"The hunter skills I develop from this record will all be destruction, light, or sky-breaker in nature. I may even keep the old man's innate death ryms. All I need to do is connect to a new constellation, one of a higher tier. If I can make a deal with its guardian, I won't ever need to slay a rym beast of this type to gain new skills. If the constellation is powerful enough, I can awaken innate ryms."
Bas found the selfish murdering of rym beasts to be wrong. If every hunter killed a rym beast every ten levels, how many beasts would remain in the world? Humans have a bad habit of over-consumption. It would never be enough.
After planning up to here, Bas meditated for an hour first before he started crafting new rym runes in his rym pool. Six hours later, Bas sat on the roof of the apartment building, drenched in sweat, as he admired his work with his spiritual sense. He succeeded! He created a brand new Soul Record with his father's famed Death Sovereign Record as the core.
"This turned out a lot better than I thought," Bas was truly impressed with himself. He had never made a wood class record like this one. It had strength comparable to a bronze class arte without actually being one. It was truly overbearing. Every imprint could evolve into a new hunter skill once Bas formulated them to completion. "This means I can create five hunter skills from this record alone. That's enough to support me until my soul power reaches level 50. This should be excellent. It looks a lot more demonic than my dad's record, though. Well, the War Sovereign Crown is still there, just morphed and cooler. It kind of looks like...horns? I think I knew of a similar being...I'll call this record the Evil Dragon Sovereign Record!"
BOOM!
As he used his soul to connect to a particular constellation he knew was related to the true Evil Dragon Sovereign, an unstoppable streak of white lightning suddenly crashed down on Bas' head, turning his entire world white.
🐉🐉🐉
"You're nothing but a wastrel!" after the world turned white, hazy images started clouding Bas' mind.
A handsome youth who looked 60% similar to Sebastian King sneered as he hurled insults. Seeing the youth's face, Bas felt a festering hatred that was definitely not his own. Bas himself didn't care much. He had seen far too many terrifying enemies, so this ordinary young man could not affect his mentality.
"No need to dirty your hands, big cuz!" an arrogant youth wearing combat armor stepped forward and pounded his chest confidently. "We will make this punk pay the price for daring to snatch your destiny."
"No...please, cousin Edward, don't do this! We can talk about things slowly!" came Bas' own yet slightly immature voice, shocking him thoroughly.
However, Bas soon realized this was the original Sebastian's voice calling out from within the vision. Apparently, he was watching these events through the eyes of Sebastian, like a movie shot in first-person that no one asked if he wanted to see before handcuffing him to a chair and starting it. Bas felt depressed.
Sebastian continued to beg and plead like a coward, unwilling to suffer pain for fear of death, "What would Auntie think about us fighting? She asked me to look after you!"
"You? Heh. Hahaha," Edward laughed like a maniac. "You think you can use that old bitch's words to persuade me? She is indeed my mother, and I am grateful to her. However, she is but a pretty and talented slave my father picked up to give birth to a worthy heir. I. Am. That. Heir. Trash like you is unworthy of my honorable status!"
Edward turned around and started to walk away before calling out behind him, "Cripple this bitch, then send him to my mother's doorstep. Let her make the report, bwahaha; reaching his father will take days."
"Heh heh heh," the callous laughter matched the evil eyes of Sebastian's cousins Tracy, Luther, and Rodney King as they beat the surprisingly resilient Sebastian to death for two hours. These were images burned into the young boy's soul.
The scene slowly faded to white again, and the next scene that appeared was a pitch-black space where a grey crystal seed was frozen in mid-air next to the flickering and fading silhouette of Sebastian King, who looked about twelve at this moment. The damaged soul of Sebastian was on the verge of departing from his body, as his subconscious said a prayer, "I hope that the ancestors can bestow me their favor. I have accomplished nothing in this life, and my wastrel existence has shamed my father and my mighty forefathers.
