" ...[Mana Type: Fire (awakened), Wind (awakened), Water (dormant) and Earth (dormant).]
[Sword Style: The style of the Ezurewrath (novice) ]
[Soul shards: Orc soul shard: Rank: Ascendant]"
Xerxes staggered; his breath was caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. His knees buckled, nearly sending him crashing to the ground. Not from pain, but from sheer shock.
No one could blame him. Most wouldn't have stayed standing.
After all, wind itself now answered to him. Born not from training, nor from anything else besides something that lies within him.
"I'm a dual mage... Are you seeing this? Well, even experiencing? Whatever you do, can you sense this, Airi?"
Airi was as baffled as Xerxes, trying to make sense of this. "Well, the man inside your soul core said he would give you some rewards, right? What if this was it?"
Xerxes immediately knew that it was likely—but how? How could he be a catalyst for awakening another mana affinity? And what was even odder, he noticed the voice saying sword style: The Style of the Ezurewrath.
"Airi, I guess we have some sort of answer. Ezurewrath—these 'Ezurewrath' are, or were, definitely a group of people who were either deeply connected to mana and the origins of it, or something greater. Whatever it is, we'll be in the dark for a while because of our inability to tell Aemon."
It was such a precarious situation—he couldn't tell Aemon about what had happened with his soul core, which would make things a whole lot easier.
Additionally, this new sword style—how would he even begin implementing it? Conrad would be the sort of person to help him with this conundrum, but even he was off-limits.
"I guess we're going to have to test out my new abilities. There's somewhere we can go to, and we can see what this 'Ascendant' means on the soul shard."
Airi nodded her head as the two of them did their best to sneak out of the castle unnoticed. Xerxes wasn't sure what to even feel—there were too many questions that stemmed from his soul core and the impending separation he would need to commit to.
'Leave with Leiya Truth in three months.' But how could he? There was still too much to do—he still needed to thank the entirety of the Truth family and repay his debt.
Was it really the wisest decision to follow this man without any defiance?
Or had destiny brought him onto this path? And even if he refused to heed his advice, would destiny still play out as it wished?
The thought gave Xerxes a similar feeling to vanity—if everything was written by destiny, then would there ever be anything he could do to change the outcome? But the idea in itself was foolish. There wasn't anything Xerxes could do against such an abstract concept.
Not yet, at least.
A short while later, Airi and Xerxes continued on their path until they found themselves by the barrier, south of the castle. Xerxes put on his ring—the one that allowed passage in and out of the barrier—and readied himself.
"Airi, I'll need your badass fire if things go sideways. You good with that?"
There was a long, sleepy yawn. Then her tiny, sing-song voice drifted down like an insult wrapped in a lullaby.
"Wow. First, you scream like a goblin stepping on a rake because of your ascension to tier 5, and now you want me to fix your future mess too? What happened to how are you? Can I get you the most lovely food, Airi?!"
Xerxes didn't know that there was this provocative and quite childish side to Airi. Who would've thought?
He tutted his teeth and groaned, "Aren't you supposed to be my destined companion? What good is that if you don't help me?"
She dove down, flopping on his head, taking nest there and spoke, "Of course I will help you Xerx, not because you deserve it but because watching you flop around helplessly may stress me out even more!"
She gave his hair a slight sizzle for good measure
"Quite the joker today, Airi, but sure - don't tr toy get blown back by my power, though" He confidently said, stroking the golden feathers on her head.
"Let's kill some monsters, Airi."
Xerxes unsheathed his sword and activated his Orc soul shard. When gripping his sword, there was something innately different—he naturally opted for a narrower stance, one that was more side-on, and held the sword with one hand.
The blade was angled more upright rather than in a threatening position that pointed forward. He definitely found the shift in stance strange, but he accepted it. There was no point fighting against something that was now within his DNA.
