At the mention, her eyes curved like the crescent moon, and a chilling aura swept through the room. "You think they will make us obsolete?" A smile formed under that face cover as she tipped her chin and declared, "I'd like to see them try."
A cold, numbing terror gripped him, and his heart stopped instantly. Not wasting a single moment, he sent a pulse of Stability Inducement through himself, but that didn't seem to alleviate much of that primal urge. His knees felt weak.
Right as he was about to buckle over, Mistress let out a gasp, "Ohh…" and the unreal pressure disappeared almost instantly. Vern took the opportunity to reorient himself and barely avoided the fall.
After a dozen or so seconds, his eyes focused again, and his heart resumed its usual rhythm. But cold sweat formed on his forehead, and he still tried to process the terror from that single instant.
It was leagues above what Osric had done to him and far more…sharper? Mistress had her hand outstretched, a clear look of distress in her eyes. After watching him stand straighter, she retracted her arm and asked, "Vern, are you okay?"
He tried to reassure her, "Yes, Mistress, it's no big deal," but his mind was in turmoil, feeling the exact opposite. How was this even possible? Even Observers couldn't just 'reach' into his heart and stop it.
But before he could ask himself more rhetorical questions, she sighed, "I am sorry. It's just that…"
She paused longer than it made sense and stared at the ceiling before continuing, "…just that we Kingsmen are finally advancing again, and I've yet to get used to my new powers."
He asked back almost instinctively, "New powers?"
She closed her eyes, and a rueful smile appeared behind that face cover as she responded, "When Emperor Aldric took the throne, he terminated all expeditions deeper into the ruins. This led to stagnation in our ranks when many of us reached the third infusion of the art. The Old Blood we procured from those depths couldn't push us any higher."
Vern also remembered all the rumors he had heard about the Empire's borders being pushed back and whatnot. Was that related to this? Other empires continued to advance while the Emperor forcefully stagnated the Kingsmen? Not that he blamed the man for it. Clearly, this old blood wasn't an easy thing to control.
Then her eyes snapped open, and she declared, "Until that day. When dusk fell, each and every one of us in Kings' parity court felt it. It was as if the shattering of objectivity which Prince Akira mentioned had unlocked latent potential within us, a potential that we never knew existed."
Ohhhh. More pieces of puzzles clicked together in his mind. So Kingsmen were powerful before the Duskfall, but this utterly inhumane strength was only unshackled after it.
His mind instantly conjured up a few theories as to why that was the case, and one of them terrified him a little. What if whoever this blood belonged to had become more prominent after Duskfall, increasing their stake in the representation of reality and hence making the blood more powerful?
However, it was also possible that Objectivity inherently suppressed the strength of old blood, and its shattering led to the unfettering of those limitations. Maybe these so-called Blood Fundamentalists would know.
Not knowing his thoughts, she carried on, "And that is not all. Right after Prince Akira proposed the formation of Vigil, the Emperor convened the Kingsly court and ordered us to restart the exploration of the Cthonic ruins."
"It's only been a week, yet our newfound powers have propelled our exploration of the ruins significantly. We've made rapid progress and have already uncovered a purer source of Old Blood."
Then, she stared him dead in the eye and proclaimed, "So, as much as I respect Observers for what they are, they're not the only ones advancing rapidly. The path of blood, as it stands, will allow for a fourth infusion as soon as Blood Fundamentalists figure out how to harness this new purity."
And before he could form a response, she added with a hidden smile, "And I don't mind the competition."
Hah, he didn't need any more signs to see that she was a battle junkie. And it…made sense? To a degree. Surely, not any random person can control the blood addiction for decades on end. Not that she looked a day older than thirty. Was that an effect of the old blood, too?
Surprised by the frankness she'd shown him throughout this conversation, he nodded with a look of gratitude, "Fair enough, that was very informative. I just wanted to understand how these paths differ from each other and if it's worth pursuing one over the other."
She nodded, "Our Blood Fundamentalists—or what's left of them had a long discussion about it with members of Vigil, including Prince Akira, and the preliminary conclusion is that both paths can complement each other quite a bit."
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Vern asked, a little hesitant at the mention of the man, "Do you know why?"
"Mhm, I didn't take on this responsibility without understanding both sides of the coin. Each advancement for you Observers alters your physical form slightly to align with your Viewpoint. However, it's your consciousness that undergoes a far more profound transformation, leaving your body significantly lagging behind."
Vern's ears perked up, and he wished he could write this down without looking stupid. This was new information! If he understood it correctly, this was the reason behind the recent changes in his body, and it made perfect sense.
His body was more…balanced.
"Conversely, the main challenge in harnessing the old blood's strength lies in the necessity for the host to possess a robust consciousness, strong enough to subdue the inherent bloodborne disease in it."
Vern tapped his fist on his other palm, a look of realization on his face as he completed her sentence, "And Observers like me and Lucian already have that from shading our perception."
