by L. M. Kerr
There existed a small, gaunt mountain. Despite the gathering storm clouds above, the rain seemed to avoid this mountain like the plague, not a drop of water daring to stain it.
This mountain, more like a small hill than a real mountain, was tucked in the outermost northern edge of the Dragon Mountains. It was dotted with boulders and rocks, crevices and ledges, with little greenery. The mystical fog that covered the Dragon Mountains avoided this mountain, making it a rather unattractive haunt for any Magic Beasts.
On the peak of this mountain, one man sat alone, resting peacefully.
This man wore a handsome set of golden pants, adorned in lace, accompanying an expertly sewn white silk shirt. These clothes rested loosely on the man’s slender frame as he sat there, a stern frown appearing on a pale, lined face.
Despite the rich clothes and ease the man held himself up with, dark bags rested under this man’s eyes. His face looked almost sickly, carrying sad blue eyes and thin pale lips that jarred with his hooked nose and hollow cheeks, capped by a head of razor-short brown hair. With this visage resting on his delicately thin frame, the man looked nothing like one might expect of an elite warrior from the Beasts of Providence.
At the feet of this tired-looking man were a few broken bits of metal, some shaped almost like rings.
“Don’t you know when to give up, friend?” The man’s words echoed in the air as he seemingly spoke to himself while making light, effeminate, gestures. He sighed dramatically when he got no response.
“I guess, in the end, I still have to leave, huh? I can’t just keep sitting around, okay, okay.” The man yawned as he got up, stretching his arms and legs with a rather cavalier attitude that belied his deathly appearance.
He held his hand out to the side.
Abruptly, from seemingly thin air, a mask appeared, made in the same style as the rest of the masks of the Beasts of Providence.
A plain mask with the image of an animal stained upon it.
Or, rather, the image of a creature, for what adorned this mask was no true beast at all.
Instead, it held the image of an insect.
A Praying Mantis.
The man donned this mask, strapping it on with hands that carried the smallest hint of reluctance.
As soon as it covered his face, the man’s attitude seemed to shift. The cavalier aspects of his personality seemed to multiply a thousand-fold, a cheerful air forming around him. A set of well-fitted armor appeared on his body, gear that, if nothing else, made the man no longer look as if he might perish to a stiff breeze.
Finally, a rapier appeared on his hip, one he promptly drew as he turned to look down from the mountain peak.
“I’ve been told I’m a rather lucky man, friend. Unlikely things tend to... happen... around me with surprising frequency.” Mantis’ voice held almost a hint of delight as his eyes zeroed in on the figure of a man moving up the mountain towards him. Mantis continued to speak,
“Your arrival now, this oddly specific timing… alas, it seems Fate still toys with me yet. My destiny awaits.”
If one were to compare two humans, most would be hard-pressed to find a better example of two polar opposites when looking between Mantis and the man walking up towards him.
This new man was lean, but solidly proportioned and muscular, dressed in a drab grey set of metal armor. He had shoulder-length, well-maintained golden hair and a strong, matching beard. His face was handsome, with a powerful jawline and glowing tan skin that appeared to be the very picture of health and masculinity. He had eyes that shined a mix of gold and blue, powerful vitality itself seeming to pulsate from his body.
“Is that so?” A deep voice echoed out from the intruder as he continued his slow, steady trudge towards Mantis. The golden-haired man conveyed a sense of calm, collected confidence, relentlessly pressing forward as he crossed the halfway point.
“You have a gift for me, yes?” Mantis changed the subject as he threw his hands out wide, his body twirling. His hands seemed to flutter about after he finished speaking, finishing his twirl with a small bow. The smile on his face might be hidden by his mask yet nevertheless was visible all the same.
“Indeed. Your eyes see far and wide.” The blonde-haired man stared genially back as he tapped on a Spatial Ring on his right hand. By this point, he was only twenty or so meters below Mantis, coming to a stop as he stood on a large ledge and looking up at the reedy warrior.
