My eyes open. I see two silhouettes standing in front of a door that emits a strong beam of light, overshadowing them both. The silhouette on the right seems to be a tall, bulky man with an impressive build. His outline is quite rugged, meaning that he must be wearing a detailed piece of armor of some sort as he stands with a shadow of a large sword behind him.

I can't make out their faces, yet the one on the right seems awfully familiar.

The one on the left, beside him, is a silhouette of a massive hound that towers ten times larger than him. It has wings rested to its sides as it stands tall and firm. Its tail wags slowly behind it as it exhumes flames with every breath taken. Though their images are dark, I could make out what a flame looks like; flamboyant and fluid.

Just like the one beside him. The hound is familiar as well despite its size. 

One of them begins to speak. The voice seems to come from the man on the right. His mouth moves, and I assume that he is the source of this gravelly, deep and husky voice that echoes in my ears.

"Are you just going to give up here?"

"Is this where you truly want to end your ambitions?" 

"What happened to all that talk about being stronger, ascending the heavens and making me proud? Were all those lies you made yourself believe?" 

Without giving a chance for me to speak and truly understand what this is, another voice follows. This one is a husky, and arrogant in a way, but I can tell from his voice that he seems to be backed up with power of his own right.

"I didn't give my power to a weakling. Is that what you are then?"

Wait... That voice, those very words of discouragement. I know that voice well enough to know right away. 

"... No, I'm not." 

What is he saying? I instinctively answer back, but I cut my own words out as if they speak the very truth of my life thus far. But why are they saying this? Why tell me what I already know? 

I can't admit it, no, I won't admit it, but what else can I do? I want to get stronger, but nothing good ever comes out of it.

"Then continue. Prove yourself to us." 

"But, I can't anymore. I'm dying, I feel too weak to even move, and it's cold. I've done all I can." 

"Complaints, all of them are worthless. You swore to yourself that you would see this through no matter what. You wanted to show your worth for the power you want to attain, yet this is what you say... Just who are you then?"

"Yes, who are you? I do not know anyone this weak and cowardly."

"Wait, what do you mean? You know me, both of you. Don't you remember me? I'm Fafnir, your son, your companion. Don't you remember our adventures? The days that you spent training me tirelessly?"

"You? Fafnir? Ha! Don't make me laugh. The Fafnir I know would never give up no matter what. Even though he looked weak, he never gave up. You are merely an imitation of him. What a disappointment." 

"I don't remember raising a weakling like you. I remember 'Fafnir', my son. The one who overcame his trials to become stronger, and still growing to this very day. To call yourself 'Fafnir' is a disgrace." 

"Wait! I am Fafnir! No one else. What is this? Andour, Marchosias, answer me! What do you mean? Have you both forgotten me?" 

"Hmph, I have no more time to waste on a weakling such as you. I have much better use of my time."

"I as well. You are, and will be nothing like Fafnir no matter what you do. You've lost to yourself and have become a hollow husk of nothingness inside, yet you flaunt yourself as if you were strong, seeking strength from an object. How pathetic. You do not know what true strength is, and you never will." 

The words sting my very being. These hurt more than the wounds I’ve received. They both disappear back into the door of light behind them, slowly fading away. 

Unconsciously, I find my hands reach out to them as they walk away. They don't glance back as I had hoped them to do.

That sinking feeling of loneliness fills the void inside of me, making me realize how had things become this way. 

"Wait, come back! What do you mean about true strength? Tell me Marchosias, Andour. This has all been so hard. It has gotten to a point where there is so much that I don't know about. I'm lost..."

"If that is what you think, then that is all that you will ever think about. You are dragging yourself down to your own demise." 

They begin to truly leave, the doors behind them start to close ever so slowly. The light being emitted from it also narrows down, and the world of nothingness and darkness that I reside in returns to normal, and there, I will always be lost, unable to see, nor find my way out. 

Just how did I end up here?

Questions doubting myself begin to rise.

I break into a run, chasing their disappearing silhouettes, hoping to find guidance from them once more, but no matter how fast I run, no matter how long I chase them, I can't seem to catch up, and our distances remain the same. 

My eyes open slowly, they feel hard and quite brittle, but it returns to normal with a few blinks.

Adjusting to my new environment, I remember what had happened. How I got here and all of that.

It seems that I slept here for the longest time, not minding the harsh conditions that winter had brought.

"So it was a dream huh? No, maybe more of a nightmare to be exact."

The very words they speak of seem to have woken me up from my deep slumber. I was supposed to give up then and there. To just sleep everything off and worry about nothing anymore. But, those two woke me up for some reason. 

