Chapter Fifty-Five

Ambrose Severen was on his knees, head bowed, hair across his face like a curtain of red and gold. His fingernails dug into his palms, his knuckles going white as his shoulders slumped.

All of his life Ambrose had hated Raylen. Blamed him for what he had been turned into. Blamed him for the things he was capable of. Part of that was because he hadn't thought his father had cared about him.

Except he had.

Sure, he hadn't shown it in the way Ambrose may have wanted him to. Sure, he had controlled nearly every aspect of Ambrose’s life. Sure, he had beaten and shaped Ambrose into the weapon he was today.

But it had been born of a father's love. A burning desire to see his son live, to survive in the world he found himself in.

It was clear that his Mother had known the System was coming. Known it would integrate their universe.

Ambrose shook, his chest heaving as the storm in his chest threatened to unleash itself in a scream of fury. His mother had known, and she had left. Instead of standing with Raylen and her newborn son, she had left.

No matter her reasons, that hurt. It hurt in a way that only the way a child abandoned could.

Something around and within Ambrose pulsed. It wasn't his core, it was less tangible than that. A kind of ethereal awareness of the space that was around him, that came from him.

It became sharper, it became something Ambrose could grab ahold of.

“Congratulations, Sir Knight. You have successfully manifested your spirit.”

Ambrose looked up, his face haggard, slack with weariness.

“What?” He croaked.

Vivienne made an elegant motion with her hand towards him.

“Your spirit, Knight. Did you forget the point of this exercise? You strengthen it through understanding yourself. The first step of that realization is manifestation. Being aware of your spirit, being able to hold it, manipulate it.”

Ambrose explored his newfound awareness of the force around him. It slipped from his mental grasp like an eel.

“Your emotions are interfering. You must master them.”

Easier said than done. You didn't just find out that the Mother you thought was dead is still alive and abandoned you to fend for yourself when she knew the world was going to end.

The thought caused Ambrose to throw his head back and laugh. A booming, joyless sound that echoed around them. After a time, he stopped, shaking his head.

“How do I use Infernal Aegis, now?”

“You fuel the skill with your spirit and your mana. The skill will take on aspects of who you are, and later will become a manifestation of your Authority.”

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Ambrose blinked,

“Authority?”

Vivienne waved a dismissive hand,

“We will get there. First, you must master control of your spirit. You will not be able to fuel anything without control of it.”

Ambrose spent the next few hours sitting cross-legged, calming his mind. In order to control his spirit, he needed to be fully aware of it.

It was weird and it was hard.

It involved splitting his mind, that was the best way he could think of it. He needed to be aware of himself, and not just his physical body, but his emotions, his mental state. At the same time he had to be aware of the space around him.

“I've heard of humans referring to it as their ‘personal space’.”

Ambrose’s brow twitched. Even so, he knew what she meant. When a lover got close, that intimate area around you that was uniquely yours. That was his personal space, and it was here that his spirit resided.

His wisdom helped here, making him aware of the earth around him, the way it had shifted slightly as he sat down. The way the slight air parted around him.

Overall, it was the way his presence affected the space around him. As he became aware of it, he reached out a mental hand and grasped it.

It didn't slip away.

With the other half of his mind he plunged his consciousness into his core, that swirling ball of fire and brimstone light that he tugged on.

He tried to bring it together with his spirit and the result was a lightning bolt of pain striking through his mind.

He howled, his body jerking, thrashing as his mind attempted to tear itself apart. Vivienne placed a cool hand on his head, and there was a reverberation of multicolored light, and his mind settled, the pain draining away like a fading headache

“What was that,” Ambrose breathed.

Vivienne’s eyes were part concerned and part knowing as she stood up, withdrawing her hand from his head.

“That is what happens when you attempt to force mana and spirit together, sir Knight.”

Ambrose leaned forward, wincing at the flash of red crossing his vision.

“You told me to do that.”

“I did no such thing, Sir Knight. I said that you use both to fuel the skill. Think of it like directing two streams. You want them to flow to the same place, not crash together.”

Ambrose groaned, holding his head.

“Wish you would be clearer. Fine, I'll try again.”

He didn't succeed the second time. Grabbing ahold of his spirit required a stillness of the mind, a state of focus. He couldn't understand, at first, why he was having so much trouble with it.

I'm not in battle the thought crashed over him like a landslide. In a fight, or any dangerous, tension filled situation he was easily able to focus.

Because that's how his father had trained him. An ironic smile fought its way onto his lips. It was easier for him to focus in a fight for his life, rather than when he was perfectly safe.

Eventually, he was able to find that state again and grab his spirit. His mana followed, rather than bringing them together, he sent the two streams into his skill like it was a basin he was filling.

[Infernal Aegis] flared to life, covering him in a familiar shield of red-black flame. Doubt became a physical thing, but there was more to it. An edge that hadn't been there before. A part of himself that was now imbued into the skill. It blanketed the area, expanding from him in an aura of power.

It winked out the moment Ambrose lost focus. He didn't mind. He was able to bring it back minutes later. He practiced for a little while, dismissing the skill, and using it again. It was all a matter of focus, of maintaining it.

For anyone else, that would be a real problem in the heat of battle. But for him, it would be a lot easier. Another thing to thank his father for.

Vivienne beamed at him, bringing her hands together in a clap of glee.

“You have done it, Sir Knight! Now, we can move on. It is time to discuss Icons.”

Ambrose hadn't heard her. His mind had focused on something else. His mother.

For the first time since Alice’s death, he had another goal. Something greater to accomplish.

He would find her.

And he would get answers.