Chapter 113: Reflections of a Fallen God
Glabe sat within the lodge, his hands clasped tightly together as he focused, a soft yellow light seeping out from between his fingers.
Across the dining hall, Neko and Kahoon lay sprawled in the corner, nestled in a cozy bed of straw and leaves, both sound asleep and cuddled warmly.
Beside the two, Daemen's glowing orb pulsed, settled quietly on the ground. Within it, his ethereal image sat in a lotus position, eyes closed, his expression calm and intent as he immersed himself in silent comprehension.
"There…" Glabe murmured as he slowly opened his hands. The yellow glow faded, revealing five small seeds, each one dimming slowly.
Setting them carefully onto a plate, the new seeds joined a pile of others, each unique in size and shape. Glabe wiped the sweat from his brow, brushing a stray strand of green hair back from his face. Leaning back, he stretched his arms with a sigh.
"How many of these does he need?"
Shaking the stress from his hands, he gathered the seeds into a small leather bag. A brief smile crossed his face as he glanced at the sleeping pair, but his gaze soon drifted toward the window, growing distant.
'What a strange life I'm leading,' he thought, fingers unconsciously reaching up to brush his ear. His expression darkened slightly. 'If I can go back, maybe all of this will be worth it. But this time...'
His fists tightened as he stood. Casting one more look toward Neko and Kahoon, he turned and made his way to check on the children's progress.
Stepping out onto the raised landing, Glabe looked down from the lodge steps, his somber expression melting into one of awe.
"He did it."
The field before him pulsed with mana, each of the eight children—Tem, Tomp, Kilt, Milo, Lint, Leek, Jass, and Triss—seated within their own element.
Tem and Tomp sat within rippling, translucent pools, each surrounded by a thin veil of water that danced like liquid glass. Around Kilt and Lint, the earth seemed to hum and pulse, small stones floating up and orbiting them in rhythmic patterns.
Leek and Milo sat amidst flickering embers, a shifting halo of flame that was in harmony with their breaths. Jass sat within a gentle breeze that wrapped around her, lifting her hair and whispering like a living spirit. Triss was cloaked in a storm of sparks, jagged arcs of purple lightning weaving around her.
And in the center, Darius stood tall, watching over them, his presence calm yet commanding as he held the space with an air of authority. The gathered elements crackled and boiled around him, making the air thick with mana.
It was a sight of pure power and potential—children, barely at the beginning of their journey, each one wrapped in the force of their birthright. Glabe could hardly breathe, the wonder and intensity of it filling his chest with a mixture of pride and disbelief.
Reflecting on his choice to stay, Glabe felt a wave of relief wash over him. 'I made the right choice.'
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Darius vanished from view. From his position, he could see the entire field—yet Darius was simply gone. Blinking in confusion, he rubbed his eyes and scanned. "Where'd he go?"
"Right here."
"Usdi!" Glabe jolted to the side, clutching his chest as he glared. "Is sneaking up on people some kind of family tradition with Haku and you?"
"Usdi?" Darius echoed with a slight smile, tilting his head. "Elvish, isn't it? And sorry, it's just an old habit." He strolled over to the railing of the landing and leaned against it, gazing out across the field. "Did you finish?"
Watching him closely, Glabe nodded, steadying his breath. "Three hundred seeds, as requested." He took in Darius's aura, the air around him radiating a calm intensity. Glabe's brows rose, impressed. "Your aura... it's so stable."
Darius raised his hand, summoning each element at his fingertips in a controlled, flickering dance. "I'm curious," he said, glancing back at Glabe. "As an elf, how do your people view humanity's use of mana?"
Glabe's nose wrinkled slightly, a hint of disdain slipping into his tone. "Barbaric and destructive. When humans use mana, it's as though they're forcing it against its own nature. Mana carries the weight of their methods, twisting the essence of magic itself."
"Explain," Darius said, his eyes sparking with interest as he turned to face him fully.
Straightening slightly under Darius's gaze, Glabe took a breath before he answered. "To my people, mana is a sacred gift from Gaia and our ancestors. When we draw upon it, we do so in harmony, mindful of the cost, a cost that we bear. Humans ignore this, imposing their will in a way that shifts that burden to mana itself—leaving it altered, sometimes even... scarred."
A thoughtful look crossed Darius's face. 'Even the Elves are aware...' Nodding, he turned back to the field. "Cultivation, at its core, is a journey to conquer oneself, not to dominate the world around us. Yet humanity has built its foundation on achieving self-mastery through subjugation of their surroundings."
