Chapter 107: A world Gone Still
‘Everything until now has been familiar in one form or another, but this next step...’ Darius took a slow, deliberate breath, steadying himself.
Suspended mid-air, his aura swelled, each element swirling around him in a controlled dance, as if content under his command. Though his posture remained calm, the task ahead was anything but simple.
For the first time, he would attempt to wield all five elements simultaneously—a step that, if successful, would break open his path and allow him to finally be able to truly cultivate.
Closing his eyes, he projected his consciousness into his dantian. His ethereal form materialized within, a glowing Darius now seated before the lightning orb. ‘Shadowmind Soul Severance.’ With a focused burst of will, a second glowing form emerged, settling before the earth orb.
Three more figures followed in quick succession, each seated before the remaining elemental orbs. All five Darius’s sat in a perfect circle, each embodying a unique aspect of his mind. They closed their eyes simultaneously, each entity honing in on the element before it, dissecting its nature, its runic structure, and its flow.
The Shadowmind Soul Fracture Technique was one Darius had acquired in his past life after defeating a notorious trio of loose cultivators—triplets who had terrorized entire regions. Only after killing them did he discover that they weren’t triplets at all but a single cultivator. Within the scrolls he claimed from their remains, Darius uncovered the method’s dark secrets.
The technique allowed for the permanent splitting of one’s consciousness into separate entities, each possessing its own personality and thoughts. In its early stages, this meant dividing mental focus through manipulation of one’s soul, something Darius was very familiar with; in its advanced form, it allowed for twisted rituals involving unwilling sacrifices to create copies as powerful as the original. According to rumors, the technique's founder had once created 9,999 clones, establishing a demonic sect-turned-dynasty that lasted for epochs before fading into legend.
'The key is balance.'
'Oh really? Balance, huh? What a revelation! Like we all haven’t been screaming that since the start.'
‘But are we sure we want to risk it again? Maybe we should just pick one element and commit fully. Safer that way.’
‘The probability of achieving the Arcane Talisman Technique's peak with a single element is exceedingly low. If our goal is the highest potential foundation, we must pursue what offers the greatest benefits.'
‘This time feels different. I’m not afraid of trying, so why should you be? And hey, what if we develop a demon form? Wu Chen always looked so cool when he transformed.'
‘Idiot! Who cares how we look? Power’s all that counts.’
‘We’re wasting time. The longer we wait, the weaker the cores become. There’s no point in overthinking this; we already know the answer.’
‘To resist our nature is foolish. Acceptance will lead us to true strength.’
‘Just as long as you're certain. But don’t blame me if we end up with the same result.'
'Let’s do it! First one to lock it down wins!'
Each Darius closed his eyes, silencing his thoughts, drawing the elements inward as comprehension surged. Every fragment of his consciousness carried a singular mission: to imprint these cores with the concept that had guided his previous life—the Dao of Taiji.
He had to do more than just balance the elements; he needed to forge the foundation for all that is, all that will be, and all that must not. The Taiji was more than mere harmony—it embodied duality, the eternal dance of yin and yang, light and dark, creation and destruction, coexisting as one. It was a balance that transcended the elements themselves, a unity that only the true Dao of Taiji could sustain.
Minutes stretched into hours, each Darius feeling time slip away as the cores continued to leak. Though dimming, their radiance still held, stubbornly refusing to fade.
The clone facing the fire core clenched his jaw, every breath labored, his brow furrowed with frustration. His thoughts roared as fiercely as the flames before him.
'I know fire’s dual nature, but something’s missing. If this fucking fails, Haku's gonna—', his eyes widened with sudden clarity, "Wait, Haku!" For the first time, a grin broke across his face as his core blazed anew.
'Transformation! Fire isn’t just about creation and destruction; it's also the true conduit of change, the raw potential to reshape and evolve!'
The core responded instantly, its flames flaring in acknowledgment, a wave of scorching heat radiating outward, brushing against his consciousness. The intensity burned like a searing brand, but he remained still, unflinching, as the fire gradually condensed into a perfect sphere.