That wasn't the only difference. There was a sudden rush of power that stemmed from the Orc soul shard—Xerxes' blood boiled with a different sense of malice, one he hadn't ever experienced before. It wasn't cold and calculating, but devastating and unkempt.
Xerxes exuded his power to attract beasts, still utilising the same tactics used by the outpost, and it didn't take long for mana beasts to approach him.
Creeping from the lines of trees, four mana beasts came huddled, their anger—palpable to all, ever-present since the fallen kingdom was founded.
Xerxes crouched down and said to Airi, "Airi, I'ma show you what I'm made of. You ready?"
The beasts edged closer and closer while Xerxes and Airi mocked them, deliberately engrossed in conversation.
Airi then said, "If you take longer than a minute, I may have to find a new master."
Xerxes scoffed. "As if."
The arm of a beast thrust from the side with a weight like no other—and in the next moment, not even understanding his own speed yet, Xerxes was airborne above the beast, totally outclassing it.
He aimed his hand downward and muttered, "Let's see what Tier 5 fire mana is made of."
Mana began rushing toward Xerxes' palm, and a physical difference he had noticed was that the veins carrying mana within his body were subtly glowing scarlet.
Xerxes poured all his mana into that point and used his incantationless magic. What followed was a devastating torrent of raw fire mana expelling from his hand. The recoil threw Xerxes off guard as his arm blew back from the force.
Airi held onto Xerxes' head, trying not to be blown away as she wailed, "How am I meant to see what you're made of if I'm going to be blown away?!"
But Xerxes was too engrossed in battle to care. There was something about the power that gave him a new thrill—it was the ease of culling them that he enjoyed.
At his very core, Xerxes enjoyed this. He enjoyed being an executioner.
Upon landing, two of the four beasts had fallen, with the others not in good shape. Now, it was time to see what the sword style was made of.
Spinning in the air, Xerxes gained as much speed as he could and propelled himself downward. He raised the blade above his head, integrating what Conrad and Dorian had taught him with what felt natural.
He plunged his sword into the skull of the mana beast, trailing it all the way down as the beast fell to its knees, dying.
Xerxes leaped backward as the remaining beast looked at its fallen kin. He hadn't even given them the leverage of fighting with something akin to 'honour'. But these beasts didn't deserve it.
How much had he changed? he thought. Less than a few months ago, the thought of even witnessing the fallen kingdom was frightening—but now? Now, he embraced the horror and death, forging it into a tool to push himself further.
Xerxes decided to use his move—infusing fire mana into his sword—but with something even more punishing.
He couldn't believe it, but it was real, wind mana could be infused into the blade as well. He did wield it. He was really a dual mage.
What he didn't expect was something that would awaken as a result—a vision came into fruition.
A vision was something that indicated the higher strength and purity of a soul shard. Over time, soul shards' mana begin to lose their true power, depleting bit by bit. The shards that retain large amounts of mana are said to be purer. Therefore, when binding to one's soul, they grant visions—memories of specific combat experiences.
These combat experiences innately grant the ability to replicate them—and the ability he had just gained belonged to the Orc.
It was a vision of a specific battle. What was displayed in Xerxes' memories was the Orc in intense combat, using a technique that allowed him to almost double the strength of a single attack—something called Bloodquake.
Xerxes replicated it exactly, instilling all the power of Bloodquake into his being. Airi anticipated the attack's power and gripped his head even tighter.
Xerxes pressed down a foot—visually, it seemed like he was flying through the air without restraint. He pulled back his arm, gathering as much force as he could, then swung his blade directly at the beast.
A shockwave of strength vibrated throughout the entire forest like drums, heralding the reign of something—or someone—new.
The beast instantly disintegrated, alongside the canopy of trees stretching a hundred metres. Xerxes had finally grown stronger—but this was only the beginning.
The next steps in his conquest—to become an embodiment of strength—would take time. But Xerxes knew that, no matter what, he was destined to grow stronger.
No matter what the future held.