[The difficulty of the initial nexus creation process can be determined by the relative power of the traumatic memory, with deeper traumas being much more difficult to overcome. The more difficult the process, however, the greater the potential benefit. Much relies on the ability of the cultivator to break through his initial rush of emotion in order to complete the binding process. Unfortunately, some trauma can be so overwhelming as to be insurmountable, causing cultivators to become trapped in the horrors of their own minds… forever. -Excerpt, The Fractured Path]
Anthony had misjudged the difficulty of binding a traumatic memory, especially one as central to his current personality as the one he was attempting. As the potion took effect, the young man’s grasp on reality was instantly ripped from him, spiraling down into the depths of confusion and rage.
His eyes took on the appearance of marbles crafted from blood, while trails of red carved tiny rivers down through the dust that covered his cheeks. He began to scramble awkwardly around the dirty floor of the farmhouse, attacking the air and breaking the already dilapidated furniture, primitive angry hissing escaping his mouth every few seconds.
In Anthony’s vision, the image of a hated foe tormented the young man, but every time he attempted to strike at the creature, it easily evaded him, only enraging Anthony further. How could such a fat thing move so quickly? Stay still and die! he tried to shout the words aloud, but all that came from his mouth was a strange, guttural shriek. His confusion was growing, and he had lost the ability to understand that if he was unable to overcome his rage, and focus on the instructions of the cultivation process, he would very likely lose his mind.
Suddenly, the monster in his vision disappeared at the same moment the door swung open to his left. Anthony turned toward the noise, a horrifying scowl spread across his bloody face. His expression morphed into a crazed excitement, a hoarse scream escaping his lips as he saw his opponent once again.
The giant ogre had somehow gotten outside the farmhouse. The crafty beast had found a dagger—and split itself into three smaller versions.
No matter! Come and face your doom, foul thing!
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A few seconds earlier, as Bo stood outside the farmhouse door, he listened carefully to the strange noises coming from inside. Grunting sounds and the slamming of wooden objects against flesh could be heard, even over the strong wind flowing through the area. Narrowing his eyes, Bo pressed one ear against the door before a grin slowly crept across his face.
“Must be trainin’! Good! That’ll mean he'll be tired out. On three!”
Bo raised a single finger as he began to count down.
“One…”
“Two…”
“Three!”
Bo shoved the heavy wooden door open with all his might, doing his best to appear menacing as he waved his cheap dagger in the air before him. But before he could register what was happening inside, Anthony’s body came flying through the air toward him.
Something was wrong with the young man—his eyes were a deep red, and blood was flowing out of them like tears. The horrifying sight of Anthony’s bloody face, scowling angrily as it hurtled toward him, caused Bo to panic. He raised his knife into the air to defend himself, stumbling backward and crashing into his two companions as they tried to follow him inside.
“What the hell—AHHHH!”
Anthony crashed into Bo at full force, grabbing the blade of the knife with his bare hand as he tackled the unsuspecting man to the ground. Blood began to flow from the new laceration on Anthony’s hand as he bit down with all his might on Bo’s knife-wielding hand.
Bo's two companions stood with blank stares, failing to respond in time. Just as the two rushed forward Anthony stood up, one of Bo’s fingers clenched in his teeth while the bloodied dagger he had snatched away was held in his left hand.
The two underlings went wide-eyed at the horrific scene. Their ears filled with the sound of their boss screaming in pain as he rolled across the ground, grasping his bloody hand and scrambling to escape.
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“Run!”
Anthony raised the dagger high as he dashed toward the fleeing men, choosing the slowest and most ogre-like of the pair as his target, as he rushed forward to slay his hated enemy.
The fat man lumbered down the mountain in terror, but Anthony easily caught up to him. Raising the dagger, he swung it down, leaving a deep laceration across the thick layer of fat on the man’s back.
“AUGHH!”
The rotund thief stumbled forward, a searing pain spreading across his flabby back. Tripping over a thick root, the heavy thief began to roll down the mountain path, picking up speed like a snowball tumbling downhill.