She nodded, "Exactly."
That was interesting. No, it was far more than just interesting. It was almost like cheating. He reflexively wanted to ask why everyone wasn't doing this, but he could guess the answer.
This was an experiment.
They didn't know if the blood could further mutate down the line or something, so it was safer to start with only a selected few individuals and observe how their bodies reacted to it.
He turned to the case containing the syringe and vial in his hands. It gave rise to repulsion as well as greed in his mind.
"You now understand the advantages and disadvantages of infusing the old blood. Now, it's your choice. Don't rush to make a decision, and sleep on it. If that's not enough, get opinions from uninvolved parties and make up your mind."
He nodded solemnly, "I will. Thank you very much, Mistress."
She then turned around and strode up to the table at the far end of the room, picking up that long golden case he'd seen when he entered. Carrying it in both her arms, she walked towards him.
Intrigued, Vern watched her every move, his curiosity piqued. What could the case contain? It had been sitting there even before they came in. Such formality and care in its handling suggested something of importance. His gaze followed the case as she carried it, a growing sense of anticipation building within him.
She extended the golden thing towards him, "For now, let's start our training." Vern closed the case containing the syringe, pocketing it in his coat before extending both his hands to take hold of the bigger one.
It wasn't heavy but still had a solid weight to it. Many possibilities ran through his mind, but with its shape, size, and weight, there was only one answer to what was inside it. His heart thumped faster, and an excited gleam appeared in his eyes.
Once it was firmly resting in his arms, Mistress brought her palm to the front of the case and unlatched the tiny clasps with a click. Her soft fingers traced along its metallic edge before she flipped the lid open with a smile.
.
.
.
He let out a cold breath, feasting his eyes upon the beauty. He would be whistling right about now if he knew how to do it.
Inside lay a sleek, beautifully crafted longsword. Its elegant dark silver blade, longer than his torso, shone with a deadly sheen. Intricate designs ran along its edge as well as its raised core. It was a masterwork of craftsmanship and grace, a fine balance of lethality and art.
The golden hilt enhanced the overall design with its striking radiance, two eyes etched vertically where the blade met the hilt. But this was where it got interesting. The hilt was straight at its top, offering a traditional grip for wielding it with both hands. However, nestled beneath this austere façade were two additional symmetric curved grips instead of a pommel, elegantly forged, giving the whole weapon a unique look.
Vern didn't understand the design choice here, why two types of hilts? However, that's when Mistress broke the silence, "This is a custom design made by the workshop of the Finnese family tailored to your strengths. The Fundamentalist craftsman who worked on it named it—Duality."
He looked up at Mistress, more puzzled than ever, "My strengths?" Did he have strengths? Why did he not know? Also, that was such a beautiful name for a sword. Ambrose's family clearly knew what they were doing.
Mistress Amelia gestured with her eyes to pick up the sword, and he did just that. He had worked on hundreds of blades before this, so he wasn't really nervous, but damn was he nervous!
Gripping the straight hilt with his right hand, he exerted a little effort to lift the sword out of its velvet casing. Mistress took the case from under his hands and put it somewhere while Vern took the opportunity to set the sword tip down and fling his coat away.
He then held the sword in the only style that made sense to him with both his hands gripping the hilt one above the other closer to his chest. But that sharp edge seemed a tad too close to his own body, so he extended his arms a little.
He got the hang of its weight in just a few seconds, but his swings were as awkward as they came. Mistress Amelia watched him fiddle with the sword without a word, but instead of giving him directions, she asked him, "What do you think is the most important aspect of a weapon?"
Vern pondered over it, slowing down his hazardous swings, but he found himself faced with many correct ideas—or maybe all the wrong ones. What was the important thing about a weapon?
It's Type? Size? Design? Material? Balance? Craftsmanship?
Not really sure, he answered hesitantly, knowing in his gut he was wrong, "Balance?"
She shook her head, "It's the synergy."
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she continued, "The better a weapon suits one's needs and combat style, the deadlier it gets. Doesn't matter if its a scythe, sword, spear, or whatever. It's the compatibility that matters."
"But given that you've obviously never used a weapon before, you don't have a combat style."
The 'obviously' made him sulk in his heart a bit, but she was right.
"So, I asked Prince Akira about your strengths, and he told me you can fortify and disrupt objects at will. Is that right?"
Vern sucked in a cold breath. He had never revealed to anyone the precise nature of his Visions. How did Captain Akira pinpoint their exact workings with such an accuracy? Was it all just from the reports of Captain Shinsei and Ambrose? Or was there more to it?
That was disgusting!
For now, however, he suppressed his agitation and replied with a sharp nod, "Indeed."
She smiled, "Great. Then, go ahead, grab those curved handles, and pull them apart. You'll see why it's tailored to your strengths."