What?
No... fuck you. I'm not helping you for shit.
I got up and bolted.
"Wrong answer," he chuckled.
The sound came just as the earth betrayed me. My foot slid over blood or maybe something worse. I couldn't tell. The floor rushed up, and I hit it hard—elbow first, then hip. Pain flared. Behind me, the sound of footsteps. Measured. Unhurried.
He was walking.
"Why?" His voice was calm, almost tender. "Why don't you want others to live?"
"Well, overpopulation. Big problem." I spat the words as I pushed myself up. My fingers twitched around the thing in my hand. "And besides—these people don't even look alive."
I looked down. My throat clenched.
Not this one.
Not this child.
"What?" Thalos tilted his head.
He sighed. Not out of frustration. It was the kind of sigh a doctor might give before ending life support. His hand moved lazily through the air—like brushing aside smoke.
"Yeah... I'm going to kill you."
Thalos looked into me.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
His smile wasn't mockery. It was the smile of someone who had lived too long to be surprised by death threats.
I didn't answer.
My body moved first.
I sprinted forward, fist tore through the air. He caught it easily—flesh against flesh—and deflected it with just enough force to unbalance me. His palm struck my stomach. I gasped and stumbled back.
No time to think.
I dashed in again.
A blur of fists. One after the other. Jab. Hook. Uppercut. Low kick. Palm. Elbow. I aimed for every part, every weak spot a body could have.
But he wasn't human.
He blocked them all.
His arms moved like flowing fabric—soft but unyielding. Every time I struck, he answered. A counter to the shoulder. A jab to the ribs. A flick to the wrist that sent my fingers numb. His hits weren't fast—they were exact. He had experience in combat.
My patience burned to cinders.
I roared and threw everything I had. It didn't matter if I left myself open. I had to land one hit. Just one.
He caught my knee mid-air and turned his body. I flew. My back hit stone, and the impact knocked the wind out of me.
I stood.
Staggered.
Charged again.
Ten seconds. Twenty. A minute. Time lost meaning in the heat. The child lay safe. That was all that mattered. That and stopping Thalos.
But it was futile.
I hadn't landed a single hit.
My body ached. Blood dripped from my nose, tracing my lips like a scarlet thread. My breath came ragged. Every muscle screamed. My hands trembled—not from fear, but exhaustion.
Thalos hadn't broken a sweat.
Still, he didn't gloat.
He just watched.
Not cruelly.
Not kindly either.
Just... watched.
Like a god waiting to see if his creation could stand again.
"How can you even fight this well?" I gasped, breath ragged, chest heaving.
"Well, experience I suppose," Thalos replied, his tone as calm as ever. "I have fought a lot."
I wiped blood from my lip and winced. "Aren't you a god? Which god even trains for close combat?"
"Well, you'd be surprised by how many gods are good at close combat."
"There are more of you?" My voice cracked.
"Possibly?" He shrugged. "Not that I know were cast down like me."
"Oh, fuck you."
"You really have a bad habit of cursing when you feel frustrated, don't you?"
I grunted and pushed myself up again. My legs barely responded. There was no way I could beat him like this—just fists and desperation wouldn't cut it.
I pressed my palm against the ground. Clarion of Touch—activated.
Pain crawled into my skull, not as harsh as before but still sharp and punishing. The ground wasn't stone—it was flesh. Living, breathing, malformed flesh. Too deformed to fully analyze. Each surface screamed chaos. The connection scrambled.
And then—another kick.
A clean strike from Thalos landed in my ribs. I flew back, hit the wall hard, and slumped.
"That won't work," he said, walking forward. "Unless you are a master at it."
Blood trickled from my nose and lips. I touched my face. Crimson painted my fingertips.
Then, an idea.
Use the blood.
I could solidify it. Not much, but enough. This amount of blood wouldn't make a weapon—maybe a sharp object at best.
I did it anyway.
The blood hardened in my hand, red glass shaped into a blade. Thalos looked at it and smiled—not amused, but intrigued.
"Oh wow, that looks interesting."
I stood again.
He didn't attack. He waited.
I wasn't planning to strike yet.
Instead, I raised the sharpened blood spike—and cut both of my arms.
Not deep—just enough to make thin, linear cuts. A controlled stream. Blood flowed down in clean ribbons.
