LUCIUS
"You must understand this and follow through, alright?" Mercy advised Lav, his voice steady and calm as they delved into the intricacies of the fire core I had entrusted to Lav. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, and I could see the moment's weight settle on Lav's shoulders. His expression was one of sheer concentration as he focused entirely on the radiant core resting in his hands. For him to be entrusted with an SS-ranked fire core, the very symbol of raw elemental power, was nothing short of a monumental honour, especially coming from 'The Mighty One'.
I watched their conversation unfold, choosing to remain an observer rather than a participant. After all, Lav was receiving counsel from someone far more seasoned and knowledgeable, both in age and in experience. Mercy's words flowed with authority, each sentence crafted to impart wisdom honed through years of battles and trials. I, too, had once absorbed a core of greater rank—the Valgura's core, a feat that had significantly boosted my own power. Yet I was acutely aware that the stakes were different now; Lav was still in his early stages of development, and the SS-ranked fire core he held was a formidable force compared to the S-rank core I had dealt with.
In that moment, I also noted a peculiar dynamic at play. While I possessed the experience and insight to offer valuable guidance, I was younger and stronger than Lav—a fact that might play on his pride and ego, leading him to dismiss any advice I could share. It was a tricky balance, for I knew the importance of my words, but I also recognised the emotional barriers that might prevent him from fully taking them to heart. I decided that once our discussion was over, I would share my insights privately, allowing him to absorb them on his own terms. Ultimately, it would be up to him to decide whether to embrace the wisdom or let it drift away, merely passing through one ear and out the other.
Mercy, along with Edward, continued to offer encouragement, their voices filling the space with a reassuring energy. As they spoke, I took the opportunity to summon the Guardian Alpha's mana core in my palm. The orb shimmered with vast amounts of water mana, although I could sense that the raw mana within it was almost completely depleted; it had already been harnessed to purify my own mana core in a demanding process that required immense focus. As I was about to call their names-
It was Mercy who first sensed the shift in the air as soon as I revealed the core. His gaze turned towards me, eyes widening with interest, followed closely by Edward's excitable reaction. Their curiosity piqued Lav's attention, prompting him to glance in my direction just as I tossed the core towards Mercy with a sense of gravity, much more gracefully than the previous time I had impulsively hurled a core at Lav's head without a second thought. Mercy caught the core effortlessly, his movements smooth and imbued with a kind of elegance that inspired admiration.
"Whatever advice you offered him, be sure to hold onto those thoughts for yourself as well," I said, my voice steady as I watched Mercy begin to inspect the core. "We need more saints around this city, and you, my friend, deserve every push towards the glory that awaits your journey." As I spoke, Mercy infused the core with his mana, inspecting its level and strength, keenly aware of the potential it contained. After moments of scrutiny, he looked up at me, satisfaction etched across his features as the core vanished into his mana ring.
My mind drifted to the countless times Mercy had come to my rescue—each instance a testament to his strength and loyalty, though I inwardly chuckled, 'No thanks, no gratitude after all those times you saved my skin…' Suddenly, his voice thundered through the air, "One month, just one month... After one month, I will transcend the so-called limits that we knights have been shackled by... I'll show them all, not through boastful words or empty actions, but through a display of unparalleled strength that will leave no room for doubt." Ah yes, that typical stereotype which states a Knight, no matter how gifted he or she maybe, can never join the saint ranks... Such historical thinking.
Mercy's proclamation resonated deeply within the space as well as my mind. Edward cheered him on theatrically, clapping his hands like an excited fangirl, adding a touch of light-heartedness to the weighty atmosphere. The camaraderie surrounding us was palpable, a reminder of the bonds formed in the crucible of shared ambition and dreams.
'Yupp, that's exactly what I want—for you to grow into something terrifyingly strong, strong enough to protect the people we love and care about, even if… even if I'm not around.'
I paused, a faint twitch echoed through the corner of my mouth as I forced my gaze to drift away, settling somewhere distant. 'Never mind,' brushing the thought aside like ash on my shoulder. 'I'm not ready to imagine my own death just yet. Not until I've handled what's right in front of me…'
There was a quiet breath, then a shift in my tone as I firmly reminded myself of something, something that pushes me to survive, to grow stronger.
'I've come to believe something over the years, something that's etched itself so deep into my bones that it might as well be law. People talk about dying for their loved ones—throwing their lives away like it's some noble gesture, some ultimate act of devotion. But I don't buy it, never did. I don't believe in dying for the people I care about.'
