The very nature of reality was just challenged by a soul standing on the other side of the campfire. He paced with a set of real golden-colored eyes attached to a smoky silhouette, and Alan stood at the ready to call him back into his blade if need be.
Offered the role of god?
“You are shaken. That’s good, Alan.” Afarus held his sword past the fire, pointed straight at him. “Now you know who you’re dealing with.”
“Are you the corruptor? Is that why Lucius turns on his friends at every chance?” Alan swiped away Afarus’ blade, which clanged, much to Alan’s dismay.
He’s able to materialize in full. I thought he was just a dense cloud.
Relax, Durger wouldn’t have suggested him if he wasn’t good.
Afarus smirked. “Everyone is accountable for their own choices.”
“Were you an influence, then?”
“All aspects of our vessels are an influence. A sword, a gauntlet, an essence – all conjured or worn by the wielder’s choice.” Afarus continued scraping his blade against the stone, testing his connection, enjoying his time outside the blade. “It feels good to be loose again. Under Farante, his Black Saro was too chaotic to hold me. Under Lucius, hmph, he wanted his whispers in check. But you. You have a sphere of Saro energy cycling around you like a slow-moving tornado. I can feel everything.” He clenched his fist, pulling more color and validity to his form. His hands were now a mix of flesh and smoke.
Alan concentrated on his anger to keep the soul in check. Filtering Black Saro gave him back the control, pulling essence out of Afarus, fighting him. “Careful, or back you go, Afarus. This will work as an exchange like any other. You do not gain the privilege of friendship like Durger and I share.”
“Hmph. A Merchant at heart. Of course.” He sheathed his blade, Alan noticing dark wraps hanging around his forearms – he guessed so his brittle bones would hold together. “I won’t deny the pleasure I get from walking the Realm of War again. Every time I am lifted, it’s like a breath a fresh air after drowning for years.” He paced, letting his swords drag against stone. “In business, I would be marked a fool. But I am appealing to your heart because I have watched you for some time now.”
Alan narrowed his eyes.
Feels like he’s playing 4D chess with me given how upfront he’s being.
“Train me to manage my Saro, train me in combat, and tell me your story about almost becoming a god, and I will allot time for you to walk beside me. Just know, Wolfgang Durghowler gets priority.”
“I am in the position of a lowly chained slave.” Afarus shrugged, playing the victim. “What choice do I have but to accept?”
“Good.” Alan remained skeptical. “What was your Saro affinity when you were alive?”
“Yellow. Powerfully so. However, I built myself as a Colorless as best I could. A Blue Saro gauntlet, White and Black swords, Red wraps. The list goes on. I worked to control all of it, then I abandoned my armor once I understood the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
“Our Saro limitations… are only in our mind. That’s something you knew at inception here. Maybe not consciously, but the universe deemed you Colorless for a reason.”
“Sounds vague and untrue. Are you telling me all these brilliant Wizards and warriors are locked in out of ignorance?” Alan flipped the coin of his Five Pearls and let them rotate around him. He wanted to internalize the reality split before it dulled in his mind’s eye. Might come in handy one day.
“Not simply. No. Saro is a manifestation of your Origin self, your finest proclivities of your past life. A dreamer full of hope. Tendencies toward strong optimism. They will land you on Yellow, where you will grow and grow in line with your magical affinity. Armor and ability may awaken other strong aspects of your prior personality. Yet still, almost all revert back to their affinity. Once power is gained, it is hard to scale back to step one.”
“And how’d you figure that out?” Alan asked, keeping his eyes shut while imaging the sword slash that split the campfire. Black essence swirled in front of him like dust, manifesting his experience and filling one of the pearls.
“Like you, I once fell in love with a Stone Chaser.”
Alan’s eyes sprung open, heat filling his cheeks. “I am not—”
Afarus’ smile became momentarily fleshed to show his deviousness. “Relax, I only meant to annoy. My love, she had the Answer Stone to that deep question – What is the true nature of Saro, and our connection to it therein? Legends say I will be struck to oblivion for revealing such truth.” He spread his arms. “But I’m not sure there’s much they can do to me now.”
“Is that what happened to your Stone Chaser?” Alan surmised.
“I mourn her every night in my dark dungeon.”
