40 Chapter 30: A HEART-felt reunion.

(Arthur Leywin)

"Kiyotaka, my son, we finally meet again." The familiar voice rang in my mind like a cacophonous boom of an explosion. It was so deafening and chaotic that my thoughts trembled in response. Yet, strangely, I didn't feel any fear. Fear was the last thing on my mind. However, I felt tense, uneasy, and uncertain, as if my father's voice had awakened something deep within me that I couldn't quite grasp.

As I heard my father's voice booming in my mind, it felt like an explosion going off inside my head. I didn't feel afraid, but the feeling was too complicated for me to understand.

I struggled to identify the emotions I was experiencing as they swirled within me, creating a tumultuous inner storm. It was like a mixture of tension, confusion, and uncertainty that left me feeling unbalanced and unsure of myself.

This was a unique experience unlike anything I had ever encountered before, and finding the right words to describe it proved to be a challenge. It was as if my father's voice had triggered something deep within me, something that I had never been able to access before.

Despite my lack of understanding, I knew that I had to try to make sense of these complex emotions and the memories that came with them.

His strides reverberated across the field as he advanced towards me, unsettling the ground beneath my feet. I remained steadfast, arms hanging limp at my sides. His eyes crinkled at the edges, revealing an emotion I never thought I'd witness on the face of "That Man." It was not a pleasant expression, but the jarring shift in his demeanour stirred a tempest of conflicting emotions within me.

His movements were measured and deliberate, hands extended on either side as he inched closer, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. I strained to sense any trace of Sylvie's presence, but my attention was consumed by the man before me. He drew nearer still, his towering figure casting a shadow over me, and yet, I remained rooted in place, unafraid.

In a matter of seconds, he was upon me, his powerful arms enveloping me in a crushing embrace. The sheer force of his grip nearly overwhelmed me, but I managed to remain composed. His embrace was not a gesture of tenderness, but rather a show of dominance and control. Despite this, I resisted the urge to push him away and instead allowed him to hold me, my body supple and unresisting

"I missed you, son," He said, his face digging into my shoulders followed by a razor-sharp piercing prick in my skin.

"Me too," I replied. He broke the embrace and looked at me, eyes widened as his white shirt was stained with a puddle of green blood, his heart pulsating in the palm of my hand in a light green glow.

"I expected more from a feared beast like you." I replied, as his features morphed, the human-like face morphing as branches and foliage of decayed leaves and flowers took its place, beginning to contort into a monstrous visage—its true form.

A hollow shriek tore through his throat as his words resounded in the dungeon, laced with hate and spite, "You're a failure, you're a failure, You are nothing without me."

This was the beast that had killed multiple adventurers.

The Elderwood Guardian from folklore.

The illusionary mist it oozed before us coming here was an indication that nothing could be trusted.

After coming to this world, I learned of something I never knew before. it was the sincerity in familial love. Although the reason was still unclear to me as it seemed illogical. The reason I didn't know it before was because... I never had it before in my previous life.

A deaf person can never understand how someone sounds, and a blind person can never imagine colours. Same in this case. I couldn't feel it before because I was devoid of the ability and significance of it, that man was no exception to this.

He is incapable of love.

Even for his own family.

As the Elderwood Guardian tried to move, it became apparent that its core had been removed, rendering it weak and helpless. The enormous creature's movements were laboured, and it struggled to maintain its balance. Suddenly, with a jarring finality, the Guardian's massive form toppled to the ground, creating a deafening chorus of quaking tremors that echoed throughout the surrounding area.

The once-chaotic altar where numerous adventurers fell, was now shrouded in a heavy and eerie silence, as the last remnants of the Guardian's power faded away. The ground still trembled slightly, the aftershocks of the Guardian's fall, adding to the already ominous atmosphere.

The Guardian's demise left a gaping void in the once-vibrant forest. Its hulking body laid motionless, a testament to the power and might that it once wielded. The surrounding trees, once vibrant and lush, now stood solemn and still, as if mourning the loss of their protector. The air hung heavy with a sense of foreboding as if the forest itself knew that the balance of power had shifted irrevocably with the fall of the Elderwood Guardian.

"We could've had some fun with him," Sylvie complained, as she walked up to me, sniffing the pulsating beast core in my hand.

At times, I contemplate the origin of your mildly sadistic demeanour," I spoke out loud, my voice echoing while deftly tossing the beast core from one hand to the other.

