A disappointed, dying flame in his eyes tracked the giant as he made his way forth. He clenched an onion in hand and bit into it, chewing in a condescending manner until Zolton arrived, at last. "Tardy… common. I hope you aren't frightened to speak with me. I'm well aware of the destruction you have dealt to the cleansing chunk."
"Your bubble block? I myself did not destroy it, but I'll take the blame for it." Zolton replied. He had a disingenuous smirk on his face for a brief moment before chaining it down to an apathetic facade. Still, the short second was more than enough time for Yazzalo to observe.
"I see. Well never mind that, it's not too significant. Afterall, its development is only mere hours in the decades we hope to reach, yeah? I’ll pay no mind to it. We shall begin our lessons once more. Starting with you, Pyrei. Your Light has not changed significantly but I have noticed your energy is different. It's all twisted and clustered; balled up like a knot - not at all fulfilling the 'overcoming of all it crosses' nature of light. It’s contrasting to its true nature; compact. Even though you are able to override its shackles, it is taking a toll on your body – reaping years from your life. At this rate, you’ll drift into the cold arms of death far sooner than you please.”
“How?” She said shakily. Her tone began to grow rough with anger, but she quickly quenched it. “I’m meditating for hours at a time as you instruct. What is wrong?”
“You are sitting with your eyes locked. Not just merely closed or shut – Locked. You are strict and tense in your meditation when you are supposed to be relaxed; loose. It's no longer meditation at that point is it? Perhaps the Transmutation Orb had influenced 'clogging' your magic some, but I feel that is not the only factor. But what I know for sure is that combat would be no cure, instead that would function more like an amplification to the ‘poison’, per se."
Yazzalo's glare demanded Zolton's attention as he sat with his legs in a cross on the ground. "As for you and that Blackwater, is it? It has not changed; neither have you. You, contrary to Pyrei in a way, are too lax. Water may not be Earth, but they are similar in might and grandiose. While water is free and freedom seeking, contrary to earth's steady and slow, rather head-first approach, Blackwater seems to take from both and combine them - a species with traits from those two. Not necessarily a child of the two, but a split off attempting to create something out of both. A viscous thing, almost like tar. While I do wish to scold you intensely on your shortcomings, this is an unprecedented magic, but that does not free you from a mere nag: You have failed to draw out any more than a small puddle of the sludge. You cannot be so lax with this Blackwater as you do the uncorrupted variant or you'll never be able to draw it to any use.”
"I'm gonna need you to specify on that one," Zolton rebutted apathetically, "It's hard for me to pinpoint one considering I've had very little opportunity to do something so insignificant as shit in a bush peacefully for over a year now."
Yazzalo bit into the onion again and swallowed the chunk. He grinned as if a child biting into a sweet treat and diminished the grin when returning to matters at hand. "Watch your mouth, you aren’t at a boat’s steer right now. Put this much passion into your training and maybe you’ll get somewhere. Prove me incorrect – can you summon anything?”
Irritation drove Zolton’s guttural sigh. “You know the answer is no, goat beard. It’s not as if I want to sit on my ass all day any damn way. I’ve asked you multiple times to teach me your fighting style yet all you’ll give me in return is ‘you are premature’ and then proceed to whale on me.”
“Indeed. Now, on your feet," Yazzalo commanded.
Reluctantly, he stood, towering over the long beard. Yazzalo brought his fists together at his heart and began to breathe heavily. His hands vibrated violently until they glowed a crimson and vermillion juices began to leak from them and upon his feet, triggering them to mimic the terrible trembles and despairing drips. He then fell into an open stance with his head low, right fist lowered and left skyward
"Until you can smell the iron in your body and feel it flow through every corner of yourself, you will not harness Renegade. Until your heart can withstand at least a mere tenfold increase of its bumping rhythm, you will explode because of the Renegade. Until you can feel slightest shifts of coldness in both you and others, you will be devoured by the Renegade. Until you can venerate the taste of blood flooding your throat and mouth, you will be drowned by the Renegade. Since you wish for it so desperately, I will teach you what makes this too dangerous to spread throughout the world."
A thicken of gland-borne salty juices generated upon Zolton's forehead and dripped, likely a partnership of nerves or the humidity. He could see Pyrei a distance behind Yazzalo attempting to perform her meditation correctly, but the commotion was visibly making it more difficult for her, adding to her stiff nature. Either through wising up or shrinking down, Zolton brought about his arms for a guard, only to earn a swift red radiating fist into the abdomen. And just like that, he collapsed into a jittery, spastic quake on the stone. His heart rate accelerated, ascending in its beats as if timing itself to beat a record and each breath felt like large rough stones tearing the esophagus as they made their bloody, destructive descent. "Stand," Yazzalo commanded.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Fighting through his gasps and chokes, Zolton uttered something but all he could muster were dry, "I ca– can’t…"
Yazzalo gazed down at him, gaining a bit of regret in his eyes. "And why not?"
A wrenching gargle in voice bubbled. He opened his mouth and breathed, "It hu-" before his sentence was concluded early with an expelling of regurgitate. A nasty mix of fish and fruit expelled onto the stone with agonized tears to enrich the mess.