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As he struck down the ogre with his dagger, the red hue in Anthony’s eyes faded slightly. The victory over the physical manifestation of his enemy released enough emotion for his consciousness to retake control.
He looked down at his bloody hands in shock, realizing something had gone wrong, but there was no time to dwell on it. Immediately, he sat cross-legged on the spot and began following the instructions for binding the memory.
Anthony closed his eyes and visualized a deep abyss in his mind, one capable of consuming all things. As he focused on his chosen memory, the abyss began to pull on it. The memory, however, was so heavy and deeply embedded that the process was agonizingly slow. Fortunately, as the edges of the heavy memory began to be pulled in, the powerful emotional effect it was having on him started to be siphoned away.
Over the next hour, Anthony summoned every ounce of willpower to combat the overwhelming rage within him. The emotions surged like waves, crashing over his mind and threatening to send him back into a blind rage, destroying his efforts and threatening his sanity. Yet, the longer he persisted, the weaker the difficulty became.
After two hours, Anthony felt a change. The black abyss he had visualized began to spin on its own, no longer requiring his constant willpower to sustain it. Its inky color transformed into a radiant, star-like object glowing brilliantly in his mind.
Almost immediately, the remaining redness cleared from his eyes. His emotions stabilized soon after, no longer teetering on the edge of chaos, and a soothing warmth filled his body as he concentrated on the spinning star.
A barely visible golden glow emanated softly from his skin as the warmth bathed his entire body. The sensation was so comforting that Anthony wished he could stay like that forever. However, cultivating would have to wait. With the most dangerous portion completed, he needed to find out what had happened while he was under the influence of the potion.
Opening his eyes, Anthony stood just in time to see a group of guards rushing up the mountain, Bo and his two companions trailing behind them. Bo stared at Anthony, his face twisted with rage as he clasped his bandaged hand, red with blood.
Bo pointed at Anthony, shouting with a voice that cracked as he screamed his accusation.
“There he is! That monster attacked us for no reason! He bit my finger off like an animal. You need to kill him to put a stop to his rampage!”
The captain of the guards, a man named Christoff, shook his head dismissively at Bo's words as he stepped forward. Anthony knew Christoff well, he was around five years older than Anthony, and his father had been one of the hunters that brought Anthony back from the mountains after his mothers death. Christoff wasn’t a particularly bright young man, but he cared deeply about upholding the law, so he was well liked around town.
As Christoff finished climbing the mountain trail, his gaze fell on Anthony’s blood-covered face and hands.
“What happened here, Anthony? Bo claims you assaulted him without cause. I find that hard to believe. I’d like to hear your side."
Christoff maintained a few steps distance, his eyes narrowing as he observed the confused expression on Anthony's face.
"So… speak. What happened here?”
Anthony’s eyes widened as he listened to Christoff’s questions. His mind raced as he glanced down at Bo and his two underlings, who flinched back the moment they saw his eyes landing on them.
Anthony gritted his teeth as he looked down at his own hands, the dagger still clenched in his fist., while a human finger lay on the ground right beside him.
“I… I don’t know.”
Christoff raised an eyebrow, shaking his head as he stepped forward and grabbed Anthony by the arm.
“Drop the weapon!"
Anthony did not resist, releasing the dagger as Christoff pulled his arms behind his back.
"I did not expect you to lie to me, Anthony. Maybe some time in a cell will jog your memory.”
Standing beside him, Christoff leaned close to Anthony’s ear, speaking in a hushed tone.
“If you don’t come up with an explanation, we’ll have only Bo’s word to go on. You’d better think hard and remember what happened.”
Anthony turned his head back toward the farmhouse anxiously as he listened to Christoff’s warning, shifting nervously from side to side as he responded.
"Wait! Please. Let me keep my books, they belong to Edgar, they cannot leave my side!"
Christoff nodded as he led Anthony into the farmhouse, grabbing the journals and tucking them into Anthony's waist band. Anthony let out a deep sigh as the precious items were safely returned to his person, before allowing Christoff to lead him back out and down the mountain trail.