"I learned everything from you," she quipped, waggling her eyebrows.

"Undoubtedly. However, I never infused my comportment into you to mould you in my likeness."

"Was that not your actual motive? To turn me into someone who could be just your equal?" she queried, scrutinising the beast core.

"It was. Yet, I yearned to demonstrate that the detachment mandated in the White Room was unnecessary. Hence, I impart my knowledge to you and allow you to evolve into your own distinct persona." I retorted, plucking the core from Sylvie's grasp before she could devour it, "Also, I do not think of myself to be superior to all. Following in my footsteps won't make you the greatest. You can aim higher...", I paused, "There is no fixed point. You can always aim higher."

"Is that why you're captivated by that human princess?" she inquired.

"She appears to be an intriguing subject for observation."

"Because she bears a resemblance to you?"

I gazed at Sylvie, my eyes emitting a more profound shade of azure that shone in the sombre ambience of the dungeon.

"Very well, I shall shut my mouth up," she acquiesced, settling onto the ground.

Releasing a weary exhale, I settled next to her and grasped the core with both hands.

Harnessing the potent energy within me, I imbued Sylvia's draconic essence with a surge of mana. Realmheart burgeoned to life, its arcane runes which manipulated the very fabric of reality by circumventing space and time, seared and etched into my flesh. The familiar, comforting heat enfolded me like a downy quill, ushering me into a state of euphoria. It was a feeling I had become accustomed to, yet each time I summoned this power it never ceased to amaze me.

The sensation felt almost divine, wielding such might, yet so delicate as a blossom.

My tresses cascaded down my back, their hue transmuting from an auburn shade to an effulgent, luminous white, while my irises metamorphosed into an iridescent amethyst-like hue akin to Sylvia's.

Sylvie's scrutinising gaze lingered upon me, her cogitations befuddled and uncertain, the prospect of my appearance resembling her departed mother a bittersweet experience for her. She was different from me—more susceptible to emotional stimuli.

However, this was not the moment to ruminate on emotions. Glancing downward, I observed a swarm of ambient mana particles, swirling here and there.

As I gazed upon the familiar array of mana particles, each bursting with its own unique colour and vitality, my attention was drawn to a striking anomaly at the core.

There, amidst the usual hues of red, green, orange, blue, and amethyst, a malignant presence lingered like a pestilent tumour.

A sickly blob of miasma, it corrupted the very essence of the core and poisoned the beast will within. The putrid hue of green mana was overwhelming, crowding out any trace of purity and tainting the entire aura with its foulness.

"This is new." I said, letting the images of what I saw transmit to Sylvie. While Sylvie couldn't use Realmheart, the strong bond and letting her intrude on my individual senses, I could let her see the thing I was seeing. In other words, she could see the world from my perspective as well.

"It seems like there are other mana types reserved for specific races," Sylvie suggested.

"Must be the evolution of pure mana."

"Pure mana?" Sylvie asked, tilting her head.

"After reaching white core we could easily manipulate a large amount of pure mana, right?" I asked as I conjured Sylvie's visage in the palm of my hand using pure mana. "White core allows you to expand your usage and diversity of pure mana. Which means that the next stage actually allows you to give a definite shape to it."

"Definite shape?" Sylvie asked.

"Like water. When you pour it into a bottle, it becomes a bottle, in a pot, it will take the shape of a pot. Pure mana can be the same. The characteristics of the one using it can change its form. Think of why certain deviants are reserved for particular races? Elves being closer to nature, dwarves to forgery, humans to diversity and deeper knowledge."

"What does that have to do with this deca-type mana?"

"That was about the so-called "mortal races." Now you tell me, Sylvie, if there are races like phoenixes and titans and basilisks like the lore on earth, what would that mean?"

Her eyes widened, "The nature of their pure mana changed based on their characteristics and nature. Phoenixes would be related to the cycle of life and death, dragons to the ultimate form of magic and...", she paused looking at the beast core with decay properties, "Basilisks with decay-type mana."

"Accurate. Yet, this thing wasn't a basilisk or basilisk-half-breed. The mana inside it isn't entirely decay-type mana. It's like a clean lake puddled with dirt."

"DNA infusion?"

"No. More like core corruption. The property of decay-type mana is corrupting. This correlates to the basilisks' corrupted and twisted nature and their acid being their main weapon."

"So what are you planning to do now?"

"Mana carries a unique and distinct signature." I said and focused on the core. A Forceful influx of mana commenced as I began to draw in only the sickly green motes under the influence of Realmheart. The glow of the runes on my skin brightened, as more and more mana was forcefully drawn towards me.

Abruptly, my consciousness was drawn into an interminable vortex, causing an intensifying sensation of nausea. My mind drifted further and further away from my physical body. Despite experiencing similar episodes before my recent reincarnation, this time felt different. An extraterrestrial intervention occurred, causing a brief moment of confusion before I materialised on a frigid cold marble surface, gazing at the cobblestone ceiling. Yet, it was not me occupying this body, but I could perceive and behold it.

As if viewing the world through a window or glass, I was a mere spectator. The notion dawned on me that these were vestiges of memories embedded within the signature of the infused decay-type mana arts.

One of the men attired in white coats, resembling scientific experimenters, spoke to his peer, ", "The test subject seems to be dying. we should use it for making the elixir for the beasts on the lesser continent."

However, it was the appearance that intrigued me—shimmering blood-red eyes and towering horns.

The scene suddenly shifted, and I found myself back in the dungeon, the agony of decay-type mana slowly infiltrating the elderwood's own magic, driving it into a state of irrationality and reducing it to a mindless killing machine devoid of any sanity.

My mind was flooded with flashes of memories, activating systematically like street lights at dusk.

I witnessed the employment of decay-type mana and its derivatives such as Soul fire, metallic spikes imbued with decay properties, poisonous water, and sickly green acidic attacks. All these were derived from the same mana but the ones who used it were human-like but not quite human.

Half-breeds, I noted.

Attempting to manipulate the tether of the consciousness, I endeavoured to utilise it to my own advantage. However, my efforts proved futile as I was abruptly ejected, resulting in a throbbing sensation in my own consciousness.

As my vision faded in and out, I teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. Suddenly, I felt an excruciating burning sensation on my skin. With my eyes wide open, I observed Sylvie utilising minuscule amounts of pure mana to raise my body temperature and revive me.

"So, how did it go?" queried Sylvie, her eyes fixated on me with concern, her eyebrows furrowed.

I raised my hand and then snapped my fingers, as Sylvie gasped.

(Grey Vritra)

As I stood before the colossal metallic structure, housing the only maternal figure I had left, my heart pounded with apprehension. She was bound by chains, with a pool of crimson staining the ground around her. Her lustrous white hair cascaded down her shoulders like a divine waterfall, reflecting the sun's rays. My eyes were drawn to her amethyst gaze, which had lost its previous sparkle, and now brimmed with a pang of profound sadness.

"Hello, Grey. Are you here to do your 'father's' bidding once more?" she taunted, with a snicker.

Despite the rage building within me, I maintained a composed exterior as I replied, "You know that I've always been against him keeping you here like this."

"And yet you are his number one pawn. But that is all you are, Grey - a pawn, not a king," she retorted, her voice dripping with scorn.

My hand clenched into a fist, as I struck the metal panel with a resounding thud. The thick sheet contorted under the impact, but it was hardly enough to release my fury. "Do not ever call me that again!" I spat.

Sylvia's laughter, despite the situation, was melodious but carried a hint of mockery and spite. "You're too emotional, Grey. Your feelings lead you to make poor decisions. Can you name a single wise decision you've made in your life?"

My head hung low in shame, and I heard a clicking of her tongue in disappointment. "You know that all of this is a charade, yet you still believe him," she added.

"I do," I responded.

"Then it's hopeless," Sylvia concluded, "Stop visiting me. I'm not your mother, and I'll die soon. I don't want your pity."

I wondered if it was worth it for her to give a part of her soul to a lesser being. "Was it worth it?" I asked.

Sylvia let out a chuckle, "Perhaps not. The person I gave it to was exceedingly selfish. But if you attempt to disrupt his peaceful existence, you'll not like the consequences that follow."

With that ominous statement, I turned away from her and set off to my destination. However, her words lingered in my mind, haunting me with a sense of unease. Who was it that Sylvia had given her will to? It was a disturbing question, one that made me tremble from within.

Who is he?

(Arthur Leywin AKA Kiyopon~)

"Achoo."

"Bless you, Kiyotaka-kun." Arisussy said with a smile, as she went on to capture my queen.

"Checkmate," I said one move later.