Pausing, he raised his hand, a soft glow emanating as his aura perfectly reflected each element. "My aura is the result of this truth. By achieving harmony, rather than dominance, it's become a pure extension of my will." Noticing Glabe's dazed look, he chuckled softly. "To put it simply, I now have perfect control over my aura."
Shaking himself from his trance, Glabe gave a sheepish smile. "Will the children be like you?"
"Hopefully," Darius replied, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips, "and hopefully you as well." He touched his pouch, retrieving a multi-paged scroll and handed it to Glabe. "This is different from what I gave them."
Glabe took a moment, intensely studying the scroll before gently accepting it. "How so?"
"These pages are truly blank."
The reverence in Glabe's expression faded, replaced with mild confusion as he cleared his throat. "I'm... not sure I understand."
"There's one key difference between you and them. Do you know what that is?"
"I'm an elf, and they're werefolk?"
Darius shook his head. "No. It's that you're an adult." His gaze shifted to the children scattered across the field, a warm smile touching his face. "They're blank canvases, so creating their paths was straightforward. But you—you've lived. Relationships, experiences, skills, beliefs—these have shaped you over the years."
He gestured toward the scroll in Glabe's hand. "I want you to fill those pages with your life. I need you to tell me everything there is to know about you, Glabe." Turning to face him, Darius's expression turned serious, his gaze steady. "I know there's a hatred within you, and something tells me it's complicated. I won't ask for what you're not ready to share—we all have secrets."
Darius stepped away, descending the stairs, his voice drifting over his shoulder. "But if you want something crafted truly for you, I'd suggest sharing as much as you're willing."
Glabe watched Darius return to the children, a quiet intensity in his eyes as he looked down at the scroll in his hand. A strange tightness filled his chest. "Something... just for me." Gripping the scrolls, he turned and headed back into the lodge.
Out in the field, Darius observed the flames flicker around Milo, his mana sense tracing Glabe's steps as he re-entered the lodge. 'Let's see who you really are,' a faint smile curving his lips. 'I think he'll need more paper.'
The next few days slipped by in a steady rhythm: the children focused intently on their cultivation under Darius's watch, Glabe busily recorded his life story, quickly running out of paper as Darius had foreseen, and Haku and Crelos etched intricate arrays across the Pavilion, Pagoda, and Lodge, the symbols steadily covering every surface. Meanwhile, Neko, Daemen and Kahoon alternated between playful mischief and long naps, frequently appearing to disrupt Haku and Crelos's work.
On the third night, the lodge had grown quiet. The children, though strengthening daily, still needed rest, and Darius had made sure they turned in for the night. Glabe remained absorbed in his writing, while Darius, Daemen and Crelos, along with Haku and the two beasts, gathered around the lodge's fireplace, its glow casting a warm, shifting light across the room.
Neko sprawled on the floor, nibbling on a sparking purple crystal, while Kahoon, curled up beside him, happily chewed a massive leaf, his fluffy white fur and wings shaking with each bite.
"How are they doing?" Crelos asked, seated on a bench close to the fire, absentmindedly manipulating the flames.
"They should be ready to break through soon. In a few days, I'll leave the Vault to speak with Barrond," Darius replied from across the hearth, casually scratching Haku's ears as the fox leaned against him.
"Agarttha?" Haku mumbled, his tongue hanging out as he squinted.
Touching his pouch, Darius summoned a piece of jerky, offering it to him with a soft smile. "I want to see how far their sincerity goes."
Looking between the pair, with Daemen's floating orb casting a faint glow between them, Crelos rubbed his temples, "I just have to ask… what was it like? Having all that power, reaching the peak, then… being reborn? Starting from scratch?"
"...Refreshing."
Catching Crelos's look of confusion, he added with a faint smile, "I'd reached the end of my life. Waking up to another one was a shock, yes, but ultimately, it's a gift."
Crelos shook his head, an uncontrollable grin spreading across his face as he leaned in. "But you lived for centuries, saw things no one else could dream of. The idea of all that knowledge… all that experience, locked up inside a baby somewhere—kinda freaks me out."
Darius laughed, "I won't lie; my first years here were… frustrating, to put it mildly. Truthfully, they were awful. But a second chance? It's worth any hardship."
Crelos's eyes glowed with curiosity. "Do you have any idea how it happened? How you ended up here?"
"He doesn't know," Daemen interjected, his orb pausing beside Darius. "We kinda just… woke up here."
