Today unfolded into a marathon of chaos and fatigue, mirroring countless other days in my life. Today, when the clock struck midnight, marking the beginning of a relentless climb towards S-rank, a goal that demanded every ounce of concentration and tenacity I could muster. Hours slipped away as I grappled with each challenge, and finally, success graced me. In celebration of my hard-fought victory, I allowed myself a well-deserved respite, a few hours of much-needed rest.
The morning moved along with an unexpected ease, a soothing balm, opposed to the ear-shattering incidents that often characterised my life. The early afternoon unfolded with a sense of calmness as I spent time with Sara, whose presence was a comforting reprieve from the usual stresses. However, her insights regarding Ahana's incident began to cast fleeting shadows of doubt over my thoughts. Although these doubts loomed, they were not overwhelming; I felt I'd managed to navigate them reasonably well for someone of just 18 years.
But then came the moment of realisation, an unsettling awakening that clawed at the edges of my consciousness. I started layering together Aurora's innocent observations, words coated with sincerity that left no room for deception. She had mentioned a 'shadowy figure' calling her name, spotted not far from her window or lurking in the distance. While this could easily be dismissed as a mere dream, the gravity with which she recounted the experience, combined with Ahana's disturbing reaction, suggested something more sinister—perhaps it was indeed a 'recurring dream.'
For a brief moment, I allowed myself the comfort of that belief. However, darker thoughts intruded uninvited: what if this 'shadow daddy' had somehow eluded the Empire's extensive surveillance? The thought sent a chill down my spine. If this were even remotely plausible, I shuddered at the notion that he would visit his daughter alone. It seemed only logical that he'd be accompanied by a host of 'shadow uncles and aunties'... I had to pause, though; labelling them casually belied the seriousness of this exchange I was having with myself.
I could imagine asking any mage, non-mage, knight, or saint within the walls of Verdun about their thoughts on sentient beings traversing the Lunar walls without raising an alarm. Universally, they would label such mere thoughts as a joke or madness, dismissing the very notion as ridiculous, for these walls were fortified, crafted against breaches and incursions. Only the most skilled assassins, masters of stealth and silence, might accomplish such feats, though even their highly refined abilities were enshrouded in mystery, their true nature hidden away for ages, perhaps even forever. Plus, with constant upgrades and unwavering vigilance, the security surrounding these walls rendered the idea of sneaking past them very unlikely, if not impossible.
Yet here stood one person as the exception, the sole individual harbouring such thoughts—me, yours truly. My unique ability, Absolute Zero, granted me the capability to traverse these walls with the simplicity of crossing the threshold of my own room. Except, of course, I had to factor in the vertical movement—ascending and descending were still physical challenges. I chuckled to myself momentarily, wishing it were as simple as I made it sound. However, it dawned upon me that if I possessed this ability, others, too, might harbour similar capabilities.
And therein lay my predicament: I was still uncovering the mysteries of my own identity, tracing the origins of the first eight years of my life, which remained shrouded in thick layers of fog and uncertainty.
What if what Arcane had suggested was indeed true? What if I were merely the product of some twisted scientific experiment? Or what if Absolute Zero was an intrinsic trait, a byproduct of someone's abhorrent designs that had inadvertently bled into my very being, transforming me? Or perhaps I was a failed specimen, someone who inherited Absolute Zero yet could not evolve into a shadow, as they'd prefer to call it, a Wraith! Yes, I resolved to refer to them as Wraiths from this moment forward, for the term 'shadow' muddled my thoughts at every turn.
Wait a second, what if these Wraiths shared my intrinsic nature? But without the limitations shackled to me... Perhaps they possessed the ability to sense mana like I did, even control it, manipulate it at will, unleash it upon the world...
My heart thudded in my chest, a heavy pounding that felt almost painful. I struggled to ground myself, recognising that these spiralling thoughts—and the absurd conclusions they led to—were becoming all too familiar. However, in the chaos, there remained a strange thread of logic tying many of my thoughts together: amidst ten wild theories, at least one often glinted with truth, while the other nine? They were logical and had the same percentage of being true.
Was this situation truly unbearable? No, it felt like a hellish inferno. A burning desire surged within me; I had to uncover the truth about my past, about those eight formative years before I emerged in that forest, before I crossed paths with Sia, Ragnar, and his squad.
As thoughts rushed through me, my mind settled on the one person who might possess insight into my past: Sia. The woman beside me, sleeping peacefully as if she were a puppy worn out from a day filled with adventure and exploration. I needed her insights, her observations, right now.
