Chapter 18: The Hidden Aura

Elias stood in the vast chamber of the Hall of Sentient Relics, the dim light shimmering off the myriad artifacts lining the walls and pedestals. Each relic exuded an aura so powerful it seemed to bend the air around it. Swords hummed faintly with contained energy, amulets pulsed with ethereal light, and tomes whispered secrets from forgotten ages. Yet, as Elias stepped closer, the overwhelming presence of the relics did not affect him.

He felt no weight, no pressure, no strain. He reached out instinctively toward a sword with a hilt carved from what looked like dragon bone, its blade glowing faintly with crimson light. The sword vibrated slightly but gave no reaction. No sense of connection or resistance. It was as if the relics did not acknowledge him at all.

Arkhale, standing at a respectful distance, observed the interaction with growing confusion. The butler, an ageless remnant of the Magic Elder’s will, furrowed his ethereal brows. "Curious," he murmured, stepping forward.

“What’s wrong?” Elias asked, his voice echoing faintly in the chamber.

Arkhale's tone was laced with unease. "Normally, the relics would test a participant's worth. Their auras should probe your intentions, your strength, and your soul. Yet, with you..." His voice trailed off.

“They’re ignoring me?” Elias guessed.

Arkhale nodded gravely. “No, young one. It's not that they ignore you. It’s as if... they cannot sense you. To them, you are invisible, nonexistent."

Elias's brow furrowed. "But why? Is it because I haven’t awakened?”

"Perhaps," Arkhale replied, though his voice lacked conviction. “Yet even unawakened individuals have a presence. You, Elias... you lack even that. This anomaly is unlike anything I have encountered in all my eons of service.”

A tense silence settled over them, the hum of the relics seeming louder in the absence of conversation. Finally, Arkhale spoke again, his tone a mix of apprehension and determination.

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“You are fortunate,” Arkhale began, his voice steady but his expression troubled. "Though the relics cannot connect with you, the rules of this inheritance ground dictate that every participant who clears the trials is allowed to claim an artifact. And while they do not acknowledge you now, there is one way to remove this barrier."

Elias turned toward him, his curiosity piqued. “How?”

Arkhale waved his hand, and with a swirl of light, a crystalline vial appeared, filled with a shimmering liquid that shifted colors like a living aurora. The sheer energy radiating from the vial made the relics momentarily dim, as if bowing to its presence.

“This,” Arkhale announced, "is the Elixir of Eternals. A concoction of unparalleled potency, crafted with drops of divine ichor from the forgotten age. It is an awakening elixir of the highest order. Drinking this will not only awaken your dormant abilities but may also reveal truths about your very existence. Be warned, however—its effects can be unpredictable, and the process is excruciating.”

Elias hesitated, staring at the elixir. "And you’re giving this to me?”

“Under normal circumstances, I could not,” Arkhale admitted, his expression grim. "The elixir is meant only for those who have earned it, and it is far too valuable to be wasted. However, since you have passed the trials and yet cannot bond with an artifact, I am permitted to remove this obstacle by offering it to you. It is your choice."

Elias reached out, gripping the vial tightly. The liquid inside seemed to dance in response, almost alive. He uncorked it and hesitated briefly, his mind racing.

This was his chance. His long-awaited awakening. The step he needed to take to prove himself to the world and to himself.

With a deep breath, Elias tipped the vial back and downed the elixir in one gulp. For a moment, there was nothing.

He stood still, the cool liquid settling in his stomach. "It’s—" he began, but the words caught in his throat.

A searing pain erupted within him, radiating out from his core. His knees buckled as he fell to the ground, his screams echoing through the chamber. It felt as though his entire body was being torn apart and remade. His skin began to crack, fissures glowing with an unearthly light spreading across his body.

"Elias!" Arkhale called, his usually composed demeanor breaking. "This... this is not normal!"

The butler knelt beside him, his incorporeal form flickering. "Hold on, boy! Do not give in!"

Elias's vision blurred as the pain intensified. His heart thundered in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. He could feel himself slipping, his consciousness fading.

No! he thought fiercely. Not here. Not now. I’ve come too far to stop now.

Through sheer force of will, Elias clung to the last shreds of his awareness, refusing to surrender to the agony. His mind latched onto memories of his sister, his parents, his village. The people who believed in him, who had supported him despite his lack of magic.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain ceased.

Elias lay motionless on the floor, his body trembling, his breaths shallow. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his vision clearing to reveal Arkhale’s concerned expression hovering over him.

“You’re alive,” the butler murmured, relief evident in his voice.

“What... happened?” Elias croaked.

Arkhale studied him intently, his eyes narrowing. “You endured what few could. The elixir has done its work, though I cannot yet say to what extent. Rest for now, Elias. You have earned it.”

Elias sat up slowly, his body still aching but intact. The cracks in his skin had disappeared, replaced by an odd warmth that seemed to radiate from within. He could feel... something. A spark, faint but undeniable.

For the first time in his life, Elias felt truly alive.