Which means he sympathizes with Lucious’ plight. Perhaps Lucius made a deal with him before leaving the blade with me.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
“So I should warn Neesha to keep quiet if she gains what she seeks?”
“An excuse to see your love again?” Afarus licked his lips to stifle a laugh. “Depends on the magnitude of the Answer Stone, and its forewarnings. Surely she understands the risks already. Some Answer Stones have tell limitations, which would prevent her from speaking the truth to more than one or two people. It really is a strange craft.”
So if Neesha tells Gregorian first, it would only strengthen their bond.
“Mm. I see that jealousy rising within you. Embarrassment, resentment, I wonder what color those emotions evoke.” He dipped his blade in the campfire and touched it to the air – leaving stationary flames lingering in place all around them. “I’d say you’re properly primed.”
Alan already felt manipulated in less than ten minutes of knowing the shadow of this man. How did he wind up in such an unhealthy state? It’s like he was drained of his life before the black dragon claimed him. So many questions.
He kicked out the campfire and advanced, showing the soul he hadn’t been dallying at all. Red Saro overwhelmed the creeping Black, coating the Soul Collector with a red film.
Ting! Ting!
Afarus only gently touched Alan’s blade, and it was enough to send him scratching backward on his heels. It was frightening how gently he was able to wield such a long blade. “Your Saro is strong, there is no doubt. But there is a problem. Pairings. You do not mold them well together. It’s all haphazard and unplanned. You have a Black blade and seek to prove to me how un-sloppy you are by evoking instinctive stances. You aren’t listening to the emotions you already conjured.”
“What the hell are you talking about? My embarrassment? Wouldn’t that fall under Black?”
“Why did you feel embarrassed?”
Him accusing me of loving Neesha.
Alan furrowed his brow.
“You’ll never pair well if you keep lying to yourself, Alan.”
I don’t love her, though…
But I do like her.
“Neesha. I want to be with her. Hope. Yellow.”
“Blessed and true.” Afarus held up his blade in ready stance.
Alan exchanged Red for Yellow, readying for a nefarious next strike. He charged the shadow in hopes to close the gap, slapping away a long poke of Afarus’ sword and suffering a hard overhead blow that he met at the last second. His forearms vibrated with atrophy, but the pairing was enough to defend. His goal wasn’t to impress his new mentor, however. It was to best him.
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He dropped his dark blade and dashed forward, unsheathing his soulless dagger of gibberish, and imbuing it with the same Saro pair of Yellow and Black. He was a foot away from closing the gap and impaling Afarus – inches – when he flung his hanging wraps around Alan’s wrists and flipped him onto his back.
“Shit.” Alan spread his arms out on the stone ground.
Afarus’ blade was still vibrating, ringing like a struck bell. “Withstanding the might of my Silsheen sword after only one lesson.” He clenched the blade with his free hand, forcing it to stop. “You may not be as lost as we say.”
Disbelief in progress. Surpassing expectations – more hope. More Yellow. The bastard is trying to steer me.
Alan kicked up to his feet, swiped his blades from the ground, and backflipped to a comfortable distance – cloak flapping. “Again.”
They practiced all night. Where Lucius trained Alan in proper footing and balance, Afarus taught of intricacies of Saro. He felt like a Wizard of arms after only seven hours of non-stop skirmish, until the two of them turned to budding rays of light piercing the fog around the boulders.
“It is time for you to trek on, I think.” Afarus’ golden eyes scanned Alan. “As much as I would like to distract you to the ends of time so I may remain here, I digress. Do not waste daybreak like I often did. Keep your promises, Alan. They will build within you a foundation of confidence no god can waver.”
“Wait.” Alan pointed his sword, out of breath. “What beast bested you? Not the black dragon that dealt the final blow. I mean, which one actually beat you.”
He flashed a smile. “Who ever said it was a minion?”
Alan furrowed his brow as Afarus faded away back into the Soul Collector. He sighed strongly, the exhaustion kicking in now that the threat was gone. A quick serenity check sent wisps of Green Saro cycling him, replenishing all that was expended and replacing the need for sleep. Within a minute, he was good to go again. What’s more, he was looking forward to the evening.
