Chapter 126: Into the Void
Crelos stood over a simmering cauldron at the center of the All-room, now transformed into an expansive training field. His red eyes narrowed in concentration, his brow furrowed as he monitored the brew within.
"One more minute..."
He silently counted, his focus unshaken despite the constant explosions and shouts happening around him.
"Three... two... one. Alright! That's time!"
He quickly stepped back as the greenish liquid within the cauldron erupted. Jumping further to avoid the splash, he watched as it hit the ground, sizzling and emitting a faint smoke and sour odor.
Tem landed nearby, her body dripping from head to toe. Without hesitation, she sat cross-legged and closed her eyes. She immediately began practicing her martial technique, focusing her energy inward, not to absorb, but to purify. The faint green haze around her skin slowly began to fade as her aura stabilized.
"Don't stop until every last drop is cleansed," Crelos's voice was firm as he paced a slow circle around her. He glanced at her white undergarments, remarkably still intact—a feature he silently thanked Darius for preparing in advance.
Satisfied that Tem was proceeding as instructed, he allowed himself a brief moment to survey the rest of the training field. The scene before him was chaotic yet inspiring.
'These kids are incredible. Don't think I could've endured this at their age.'
His mind drifted momentarily to his own initiation into the Arcane Ascendancy System. The process had been grueling, though primarily mentally taxing. Watching these children, each enduring their own tailored trials, reinforced what Darius had told him: 'These children are truly meant for Arcane Cultivation.'
His eyes shifted to Milo, who just recently turned nine summers. The feline boy stood a short distance away, his ears twitching as he concentrated intently on the wooden sword in his hands. Step after step, thrust after thrust, his movements remained precise, unwavering in their repetition.
Crelos recalled the moment Milo first received the sword from Darius. The boy had dropped it immediately, his knees buckling under its surprising weight.
"It's heavier than it looks," Darius had said at the time, revealing that the wooden sword weighed over a hundred pounds.
Now, watching Milo sweat through his training, the strain visible in every fiber of his body, Crelos couldn't help but admire the boy's tenacity. Despite being drenched, his arms trembling with each swing, Milo persisted, his strikes shaky but determined. His resolve shone brighter than the exhaustion covering his face.
Crelos smirked. 'Stubborn, focused, and relentless. Sums that boy up perfectly. At least when he's training.'
The field was alive with determination, each child pushing themselves to their limits under the demanding regimen Darius had designed.
On the same side of the field as Milo was Tomp. Unlike the others, his cultivation technique was different, so Darius hadn't assigned him a martial technique yet, only a movement technique. Instead, he was given a fighting style tailored specifically to his abilities—a profound martial art designed just for him.
Tomp stood before an ironwood tree, his arms raised in a precise stance, his body turned sideways to the massive trunk. Taking a deep breath, he tensed, driving both hands downward into the bark, his fingers curling like claws. They struck the dense pine with a sharp crack, bouncing back painfully.
Crelos winced at the harsh sound, the image of fingertips striking solid ironwood making his skin crawl. Yet Tomp didn't hesitate. Without pause, he reset his stance and struck again, and again, the relentless rhythm of impact ringing out across the field.
Shaking off the uneasy image, Crelos's nose suddenly twitched at the acrid scent of burning hair. Turning his head, he spotted Leek across the field. The bear-like child was seated before a small, controlled campfire, his hands hovering just above the flames. His breaths were slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on his glowing palms.
Crelos focused on the boy's hands, which glowed slightly with heat, their surfaces almost red-hot. The hairs on his hands had been burned away, yet his skin remained intact. Looking closer, Crelos could see the fire mana cycling through his body, concentrated in his hands like two tiny forges.
"He couldn't have made something easier for them?" Crelos muttered under his breath, sighing as he glanced back at Tem. She was dry now, with only faint wisps of steam rising from her body.
'One bathes in poison, another burns himself, while another strikes ironwood trees with his bare hands. Weighted weapons...'
A sudden shout followed by a cry of pain drew his attention. His gaze snapped to another section of the field where Jass, Triss, and Lint were locked in a chaotic free-for-all.
He watched with a mix of awe and worry as each child moved with unique precision, their fighting styles as varied as their personalities. Triss, her stance firm, absorbed a strike from Jass with her feathered forearms crossed defensively. At the same moment, Lint darted behind her with ratlike agility, his fingers extended like a spear as he aimed for the back of her neck.