Three thuds echoed out as several objects hit the ground next to the intruder.
Mantis remained smiling as he looked down the mountain, keeping the blonde-haired man in sight at all times, as he glanced at what had fallen.
Three masks.
Two of these masks held the painted image of ferocious wolves on them, a normal type of mask some members of the Beasts of Providence might wear.
The third mask was unique.
In lieu of any type of design at all, there was only an image of complete darkness absorbing everything, now mixed with a very faint hint of red.
“A pity.” Mantis sighed as he looked at the three masks, sadly shaking his head.
“Do you know how hard it is to find an Evolved Vampire, let alone a Unique Evolved Vampire that can borrow the Abilities of those she bites? Sansa’s potential will be sorely missed.” Mantis winced, his hands twitching ever so slightly as he shook his head.
A moment later, his cheerful demeanor returned in full force, his dazzling attitude appearing as if it had never left.
“It’s not very polite of you to kill one of humanity’s Barons the first time you meet her, you know. We only have fou-” Mantis cut himself off as he looked back at the three masks and then cheerfully shrugged, continuing,
“Well, we only have three of them now, but we used to have four. The Syndicates are going to throw a fit. You’ve made such a mess.” He reproachfully wagged a finger at the blonde-haired man, ‘tsking’ several times.
“She was a worthy opponent, but far too dependent on her Abilities and strength. She lacked the mindfulness, the constant vigilance, that a warrior needs to survive.” The intruder didn’t appear to have heard what Mantis said, instead completely ignoring the reedy warrior and electing to turn around as he spoke, taking this moment to look out at the world beyond, a hint of longing appearing on his face.
Far in the distance, faint, festive flashes of light from the Farian Life Festival could just barely be seen, blips of color that the rain from above struggled to drown out.
The intruder completely left himself open to attack as he did this, paying zero attention to Mantis as he continued to study the surroundings.
Mantis sheathed his rapier when he saw this, putting his hands on his hips, shaking his head petulantly.
“Friend, if you aren’t going to attack me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to move along. I’ve rented this mountain for the entire night, which makes this here private property, and I just so happen to be a bit pressed for time right now.” Mantis knelt down and affectionately patted the rocky ground beneath him. He then made a shooing motion at the man below him.
The golden-haired man didn’t turn around as he replied, but continued to look out and away,
“No, I don’t think I will.” His voice boomed out, rumbling in the air,
“I’ve come here to ask questions that only you can answer.” His voice never wavered, as if he felt he wasn’t in any type of danger. Despite not giving off any type of tangible energy, the air around the intruder abruptly seemed to grow still.
All of a sudden, his very presence seemed to look gigantic, emanating an incredibly keen feeling of threat and danger despite the fact that he was looking away.
Mantis tilted his head slightly to the side at this, shrugging it off without missing a beat as he pulled his rapier back out of his sheath.
“Well, as I said. Your timing really is not the best. I’m not allowed to wait any longer.” Mantis raised his rapier in front of his body, holding the weapon almost as if h
e was about to drop it, as he continued,
“I’ve never been that good at violence. Still, let’s introduce ourselves before one of us dies, it’s the polite thing to do.” Mantis began to stalk towards the golden-haired man, using his free, non-rapier hand to pat his own chest in a rather self-satisfied manner,
“Hi, I’m Mantis, nice to meet you. You are...?” Mantis paused, his body coming to an exaggerated halt as he looked at the golden-haired man expectantly.
Finally, the intruder turned around. Two black swords appeared in his hands, each one glowing with a dark, but beautiful, luster.
“Unfortunately for you, I appear to have gained quite the penchant for violence. Learning from my mistakes, I suppose.” The blonde-haired warrior took a casual step towards Mantis, the air around him swelling with energy.
At the same time, the air around both warriors began to vibrate as two powerful Sky Tier Ki fluctuated around either of them. Despite the fact that battle seemed mere seconds from breaking out, neither warrior had adopted anything resembling a combat stance. Both held their weapons loosely to the side, approaching each other as if they were long-time friends.
