In front of me was the most terrifying existence I have ever known. Well, second most terrifying.
The aura that the old man is emitting is smothering me still. It's as if my body has it's own gravitation center, and my insides are being dragged into that singular location. Add that with the searing heat that is being forced onto me, I nearly lost consciousness. I'm over ten meters away and yet I was still being affected at this extent. I shuddered at the thought of getting closer.
I looked onto the old man, hoping to find something I can use to pique his interest. Maybe he's a wood sculptor, or a person that enjoys to fletch? I tore the scenery apart with my gaze, hoping to find a single weakpoint to the old man.
There's a multitude of stacked logs in the corner of the shack. Upon closer inspection, the logs are all cut the exact same width, length, and depth. Even with proper tools, you could only come so close. There would even be shavings on the corner of the logs. However, these are the equivalent of marble. There's not a single grain of wood out of place. Did he cut this himself?
I look back at him. He's squinting at me, noticing my gaze that seems to be searching for something. To my surprise, however, he doesn't say anything. He simply stares intently.
I continue to search along the perimeter with my eyes.
I then notice an odd stone in the front of the yard. Its shape.. A tombstone. I can't read the letters from here that should be engraved on the stone, but I can see the flowers placed in front of it. I even notice how well-kept the block is. It's as if he cleans it himself. There's not a single smudge of dirt, mud, or grass anywhere to be seen.
Now that I look at it, the same goes for his shack. What I thought was a straw mud-shack is actually dark brown bricks and straws that are horrifyingly sharp. Is that steel? Iron? Whatever it is, it has a dim reflection and glow. Even the grass around the building is uniformly cut, not a single blade out of place.
I glance at the old man, and his gaze still hasn't shifted, but his eyes have glazed over slightly. Apparently boredom.
"Your home.." I speak up. His attention resparks, immediately recovering me with his dreadful heated aura. I clench my teeth, trying to stay standing. "It's.. Well taken care of, isn't it?"
The aura loses some of the grip.
"You may seem like a pig, but at least your eyes are somewhat decent." he says, a smirk appearing on his face. I think I may or may not have cracked the code. "However, flattery isn't going to make me teach you my secrets." I retract my previous thought. Stubborn old man.
"I can't help but notice how uniform the grass is." I say, taking a small step forward. The pressure thickens. "The bricks in the walls are also perfectly cut. Did you cut it yourself?"
His smirk turns into a grin.
"And that tombstone-" The pressure multiplies tenfold instantly, cutting my breath off, choking me. It's as if I am Atlas, and the world is on my back. The pressure is painful. It burns. It hurts.
"Give me one good reason not to kill you." he spoke, each word vibrating my eardrums.
"I-I.. I won't.. I won't die. I'll just respawn." I manage to get out. The pressure, once again, drops. What is this? Whack-a-mole with your aura?
"Good point."
He sighed, deciding on something. He then turned to me.
"Since you're a bit more interesting than the fools that tried to steal my Way of the Dragon via force, I'll let you in on a subject. That tombstone isn't any tombstone. It's the memorial I placed for my son, who is no longer of this world."
He pulled out a pipe, putting it in his mouth. After gesturing me to sit in front of him, which I did, he took his time lighting and puffing. He exhaled deeply. He then gazed into the sky, as if searching for something lost.
"My boy. He was a strong lad. A strong, strong boy.."
--
An old man gazed into the woods before him, the scene around him very similar to what Zen had seen. However, the only difference was the lack of a grave.
Sensing footsteps in the distance, and noticing their weight on the ground, he smiled as his one and only child appeared out of the bushes.
"Father, father! Look what I found!" said a boy, named Ronan, pulling on his father's robe. His father laughed whole-heartedly, noticing the frog in his hand.
"What did I tell you about nature, boy? Come now, leave it be." the father said, rustling his beloved son's auburn hair. The boy's purple eyes filled with tears. Was he going to cry? Shoot!
"B-but, father.." he sniffled.
The father hugged his son. 'I can't be harsh on him. He's just a child.'
"I'm not angry, my boy." he said.
"R-really?" The boy turned his head, as if purposefully showing the tears on his face. Gah! Must resist! He's too cute for an old heart like mine!
"Of course. That and.. Between you and me.." he leaned over, gesturing for Ronan to come in whispering distance. "That's one mighty fine frog." The boy beamed. "Now come. We have dinner to eat."
"Uhn!"
--
"That doesn't explain anything, old man." I said, pointing out the old man's rambling.
"Do you want to hear it or not?" the old man growled, each word placing fear in my heart. I hurriedly nodded my head as fast as my muscles could swivel.
"Good. Now, where was I..?"
--
"Thank you for dinner, father. It was delicious." said Ronan, washing the dishes. His grinning face seemed to fill the room with a colorful atmosphere. He was an innocent, adorable child.
