Chapitre 61: Hyperbola (Ⅱ)
And then, I was falling.
Not just free falling, but being...I couldn't tell. I couldn't describe it.
The events that happened were too quick for my tired mind to keep up with. The only thing I could register was Jayden's somewhat perverted excitement, mention of me belonging to Category 4, and then his attention diverging from me to fighting Aksel.
There was no coherence in behaviour, as if the twisted dimensions had twisted their behaviour as well.
The panorama compressed, the colours bleeding into each other as I was thrust out…spit out, tumbling through a few seconds of a murky black void and back into this... limited existence.
The transition was a violently jarring shift from the fluidity of higher dimensions to the rigid confines of the current one.
I hit the ground hard, gasping for breath, the air thick and heavy compared to the ethereal nothingness I had just been a part of until now. My chest heaved up and down violently, hyperventilating.
Taking hold of the Ambient Arcanum—to the best of my ability—I tried to control it, and my breathing, filling my primary node.
After a few seconds of rest, I finally took the first lookup.
The clash of Technique Deployments was invisible to the naked eye. I couldn't even feel a single distortion into the ambient Arcanum that could give away their presences.
Looking down towards my hands, I saw myself perched atop a guard Wujin's body that had toppled over.
The ground was roughed-up, charred—long lines of black originating from one place and then disappearing before reappearing over the other side of the field. A byproduct of the friction caused by Slipstream every time I had blipped in and out of the quantum state.
Now that I think about it, I was lucky the Wujins were not spread out that much. Since I can't use Slipstream over long distances due to many natural reasons. And also because of the limitations to my physical body.
I felt my eyelids close, fatigue catching up to me but the dull throb throughout my body had begun to subside, courtesy of the Arcanum existing in purest form in this place, unlike Earth's which was less potent and muddled.
My gaze washed over the entire battlefield, taking in the dead, prone forms of the Wujins and then slowly trailing towards the two Arcanum signatures—Michael and Ed engaged in a bare-knuckle brawl; Ed's Nightcrackle nowhere to be seen.
I focused around them but couldn't find Ed's strange sword anymore.
There were too many new elements to Eden that we were unaware of.
The obvious difference in behaviour and approaches of high-ranking individuals, unmentioned weapons which can manifest out of thin air...as if stored in a separate, pocket dimension. "If" you can even call it pocket dimension.
The small hill behind Michael lurched as the waves of grey flames, in tandem with Ed and Michael's intent pounded like hammer against an anvil.
Despite the distance between us, I felt Ed's eye focus on me, piercing through it and his killing intent flared tangibly.
His arm swung and a small arc of decay flames swished through the air.
The total distance between us was around 60 or so feet. The arc of flames blinked 10 times as it was passed through a filter of Arcanum barriers I erected, slowly whittling down its power. It was something I had learned from Ed's chainmail's defence barrier.
By the time it had reached me it was nothing more than hot wind carrying a decaying property which was swatted away by the arc of lightning that extended from my body and then fizzled away.
Michael's fist collided against Ed's face as his entire body caved in before being propelled back with such force that it shook the entire mountain behind.
He looked back at me. His shirt was torn all over and blood streamed down from the corner of his lips, left shoulder and just beneath his ribs where a slash extended from right where his solar plexus would be and towards his latissimus.
But it was shallow. Shallow enough to not kill him.
His eyes were gleaming and the Arcanum around him was flaring, more and more. He felt hesitant, distant. As if not wanting to reveal or fight much in front of me. But he had no other choice.
I had pitted him against Ed for a few selected reasons.
As I watched Michael take and deliver hits, I observed what I needed. From the start.
The corrections in my assumptions regarding Michael's Divine Covenant. The rationale behind the false pretence, presumably, of refraining from killing, the truth about brute physical strength that seems to supersede any human and much more.
I couldn't tell before because of various uncertainties, but it's quite clear now. The 'sacrifice' for the physical boost was indeed his Arcanum amount. His physical attacks were doing less damage now, comparatively, but the amount of Arcanum swelling out from him was not allowing the efficiency to fall down.
He was still not using his Arcane Art.
But I supposed for the Whites, using their Arcane Art is something they don't exploit very often. And while it can cause the highest form of destruction known to mankind, it is also quite harmful to the user himself.
Ed tried to shrug Michael away, but he held him by his collar and pulled Ed towards himself, driving his knee into his ribs. The blow did not send shockwaves, which were usually created by the pure brute strength, however, Ed fell to his knees, blood gurgling out of his mouth in huge amounts.
Michael was relying more and more on his Arcanum with each passing moment.
That confirms it. I suppose I have no further need to observe him any further.