“Oh, you’ve been beaten before, huh? Well, that’s good news for me.” Mantis nodded his head jovially, adding one last line as he began to walk forward again, only 15 meters away from the intruder,
“Perhaps I’ll get lucky.”
The blonde-haired warrior shrugged, his muscular shoulders rolling back so fluidly the movement looked like it would be more at home on a jungle cat than a human.
“Perhaps.” The intruder replied, his voice non-committal.
The warriors continued to walk towards each other. The energy in the air grew, tangible, physical pressure swooping in and setting the wind to crackling.
Finally, when they were only 8 meters apart, the golden-haired man spoke up, his voice carrying in the air,
“I gave up my real name long ago.”
Both warriors took a few more steps forward, the distance between them narrowing to only 5 meters.
The ground beneath them began to tremble.
“These days…” He continued speaking as a golden aura of light began to mix with his Sky Tier Ki, giving off energy that caused even Mantis to pause, though only briefly, before the thin warrior resumed his carefree march.
The energy he drew on was powerful.
It was ancient.
It was mighty.
This energy was clearly only a remnant of a bygone era, yet it held such glorious splendor, hinting at power that reigned supreme, giving a glimpse of the potential that could yet be restored.
It was an awe-inspiring type of energy that Micheal would’ve instantly recognized, had he been present, unforgettable sensations that could only come from one thing:
Draconic Energy.
“These days, I go by Prime.”
The distance between the two warriors closed.
Prime smiled.
“Nice to meet you too, Beast King.”
The mountain peak exploded.
.
Chapter 57
Micheal’s face remained expressionless as he sat in his accelerated Time Bubble, not revealing the shock that sparked inside of him.
Yvvtal’s ominous presence was something Micheal had pushed to the back of his mind, helpless to do anything about. The ancient Toren never tried to distract Micheal or interfere with his battles, despite having the power to do so.
This was the first time The Destroyer had ever messaged him during such a serious moment.
‘Yes, this is what I would call a problem.’ Micheal mentally thought back, gaining control of his emotions. He still wasn’t entirely certain what all Yvvtal could sense from his mind, apart from the thoughts he directed at the Spirit Body of the old Toren.
‘Is there a reason you’ve decided to talk now?’ Micheal didn’t dance around the issue.
Micheal felt Yvvtal’s presence within him seem to shrug, an odd sensation to feel, as the ancient warrior returned,
‘I’ve been studying you for a long time, young human. Your Human Soul is odd, stained by time in ways that go far beyond my understanding. I’ve watched new marks appear and then vanish each time you die, spent days observing a huge, frozen scar that seemed, impossibly, to be older than your Soul itself…’ Yvvtal sighed again,
‘I’ve learned little. When I owned it, I could barely use the Brand of Janus, yet now I feel like it wasn't even a tenth as complex as the mysteries you hide.’ The old Toren conveyed an image of him shaking his head in a befuddled manner.
Micheal heard Yvvtal’s words as fast as he could think them, communication that took place in an instant. His heart skipped a beat as he realized what the warrior was talking about, something that made his skin crawl.
Small ‘stains’ of time formed each time he died… that had to be his Life Orbs, a process Micheal was more than happy to admit he didn’t understand.
As for the massive, permanent scar, one that felt impossibly older than his Soul itself…
Well, if nothing else, he certainly knew what that was from.
‘You don’t want me with you and, quite frankly, I don’t want to be with you either.’ Yvvtal added, ignoring Micheal’s shocked silence, if the Fallen Deity sensed it at all.
‘So how about you and I have a… compromise?’ Yvvtal’s presence became a little stronger, hovering within Micheal’s awareness as the Toren spoke in a slightly friendlier tone.
‘A compromise?’ Micheal thought back, forcing himself to keep thinking.
