Chapter 95

Long Road Begins With a Breath

“That’s it,” Derrek spoke out. “Just hold it--that’s right. Good. Let go. Once again. Let it channel through you. Don’t force it. What do you see?”

"..." Sylas had his eyes closed, listening carefully to the instructions. For the past six hours, he'd been restlessly driving traces of magic through his body--the Way worked by first enhancing the body and then using it as a conduit for magic, as though the body itself becomes a talisman. Rather, a blank talisman that can be used to channel any manner of magic through. "Uh... red... red crystal of sorts?" Sylas mumbled, frowning.

What he saw was a vast, scarlet expanse of the clear sky but instead of the sun shining in the distant horizon, there was a massive, red crystal that cast a crimson hue across the vast landscape.

“Bloodstone Knight,” Derrek said. “You can open your eyes now”.

“Huuuh,” Sylas exhaled, shaking momentarily. “That took a long-ass time.”

"... shorter than with the most," Derrek sighed. "Regardless, you've paved the way for the Bloodstone. Among the paths of the Way, it is one most focused on body enhancement. Using magic, you'll reinforce your entire body, starting with blood where you'll store your energy reserves. Effectively, the goal is for your body to become a weapon unto itself. A shield that can never be cut."

“Tsk, I was kinda hoping to be able to shoot light like you,” Sylas commented. “But... this suits me best, I think.” as someone fearless of death, Sylas knew that ‘using his body as a weapon’ would likely come as naturally as breathing to him.

"Each Way has three Transformations--the first is the basic one," Derrek quickly began instructing him. "For a Bloodstone Knight, your goal is to reach a point where you can stop your blood flow with magic."

“...”

“...”

“... stop what now with what?” Sylas mumbled in shock.

“Ha ha ha,” Derrek suddenly burst out into laughter, keeling over and holding his stomach. “That reaction--ha ha ha, priceless. Truly, priceless.”

“Ah, you were fucking with me.”

“No,” Derrek quickly corrected Sylas’ wrong and hopeful assumption. “I was serious.”

“... holy shit.”

“What? Already giving up?”

“... no,” Sylas sighed, shaking his head. “Just... needed a moment to wrap my head around the idea. What maniac even came up with this path?”

“It was Master Aewon,” Derrek burst into a history lesson. “He had virtually no talent for externalizing his energy. He could barely encase his fingers in it. However, he lived in a time... even worse than our own. He was mad. Piss mad.”

“...”

“Only a man like that can drive energy of magic into his veins. The way he did it, however, left permanent scars on him. He died before even reaching thirty years of age because of the damage he did to his body. However, he recorded and tested all the methods and made the path completely safe--a road of success paved by his blood and his failures that eventually cost him his life.”

“...” Sylas popped open the jug of wine and took a swing. “Sounds like he had fine footsteps which to follow.”

“... he was an insane megalomaniac who spent the last two years of his life angry and bitter, yelling, beating, killing anyone who crossed him,” Derrek said. “Due to his achievements, leaders of other Paths showed him respect--but he nearly neutered the Order’s name in that short timeframe. He’s... not remembered fondly.”

“... I stand by my words.”

"Of course you do," Derrek chuckled. "After managing to stop your blood flow, the second transformation entails that you can reverse it."

“Of course it does.”

“Not just momentarily--but permanently.”

“...”

“And survive, naturally.”

“Wow, really? I thought I was expected to die with a grin on my face.”

“The third transformation is the most difficult,” Derrek ignored the jab and continued.

“Oh geez, it’s music to my ears.”

“You’ll need to be able to drain your body of blood completely... and live.”

“... can I change my path?” Sylas asked half-jokingly. Just half, though.

“Dyn, before he betrayed us,” Derrek continued. “Was just a prodigy, yet had a body that could withstand a cannon shot. You could say that you specifically were made to kill him.”

“Why?”

“Because a Bloodstone’s Knight solitary weakness is heart.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s everyone’s weakness.”

“Not just that,” Derrek shook his head. “Heart is the source and destination of blood. Virtually any damage to it can potentially permanently cripple a Bloodstone Knight, making him incapable of using magic for the rest of his life. Any damage, no matter how minor. So you, someone who seeks hearts, was perfect for him. It’s a mighty cosmic irony that you saw the stone. A Bloodstone Knight... who is also a Child. Hah.”