Darius nodded. "That's mostly right. You see, in Penglai, when I died, I was supposed to appear before Old Lady Meng, who would have served me the tea of forgetfulness. This would have wiped away my memories so that I could reincarnate. And believe me, that's not just a tale—it's something known as truth. I myself had served tea for Old Lady Meng."
Haku's ears perked up, his muzzle curling into a sly grin as he finished the jerky. "Maybe she just didn't like your tea, decided to mess with you." He chuckled, licking his chops. "Said, 'Fuck that guy,' when it was your turn."
"All I know, is instead I felt a pull from this world," Darius shrugged, extending his hands toward the fire and rubbing them together slowly. "And the next thing I knew, I was born here."
Crelos leaned forward, "I gotta know… at your absolute peak, just how powerful were you?"
Darius paused, a faint smile crossing his face. "Funny enough, my most powerful feat was my death."
Crelos's face twisted with confusion, about to press him further, but Haku cut in, smirking. "Think of it this way. When you hit the peak of cultivation in Penglai, flicking a finger to level a country is nothing. So, when big brother died, he took direct attacks from over eight cultivators just like him before his body finally exploded. And I'm not talking about simple flicks, either—I mean their strongest attacks."
Darius waved off the comment, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. "More like five attacks, honestly. But I was defenseless. My attention was fully on my final formation at the time."
"Huh," Crelos leaned back, trying to play it cool, though his dimming eyes betrayed his disappointment. "That does sound… impressive."
Noting the skepticism still lurking in his expression, Darius narrowed his eyes. "There was also that time I took on the entire Heavenly Court alone. My idiot disciple had gone and offended one of their generals and got himself captured. I must have cut down at least a thousand gods and goddesses that day."
Crelos's aura flared with excitement, his eyes widening. "You keep mentioning gods and goddesses, but they're not really gods, right? Just titles?"
Darius's tone was casual, dismissive. "No. Real gods. Born immortal, with powers enough to drown the land and dry the seas. Spoiled, self-righteous, pompous skirts, if you ask me."
"But… how could you kill a god? That doesn't even make sense."
"Ah, and that's the heart of it, young Crelos," Darius said, leaning back, his words slow and deliberate. "If an 'Immortal' can die… can they truly call themselves Immortal?"
Crelos considered this, his expression flattening as he took in the weight of his question. "I guess… you couldn't."
Darius sighed deeply, his face shifting, becoming darker, more distant. "Truth be told, I hated that place," a rare bitterness creeping into his tone. "The entire world and everyone in it. From the moment I was born, every step forward meant someone trying to kill me—every single step."
Haku's ears perked up, and he sat up straighter, his usual lightheartedness giving way to a focused silence. Even Daemen's orb dimmed, as though listening more intently.
"In Penglai," he continued, his voice like a low, simmering current, "the idea of 'might makes right' is taken to an extreme—a twisted, perverted one. Lives extinguished daily, entire civilizations erased, souls sacrificed without a thought, just to satisfy some cultivator's ambition or whim. It was a constant cycle of power and cruelty, and it sickened me."
'Too bad you were reborn here.' Crelos nodded, his tone subdued, "doesn't sound much different from Gaia."
Darius's sudden burst of laughter caught him off guard. Crelos blinked, watching in surprise as the usually composed teen laughed uncontrollably with genuine amusement.
"Oh, you have no idea how wrong you are," a wry smile lingering as he fidgeted with his signet ring. "No place is perfect, I'll grant you that, but Gaia is a peaceful garden compared to Penglai."
His expression darkened, the shadows of the fire flickering across his face. "During the first half of my life as Xue Feng, I was just like them—filled with pride, roaming the world as if it were my personal treasure trove to plunder." His gaze swept over the group, steady and unflinching. "In those years, I lost track of the lives I'd taken. After a million, it no longer mattered. Whole cities, entire countries, armies as vast as the horizon—all of them fell to my hands. I'd wager there isn't a soul on Gaia who's come close to extinguishing the amount of life I have."
A heavy silence fell over the room, the weight of his words settling like a dark shroud. It was as if, for the first time, they were truly seeing him—a being touched by the kind of power and bloodshed they could hardly fathom.
"It wasn't until I suffered my first true defeat," he continued quietly, "that I realized how empty it all was. All that bravado, all that death, centuries spent in endless pursuit of power and immortality—it could be made meaningless in an instant." He paused, his voice growing softer. "In that moment, I felt the weight of every life I'd taken... and my Dao Heart broke."