‘Yes.’ Micheal could feel Yvvtal’s focus turn away from Micheal and shift to the silver cocoon of energy nearby.
‘You have an enemy you need to get rid of. I need a new body.’ Yvvtal’s words took on a cool, logical layer as he continued,
‘This man controls an Aura I am very much interested in, while bearing a Soul strengthened enough to maintain my transfer.’ Yvvtal added another line, one that resonated within Micheal, the most convincing of all,
‘Transferring my glorious Spirit Body so soon carries danger at every step and would verge on suicidal in most cases. With this potential host, however, there just so happens to be a very interesting entity fused within them, one I should be able to use to resolve that.’ Yvvtal seemed to smile,
‘You get what you want, I get what I want, and we call it even. You can keep the Brand, I found little enough use out of it anyway, and I’ll bury my anger at the tricks you pulled.’ Yvvtal finished.
Micheal frowned as he finally managed to think about the offer, weighing it with the observations Yvvtal had made of his own Soul.
The fact that a potentially hostile entity was waiting inside of him, watching his every action, staring deep into things that no one should be staring at…
It wasn’t optimal, to say the least.
Micheal’s eyes flickered as he looked down at the silver energy cocoon, detecting more changes within it.
The light it gave off was slowly building in intensity, a sign that its user was preparing to turn it off. From what he sensed, Micheal guessed that he had around 20 seconds before the Celestial Silverback Type user regained control and maybe 30-40 seconds until the man deactivated the energy cocoon. That recovery time was better than Micheal had hoped for, but still felt all too short.
‘What do you need me to do?’ Micheal asked one last question, his mind clearing as he began to make a decision.
He weighed the dangers of letting Yvvtal go free while also considering what he knew about the ancient Toren’s true personality and history, how the warrior had claimed to have seen the ‘Truth,’ a vision of the future that was unnervingly accurate, and how the Toren ended up taking on a mission to wipe out his own kind as a result.
Letting Yvvtal roam free… that wasn’t optimal either, assuming this worked at all. It was a hasty plan with seemingly endless variables. However weak the Toren seemed now, he was still the most prolific murderer of a race that went on to becom
e one of the legendary 12 Tribes of Deities.
However…
It was still better than the only other alternative.
Yvvtal’s new existence might even prove to be a boon, one day, when humanity and the Tribes of Deities began to cross paths.
Micheal felt Yvvtal’s smile expand as the ancient Toren processed his response. The elderly warrior responded immediately.
‘Transferring my Spirit Body should prove easy enough for you, young human.’ The aged voice echoed out, carrying a faint hint of amusement as Micheal allowed the Toren to transfer a list of information directly into his mind,
‘First, you need to die…’
.. .. .. .. .. ..
“Tanin, are you alright?!” Myla helped the Shadow Captain to his feet, her breathing haphazard.
The Farian warrior was covered in a swathe of soothing red flames, his legs growing steadier every second as he hobbled up. Sweat dripped down his face, his eyes barely focused as he looked around.
“Yes, nearly so.” Tanin coughed, blood spurting from his lips as a pulsating Blood Aura began to form around him. The warrior jerked his right hand towards the center of the room, adding,
“Who is he? He and the silver human don’t look like friends. He had the chance to kill me but didn’t take it.” The Shadow Captain’s eyes never left Micheal and the silver cocoon next to him.
Myla turned around to look in the same direction, her mouth drawing thin. A look of pure exasperation and confusion appeared at the same time.
“I don’t… I… I have literally no idea…” She finished lamely, her wizened eyes twitching in irrational anger as she glared at Micheal.
At least when they were being attacked, things made sense to her. For some reason, as the Wise Lady studied the green-robed human standing in the center of the room, she gathered the vague impression that absurd situations like this were not at all a rare sight around him.
“Did you feel the power of his last attack? I don’t think I could block half of that, even if I had time to prepare.” Tanin stumbled slightly as he held his hands out to the side, refusing to lean on Myla any further.