Afarus was endlessly interesting. How the hell could a soul Alan controlled feed on his Saro? Just how powerful was he when he was alive? His manipulations reminded Alan of a politician, so it was hard to imagine him as a loner trekking through the crimson fog. Then again, Alan was a Merchant with a hope to one day do the same.
For miles, Alan moved strategically, destroying Sorkin and testing his new Saro pairings. Blue and White was particularly fun – predicting the path of his foes and sending long-range projectiles curving out of Blood Edge. At first, it was hard to focus on conflicting emotions. Until Alan began to understand that it wasn’t about harboring two at once, but rather layering them atop one another.
Throughout the day, he got lost a few times, calling Durger to sit beside him and analyze the map. They both decided it was best to avoid the geyser for fear of it releasing harsh-colored fog at random, though that prospect didn’t last very long when the opposite way was blocked by a bubbling red waterfall not identified on the map.
Apparently, when news of a gryphon death reaches the nest, the roost bleeds out sorrowful poison – according to a hunter within the Soul Collector, at least. Alan didn’t ask much more concerning that because he didn’t want to know.
The sun dropped quickly, forcing Alan to scramble to find a stone patch adequate enough to train for the night. He didn’t care to be swarmed by Sorkin in the middle of a very important session. Once he settled on a station, he built another campfire in an earthen strip beside the stone patch, then reached for Afarus’ bodiless soul once again.
Fsssh.
He materialized into a skinny patch of intricate smoke and real eyes.
“How were you offered the role of god?” Alan asked.
“To gain an answer like that, you have to strike me first.” Afarus drew his Silsheen sword and swiped it through the flame, creating an arcing ceiling of fire that illuminated their camp. “Our princely friend showed me that one. A true artist.” He then sheathed the blade and waved his hands to dismiss it completely from existence.
“What are you doing?” Alan asked.
“Hand-to-hand combat is important to understand non-minion enemies. If it’s as you say, and war is among you, it will be valuable to know.” He held up his fists in various styles. Kung-fu, boxing, kick-boxing, even some he’d never seen before.
Intrigue. He’s evoking intrigue. That probably falls under Blue. I’m layering Red over it. I don’t care what he says – there can’t be anything more important in hand-to-hand combat than good instincts.
He mentally cycled through all the movies he enjoyed – since that was his only real inspiration for combat, other than that time he tackled a would-be thief at the shop – then raised his hands to defend himself.
“There is more connection in this universe than our origins. I attribute it to the potency of magic.”
“My origin had none.” Alan held his fists close to his face in case he’d have to block.
“Well then, you’re in for a treat.” Afarus advanced – Alan anticipating three potential attacks and strafing left to reduce his exposure.
Woosh!
Afarus’ arms were medium-length and lanky, swinging Hail Mary’s before switching stances to some kind of grappling style.
Instinct told Alan to duck another swing, but when he did, a knee found his nose and his arms were trapped in a lock.
Failing over and over again as the night dragged on evoked more frustration than he knew he had in him. Is this how Lucius became so prone to the Black? That got Alan wondering if Afarus had been toying with his ego the whole time. What’s worse, his confidence was deteriorating to the point he was fearful he couldn’t handle deep fogs.
From excitement, to intrigue, to taunting, to despair. Afarus Soh was a terrible force to be reckoned with.
When Alan went down for the hundred-and-fiftieth time, he asked what style the wide kicks and hyper-extended punches was called – Usafa-Epon, from Frontier origin – and asked to be trained in it.
Red Saro allowed him to master the kicks in two tries, but knowing how and when to use them took many more.
Another week came and went. Grey fog changed to light blue, but not before a stint of pink. Along the way, minions became a cakewalk to deal with compared to sparring against Afarus, and the others within the blade were gathering every night to watch, according to Durger.
Great, more embarrassment. Getting my ass handed to me in front of an audience.
Alan took it in stride, though, which was good, because that meant the Black wouldn’t yet consume him.
As time passed, Alan realized what Afarus was talking about in terms of connection. He had stark understandings of trustworthiness, genuineness, and other positive feelings toward his mentor. But he didn’t let that judgement devolve into absolutism. The fact still remained, Afarus Soh was leagues ahead of anyone he’d ever encountered, and may very well be playing him for a fool. Regardless, one thing was certain, Alan was getting stronger.