Though not as encouraging, they woke me up nonetheless.

The weather has become furious once more, the blizzard ravaging the land, covering my body in a large pile of snow. The sky has turned darker, meaning that I must have passed out for a very long time then. 

My body feels hard, and I can't move my limbs. It seems that they've frozen on me.

My senses return, making me realize the feeling of the intense cold. And with that, I begin hyperventilating, panicking as every part of my body is buried in snow, unable to get out or do anything about it. 

In a desperate attempt to free myself, I try amassing my powers once again, hoping that I've rested enough to use them once more, or stay like this for the remainder of my life.

Though my hands are frozen solid, I imagine them igniting, thawing the ice off.

Within a few seconds, the ice thaws as expected. The color of a pure blue flame gleams off the ice, reflecting on each one, making the surroundings brighter.

A fuzzy feeling comes to me once I could move my hands once more. It's warm, returning the color to my body.

Soon, I've thawed off the rest of my body.

A sharp pain courses through my body after moving my body for a short while. I tightly clutch my stomach where the pain seems to be coming from. With that mistake, I accidentally touch my own wounds, making me jolt back in agony. 

"Grh! Damn it, what is this? A wound? *sigh* tch, I remember."

With all the pieces connected, I realize that this hole in my stomach came from the sentinel. The snow seems to have frozen it, preventing any fatal blood loss. 

Honestly, I'm quite relieved and terrified at the same time. Thinking that the snow could have both killed, but instead saved me fills me with thoughts of dread. 

"But, how am I still alive from that? Even if the snow had frozen my wound, the sheer fatality of the damage would have taken my life within minutes... So how then?"

I then notice my keen sense of vision and other sharpened senses. My shoulders begin to droop, thinking that my powers had saved me once again, like always...

*Sigh* "It can't be helped then. If this is the way it will be, then I cannot do anything about it I suppose."

I smile wryly to myself, halfheartedly embracing this languid feeling that has always accompanied me, constantly reminding me of how weak I truly am, or should I say, how much humanity I have left in me.

It isn't that bad to be honest. To be constantly reminded means that I'm still sane and aware of myself. That's what is means to me at the very least.

Standing up, I look forward. The place from where I was sent flying from can be easily found by going forward.

My eyes are fixated on my goal for the present. For now, I will disregard the future and think about what matters the most right now.

Tightly clenching my fists, I begin to reminisce about my nightmare from earlier. It seems that Andour and Marchosias came to push me forward. Quite an unorthodox way of going about it, but knowing those two. They aren't the most honest even with themselves. 

Even if that was a nightmare, it definitely woke me up. 

Now, what comes next?

"If this power will constantly remain with me, then I will not hold back any longer. Give to me everything that you can so that I can achieve my greatest goal of all."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

My hands begin to ignite brightly, melting the snowflakes that come to close to it.

My expression of anger turns to one of amusement and exhilaration. Brimming with excitement and vengeance for my earlier loss, I further test the limits of my current power. 

I imagine a dam filled with water. Think about opening that dam, exposing the power hidden inside it.

Blue flames begin to appear from my mouth as I exhale, the ones ignited on my hands become even more flamboyant than ever. My skin begins to turn scale-like and course, enveloping some parts of my body.

My eyes can see as clear as day, and even more clearly through the dense snow.

I can hear to faint blowing of wind around me. The smell of the damp trees from afar.

I feel light, as simply jumping would ascend me beyond the clouds.

"Now it is time to claim what is mine. But before that, I need to rescue the girl of course."

Without further hesitation, I stride through the snow covered soil. I don't feel exhausted at all. Rather, it feels like I'm further being filled with energy every step of the way. 

-----

"Ahh! Agh..."

"This shall never end if you continue to hold the secrets that are dear to me. Now, tell me the location of the crypt."

"... *cough* *cough* I, I already told you... I don't know."

"... Now you've done it. Coughing up blood on me. It seems that you need a few manners forced into you as well."

"Wait, no, please no- Argh!"

In a dark and damp room. Two people are present. One is bound and the other torments the bound. 

With a maddening expression, he casts from his hands bolts of white light. The bolts surge towards the helpless bound girl, forced to yell in agony as her voice echoes in the room. 

Her figure is in shambles, her face is bruised and scratched. Her cloth is in more tatters, slightly showing her well-proportioned assets. Her silky white hair waves with the soft, but cold breeze of the air.

She is bound by two chains holding her up by her wrists. Exhausted and on the brink of death, she dangles silently, but from her mouth moves, trying to say something, but the words won't come out.