"Of course, my boy." said the old man. He sat in the living room chair, watching as the fire flickered as he casually turned a page in his book. Although there really was no need for fire in such warm weather, the old man preferred to watch as nature itself kindled, taking and giving.
In fact, the old man more tuned with nature that most druids of the continent, Destinia. He thoroughly believed in karma, the circle of life, and fate. Everything was born/created with a purpose, and until it fulfills that purpose, it wouldn't be recycled into the flow of creation.
Every action has an opposite and equal reaction. Everything in the universe is created with a purpose. Everything is destined for something special that no other thing will do.
Such as his child, Ronan. Ronan Dragon. He was sure that Ronan would impact the world. Such an pure, kindred soul will change the world for good.
He smiled as he slowly faded into sleep, warmed by his son's attempts to get him a blanket and wish him a good rest.
--
"Your son's last name is dragon.. That means.. Wait.. A-are.. ARE YOU A DRAGON?!" said Zen, only to be beat on the top of the head with the old man's pipe. Even though it was a light tap, Zen's knees sunk into the ground and he saw stars.
"FOOL."
--
A blood curdling scream immediately rose the old man from his sleep. He immediately projected his aura out, scanning the environment for anything hostile. Is it Ronan? Could he be in danger? Panic and anger filled his mind when he realized that Ronan was in his study.
He had reminded Ronan countless times in the past to never venture into the study. As long as he didn't enter the study, he was free to do whatever he wished. However, the boy had an insatiable curiosity. He couldn't cure him of that. That's how the boy was. That's also how he himself was as a child.
However, now is not the time to think about such things. Inside the study are multiple books related to the Way of the Dragon. If an inept person dared to attempt to use those abilities, their bodies would disintegrate as their mana broke down and ate them alive. It couldn't be..
The old man bolted through the living room and into the study that was near the kitchen. A bright light invaded his eyes as he realized the horror in front of him. All of his fears came true as slowly watched as..
His son..
Was disappearing.
Ronan's POV
'Father seems to be tired. I'll get him a blanket. Hehe. I bet he'll be happy with that.' thought Ronan as he threw his own quilt onto his father's lap.
'Silly father, reading before sleeping. I'll take that book. Legend's of Arcana?' He flipped the book over and slowly realized that it was a book from the study. Father has told him never to enter the study, but this was to put something back. It'd be okay as long as he didn't touch anything, right?
Ronan smiled as he tiptoed to the door, carefully opening it and closing it.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
He dropped the book in surprise. He never expect there to be so many books in one spot! Oh, how he adored books! His eyes happily scanned over the books in the bookcases, desperately wanting to read any one of them. However, he couldn't do that. Father told him not to enter here. He just came in here to put away a book.
Right?
His mind was of a child, so of course, curiosity won out. A six year does not comprehend right from wrong very well, you know.
'Adventures of a Love-stricken Zombie'.
'Fire; Life and Destruction'.
'How to Effectively Control Your Mana; For dummies.'
He drooled over the various books. He grabbed one at random, not knowing the title. Of course, as the narrator, I'll say the title for storytelling purposes. (smirk).
'The Way of the Dragon; God-Slaying Techniques'.
He immediately placed the book down on the desk, and stood up on the chair to read it. He flipped the first page.
'Father's name.. Does that mean that father wrote this?! He would be so proud if I could read this!' Ronan's eyes twinkled as he read through the details.
- As a mage or as a warrior, you have the ability to control mana. The way that it's used is of naught importance, but that the mana is there, and it is accessible. If you pull from the power within your soul, at any time, you may empower yourself with abilities. This book is one to teach you how to properly use your mana at the most destructive capabilities. Now, to begin, every person has a..-
'Boring.' Ronan flipped the page, then saw a fancy picture of a man in an unarmed fighting stance. He smiled and continued to read.
- Heaven's Punisher - First stance. -
- Heaven's Punisher is the very first technique that I have created. Now, envision yourself surrounding your fists with your soul. Only fuse your fists with a part of your soul, never more. With proper mana-control, and theoretical soul control, your fists can even tear through Mythril and Nebulam (God's ore). However, this is solely dependent on one's mana reservoir.-
- First, wrap your hands with mana. -
'Mana? Is that the thing father showed me the other day? So.. Just wrap my fists with it?'
Ronan immediately felt the blood-like flow of mana to his hands, and felt his hands brimming with power. Pleased with himself, he continued to step two.
- Second, imagine your mana becoming thicker, denser. Compact your mana to the utmost degree, confining it the limits of your skin. -
Ronan knew how to compact mana, also. He did just so, watching as his hands turned bright white from the mana density. He smiled. Step three!