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The clone glanced around, his momentary triumph fading as he saw the others still immersed in their struggles. His gaze landed on the copy at the lightning core, 'do I have to do everything my damn self?" Without hesitation, he moved swiftly, merging into the trembling copy.
The clone seated before the water core, a constant smile on his face, suddenly snapped his eyes open, a clear thought crystallizing: 'Assimilation! Water merges life and essence. With water, the boundaries between elements and life blur into seamless unity.'
The core responded with a surge, its turbulent mana settling into a smooth, serene sphere. A soft, flowing sound akin to a distant waterfall filled the air as the core stabilized. The sharp scent of saltwater dissipated, replaced by a faint, fresh scent of rain.
“Fir—!” The smiling clones grin faltered as he caught sight of the already completed fire core. His brow twitched, but with a shrug, he shifted his focus to the lightning core. 'He looks like he's about to shit,' chuckling, he merged into the nervous Darius, his laughter echoing lightly.
The clone before the earth core, his eyes closed and face calm, suddenly gained a flicker of clarity. His eyes opened, filled with understanding. 'Fortification...'
The core trembled, a low, grinding rumble like dragging heavy stone. The rugged mana surged outward briefly before settling back. Its surface solidified into a dense, unyielding core, its energy now radiating stability and strength.
Without hesitation, the wise clone stood, stepping forward to the lightning core. His presence merged seamlessly, adding his calm resolve to the struggle.
The clone before the wind core paused, eyes flashing with sudden insight. A sudden gust burst from the core, carrying the dry, airy scent of sunlit grass. The wind spiraled fiercely before condensing, its surface smoothing, radiating a steady pulse of momentum.
Giving a fleeting grin, the clone swiftly merged with the last, returning Darius to his whole self.
The once-tense expression eased. His brow smoothed, fists loosened, and as his eyes slowly opened. 'Activation... lightning is the spark—the catalyst. It ignites all beginnings.'
The lightning core pulsed fiercely, arcs of purple crackling through the void. A sharp, metallic tang filled Darius’s mouth as a static charge buzzed through his entire being. In an instant, the arcs converged back into the core, which now hummed in perfect harmony.
His projection moved to the center, the five cores circling him steadily. He sat in the lotus position, his form steady as the cores hovered around him.
"Activation, Propagation, Transformation, Assimilation, and Fortification…" Darius’s aura exploded, each word carrying the weight of ages.
"Lightning sparks the cycle, it’s the trigger, the first breath that stirs the stillness. Wind spreads the surge—Propagating its reach, ensuring every corner is blessed by it's touch. Then the Fire follows, not simply consuming, but altering—Transforming raw into the refined, turning potential into reality. Water flows next, Assimilating the changes, binding all into one seamless whole. And lastly, Earth stands firm, Fortifying the balance, grounding chaos into order."
As the final words left him, a soft, golden light flickered in front of his chest. It pulsed gently, its warmth distinct amid the elements.
'Origin—!'
This was not the moment for celebration. Steeling his focus, he turned all his will back to the task.
Summoning every ounce of his experience, Darius’s hands blurred through dozens of rapid hand signs before slamming his palms together. 'Initiation of the Arcane Sanctum!'
The five cores responded like soldiers to a general’s command, rotating faster. Streams of mana began to leech from each core, converging below him. With unwavering focus, Darius poured everything into the forging process, meticulously following the steps he had devised.
Yet, amidst the chaos of creation, his attention focused, he missed the soft, golden light drifting down from his chest. It merged seamlessly into the swirling mass of elements beneath him, unnoticed, instantly entwining with the raw power gathering at his core.
----
High above the city of Rancito Cordoba, Master Adept Rainslif Crowley sat alone in his tower’s dimly lit chamber. His pale, pupil-less green eyes were fixed on a glowing orb set atop the center tier of a three-tiered game board. Multiple floating lights dotted each level, but one drew his attention—its color fluctuating wildly from green to red, shrinking and expanding erratically.
As the orb’s pace quickened, Rainslif leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "It seems I have won. Will you admit defeat? I’d prefer not to draw this out any longer."
Silence answered him, tense and begrudging. Then, in a blink, all remaining red orbs on the board vanished. A deep, frustrated voice broke through the stillness, its tone rough. "If not for that champion of yours, the outcome would have been different. How about this? I’ll send twelve armies if you just tell me his first name."