"Please, he... Help me. F, Fafni-r."

She whispers with all her remaining strength, falling unconscious after her gallant efforts.

"Hmm? Resting are we? Sadly, I don't have the time to rest, so I will have to further strengthen my persuasion."

He raises both hands. There, he surges forth more power than earlier, the glow grows brighter and brighter until it blinds the entirety of the chamber. 

 The act being performed by the old man is being spectated by two of his creations, the sentinel and the golem. Both rest idly, not minding anything else at all. 

But what arouses their attentions are the sound of footsteps slowly getting louder and louder, indicating that someone is getting closer.

Instantly, they rise up in unison. Pahldor, the one in charge noticed this earlier than his creations did, but ignored it until the last second. His smile turned grim, and his expression worsened.

In that moment even his creations halted movement after feeling this animosity even if they were animated objects. 

The one thing that Pahldor did stop doing, was his torture of the girl. Thinking that he was at the brink of a breakthrough made him even more furious. Adding to that was the arrival of someone whom he thought was already dead, but this time, he seems different. 

The footsteps stop, and so do the creations of his. The ruined and collapsed chamber turns silent, the only thing making a sound was the sharp breeze of the cold weather.

"... How are you still alive?"

He speaks with a rather calm and surprisingly mellow tone. Though the uninvited guest knows that he's masking his true feelings. He stays silent, circulating his breathing efficiently as it is the only thing keeping his power intact. If he loses focus on his breathing, then it'll go unstable and die out.

This time he might not be lucky enough to escape death. Those were his thoughts as he stared at the old man brimming with power still. 

He ignored his presence, staring directly behind him. His expression does not change, rather he stays composed as he looks at her damaged state. 

Pahldor examines the lad in front of him, thinking about how he would have to handle someone who came back from the dead. He will have to take this very seriously, pulling no punches. 

Rather than being irritated by is presence, he acknowledges him from his mind, thinking of his tenacity and determination that would even sway death away from him. 

"I cannot take you lightly any longer. Follow me, I cannot risk destroying this place any longer. I need to return and continue my interrogation once I finish you off, needless to say that I need the environment to do just that."

"..."

"Staying silent? Don't worry, I already know the reason for that. If I didn't, then I wouldn't be worthy of the title arch magus. I shall give you a battle so fierce that you will forever revel in it in the afterlife."

Pahldor ascends upwards into the large opening in the ceiling. His creations follow as well, the golem climb up while the sentinel flaps its wings, ascending in the same grand fashion as its master did. 

Now Fafnir remains alone with the unconscious girl. He could take her already if he wanted to, but refrained from doing so. He instead stares at her intently, still breathing calmly and orderly as possible. 

With weak and heavy eyes, she feels the presence of someone else in the room. The feeling of being stared at wakes her, but not enough to fully recover her senses.

Though she sees someone staring at her as she opens her eyes slightly, forcing them open as much as she can. She realizes who it was, but does not have any energy to react, nor move her mouth to speak. She simply looks at him, a tear falling from the corner of her eye as a sign of relief, sadness and happiness at the same time.

To her surprise, he leaves, going somewhere where her line of sight cannot see. Unable to hold in the fatigue, she surrenders her fate to the weight of her state, falling unconscious once again.   

Alone once again, surrounded by the silence and the eerie darkness that accompanies her in this ordeal.

Noon has come, the moon has appeared, and the darkness along with it. 

The snowstorm, slowly becoming stronger, obscures the pristine environment from the preceding morning. But two people stand under that. Both worn out souls bound to each other like a curse, unable to be rid of the other not unless one is defeated. 

The flame engulfed hero stands opposite the arch magus, accompanied by his two creations. Both are idle, but assesses each other in their own way. Even an inch of movement from either one is to be considered the beginning of the bout. 

"I applaud you for coming here. But I hope you realize that this will be the last each of us will see one another. A victor will be decided here today, and that one victor will truly decide the one worthy for it."

"..."

"Still keeping your silence. I admire the look in your eyes. That ferocity, that unrelenting thirst for power. It truly feels like I have a comrade in arms that is willing to go this far for something he wants. Shame that you had to go against me. Now, you will have to live up to your words, again."

Pahldor finishes his speech, raising his arms up in the air as his tattered garments sway with the wind. 

With a voice that ripples through the clouds, reaching beyond that, he begins chanting once more. The golem and the sentinel assume their offensive stances, ready to face their enemy once more. 

In his mind, nothing but a clear goal. Not even a speck of doubt to deter him from this. His resolve is strong and unwavering. With eyes as sharp as viper, flames burning brighter than purgatory, and a body stronger than that of aegis, he is prepared.