On the thirty-fifth evening, after impaling a high-level sea-beast with long, fin-like hair and a face full of barnacles, Alan showed up for training determined to strike Afarus. His entire body was soaked, armor unhooked and cast aside to face his mentor in the same bare-bones attire he showed up in. Tonight, he would know the answer to his question – how does one become a god?
He imagined they were chosen or assigned like the beasts in Ojin. Or perhaps created by the universe.
No more guessing. He unsheathed his dark blade and dug it into the marshy ground, evoking Afarus with a wave of his hand and a tinge of anger.
According to his map, he was one day away from the great geyser blocking the gryphon nest. Fears of deep colored smoke subsided, his confidence returning ten-fold. He didn’t quite know where the determination came from, but deep down, it’s like his Saro pendant clicked into a fluid understanding of Saro, its pairing, and everything in between.
Alan dropped into Epon stance, legs spread wide and ready for springing kicks, Blood Edge out.
“No opening remarks tonight, hm?” Afarus matched his stance, pulling his Silsheen into a tight overhead position.
“Nope.” Alan tossed his wet hair out of his face and slashed at the campfire himself to create a phoenix-like design overhead – lighting their duel. The rain tapped against the flame, making it flicker.
They circled one another slowly, Alan pairing various Saro in each limb. He experienced love and loss and hatred within seconds, remembering experiences he thought were long-lost. In a sense, he was more alive on Earth than he’d ever been, all in the name of strength here, in Ojin.
Alan leapt forward into a trailing double-kick, shooting two blasts out of each foot – one White, another Yellow – forcing Afarus to roll out of harm’s way.
“You abandoned Flint.” Afarus counter-attacked with a powerful swing of his sword.
Clang!
Alan used a heap of Black-Red Saro on the northern point of Blood Edge to knock the Silsheen back, then flipped forward to slice the soul with his southern blade. He knew he’d miss like always, so he side-flipped again to avoid a sweep kick and contorted into a drastic stab in hopes to catch Afarus off guard.
Almost.
Zzzt!
A streak of yellow lightning sizzled when it hit the marsh, narrowly missing Afarus. The counter attacks grew more intimidating. The Silsheen sword rotated like a weightless fan to ward Alan off. Demonic faces assaulted Alan after every block, distracting him, until he leapt into one head on, dispelling the smoke and coming out with a scissor-kick bolstered by Red and Orange Saro. Flames erupted around his legs as Afarus flipped out of the way, then morphed into firebolts from his next kicks.
Ffff! Fff!
They were chopped to embers by the Silsheen.
“Lucius betrays you because he does not trust you,” Afarus spewed.
“Shut up!” Alan flipped his double-bladed staff into wild rotations, sending varying elements flying in Afarus’ direction. He was expending copious amounts of Saro, but that was for good reason. He had a plan.
“Neesha and Gregorian will be bound together by choice, not decree,” Afarus went on. “And Trish… she was right to leave you.”
Alan’s eyes widened. How?
How could he possibly know?
Anger boiled, turning all of his Variant Saro Black, to the point Alan felt his consciousness split into multiple shadow forms that bombarded Afarus.
Fsshing! Shhoo!
The Bladesman sliced through multiple forms, until the real Alan emerged midair, throwing Blood Edge to overwhelm the Silsheen and drill-kicked Afarus straight in the chest. He folded from the sheer force of the kick, sending plumes of smoke in every direction as he bounced over the marsh.
Alan kicked up again, out of breath, the rage inside him cooling in the face of what he just accomplished.
A spear of smoke shot past Alan, reforming behind him.
“A masterful barrage.” Afarus slow-clapped behind Alan, beckoning him to turn around. “Overwhelmed with emotion, you managed to overwhelm me.”
“What kind of lesson is this, that chaos rules over all?”
“When tempered by order, perhaps. Chaos in and of itself is just random power. But how you honed it this night, heh. I daresay you can walk among the most fearsome with that inside you.”
Alan shook his head. “That’s not something I want to tap into often.”
“Now that you know it exists, you can reel it back with serenity Green. Raw power weaved into calm stillness. It was any cultivators dream in my Origin World.”
Alan huffed and sat down under his phoenix flame, folding his legs.
“Oh?” Afarus rounded him. “Are we done already?”
“Yes. You’re going to tell me how you almost became a god.”