- Lastly, do the same with your soul. Your soul is a red core within your mana reservoir, in a void that cannot truly be seen within the body. This core provides intelligence, function, and versatility to the brain. Only then can your brain truly send out it's demands to it's body. (a bit like nerve cells)
To put it simply, imagine your blood fusing with your hands. If successful, your hands should be wrapped in a dark red aura that fuses with your mana. Try it now. -
Ronan immediately imagined his hands flowing with blood. After that he imagined his mana mixing with his blood.
His hands immediately glowed dark, blood red. Surprised, he immediately clenched his hand. Powerful. Strong. He could do anything.
Why could he do this so easily? Ronan had a fantastic imagination, and magic is nothing more than that. Imagination and mana.
He was elated at himself. First thing's first, he had to tell father of his discovery. Father might praise him! He immediately tried to close the book, only to see his hands abruptly bulge. White light flowed from the pores of his skin, slowly causing his hands to erode away.
Terrified, he let out a bloodcurdling scream, causing his father to enter the room. Tears slowly filled his father's eyes as he saw what was happening.
Dragon Emperor's POV
I watched as my boy's hands slowly faded from his body. I took a glance at the book he was reading, and in horror I realized that it was the Way of the Dragon's technique. I desperately fumbled to Ronan, grabbing his arm and trying to focus his mana with my own. Though my reservoir is large, it was immediately drained to the last drop upon the attempt. I felt an unfamiliar pain of emptiness, something I never experienced with my ocean-like reservoir of mana.
I can't focus such a horrifying degree of mana corrosion. He must have infused his soul with his mana. Such a thing.. Such a stupid thing..
"Why.. Why did you come in here, Ronan?!" I yelled, startling the boy even more.
"Dad, I-I.. I don't know! Help me, please! I don't know what's happening!" screamed Ronan. His arms were corroding away even faster, now reaching his upper arms. I tried to call upon my soul to force more mana, maybe to infuse my life force to prevent such a thing from happening, but it rejected me. No soul would willingly kill itself for another. Souls are not living beings, they're nuclei of energy, not beings that understand love.
I cursed myself, tears now falling down my eyes. Fear passed onto my boy's face, an expression I never wanted to see.
The erosion reached his shoulder, and he no longer could support his weight. I gently laid him onto the desk, and watched as he seemingly reached a plateau of peace on his face. No longer full of pain. No longer aware that his legs were gone as well. No longer aware that only beating heart and head remained.
"Father.. I'm.. I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry.." My boy began to cry as well.
I put my hand on his face, gently rubbing the tears away.
"No, son. It's alright. Don't be sorry. Everything will be alright. Alright, my boy?" I said, comforting him and myself, though I knew it would not be the case. I would.. I would lose him.
The erosion reached his upper chest, inches away from his slowing heart.
"Dad.. Things seem so clear. I wonder if this is how Mom felt when she-"
In a flash, my boy vanished.
I gripped the air where he had disappeared, as if hoping to hold him to this world. The tears fell harder.
'My son is gone. The only person I truly loved that was alive now is not. All because of my mistake.
I.. I killed him.
...
Later that evening I burned the book and formed a gravestone in his honor. I also decided to never use Way of the Dragon again. When I die, the techniques will die with me.
--
The old man puffed out the last bit of his tobacco, then knocked out the ashes onto the grass below. There was a glisten in his eyes. He looked towards me, and nodded as a tear streaked down his cheek. This struck a chord in my heart. As a person who also lost his family, I can relate to the pain.
I had to do something, and before my mind could change, I was already in motion.
I stood up, and the old man watched as I walked towards to gravestone. I then knelt down.
"Ronan, dear son of this decrepit old man, I hope you heard this today. I hope you realize that you are a child that was loved, and a child that will continue to be loved forever. I know from your pure outlook on life that you never once blamed your father for what happened, and you never will, regardless of where you are now.
I wish you a safe passing into the world once more, dear friend."
I put my hand on the gravestone, rubbing it in the same way I would rub my family's stones. Out of habit. I felt a twinge in my heart. Then, the emotions showed on my face, dropping onto the ground below.
All this time, the old man was watching me without me noticing. He saw exactly how sincere I was, and though he only meant to share a story, he ended up sharing his heart in the process. Tears were on his face as well.
'You hear that, Ronan? I love you, my boy.'
--
I wrote this exceedingly late. I apologize for the grammar mistakes, as I'm sure there are many. I'll be hitting the hay, and probably posting another chapter and editing this tomorrow. Also, I'm aware that the flow of the story was a bit messed up at this point because of how I wrote this. No worries. Editing is as important as the writing ;).
Again, as usual, please review and rate. Also, I would love to hear some suggestions on what you wish you know. My world is a book. Please flip the to page you want to read.
Until then, ~Zen.