Because what happens after you die? You saved them once, sure. You stood tall in that one final moment. But then what? You're gone. Your breath, your strength, your hands—they're all gone. You're not there the next time the world tries to tear them apart. Your soul won't shield them from a blade. Your shadow won't stand in the path of fire. And if a stronger threat shows up—and it always does—who's going to protect them then?
No… that's not love. That's martyrdom soaked in delusion. If you really care about someone, you don't just die for them. You live. You survive. You kill, if that's what it takes. You crawl through fire, through blood, through the worst of yourself, and you make damn sure you're there the next time and the time after that. That's how you protect the ones you love.
That's the way. The only way. My way.'
"What about me?" Edward's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts and pulled me back to reality. I looked up at him, his expression a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. As I contemplated my decision, I couldn't help but remember the power of the wind core I possessed. It was a gift that held the potential to either elevate Edward to the Saint rank, provided he showed the same strength we've seen in him, or it could empower Sara, allowing her to reach S-rank and potentially surpass it as she unlocks her true capabilities.
Earlier, I had been resolute in my decision to bestow this core upon Edward, convinced that his unwavering determination made him the ideal candidate to wield such power. But now, as I stood at this crossroads, uncertainty gnawed at me. The thought of having two saints at my side while confronting formidable foes like Goodman and the Wraiths was undeniably appealing. It seemed like an advantage that could tip the scales in our favour and transform our grim reality into a hopeful one.
Yet, lurking in the back of my mind was the awareness of another wind mage—Sara—whose potential was vast and largely untapped, even she herself seemed oblivious to the extraordinary power she held. This realisation complicated my thoughts further. Choosing between Edward and Sara felt like an impossible dilemma, weighing not only their strengths but also the dynamics. With every passing moment, the pressure mounted, and I knew I had to make a decision. Time was slipping away, and the consequences of my choice weighed heavily on my conscience.
***
"Logically, you made the right choice, though personally, I feel that Sara would have truly exceeded our expectations..." Lav remarked thoughtfully as he scrutinised my decision to entrust the wind core to Edward instead of Sara. I understood his perspective; emotionally, I shared his belief. However, this decision wasn't born out of sentiment—it was rooted in cold, hard logic. In the face of the looming war, emotions were not our allies; they wouldn't serve as a deterrent against Goodman and the formidable and mysterious Nmanas. I sensed that Lav grasped this reasoning, but there was a flicker of conflict within him regarding my choice. Nevertheless, my mind was occupied with a more pressing issue that demanded our attention.
"Now, regarding the fire core, how confident are you feeling?" I asked, standing with Lav just outside the entrance of my home. The evening air was crisp, and the shadows lengthened around us as the others busied themselves preparing for their long-overdue imminent departure.
"To be honest, not very confident at all," Lav admitted, his voice low and sincere, tinged with an undercurrent of anxiety. "I'm a bit scared, honestly…"
"Good," I responded, appreciating his honesty. "That fear will serve you well. It means you'll proceed with caution. Let me share a valuable piece of advice that I've learned through experience: do not rush this process. Haste brings nothing but disaster—in your case, it could lead to a catastrophic explosion of the size that could level an entire block. I urge you to summon every ounce of patience you possess because there will be moments when you feel completely in control of the core and its mana. But trust me, that feeling can be deceptive. No matter how strong that gut instinct may seem, you must resist the urge to act impulsively. Take as long as you need, and only then will you find success."
I made it clear to him that his role would be completely compromised if he lost control and caused an explosion during the procedure, ultimately destroying the core. As I spoke, I noticed Lav listening intently, nodding in agreement. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he might not have fully grasped the implications of my words or the seriousness of the situation we were dealing with. His acknowledgement was there, but the depth of understanding seemed elusive, leaving me a bit concerned about his readiness to handle the task ahead.
I chose not to burden Lav and others with the unsettling news about Jormungandr's awakening. That matter felt distant and irrelevant compared to the immediate concerns at hand. After all, if the awakened primordial chose to invade our empire, only the Lord of the Skies would have the might to withstand its assault.
With my primary concerns addressed, I felt a sense of finality wash over me. It was time to say our farewells, as the group was finally coming together. This moment felt like the conclusion of an interminable saga—one that had dragged on far longer than necessary, lingering in the air like a tempest brewing on the horizon.