Just before his strike landed, Triss ducked, avoiding the surprise attack. Seeing Lint's intention with her fractal eyes, Jass kicked, using Triss's lowered shoulder to spring backward in a tight flip, narrowly dodging Lint's continuing attack. Meanwhile, Triss swept her leg behind her to knock Lint off balance, redirecting his strike mid-motion.
The exchange lasted only a single breath, their movements a blur of speed and precision. Watching the scene unfold, Crelos shook his head in amazement, his respect for the children growing with each passing moment.
A heavy thud rippled through the ground, snapping his attention toward Kilt. The boy stood panting, one arm propped against a massive boulder. Sweat dripped from his brow, trailing down his shirtless frame. Even at his young age, the definition of his muscles hinted at his relentless training and natural strength.
Taking a deep breath, Kilt squared his stance, wrapping his thick plated arms around the boulder's jagged surface. With a guttural shout, he hoisted it off the ground, muscles straining as he heaved it onto his shoulders. Holding the boulder aloft, he stood firm, his face a mix of determination and strain. Crelos managed to count to thirty before the boy finally let it crash back to the earth with a loud thud.
"He's got to be pushing at least five Cauldrons," Crelos muttered, half in amazement, half in concern. Standing among these extraordinary children, he couldn't shake a growing unease. "This training just seems a bit much to start with."
"I don't think Darius would give us anything we couldn't handle. Besides, he left you to watch over us, so what's to worry?"
Tem, her hair still damp from her earlier exercise, stood nearby. She approached the massive Cauldron, placing her hands on its dark rim. With surprising ease, she pulled herself up to peer inside. "We need to add more. I can feel the effect weakening."
Crelos frowned. "We're sticking to the regimen he gave us. Temper your patience, Tem. Darius already warned you about this. So just because he's not here doesn't mean you can start rushing things."
Rolling her eyes, she groaned. "I'll just finish what's left then." With a small hop, she leapt back inside, her tone dripping with exaggerated frustration.
Crelos couldn't help but smile at her antics, though his expression soon turned reflective. 'He was right. Her impatience blinds her to the present.'
A sudden bark of authority rang out. "Hold!" Glabe's commanding voice cut through the air as he jogged toward the sparring trio of Jass, Triss, and Lint. All three stood battered and bruised, their hair disheveled, their breaths labored. Each one glared daggers at the others, clearly unwilling to back down.
Glabe's sharp gaze swept over them. "Line up for healing, then fifteen minutes of meditation. After that, you'll each ask the others for advice on how to improve. And if I see any more reckless brawling, that'll be it for the day. Am I clear?"
The elf's tone left no room for argument. Sheepishly, the three children nodded, muttering in unison, "Yes, Glabe."
As they shuffled into a line, small nudges and quiet grumbles passed between them. Glabe ignored the minor squabbles, carefully applying a silvery liquid to their wounds, his demeanor stern but patient.
Watching the scene, a faint smile tugged at Crelos's lips, though it didn't linger. His expression soon darkened, worry creeping into his features. 'It's been a month already... I wonder how those two are doing?'
Since Darius and Haku left, time within the Vault had flown by. For the past month, Crelos had devoted himself entirely to guiding the children. While his nights were often consumed by study and worry, his days felt rewarding. Watching these young trainees grow and strive brought him a sense of purpose—something solid and genuine to look forward to.
Besides the two brothers, another member of their group had been noticeably absent. Since her conversation with Tem that day, Ursie had vanished into the lake's depths, her presence marked only by the erratic glow of her aura flickering beneath the water's surface. Her absence left a strange void, though no one dared disturb whatever process she was undergoing.
Daemen had also grown increasingly distant since Darius's departure. Most often, he could be found in the lodge's dining hall, resting beside Kahoon. His orb remained inert, even when others tried to speak to him. Over time, the group learned to leave him alone—if Daemen wasn't moving, it meant he was cultivating.
The farm had settled into a routine. Training consumed their days, with Glabe and Crelos diligently following the detailed instructions Darius had left for them. The steady progress of their efforts was a source of satisfaction for both mentors, who often spent long nights discussing the children's training plans for the next day. Each child's unique strengths and challenges brought fresh ideas and adjustments, keeping the process dynamic and engaging.
Yet not everyone had found their stride. The only one adrift, besides the ever-resting Kahoon, was Neko. The lightning weasel seemed to lack direction, his purpose unclear. With no concrete understanding of what kind of mana-beast he was or what his growth potential might be, Darius hadn't been able to develop a training regimen for him. As a result, Neko spent his days lazily napping, only springing to life during the brief moments when the children took breaks for meals or rest.