"This is the pain of the Renegade. It cannot be spread about the world so willy-nilly. This is a technique that is far too devastating to teach, even to one who sees himself benevolent. You could end a life in an instant premature to one’s assured conviction. Although your body is within its prime because of its youth and your vastus blood only bolsters its physical capabilities, your spirit, too, is young; your mind fresh. And that deems the circumstance unstable; it is too risky for you to learn the Renegade Art, especially considering the uncertainty around your goal."
Pyrei continued her tense cross legged sit. She sat shrouded in a clear, thin blanket of nonchalance with her back facing Yazzalo and questioned him, "Are you insinuating that Zolton is dangerous?"
Yazzalo turned to her and paused. "I'm saying that I don't know what his goal is. I don't know what he fights for. Sure, he claims to want to dismantle Penumbra but has that been his goal the entire time? Has he always known about them? From birth? In his youth?"
"No, I haven't always known. In fact," Zolton groaned, wiping cough-up from the corner of his mouth, "I'm only striving to destroy them because I want to prove that I can”
“You want to prove a ‘point’? You don’t find that rather petty?”
“Yeah, sure it’s petty but that’s what I am, so what the hell about it? You already know that. I will also let you know right now that you’re right; I am dangerous; I am vengeful. I’ve killed a man in a fit of rage: a Grand Navy soldier. I tore him apart limb from limb because of what he did to an innocent, murdering her because he couldn’t keep his shit together! And if given another chance, I can’t say that I wouldn’t do it again. They’ve taken too many lives to be entrusted with the title of ‘Justice’. It’s time for someone who actually gives a damn to protect these seas, but I can’t do that if I’m weak.”
“So you want to replace the navy with yourself? Although that is pretty much a fantasy thought, I must say you do seem pure of heart… in a way. Your motivation and passion clearly dives deep. Far more than simply the feeling of spite… Intriguing…”
“Please,” Zolton beseeched, lowering to his knees like a peasant to a king, “teach me the Renegade Art. I need to grow. And I need… I need someone’s help to do that.”
Yazzalo cracked a smirk whilst staring down at him. “Absolutely not; you’ve solidified my concerns. You are not in control of mere emotions, thus neither are you of your actions; you are prone to acting haphazardly. Bestowing you this power would be of great irresponsibility on my behalf. Not only a danger to others, but also yourself. Should the pain set in, you could even be driven into a greater frenzy. You should be grateful that I'm even aiding your progression of this 'Blackwater' for no one knows what it could spell here, or even globally. I might as well already be a great fool for helping you harness it."
The stone in his throat shattered and carved its way to the giant’s heart, leaving pits filled with crushed rock to clog each vein and artery. His fists clenched and devastating disappointment demanded he face down at the stone instead of proving the mentor correct once more.
“But…” Yazzalo began, passively beckoning the self-mourning giant to bring his eyes up to his, “Perhaps you have broken one of the locks to that power. But you are not a child. On your feet now or that lock may repair itself quicker. We will resume bringing about the usability of your magic soon. From there we can work on other projects – I can promise that much. But for now, Pyrei. You are still failing to just rest correctly. Relax.”
Zolton arose from his felled position, wobbling like stacked cards in a gentle breeze. “Don’t worry about me, Pyrei. I’m alright. You’re in a worse spot than me… you need to focus on yourself right now.”
Her hair drifted in her head swayed path, following her gaze to ‘Goat Beard’. “I am not uneased. Not as much as some minutes prior… Yes. I am fine,” she assured, unmoving of her cross legged concentration.
“I do not believe so,” Yazzalo pierced, “You have not been the same for some time now. Since you returned with Zolton, you have not been the same. You’ve dramatically changed to a very strict nature. I know that you’ve had an orderly mind before, but still had some sort of openness. What happened?”
Her eyes neutralized into dullness. “No, I don’t recall anything. I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed. After all, it’s not as if we are in a situation where living peacefully is a possibility. The treacherousness has reached the point that breathing too loud will make bushes stalk us.”
“... I suppose so,” Yazzalo acquiesced. After a pondering pause he stepped into his hut. He scuffled around for a moment before returning with a rolled parchment in grasp and moved over Pyrei. “Take this,” he said.
She unraveled the piece and skimmed through it. “Why’d you hand me this?”
“It’s a remote wilderness island. In my youth, I would visit the island when times became too heavy to bear anymore. Instead of doing something I’d regret, I found resting beside the waterfall provided a far superior aid to my dark mind. I have not seen anyone there yet so you should be unbothered – even when taking them into consideration. You may depart when you please, but this is greater than a recommendation. Not so much an order but strong encouragement.”
She was unwaiving of stoicism. In a reluctant nod, she agreed. Zolton eyed her, thinking. “If you don’t mind telling me when you’re leaving, I’d appreciate it. I have something important that I need to do, too.”
“What would that be?” Pyrei inquired.
“There’s someone I haven’t talked to in a while. Guilt has been eating at me for a while over neglecting him for some time. I need to check up on him, if the circumstances allow it,” he said with a glance to Yazzalo.
Pyrei gave a weak grin, as if her heart was warmed by his tale. “I have no problem with that.”
“If you’re asking me if you can leave,” Yazzalo uttered in a rather annoyed tone, “Then don’t. I’m not your owner, do what you want.”
“Thank you, Yazzalo,” Zolton said.
“But,” he interjected, “I am while you’re here. So go grab the bucket and clean up that mess you made early. It’s a striking stench.”