“Died after?” Ewan frowned. The new information didn’t match the history he saw, neither did the Wraith’s disposition overlap with the young boy in the spectral past—the height was a mismatch too. He killed his whole family one night in cold blood, slaughtered them to satiate his curiosity, then buried them himself… Did his quiet conscience finally knock on his door? Or just his regret welled up and he missed his family. How did he die after that? Suicide?
The questions that didn’t matter in the past because of their irrelevance now threw a wrench in his plans. Because the authenticity of the contrasting claims could determine if his spell
If that really was the case… Ewan broke out in cold sweat at the thought and gulped. He had tamed the mystic element with his ‘favored level’ affinity, he was sure of it. Until now. If they weren’t under his control, then they’d toyed with him since day one. But the Anima didn’t have sentience, regardless of the element. So, how could the Mystic-Anima show him a false history? Not to mention the source of the deceptive information.
His mind raced, his thoughts and ideas collided, and he listed out the possibilities.
First scenario, all of this was a false alarm, and the Wraith had lied. This was the most desirable situation yet was the most unlikely. The child Wraith showed a naïve, pure, a bit meek, and childlike characteristics so far. Even though his drastic past and a brutal end birthed him, as his memories shaped his current form, he hadn’t matured enough as a Wraith to go against his innate nature. So, deceit was improbable.
Second scenario—the Wraith was telling the truth and his spell
Third scenario—there were no ploys, and the problem was the mystic element itself. Even though it didn’t have the sentience to make a choice, it still duped him. This element was the most unknown and bizarre of the eleven, so such an absurd notion was plausible. His spell peered into the past through their memories after all, a feat that could be too heavy for his level, his affinity or the expenditure of Anima might not have qualified to access them. The only question was—where did the Mystic-Anima pick the fabricated history from?
The scenarios were mere conjectures. The only way to confirm them was through experiments and evidence. The second and the third possibilities stumbled Ewan, but he could verify the first one easily. The proof was at his doorstep.
“Go, bring the tools,” Ewan said. “Dig his family’s grave.”
“What? Why?” Kidd asked in alarm.
“Just do as I say.” Ewan glared at him.
“Okay.” Kidd shrank back. “He’s not going to like it, Boss, he might go on a rampage,” he muttered.
“Leave him to me,” Ewan said and extended his Ryvia to cover the whole villa. He couldn’t see the Wraith but could pick up his influence in the surroundings. Wherever he touched, whatever he moved. The unnatural shifts in the blades of grass, the unusual rustle of the leaves, and the cold whistle of the wind grazing him by. If he just looked for it, the Wraith’s presence would sing aloud.
That was enough to control him in case he went berserk, if Kidd couldn’t warn him in time. Moreover, if he did rage for digging his family’s grave, it would only back up his claims and give him evidence to cancel out the first scenario.
……
The first wound on the grave already provoked a shockwave, as the peace of the yard collapsed, a mind-buzzing screech followed its tail—Walyn seethed vehemently. Kidd stumbled back, gawking behind Ewan, the shovel in his hand trembling, the loose mud dropping at his feet.
“Continue,” Ewan said and focused his Ryvia behind him, pinning the area. The air weighed down, the puddles seeped into the ground, and the grass flattened. Walyn pushed against his Ryvia, fighting the pressure, his feet imprinting the earth, and the friction heated the wind—sparks shuttled around.
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Kidd gulped then continued shoveling the wet earth, peeking behind Ewan from time to time. “B-Boss, he’s struggling…,” he stammered. He barely finished his words, and Walyn shrieked with a grating undulating pitch, as if nails had scratched a board. The glass windows shattered. The grass, the soil, the water burst away. The protective fog quaked, and the wave blasted Ewan back. He thudded on the ground, and the hit took his breath away for a moment, as he gasped and wheezed in a sharp inhale. Luckily, his Varos only cracked and held its own against the attack, else he would’ve fractured a few bones at least.
He severely underestimated the Wraith, or more like he underestimated Walyn’s willingness to fight back for the graves. Nevertheless, his reaction had almost struck through the first scenario.
“Keep digging,” he said with a gruff voice, jumping back on his feet, growling as his breaths sped up. His Ryvia roiled with his intent of destruction, he pushed his spirit to its limits, and the wind stilled before him. And with a roar, he erupted his Ryvia and covered the whole villa, crushing any and all disturbance. The broken shards of glass floated up and disintegrated, the porcelain dishes in the kitchen imploded and powdered, the protective fog quaked yet again, and the yard hushed down into a ghostly silence.
His perception covered everything in the area, even the tiniest interference didn’t escape him. With the change in resistance that his spirit felt, he found the Wraith. Instead of suppressing him down this time and locking him in place, he converged a part of his Ryvia and hammered him. Walyn screeched, the ground squashed around him, and a second later, he fought back.
Ewan’s Varos cracked and healed then cracked again under the constant bombardment of shockwaves while he smacked the Wraith around. From the corner of the yard to the villa’s rooftop, their clashes left only ruination in its wake. The once lush lawn browned in patches, the bombardment skinned it to its bare earth. Shredded plant bits lingered in the air, barely feathering down before another blast hurled them back into the sky. The walls of his house cracked; the fractures raced with each strike. Wet soil splattered around; muddy water exploded then rained down.
Ewan mixed in some particles of his Varos with his Ryvia and whipped Walyn, it sizzled on contact and singed the Wraith. Walyn vanished and reappeared before him, shrieking at him at point blank range.
The Varos fragmented. The thudding blow cracked his ribs and caved his chest in, while his counterattack crushed the Wraith to the ground. The damage halted both the parties and the attacks stopped for a moment as they pulled away. Ewan panted, each grunting breath hurting his sternum and burning his dry throat, as he glared at the area where Walyn was.
“How is he?” Ewan asked in a hoarse voice.
“H-He’s flickering, Boss… and more transparent,” Kidd said, gulping. “He’s crawling towards me.” He looked down at the ground where he stood with the shovel, where he’d wounded the earth. “Towards the grave…”
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Status: Injured
Step-0 [9th Awakening]
Name: Ewan Ayres
Species: Human
Vitality: 2.0
Spirit: 19.9
Anima: [Fire – 19.9 | Ice – 19.9 | Blood – 19.9]
Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [9th Awakening]
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Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-9] [Grade-B]
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Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-9] [Grade-B]
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Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-9] [Grade-S]
Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter]; Moonkeeper [Crystal-Ball].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals [Novas Coins]; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.
Novas: 65,145
Crelith: 3,887