"My father has been plotted on, and his fate manipulated, all because he's trying to help me. The one who should be his heir is none more than a burden. I hope Daz can be better. I hope that in the next life, I am reborn a pharaoh! An existence that stands above all, whose light can never be snuffed out!"
"Ah, I remember this part," Bas nodded to himself.
As the soul's thoughts rang out, the grey crystal seed released a violet-golden light, transforming into a small amethyst flame.
"AHHHH!!" the soul of Sebastian screamed in agony as the amethyst flames engulfed him without a shred of mercy. "Oh, great ancestors, is this your blessing or your wrath? Our King clan was founded on the power of the sun. Somewhere down the line, slaughter became more important. Is this the sacred flame of mercy or retribution?"
Sebastian was suddenly able to say no more. No one could answer his questions. Just as well, Bas had no idea the lad was so dramatic.
The flames engulfing Sebastian suddenly rushed into his soul form, making him look like a burning man, violet-gold flames blazing at his transcendent atmosphere. He floated there dull and expressionless. At this moment, the soul of Sebastian King was already gone.
"Definitely an accident," Bas thought to himself, covering his eyes but peeking through the fingers. "Why would the kid cry right next to my dormant soul? No self-awareness; it's a shame. We could've been partners. It seems his prayer is what awoke me to his aid. Unfortunately, he was standing too close, and I directly assimilated him as I woke.
"Don't worry, kid, I know what you wish to tell me. I owe you your retribution, as you have suffered enough. I will slay your enemies. Rest assured. I promise you this, as the grand Pharaoh God Skylord Everflame! This will be the last thing I do for our old selves. After that, we live a new life as a new man."
Two hours after being struck by the white lightning, Bas awakened in his mother's bedroom. His mother sat at her desk brushing her long, wavy hair and reading the news on her mecha-hand while his older sister fussed. Her mask was removed, revealing her beautiful countenance. Bas appreciated his mother's splendor in silence momentarily before releasing a breath. With the genes of such a woman, Bas felt he was destined to be a beautiful creature adored by the masses.
Alas.
"You cannot expect little Bazzy to be a pacifist like you, mother. We cannot live out our lives in fear and desperation!" Mirocca harrumphed coldly.
"I am neither afraid *cough* nor desperate," Eureka replied calmly, ignoring her daughter's disrespectful attitude. "I simply do not wish my son to end up like his father."
"What's wrong with being like dad? Dad is such a strong man, a mighty hunter! He has always protected us with his all. If not for the elders plotting behind his back, would we even be here? Even if he is a despicable liar, a demonic killer, a devious schemer, and a backstabber..." Mirocca shouted back in frustration before taking a breath to calm down. "We should be proud that he's starting to remind us of Dad if we only talk about his strength. If Bazzy can reach the fourth class in a year, our so-called father will naturally let us return."
"What kind of life awaits us in the main family? I have no desire to return to there..." Eureka closed her eyes and spoke gently.
Mirocca was silent, as her mother would indeed suffer quite a bit if they returned to the Hunter's Society. However, that was only if their father didn't take note of her condition and do something about it. Or could it be their father who never actually cared for their mother? That her physical condition wasn't a concern of his?
"The mecha-hand...a standard hunter tool that works as a communication device and connects directly to the hunternet. It even has a bunch of cool games and apps. I must obtain one..." Bas paid minimal attention to the emotional conversation these women were having.
He had always wanted a Mecha-Hand and could hardly focus on anything else. There was no such invention back before he ascended. However, only fourth-class hunters were able to equip them. Therefore, Bas would have no choice but to wait.
"Oh?" Eureka turned around when she noticed her son's open and clear eyes in the mirror. Bas' previously brown eyes were now a dazzling violet-gold color. This startled his mother greatly; she forgot to speak for a breath or two. "Darling, what...what happened to you? Was that light earlier...what I think it was?"
"Hehe," Bas sat up and scratched his nose in a silly manner.