***
"Hey, I'm really sorry for waking you up at this hour," I whispered, my voice barely breaking the silence of the night. Sia stirred slowly from her deep slumber, her eyes fluttering open but still glazed with sleep. For a moment, she lay there, blinking dazedly, encouraging me to continue with a simple gesture. Her unrestrained yawns were undeniable, and I momentarily regretted disturbing her peace. Yet, there was no time for hesitation; the weight of the situation demanded urgency, and a myriad of possibilities hinged on this conversation.
I took a deep breath and began to spill my thoughts, sharing everything—a torrent of information that had built up inside me. I started with Goodman's suspicious attempts to spy on me, the chilling reality that I was the man responsible for Adith's death, and the tense conversations I had with Ahana and Aurora. I explained the awakening of the Primordial Jormungandr, my theories swirling in my mind like a tempest. Each detail was meticulously laid bare, a raw outpouring of secrets and fears. I even touched on the worrying rumours surrounding the Wraiths being deliberately spread by the guild association and the nobles, concluding with the imminent assault on the potential spawning dens of the corrupted beasts led by the combined forces of Commander Avraham and Rartar.
When I mentioned Rartar, I half-expected Sia to react—perhaps a flicker of emotion or acknowledgement. Instead, she remained eerily still, her expression unreadable, which initially made me worry that she had drifted back to sleep. Yet, her crimson eyes continued to glow faintly in the dim light that enveloped our bedroom, a reminder of her attentiveness amid the darkness that shrouded us.
As I concluded my long recounting, Sia shifted her position, leaning against the mattress with her back straightened. She tucked her long hair behind her ears, a gesture I instinctively assisted her with, noting how close she still was to succumbing to sleep again. "You seriously woke me up for this?" she asked, her tone dripping with mock indignation as if I had interrupted her for some petty matter. Feeling the weight of her impatience, I simply nodded, avoiding her gaze while tying her hair carefully. Yet, her next words revealed an unexpected twist.
"...Good thing you did," she continued, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "This cannot wait. I've been wanting to share some details I've kept bottled up for far too long. I never found the right moment, nor did I muster the courage to lay it all out before you—perhaps I was afraid of your reaction." There was a moment of silence as she took a deep breath, her glance now focused inward. "But maybe now is the perfect time to share what's been weighing on my heart."
Her voice was laced with the heaviness of secrets long held, and I sensed the urgency behind her words. I had seen her wrestle with the desire to speak many times, only to pull back at the last moment, suffocated by unspoken thoughts.
"First of all," she began, "I want to commend you for your sharp intelligence. You truly have a remarkable mind capable of processing a vast network of information effortlessly. The way you connect and dissect knowledge, leading to the most logical conclusions, it's impressive. It's no wonder you weren't gifted an elemental power; if you had been, your ability to solve problems would have made your feats the stuff of legends."
Her words filled me with a conflicting blend of pride and discomfort. I didn't seek validation; I was aware of my capabilities. I nodded subtly, signalling her to continue, eager to hear what she had to say next.
"Looking back on our first meeting, when I first laid eyes on you—a child devoid of mana circulation—I honestly thought you were an illusion or perhaps a master assassin with some otherworldly skill. Or maybe you were just a noble or royalty whose appearance belied your true power, as those of noble blood tend to be stronger from a young age." She paused, a fleeting sadness crossing her features. "But, of course, you were merely a child without any connection to mana at all."
As she spoke, I noticed her determination solidifying. "I couldn't help but estimate your abandonment, considering the fact that you couldn't circulate any mana. It placed you at the very bottom, even below the Nmanas," she reflected with a tinge of regret. "It was clear to us, at least initially, that you were the worst of the worst, seen as a curse upon mana itself for merely drawing breath in our world. That sentiment crossed my mind, too, but only for a fleeting moment…"
As her words lingered in the air, I felt the weight of our shared history between us, a tapestry of misunderstandings and revelations that had shaped our lives in ways I had yet to fully comprehend.
Everything changed when you uniquely became the first person to sense the ghost bear's surprising attack. The moment was unforgettable, and you're aware of what unfolded afterwards.
I can vividly recall my conversation with Ragnar, a moment that feels both distant and immediate. He laid there, with four massive holes around his chest region, a figure of strength and determination, preparing to avenge his fallen family. I watched as he made the ultimate sacrifice, laying down his life for all of us. Before his final moments, he entrusted me with his sword, Crimson Ultima, a symbol of his legacy. It now rests in my possession, a constant reminder of his bravery and the price he paid, perhaps for us.
As I reflected on those memories, a shiver raced down my spine. My heart raced, pounding in my chest for a brief moment as the weight of the past crashed over me.
And now, I arrive at the crux of my thoughts, the part that will either help untangle this chaotic web of memories or plunge me even deeper into complexity—the matter that might be entirely out of my league...