As the battlefield continued to rumble, I tried to look for Jayden and my father. There were still around, I could tell that much. The tingle on my skin like a bug was crawling on it was enough evidence to let me know that, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly where.
It was like they existed everywhere. Above—beyond the clouds, beneath—buried underneath layers of dirt and around—like the air itself.
I closed my eyes and let my senses expand as an extension of my spell.
And while usually this spell was enthralling, at the current moment it was leaving my senses reeling with a dissonant intensity.
Arcanum from different sources was being used in an offensive way, snatching away the usual serenity in the atmosphere and was replaced by the repulsive look of spells weaponizing and launching, destroying...eating away at everything.
It was strange. I thought I would not care about such things.
Something so trivial as to what the open space, the Arcanum inhabiting it, looked like. But here I was, feeling a little queasy over the shift in the atmosphere as I picked on micro changes—almost all of them.
Residual Arcanum from the clash of Technique Deployments hit my expanded senses like a rogue ball suddenly hitting an eye.
The sudden impact was jarring as I was taken aback, leaving me blindsided. I felt my senses recoil violently, yanked back as if someone had grabbed hold of them and pulled with all their might.
My awareness, which had been spreading out like a tangible extension of my body was abruptly condensed back into my physical form.
But in that brief moment before my senses fully returned, I glimpsed something.
An Arcanum signature. Far away, amidst the small congregation of trees underneath the shattered platform that we had housed ever since we came to Eden.
Alone. Trembling. Afraid…but bright. So bright that it cut through the smokescreen of Arcanum violently clashing and destroying terrain all around us.
It was like a full moon, the glow radiating from it piercing through a nimbus of black clouds.
'I almost forgot about her.'
Lightning hissed around me as I augmented my legs before dashing forward. Before long I had reached the place. Weaving through the choppy congregation of trees, I closed in on the Arcanum signature that was pulsing and dying in a rapid succession.
"Hello." I greeted, removing the dangling branch from a tree that was poking down away from my face as I reached out.
At the same time the figure suddenly turned around. Eyes shut from sheer panic; a hand blurred like a slap towards my face. Catching it with my left hand, right over the fabric of my attacker's wrist, I looked down at her.
"Solid slap. Would have knocked a tooth or two out of my mouth." I smiled...tried to, looking into her eyes that were red, and huge bags made her give a weary look.
A wave of regret washed over me watching Astrid in this condition. It was all because of me that she was like this.
I felt my gaze soften as her trembling eyes widened in realisation. Her lips moved to say something, eyes widened even more and when instead of words all that came out was a gasping breath, her eyes suddenly narrowed, shining and the crease of her forehead eased out before her lips quivered and she fell into my arms.
There was a rawness to her surrender...some kind of unfiltered vulnerability that struck me to my very core.
I coiled my arm around her shoulder, hesitatingly, the touch—despite the layer of clothing—sending shivers down my spine.
Rubbing my hand against her back I hugged her sagging body close and placed my chin on her head. "Deep breaths. Deep breaths." I whispered.
She didn't reply, but I could already tell that she was reliving everything from the way she was clutching at my sleeves as firmly as she could. Her knuckles had turned white.
"Mmmphhfff..." her voice quivered, words drowned out underneath constant sobs and sniffles. "I... I was so scared. I... I can't do it anymore, Arthur..."
The effects of the spell were wearing off. The foreign boldness and will to fight monsters while throwing the prospect of death away was a good addition to her character, but it was, nonetheless, not her.
And it was finally catching up to her.
(A/n Reference to Chapter 11: Thunderclap - Ⅱ)
I breathed out a shallow breath as I patted her head with the base of my palm, avoiding touching her clean silver strands with my hands that were caked with a mix of blood—both mine and Wujins'—dirt and grime. It felt like a crime touching her.
She didn't deserve it...but then again, nothing is fair. Life isn't exactly a bed of roses.
Should I tell her it's fine if she doesn't want to do this anymore?
Or should I say that she should forget about leaving me?
Or should I just convince her otherwise, contrary to the above two?
All of these were viable.
But after staying by my side...does she deserve to be treated like this?
It was a strange question. And I was quite conflicted about it myself. I normally would've done the logical thing until now.
But I couldn't. Was this me...actually, me? Or was it just a projection of someone else instilled into my mind by that woman.
Evening out the frayed strands of Astrid's hair, I squeezed her once against myself, jolting her to her senses.
I needed to answer now. The silence was getting almost stifling.
She sniffled, breaking from the hug but still leaned against me, her forehead pressed against my chest.
Her hair obscured her features as they fell from the sides like a curtain.
"Sor..." I paused.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone