The weather sure is hateful. The blizzard is strong, and everything is white. I hate to do this as I make it my personal belief not to use my powers for my convenience. It is something I read about a philosophy book where with great power comes great responsibility.
I don’t know what it really means, but I practice it in hopes I may learn its meaning.
The cabin Kruff builds with his carpentry skill with reinforcements of rune magic will not be able to combat this weather. According to Kruff, it will be easy for him to defend the cabin in this weather if it is back in his heyday.
But Kruff is now old.
I stand just a few dozen meters from the cabin with my Darkbringer. I leave my Armorheart inside as I don’t really need it. I observe a dark wintry storm above. It is always winter here in White Peaks, a magical phenomenon of the sort.
It is a great hiding spot indeed, but there is no need for that as Blumend is about to return to its former glory free from corruption and ambitious usurpers.
“I wonder what Queen Sofalia is up to now… If she is about to take her Tier 8 evolution as Destiny foretold, then she will need to destroy a Kingdom…”
My mind wonders far to my recent apprentice. The Queen is my student that much is true. I cannot say the same for the Queen’s Ten though as I really did not teach anything to them directly, but simply gives them advice when they need it.
“I guess, we should go to Blumend after all…” Old man Kruff is getting old, and his dementia is getting worse. In the state Kruff is currently in, then he cannot even hunt.
The dark cold clouds above stirring into a whirlpool start crying. Gigantic boulders of ice start raining, and the thundering boom of lightning follows reminiscent of Heaven’s Wrath. I am curious what they look like as it is my first Death Frost Winter here in Vanaheim.
“They don’t look much different from the mirror, but this in front of me feels more menacing.”
It is a natural disaster on par with an Ultimate Magic of a Tier 8 Magic Caster, so I cannot help it, I guess.
Final Ultimate Skill— Horizon’s End
I swing my sword from my sheathe. The sword cuts from left to right. It is a single honest strike that desires to cut the world apart to separate heaven and earth. I don’t know about favorites, but this is the Ultimate Skill I tend to use a lot back in Vanaheim’s Mirror as this has two options.
I can choose either a Single Target or an Area of Effect which in my current case, I choose the latter.
The dark clouds above part itself, and reveal the beauty hiding underneath it. The golden fiery sun shows itself in all of its glory. Two wedges of white from the left and right form an ellipse.
It is like a single eye from below where I stand. The sun is its pupil, the arching dark clouds are the eye’s edges, and the occasional thunder and lightning are like eyelashes.
“It is beautiful,” I comment.
Since gaining a sense of aesthetics, I become more inclined to hone my eyes for things. Value is not simply on the [Level] of things or the amount of data they wield.
I should thank Sofalia for awakening my sense of beauty. I don’t particularly think of myself as handsome, but when I see interesting things that catch my attention, I cannot help but utter words of praise and affirmation. “It is beautiful… Isn’t it?” But then at some point, it stops being beautiful.
Sigh… Human emotions are complicated. I feeling troubled by them more and more lately. It is unlike when I am busy and have to focus my energy on other things.
I read once in another book, something about theology, that an idle mind keeps the devil busy. At least, I can kill devils with my sword, but not really my mind.
I return to the cabin where Kruff is lying weakly on his bed. He seems to be suffering from a severe cold. It has only been a month since my return here, but things have quickly devolved into this.
I watch Pyla who with calloused hands change the wet but warm towel she uses to lower old Kruff’s temperature. I glance at the wooden sword in the corner which Pyla uses to train herself. I have been giving her some pointers lately which causes her levels to rise explosively.
In this world, gaining levels don’t simply come from killing monsters, people, or any lifeforms, but can also come from honest training.
“You. Friend, please come here…” Old Kruff opens his eyes weakly and calls to me. “Dear Pyla, can you give these two adults some time to talk…”
I watch Pyla leave with gloom in her eyes.
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“I am sorry, but more than that… I wanted to say thank you…”
I am weak to compliments, I learn that now. I kneel beside Kruff waiting for him to say more. “I am thankful we found you that day. Though the few weeks are short, you have been a great welcome in her life. And then Blumend happened. Sofalia came. I feel bad for her, that lass tends to fail her own expectations, then there is Pyla who has no expectations at all, except being together with those she cherishes…”
Kruff continues talking and talking. He thanks me a lot on the in-betweens when he loses his sense of self. Then when he becomes lucid again, he then tells me the past five years of how Pyla grows up.
There is a lot to tell for Kruff. “Friend… I feel like I am only hanging on until you return… I just know you will return… I don’t know why… But I feel like you do… Now… Now… I can rest in peace…”
Kruff slowly closes his eyes, entering a sweet slumber.
I check up on his breathing. It seems he is still alive, and I hope it stays that way for a little longer. “I never knew that I will also begin to fear the death of others…”
The first time I learn of death, I learn of fear, but I never imagine, that emotion of fear will not remain forever be mine. Now, I start to feel fear for the death of others.
***
Pyla kicks the snow below her. “Sigh…” Inside her, she blames herself for her sickly grandfather’s suffering. Just a few months before Van’s return, a massive undead wave attacks their cabin.
Because of that, her grandfather has to strain himself on fending off the horde. Pyla blames her weakness at that time as she cannot help her grandfather.
“He must have become sick because of that…” She thinks to herself.
Pyla looks above at the beautiful weather above where the sun shines in all of its glory. It resembles a single eye overseeing all life on Earth. She recalls peeking from the small gaps of the cabin and witnessing all of it happen.
It is indecipherable.
The only thing she knows is that it only takes him a single strike to move the sky above. It is truly ridiculous. Her grandfather is already plenty strong as he can command the elements of the sun at his sword’s every wave, not to mention invoke all sorts of magical phenomena.
But that one single strike that her big brother Van performs is on an entirely different level.
She hears the creaking of the door. When she looks around, she sees her familiar big brother Van with his thick brown hair covering almost all of his face. Pyla runs to him with a slow jog.
“Please take me as your disciple!” She tells him in a loud cry. “I want to learn about the sword! I want to fight! I want to protect my grandpa!” At the age of 13 years old, Pyla learns the importance of strength and begins to desire it with wholehearted passion.
I am speechless.
***
Is it normal for a 13-year-old girl to desperately want strength?
I guess not. Even with my lacking cultural development, I come to believe that it is wrong for someone so young to be this eager on wielding the sword. I recall some pretty graphic quests about Child Soldiers in Vanheim’s Mirror. None of them has a nice ending.
Well, except one, like Sofalia, who has a heroic destiny of the sort. Even if Pyla is burdened with a Destiny similar to them, my feelings will remain the same. The trials and passages of Heroes are always full of tragedy, and I believe I will want none of that for Pyla if I am to take care of her.
Maybe, this is greed that I am talking about, but I want Kruff to live longer. If Kruff is to ascend to Tier 8, then he will achieve the rejuvenation of the soul, mind, and body, which will effectively give him eternal youth.
Tier 8 is when an NPC gains the trait of longevity. At Tier 9, they become virtually unkillable unless they receive attacks from equal or higher Tier or those who can wield Final Ultimate Skills.
I don’t know. For an NPC, it will be immensely difficult to ascend to Tier 8. But Kruff is never an NPC, to begin with. From how I understand my slowly adjusting perspective of the world, his existence is not as constricted as an NPC. In a way, Kruff is just Kruff, a person who has as much potential as everyone regardless of age.
The same goes for me. Since I have become a person in this world, I no longer have the benefits of respawning after death.
“I will take you Pyla as my disciple, but first, let me hear your motivation…” I ask her sincerely.
Pyla’s eyes connect to mine. I feel her resoluteness and desire to get stronger. “A few months back before you returned, a horde of the undead attacked our Cabin. I felt so helpless at that time. I wished I could have fought back and protected grandfather…”
My mind wonders about the wound on Kruff’s back when I am cleaning him this early morning. I ask him what is that wound about, but Kruff insists that it is an old injury. Judging by its negative energy, I judge it to come from an undead. I really did not ponder on the possibility of it being a recent wound as Kruff claims that it is an old wound. I don't understand why he chooses to lie at that time.
But then.
I feel momentary anger that almost clouds my judgment. Not to Kruff exactly but to the undead.
“You did well on holding out…” I rub Pyla’s hair until it is unkempt. I come to understand that as a show of affection as I recall the brothers and sisters on Blumend’s streets who goes to the bakery to buy bread. “If something happened to you, Kruff will not be able to take it…”
“You…” I sense that Pyla wants to complain. “I am not a kid anymore. Please don’t mess up with my hair.” She sighs at my behavior.
I see. So rubbing her head like that is out of the table.
“I have heard your intentions, Pyla… I will teach you…” At least for self-defense. “But you have to promise me… You will use this power responsibly…” I tell her strictly.
“Yes!” She energetically answers. “From now on, I am your disciple! And you are my master.”
“Good.”
Since that day, I have Pyla train with an undead skeleton I pick up from the foot of the White Peaks. I realize that I am not alone anymore. There are people I want to protect too.
Thus, I decide, I should teach Pyla properly despite limiting myself not to teach her through more extreme measures like brutally power-leveling her and the like. I recall Sofalia who I have run the gauntlet on the Underdark.
It will not really hurt to be a bit more biased toward Pyla.
“M-master!” Pyla cries to me. “It… It is too strong.”
Of course, it is… That’s level 43, and Pyla is only in her single digits. “You will be fine. I will stop the lethal attacks. I removed its weapon for a reason…”
***
The silhouette of a nimble figure bounces from the trees of Umchaka Forest. Her silver flowing hair is like the snow dancing with the breeze while its single black strand is like sand. Her figure creates a mirage of her swaying with the wind, and the azure eyes that decorate her face are like the purest Ice Crystal that seems to never fade away.
“Father… I knew it! You are here!” She cries joyously.