Rainslif chuckled lightly, waving his hand to clear the board of all orbs except one. Gripping it, he began twisting it, letting out a sigh. "There’s no sense hiding it from you anymore. The champion you've been so curious about... it’s Jarek Valdene—the Blue Wolf of Gaia."
Deep, rumbling laughter echoed back, hearty and heavy. "I knew it! Your story seemed too convenient. So, why reveal it now? Are you planning to kill him then?"
Rainslif’s eyes glowed with fierce intensity as he peered within the orb, staring at a helmed, heavily armored figure. "Something like that. But first, I need him for a little task."
With a snap of his fingers, the orb disappeared. Rainslif rose and turned toward the large window, gazing out over the sprawling city. "Spread the word among your contacts: in one year, to celebrate the elevation of my tower, I will execute the criminal Jarek Valdene. The charges? Murdering his family and a sanctioned team of knights and mages during the Fang-root hunt."
The deep voice roared with laughter. "What a spectacle this will be! A Celestial Tower and the fall of the last Valdene—simply perfect. I’ll ensure the message reaches every ear in Gaia before we speak again."
"Until then," Rainslif replied curtly, snapping his fingers again to sever the spell. He stared past the city’s edge into the distance, his voice low and filled with dark anticipation. "Everyone hunts for you, young Valdene, but once you hear your father is waiting, you’ll walk straight to me. Soon, this unpleasant game will end."
Elsewhere, in a void of endless darkness, fifteen green orbs floated silently. Inside one of the two largest, a vast army stood at attention. Soldiers from every race waited, their bodies still, save for the restless flicker in their eyes.
At the head of the army stood three figures. Two mages, cloaked in raging auras of fire and wind, flanked a commanding figure in the center—a knight clad in heavy armor. His blade and shield were ready, but his weary eyes betrayed his exhaustion. Jarek Valdene gazed across his broken reality, his mind clouded by the endless void that imprisoned him.
'Darius… Amara…' The two names were his only anchor, his sole thread of sanity as he stood among his silent army.
----
On the opposite side of the continent from Rainslif’s tower, beyond the frozen northern peaks of the Spine of Arkor, two figures moved steadily, waistdeep in snow along a treacherous mountainside. Despite the relentless blizzard roaring around them, their pace remained unbroken, seemingly unaffected by the harsh, biting cold.
Traveling with them, hovering above the snow, was a woman—elegant yet seasoned by years. Her auburn hair, streaked with strands of grey, flowed within a protective orb of wind mana. She wore a thick, beautifully sewn dress of animal furs, its heavy layers impervious to the storm.
Rounding a narrow bend, they arrived at a sheltered alcove carved into the mountainside. The space, shielded from the blizzard’s fury, allowed a brief respite from the relentless wind. Pushing through the drifts, the two figures trudged forward, eagerly escaping the storm's icy grip.
Descending to join them, the floating woman’s voice sliced through the howling winds with commanding clarity. "We’ll make camp here. Husband, start a fire. Clarke, if you’d fetch those spices—particularly the saninum—I’d like to try it with the meat we have left."
With a final shake, one of the figures pulled back his hood, revealing a broad grin under a thick blonde mustache. "Anything for my flower," Marcus replied warmly. Touching his pouch, he set out a large metal pit, filling it with firewood. A flick of his aura ignited a spark, soon transforming into a crackling fire.
Lady Clarke removed her hood as well, her short brown hair and bright yellow eyes standing out against the desolate backdrop. Despite the warmth of the fire, her expression remained tense. "This storm is relentless… three days of—" Her words caught in her throat as the air pressure suddenly dropped.
In that instant, everything froze—Lady Clarke, Marcus, the falling snow, even the storm itself. For the second time in their lives, the entire world stood suspended, caught in the heavy chime of a crystal-clear bell that sounded throughout all of Gaia.
The sound broke with an otherworldly clarity, causing both Clarke and Marcus to stop breathing, eyes wide with the same thought. A single image flashed in their minds: a maturing teen with unruly black hair, as vivid as if he were standing right before them.