“I’m sure that the joke I’m missing is hilarious,” Sylas said. “But how do you suggest I undergo all these transformations? Or are you saying there’s no guide and I have to brute force it?”

“You complained that your finite control of magic is lacking,” Derrek said. “What better way to practice it than on your own blood?”

“Ah, so brute force it.”

“If what you told me is true, then it shouldn’t be hard for you.”

“... from your perspective, perhaps,” Sylas sighed, standing up and closing the jug of wine. The two were outside, hidden beneath a veranda of sorts, protected from the falling snow though not from the cold. “I still have to live out all those years. But, oh well. Once bitten, twice prepared. Thank you. I know this can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t,” Derrek said. “But I trust in you. All of us do.”

“Ah, here we go,” Sylas sighed, rolling his eyes.

“We’re worried, Sylas,” Derrek persisted. “Is that so wrong of us? To be worried for a friend? Even if what you said was true--that the gods or monsters or whoever and whatever elected not to hurt you specifically as a warning... you still weren’t the one to hurt us. The blame always lies on the creature who attacked us. On the dead who invaded us. On whoever ushered them toward us.”

“Drain my body of blood, you said?” Sylas said, slowly walking away. “Don’t be surprised when you see a ghost walk up to you. Ah. It won’t be you, I guess,” he glanced back briefly. “I’m fine, Derrek. I’m fine, but not well. There’s a difference,” he tapped his temple. “But for now... it’s good enough. You should hurry back inside. It’s cold.”

“Sylas...”

He ignored the man’s voice calling him, walking on. Though the consuming thoughts swirled inside his head, he ignored them. He meant what he said--he was fine, though unwell. For now, he knew, that was good enough.

His focus immediately shifted to the Way he had just been taught. Though it seemed basic, Sylas understood just how intrinsically complex it was--the Way merely opened the gates rather than paving a road. He’d have to capture it to the best of his ability.

Sylas had learned a long while ago that he wasn’t particularly talented in anything. His body was ordinary--as was his mind. There were no hidden abilities and talents that enabled him to catch up to people who’ve been training for years and decades. If anything, he was below average in most departments.

However, that didn’t matter. He had one thing nobody else did--one thing he’d ignored so many times before. He had all the time in the world, all the freedom to pursue whatever he wanted without holding back.

Though the path he ‘chose’ was quite... macabre, to say the least, it was a perfect fit. His body was his weapon, for the most part. Unlike others, he didn’t have reservations when it came to walking straight into the hail of arrows or stings of blades or even fire itself. The only drawback, he mused eerily, was that it might become harder to kill himself and reset the loop.

He returned to his room and sat down in the corner. As it was body-changing magic, changes wouldn't persist through the loop--but that was irrelevant. Stopping blood, reversing blood, and even draining it weren't exactly only long-term goals. If anything, they were, technically speaking, doable within a single hour--as long as he knew how. And that was his goal. To eventually be able to undergo all three transformations within a few months at most, before the start of the spring.

But even the longest and grandest journeys all began with the first step--as such, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before draining the energy within him and sending it into his veins. Unlike before, with the basic integration of the Way, he didn't just push the energy through his veins but began trying to blend it with his blood. It stung--it was like prickling of a thousand needles wherever he tried merging the two.

They wouldn’t merge, however. It felt as though they were like the oil and water, entirely incompatible. But Sylas didn’t think too much on it. He had a singular goal and the idea in mind on how to achieve it--he’d coat every single drop of blood in his veins and forcibly stop them immediately. It will likely take a long, long, long--beyond long--number of years, but he was willing to do it. He’d never let it happen again, that day. He’d do everything in his power--and even outside of it--to ensure that nothing like that ever had the chance of happening again.

Gritting his teeth, he was forced to cough, feeling the surge of blood up his throat. It went from a prickling sensation to genuine hurt the moment he tried to force it. Wiping his lips, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and went at it again. And again. And again. All the way until his heart suddenly gave out, killing him. The first one, he mused as he began to drift into darkness. Should I keep track? Just for fun?

You have died.

Save point ‘Death’ has been initialized.