Though he wears less than he came with, his does not seem perturbed.

Without a top to cover his scars and wounds, wearing only a tattered leggings and boots. He glows blue under the night. 

Fafnir moves in unison with the sentinel. They meet in the middle, nearly clashing, but halting inches before they collide. Not holding a weapon, he kicks the tip of the spear pointed directly at his chest, knocking it aside, spinning, with a combination of great strength and agility. A pocket of air blows away the snow as Fafnir splits the air with his preemptive attack.

The spear flies away, driving itself through a tree.

The sentinel seems to have underestimated Fafnir because of his appearance as he reels back from surprise. 

Fafnir takes this opportunity to strike, winding back his ignited right arm, striking with great precision directly at its chest, sending it flying a few meters away from him. 

Armed with malice in his eyes, he glares at Pahldor, who does not look amused at all by this amazing display of dominance from Fafnir. 

With a gesture to move forward, the golem proceeds to obey the command. The sentinel returns to stand, flapping his wings to float off the ground. The sentinel glares as well, intent on returning the favor. 

The ground trembles with each move that the golem takes. It winds up its arm as it draws closer to the idle Fafnir. 

Like a blur, the sentinel reappears behind Fafnir, but does not wield its spear, simply striking with its fist. 

Fafnir follows its movements clearly; his eyes haven't lost track of it even with the amount of speed it used to get to his blind spot. 

Fafnir jumps a great height, dodging the sentinel's attack entirely. 

The golem changes its attack, swinging from its side instead on striking a blow to the ground. 

The golem connects with its attack, sending Fafnir flying like an arrow from a bowstring. 

But the impact is somewhat softened as he braced himself before receiving the attack. 

The sentinel follows up, unleashing a great burst of speed as its wings beat, enveloping itself with the wind.

Once again, the sentinel appears behind Fafnir, but this time successfully attacks, launching him upwards while in the process of being sent back.

Fafnir aches his body, unable to keep up with the sudden increase in speed of his enemy. But the sentinel does not end with that. 

Fafnir glides, free falling after being sent upwards, slowly descending.

From the clouds there appears an entity clad in the gale of the wind, quickly descending with every millisecond. 

Fafnir becomes aware of this, and begins to create a sizable ball of flame from his right hand, but is unable to. 

The sentinel follows his combinations with a earth shattering attack from the skies. Fafnir's counterattack is canceled as the sentinel dives down on him, plucking him from the skies. 

The sentinel smashes Fafnir on the ground without a second's delay, creating a small crater with a victim inside.

The golem, in unison with the sentinel's attack, slams his massive arm downwards on the crater after having wound up his arm, waiting for his allies' signal.

Before the golem's fist would hit the ground, the sentinel flies upwards, avoiding the attack as the earth rattles.

The previously small crater has now become a larger one, a size that would be similar to the golem's fist size.  

The golem raises its fist to see the aftermath. The result is a flattened Fafnir lying unconscious on the ground, eyes closed, and arms open to the side.

Pahldor levitates towards the crater to see the defeat of his enemy with his own eyes. He surveys him, a suspicious feeling fills his gut, making him uneasy despite his victory. 

Pahldor creates a ball of pure white light, holding it over his head. But he stares him over once again, in doubt of the results. 

Fafnir opens his eyes; his expression is blank. He springs up to his feet, conjuring a ball of fire from his right hand, throwing it towards Pahldor as if the attack from the sentinel and the golem hadn't fazed him. 

The old man is unable to shield himself, but is protected by the golem's hand, extended quickly to secure the safety of its master. 

The flame captures their attentions. it does not wane, rather it continues burning the golem, spreading quickly, and intensifying in terms of power. 

Fafnir leaps out from the crater, flying straight towards the occupied Pahldor. He is bought down to the ground by Fafnir, preparing to barrage him with his fists clad in flames, but is interrupted by the sentinel.

The winged being takes Fafnir from his neck, raising him up. From the corner of his eye, Fafnir catches a glimpse of the sentinel's spear, meaning that he had taken it out of the tree in the time that he was smashed from the crater. 

He tries to flail, but is unable to escape as the sentinel extends him, pointing his spear from behind him, ready to impale its enemy. But after seconds worth of struggling, Fafnir remains still, gritting his teeth, clenching his muscles. 

Before the sentinel could impale Fafnir, a warning escapes Pahldor's mouth. "Wait, it's a lure, halt!" his words beckon to his creation, unable to comply fast enough as his spear plunges from Fafnir's back. 