Thalos's eyes widened slightly.
I watched the blood drip and harden midair, sculpting itself into thin red weapons. Now it was a matter of time.
I dashed forward, feinting a punch.
He moved to block it—but I wasn't aiming to hit.
In that brief instant, I changed the property of the blood from my palm. Hardened it into a sword.
He barely caught it.
"Wow, that almost got me," he murmured.
I kept going.
Left hand—another blade. Both hands now held blood-forged weapons.
I slashed with everything I had, driving him back. Blow after blow. I didn't stop. Couldn't.
Clarion of Touch was burning in my skull. That, combined with blood loss, was turning the edges of my vision black. But I had to push through.
He kept dodging the strikes, but I was pressing him now. For once, I had the momentum.
Then, I shook my hand mid-swing.
Tiny blood droplets flew at him—but they weren't just blood anymore. I had hardened them in flight.
Stone-hard blood pellets pelted his body.
He raised his arms to shield himself.
In that brief window, I leapt.
I twisted the blood-blade in my hand and infused more blood into it, shifting its shape—mace.
I brought it down.
He caught it—but this time, he struggled.
He didn't say anything, but I could feel it. His grip faltered slightly. His durability wasn't perfect, was it?
I kept swinging. Over and over.
At one point, I almost landed a clean cut—this time, a longsword formed from my blood.
But Thalos was faster. He dodged and leapt onto the nearby tree of flesh.
The second he landed, the tree changed.
Its branches moved. No—unfurled.
Living tendrils lashed toward me.
I cut through them, but one pinned me to the wall.
Dozens more came at me—Thalos wasn't attacking anymore. He was controlling the tree. The flesh.
I slashed wildly, cutting my way free and lunged up at him.
The moment I landed on the tree—it happened again.
I slipped.
It was slick. Wet. Not made for human footing.
A branch came fast, and I had no footing to dodge.
It hit me square in the skull.
Thalos's voice reached through the pain:
"I won't kill you. Life is precious. Appreciate it."
I grit my teeth.
Even if you won't kill me, this branch just might.
It took everything in me to push it back. I tore through the fleshy limb with blood-drenched hands. My arms were going numb. Too much blood lost.
I needed a way out.
How far did this tree stretch?
If I could reach the top—break the ceiling—maybe I could get help.
I jumped again. Slipped again.
But this time—I didn't fall.
I was standing. Sideways.
On the wall of the tree.
What?
Even Thalos looked shocked.
So this wasn't him?
I felt it. A tiny movement in my pocket.
I reached in.
The lump of flesh—the child—was there.
Smaller now.
It stared at me with a single unblinking eye.
Then I understood.
The Clarion. The third one.
Intuition. Pain. And Balance.
This child... this twisted, malformed life... had the Clarion of Balance.
And it was helping me.
How rare was this again?
Another branch came. Fast.
I didn't hesitate.
I cut it, sprinted up the tree. Jumped. Balanced.
No more slipping. No more falling.
Everything clicked.
I leapt up toward Thalos. Swung. Almost hit him.
But he moved.
He soared higher into the air, voice echoing:
"You surprised me... but that isn't enough."
I chased.
Branches flailed at me, but I didn't stop.
I cut through them like paper, leapt higher, closed the gap. I wasn't slipping anymore. With the Clarion of Balance active, I could run on walls, cling to any surface.
It was perfect.
And now... I had a plan.
I'd keep chasing him. Keep pushing. Make it seem like I was still trying to kill him.
But my real goal?
Climb.
As high as possible.
Break through the ceiling.
If I could reach the surface... maybe Wanora could help. Or even someone like the Emperor.
I just had to hold on long enough.
The chase turned vertical.
We were climbing up a monstrosity, a twisted tree of flesh and veins that pulsed with life, stretching infinitely toward the unseen ceiling. My feet skidded across the surface, but I didn't fall. Not anymore. The Clarion of Balance was fully active now—thanks to the lump of flesh cradled in my pocket. The child wasn't saying a word.
Thalos jumped higher, his robes fluttering slightly. He didn't even need to run. The tree bent to his will, rising to carry him like a cradle.
"You're not bad for a human," he said, eyes flicking downward as he raised one hand.
The tree responded.
