brink, and only one who wields Mythweaver can rewrite its fate."
Cecilia scoffed, her ruby lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Fate, huh? Sounds awfully convenient."
"You would do well to take this seriously, Princess," the figure replied smoothly. "Even now, forces beyond your comprehension are moving against you."
At that, Seol-ah, who had been silently observing from the edge of the room, stepped forward. "This... awakening of his," she said, addressing the shadowed figure, "was it really necessary? Or is he just another pawn to you?"
The figure's shadowy form shifted, its gaze—or what passed for it—settling on Seol-ah. "Arthur Nightingale is no pawn. He is the fulcrum upon which the balance of this world rests. Whether he succeeds or fails, the story of this world will change forever."
A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the soft hum of residual mana in the air. I exhaled, the weight of their words settling on my shoulders.
"I don't care about your games or your grand designs," I said finally, my voice steady despite the exhaustion that threatened to drag me down. "All I care about is protecting the people I love. If Mythweaver helps me do that, then so be it."
The shadowed figure inclined its head, as though acknowledging my resolve. "Very well, Arthur. You've proven yourself worthy. But know this—your journey is far from over. The trials you've faced here are but the beginning."
The fractured reality around us began to shimmer, the hyperfragment unraveling like the delicate threads of a dream slipping away. As the light consumed the room, I felt Rachel's hand tighten around mine, her new eyes reflecting both worry and hope.
But then, the voice of the shadowed figure cut through the light, sharp and resolute. "Now, you have a choice."
I turned, narrowing my gaze at the shifting silhouette. "A choice?"
The figure nodded. "Return to your world now, as you are, or remain here—alone—for two years of uninterrupted training."
"Two years?" The words exploded from Rachel, Seraphina, and Cecilia in unison, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.
"What kind of deal is that?" Cecilia demanded, her ruby eyes narrowing dangerously.
"You're asking him to abandon us," Rachel added, her voice trembling, though her grip on my arm remained firm.
"And for what?" Seraphina's tone was colder, more cutting. "He's already one of the strongest. Why would he need this so-called training?"
The shadowed figure barely flinched at their protests. "Because despite all his strength, all his achievements, Arthur Nightingale is still weak."
The air grew heavier, the accusation hanging like a blade over my head. I inhaled slowly, my jaw tightening as I processed the words. "Weak," I repeated flatly.
"Relatively," the figure corrected, the tone maddeningly calm. "You have power, yes, but it is fragmented, inefficient. You are bound by your emotions, by your ties to these women, to your responsibilities. That is a vulnerability your enemies will exploit. In two years, away from the distractions of your life, you will gain strength and understanding that you cannot fathom."
Ian snorted, crossing his arms as his spear rested lazily against his shoulder. "He's already stronger than anyone we've faced here. How much stronger does he need to get?"
The figure turned to Ian, and even he shifted uncomfortably under the weight of its presence. "Much stronger. The world you've seen is only a fragment of what lies ahead. The true threats are leagues beyond anything you've faced."
"And who's going to train him?" Lucifer asked, his verdant eyes narrowing. "You?"
The figure chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "Of course not."
The light twisted, reshaping itself into another form—one I knew all too well. Art stepped forward, his face a mirror of my own but with a presence that was almost overwhelming. "I will," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "Your use of your three Gifts is... let's just say, amateur at best. But don't worry, Arthur. In two years, I'll make you evolve so much you won't even recognize yourself."
The room fell into a stunned silence.
"Two years is too long," Seraphina finally broke it, her voice hard but wavering. "You're asking him to leave everything behind."
Art's gaze flicked to her, not unkindly but with the weight of someone who had seen more than he cared to admit. "Two years is nothing compared to what's coming. Without this training, Arthur will not survive what lies ahead. And if he falls, so does everything he's fought to protect."
"Arthur," Rachel whispered, her hand trembling in mine. "Is this... is this something you want?"
I looked at her, at the fear in her newly restored eyes, at the unspoken plea in Cecilia's clenched jaw, at the quiet resolve in Seraphina's gaze. My heart felt like it was being pulled in a thousand directions.
But then I looked at Art. At myself. At the man I could become.
"You're saying I'll grow beyond anything I can imagine," I said, my voice steady. "That I'll be able to protect them in ways I can't right now."
Art nodded. "Yes. But it's not just about them. It's about you. Your potential, your purpose."
I exhaled, my decision crystallizing in my mind. "If I do this... they'll be safe, right?"
"They're safer with a stronger you," Art replied. "But the choice is yours."
I turned back to the others, their faces filled with a mix of emotions—fear, anger, understanding. "I don't want to leave," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "But I have to. If this is what it takes to make sure all of you are safe, then I'll do it."
Rachel's lip quivered, but she nodded, her tears spilling silently. "Just... come back to us," she whispered.
Cecilia stepped forward, her usual smirk replaced by something softer. "Don't keep us waiting too long, Grandmaster."
Seraphina simply met my gaze, her eyes filled with unspoken words, before giving a small, resolute nod.
I turned to Art, the light around us intensifying. "Two years," I said. "Let's make them count."
And with that, the world unraveled completely, pulling me into the unknown.