Blood gushes forth, spilling on the snow, tainting it as a memoir from the battle. 

Fafnir lets out a deafening voice that roars through the ears of any being around him, forcing them to be disgruntled. 

He takes hold of the spear and the arm that holds his neck, grasping it tightly. His eyes glow a brighter shade of yellow, much brighter than his earlier one. Then comes the blue flames, passed on from his hand and onto the sentinel's wrist, inflicting him with an unseverable burning sensation. 

Though made of unknown materials, the sentinel releases Fafnir from his grasp, fanning the flames away with a stone cold, expressionless demeanor. 

The crafty Fafnir barely lands on his two legs, wobbling as the spear remains lodged through his body. He takes it out through the front, pulling it out with his arms as blood continuously spills out from it. 

Though the pain is immense, Fafnir face does not change, bearing it all without complaint. 

He successfully pulls it out, but weakens down to his knees. He uses the tall spear as a support, holding it in front of his head as he rests on it for a while. 

Meanwhile, his adversary does not wait for him to recover. He chants into the air, and the words instantly take form the moment they are invoked, gathering on his palm as a ball of energy. 

He launches it towards the gravely injured Fafnir, sparing no time in his defeat. 

As a result, Fafnir takes the brunt of the attack, sending him towards the golem, who is still struggling with the growing flames covering nearly every part of its massive body. 

It takes notice of Fafnir and raises its left arm in contempt, slamming it down without delay. 

Fafnir, clutching the spear tightly with his right hand, moves quickly to avoid the attack. He guides himself up with his left arm, quickly fleeing from the golem's range. 

Soon, the flames have fully embraced the two creations of Pahldor after a time of siphoning their strength, consuming them using their own energy against them. The sentinel has been halfway consumed, and is too busy trying to get the flames off, and the golem is already clad in a veil of flames, breaking down due to the intense heat surrounding it. 

Fafnir takes the spear in one hand, forcing himself up to walk as his left hand puts pressure on the severe wound that drips constatntly on the ground. He looks blankly at Pahldor.

The gaze is returned, but unpleasantly. Calmly, the old man rises again, levitating in the air.

"So it seems that I am wide open. No one to protect me, no one to interrupt your attacks. Show me your worth! My intrigue rises!"

He yells out with a grin. The surge of light from his eyes grow stronger. Pahldor holds out his left hand in front of Fafnir, presenting a symbol on his palm.

The symbol triggers a circle to appear below Fafnir, surrounding him in a wide vast radius of unknown powe.

"Now, burn in agony and lament. Purgatory awaits!"

His voice signals the circle to create a giant wall of spiraling red flames, reaching up beyond the clouds, melting the ice around it, exposing the soil. 

Fafnir desperately tries to cover himself with his arms, despite wielding flames himself, this is on a whole other level. It is its own flame, not made by a human rather, an unnatural one. 

The hurricane of velvet flames dies out, and Fafnir collapses on the ground. He supports himself with the spear, countering its heat with his own so that he could wield it without any problem. 

"I'm not finished. Prepare yourself!"

Presenting his hands outward as to receive something, Pahldor amasses a dark mist of energy slowly creeping up from everywhere. It begins to take the form of a ball of pure darkness. it is smooth and calm, but possesses and strong and eerie aura to it.

"Behold, the power bestowed by the daemons. This power is nothing compared to the one we both seek, but it shall suffice in bringing about your end." 

He releases it softly and gently towards Fafnir. it floats towards its target, unwavering. 

Fafnir on the other hand forces himself up, taking in more power from his unknown source. Though he is provided with energy, his health is not returned to normal, merely reinforced. 

Fafnir engulfs the spear with his blue flames once more, pouring his power in it. he breathes profusely as he does this, his shoulders drooping, and his face contorting to the strain brought about by the frequent surge of power he continues to take in. 

With the ball of dark energy approaching him, he takes a slow running start, charging momentum to his plan. Then he runs, using all the strength in his arms as he winds up the spear to his side, preparing to throw it. 

Shrouded in flames of azure, the spear flies off his hands, speeding towards the ball that is slowly levitating towards Fafnir in return. 

The spear collides with the ball. The spear pierces the sphere, merging with the dark flames. The ball of dark energy spills out, creating a strong rift that shattered the spear made of unknown minerals and rare materials. The collision brings about calamity, producing an explosion of massive proportions, engulfing both of them in the blast...

(You will not get in the way of my desires. Redemption, lament, all realizations of what you truly want. it is not anything new, but rather a discovery of your true self, and this is the path I shall take even if it leads to nothing in the end.)