As Crelos's mind drifted from the weasel while keeping track of the minutes for Tem, he turned to observe the trio as they wrapped up their meditation. A sense of pride swelled in his chest as he watched them begin to exchange advice, their focus genuine and their words thoughtful. He chuckled as their excitement took over, the trio soon diving back into sparring with renewed energy. Each displayed small yet noticeable improvements, applying the tips they'd shared moments ago.
The lively sounds of their voices, the clash of their strikes, and the occasional grunts or curses blended into the ambient chaos of the training field. Although the unpredictability of their sparring occasionally startled him, it also filled him with a sense of purpose. 'Teaching... this doesn't feel so bad. The first Arcane Ascended, huh?... Mystic Ascended... Pure Ascended? Yeah, I'll leave that to Darius.'
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as his brow shot up, realization dawning on him. He clapped his hands sharply and called out, "Time!"
----
At the same time Tem leapt from her poisonous brew, Haku sat cross-legged in the endless void, his brows softening as he exhaled. 'Finally. That was intense.'
Replacing his calm, a satisfied grin crept across his face. 'But completely worth it.' Turning his focus inward, he examined his core, a thrill of excitement coursing through him. 'In one sitting, I've gone from the beginning of the second layer to nearly perfecting it!'
Opening his eyes, he was met with a world of deep blue, his flames dominating the void, having pushed back and consumed the cloud that once threatened him. A grin spread across his face as he surveyed the scene. "Well? I know you're watching. I appreciate you letting me stick around this long, but if you don't mind, I'd like to leave now."
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Labrys's grating voice answered, dripping with irritation. "I should leave you to rot in here."
Haku's grin widened, his confidence unchecked. "We both know if you really wanted me dead, you'd have done it already. Look, can I just say I'm sorry for the...low blow? Maybe stop trying to kill me? I was actually excited to train under you, you know? The legendary Stone Tyrant teaching me? Then the first thing you do is try to cut me in half? What did I even do?"
Labrys's consciousness hovered, clearly conflicted. The ember-fox's casual banter made him feel more like a petty bully than a fearsome guardian. "Well, as long as you understand your mistake."
Without warning, Haku's surroundings twisted violently. It felt as though he were being sucked into a vortex and spat out in an instant. Disoriented, he tumbled onto solid ground, growing back to his regular form as he landed. Shaking the spit from his fur, he glared up at Labrys. "Your mouth? Really?"
Ignoring the complaint, Labrys opened his mouth again, this time releasing waves of steam and heat as his gaunt, skeletal form shifted. Stone began to protrude from his skin, muscles swelling as his armor re-formed with loud, unnerving cracks. His horns stretched, curling menacingly as he stomped the ground, fully returned to his robust, original shape as the muscle and skin of his face reformed.
"Speak!" He demanded, his molten eyes burning with intensity. "How did you counter my attack? And how did you consume my wraith?"
Looking up at the towering figure, Haku tilted his head, nonchalant. "Sorry, but those secrets are mine. Let's just say I got lucky."
"Lucky?" Labrys asked through gritted teeth, his voice shaking the air.
"Lucky," Haku repeated with a shrug. "By the way, what was that stuff that dissolved all my skin? Darius is definitely going to want to know once I tell him. You might as well spill the details now, or he's going to bug you nonstop, and I mean nonstop. You know the type—always curious, always wanting to know how this or that works. You know, one time he even went so far—"
"Enough!" Labrys bellowed, his horns swinging. "Stop talking, and I'll tell you!"
Haku grinned triumphantly as the guardian continued, his tone begrudging. "What you consumed was my wraith, a being made of pure Void. It's a higher form of mana, beyond the elements."
The ember-fox's ears perked up, his curiosity piqued. "Void? It felt... like that. Dark, endless... Is it death? Did I just absorb death?!"
Labrys snorted, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "Void isn't something as simple as death, little kit. And don't mistake it for something evil. Void is the natural progression, the ultimate destination of all elements. It exists alongside them, yet it's separate. But it's not something you should concern yourself with. I can tell you consumed every trace of it without retaining any. You'll never wield it."
Haku frowned, unconvinced. "Even so, I did almost die from it. Don't you think I should at least know more about what tried to kill me?"
Labrys grunted, dismissive. "Ask your human. If he's as clever as they say, he'll figure it out. But know this: in all the Lithic Bastion, I alone can wield Void. And unless you have a bloodline like mine, you'd need mastery of all five elements to even begin to touch it."
As Labrys's words sunk in, Haku's glowing eyes narrowed, his thoughts racing. 'Mastery of all five elements?'
A realization struck him like lightning. 'I think I just figured out part of why they need Darius. It's gotta be this Void!'