Dozens of tendrils shot out from the trunk, slithering toward me like serpents with a shared mind.
Pain stabbed through my head like a nail driven into the skull, but it didn't matter. I pulled the fresh blood pooling in my mouth and throat, spit it out midair, and hardened it—daggers. Five of them.
I flicked my fingers, launching the red blades upward like fangs.
Three struck the tendrils. The other two missed—but the opening was made.
I slipped through, twisted mid-jump, and pulled the blood from my wounds again. The flow was slower now. My body was tiring. But I still had enough.
A short sword.
I slashed at a tendril that came too close—it split open. The tree groaned, wet and alive, and more tendrils lashed out in retaliation.
They came faster this time. Some swung like whips. Others coiled, waiting to trap.
I ducked and spun, letting blood drip from my arm into my palm—this time I shaped it into a flat, thin curve. A crescent blade. I held it between two fingers and slashed low, then high,
Another wave came.
Too fast.
Pulled blood from my cut tongue. Hardened it between my teeth into a makeshift guard. The tendril slapped my back and threw me upward—just barely missing my skull.
But it helped.
Momentum.
I shot up like a rocket.
The gap between Thalos and me vanished.
I struck with both blood-knives—he blocked with his forearm, caught one, then twisted to avoid the second. He grabbed my wrist, but I turned my blood to liquid, let it run through his hand, and solidified it midstream.
It became a spike pointed at his eye.
He tilted his head to the side.
The spike scraped his cheekbone and shattered.
I landed on a thick branch, gasping.
Sweat blurred my vision. Blood loss was taking its toll. My arms were heavy. Every weapon I formed took more out of me. The child's Clarion was keeping me balanced—but not invincible.
"You're weakening," Thalos said. "You won't last much longer."
I slashed open my own shoulder. More blood. Enough to make another blade.
But this time, I didn't go for the obvious.
I shaped it into a chain—thin, interlocking links, like a whip with weight.
Thalos's eyes finally narrowed. He recognized the weapon.
I lashed it outward. He dodged, but I caught his ankle. It wasn't enough to stop him, but it broke his rhythm. For once, his foot touched bark he hadn't shaped. He stumbled.
I moved in. The chain broke, so I reforged it into a dagger midair. Lunged.
He recovered in time. Blocked. Pushed me back.
I bounced off another branch.
My back screamed.
But I didn't fall.
The Clarion of Balance kept me standing.
"You're resourceful, I'll give you that," Thalos said, stepping back.
Just then he pushed me against the wall using the branch, and I was stuck. I couldn't move. Not enough energy left in me.
"Fuck—" I breathed out, forcing my arm up. I threw some blood pellets, but it wasn't enough. Not even close. They bounced off, splattered weakly, and vanished into the living bark. I couldn't cut through. I was done for. I can't move. I am immobilised.
I gritted my teeth, nails digging into my palms. This can't be it.
"Just sleep, Heide Decimus. You've done enough," Thalos said softly, almost like a lullaby. "Maybe when you wake up, a thousand years might have passed, and the world you know would be more beautiful."
If only I could do something. Anything. I can't even grab the wall behind me—no angle, no reach. And even if I did, if I used the Clarion of Touch on that... I'd probably feel immense pain again and still not be able to use it to my advantage. It wouldn't help. Nothing would.
Why... Why was I so close? Why now? Why—
Why.
I could see him. He was standing over there. Watching me.
Hm?
Thalos tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Your eye? It's changing its color?"
I couldn't hear him properly anymore. Everything was fading, dimming—but not into darkness. Into something else.
I wasn't going blind. I was seeing more.
I could see the molecules. I could see the atoms around me—loosely packed, vibrating in place, floating, moving. Everything around me was in motion. The air. The bark. Even the blood dripping from my hand. It wasn't color anymore. It was structure. It was reality peeled back into its rawest form.
"What's that...?" Thalos tried to get near me, confused.
Then it happened.
Suddenly, my left eye—it shined. A bright pink color, radiant and blinding. The shine wasn't just light—it pulsed like a heartbeat, pushing back the world around me.
Thalos paused.
The cause of this was unknown.
But right now, that didn't matter to me.
Because even if I didn't understand how, I knew what this was.
This was sight beyond sight.
The Clarion of the original Heide Atrel.
The Clarion of Vision.