[Book II Chapter 99] ZENTRIAS: The Voice In His Head
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That was just because we were lucky enough not to run into any immortals for as long as we did, Zentrias answered back.
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Zentrias said nothing as he forced his battered body to pull itself up. Ever since being brought back to life, uncharismatic thoughts had been surfacing. It was one of these which had incited him into a rage against the bone lich. He’d kept the development to himself, writing it off as a byproduct of the pain and stress.
After blocking that last attack, the words had become crystal clear. In some dark corner of his head, the figure of his younger self was speaking to him.
It’s nothing I can’t endure. Everyone is desperately fighting. As he rose to his feet a hideous cry assaulted him. Anchoring itself to a patch of bedrock, the tyrant had roared again. Without a second thought, Zentrias jumped and interposed himself in front of his comrades, drawing in the undead’s destructive magecraft.
Amidst the agony, he heard his younger self. <
I am saving my comrades, he grunted.
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You aren’t the real me, Zentrias countered, collapsing brutalized and exhausted. Not anymore. He vaguely felt more bandages wrapping around him.
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It’s a promise I made to myself, Zentrias answered weakly. So that I wouldn’t fall back into old patterns. So I wouldn’t become the bastard I used to be.
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Zentrias lay motionless without responsing. There was a way the world worked. Channeling ability and skill in martial arts roughly correlated with strength, and large disparities were insurmountable. Yet, with his eyes, he’d violated that order, striking down those who should have been far above him.
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A child who can snuff out your life is terrifying. He understood this, yet his experiences had left a deep scar. One that affected him to this day.
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Zentrias recalled that dark period. It was no way to live, not relying on anyone.
His younger self sneered. <
And go through life with these freakish fingers? No thank you.
His younger self shrugged. <
… What are you? How do you know that? Zentrias asked.
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If you are what you claim, then you wouldn’t be trying to sway me, Zentrias replied skeptically. I always had ——and still do—— too much ambition to surrender to madness.
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Zentrias sighed. I can’t afford to. The price is too high.
His younger self grimaced and shook his head. <
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At least we are in agreement on that, Zentrias willed himself to stand and gazed towards the battle.
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Frowning, Zentrias channeled a flood of chaotic magic through his veins. His muscles buckled under the strain, but somehow held. This works.
His younger self grinned. <
Zentrias dashed faster than he ever had, flying by his surprised allies. The tyrant swerved to greet him, extending a hand with claws as long as daggers. He let them pierce him, driving home his own talons into the the lizard’s scaly torso. Tyrant, this exchange will cost you more than me.
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He was blown back as the undead’s right side exploded. Good, but not enough. He charged again, but his off-balance opponent swatted him back with its tail while backpedaling. It doesn’t intend to let me close again.
The flow of battle changed in their favor, but the advantage faded as the tyrant gradually regenerated. Eventually, it succeeded in reaching a piece of bedrock and roared again. Zentrias once more moved in front of the others.
<> His younger self lamented.
This time the hellish wail wouldn’t end. It was as if the tyrant was determined to down him for good. His consciousness frayed as the accumulating damage overwhelmed his bandages.
Then Stannis Gilron dropped from above, chopping off the tyrant’s head.