Bab 119: Chapter 117: The Mentor's Path
Chapter 117: The Mentor's Path
The dining hall sat steeped in silence, every gaze fixed on Darius. Only Haku, Neko, and Daemen seemed unaffected, their expressions, or lack of one, ranging from mildly entertained to outright bored. Having already heard the story before, they found their amusement instead in the reactions of the others.
"So that's what a Sect is… Ling Xu…" Tem's voice was barely above a whisper, her plate of fried meat and golden fleet untouched as she stared at Darius, stars shimmering in her wide eyes.
"Uh… Grand Elder? Is it… okay to tell us this?" Lint's whiskers twitched, his eyes darting between Darius and his uneaten meal.
"I am not the Grand Elder anymore. Just Darius is fine, for now." He surveyed the group, his expression calm and steady. "As for telling you… I see no harm in it. My past holds no power over me, so I have no fear of it being known."
"We won't tell anyone, we swear!" Jass's sudden outburst broke the quiet. She stared at Darius with uncharacteristic intensity, her small hands clenched into fists.
One by one, the children echoed her promise, their voices eager yet solemn. Gradually, however, the collective excitement gave way to sheepish silence as they glanced down, realizing their food had gone cold.
Even Ursie, who had been quietly listening from within the trough, seemed to have forgotten about her meal. Her usually voracious appetite ignored, she gazed at Darius in awe, her gurgled voice a faint murmur as she whispered to herself, "He who came before all…"
Darius's laughter broke through the reverence, lightening the atmosphere. Standing, he crossed the room to a side counter, his robes trailing gently behind him. "I had a feeling you might want seconds," he said, lifting a large platter covered by a silver lid. Returning to the table, he set it down before them. With a dramatic flourish, he removed the lid, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam.
The tantalizing aroma of freshly prepared, perfectly seasoned meat filled the room, instantly drawing their attention. The children's eyes lit up, and even Ursie leaned forward, her anticipation evident as she sniffed the air.
As the children eagerly dug into their second servings, Darius circled the table, stopping in front of Glabe. He plucked the untouched, now-cold bowl of soup from the elf's hands. "Are you feeling all right?"
Glabe sat stiffly, his pale complexion more drawn than usual after days of relentless writing. His gaze drifted upward, hazy and unfocused. "How old are you?"
Darius poured fresh soup from a large pot nearby, the aroma filling the air. "If I've done the math right," he said casually, setting the steaming bowl in front of Glabe, "I'm 845 years old this… summer? Maybe?" His tone carried a faint chuckle, but his expression turned firm. "Eat first, then talk. You look like you're gonna keel over."
The scent of the warm iron-ox tail soup seemed to revive something in Glabe. Without a word, he lifted the bowl to his lips, drinking deeply before lowering it to dig in with renewed vigor.
Across the table, Daemen's orb bobbed lazily. "Bet you thought he was just some genius, huh?" The orb floated around playfully. "Well, he is, kinda—but honestly, it's mostly just a freakishly good memory."
"Just?" Darius raised an eyebrow, his mock indignation drawing snickers from the group.
Laughter rippled through the room, filling the air with warmth. Everyone joined in—everyone except Leek. The young boy's fuzzy ears drooped, failing to hide the storm brewing within.
Haku noticed first, his expression shifting to concern. "Hey, cub, what's your problem? Tummy hurting, or you just being a brat?" His teasing tone was softened by genuine care as he leaned in slightly, waiting for the boy to respond.
Darius's gaze shifted to Leek, his movements halting as he caught sight of the boy's downcast face. "Leek? Don't like the food? I can make you something else if—"
Before he could finish, Leek bolted from his spot. He sprinted to the head of the table and dove headfirst into Darius's lap, burying his face in the folds of his robes.
Darius blinked, stunned, his arms hovering awkwardly as he tried to make sense of the sudden gesture. "Leek? What's wrong? You can tell me."
"I'm sorry." The boy's voice was barely above a whisper, shaky and fragile. "I'm sorry you lost your parents."
The dining hall fell silent. Every breath seemed held, the weight of Leek's words settling over the room like a heavy blanket. They had all felt the same sorrow but hadn't dared voice it, believing it wasn't their place. Yet Leek's innocent sincerity pierced the unspoken barrier, and with it, the unacknowledged grief crept into their hearts.
Darius rested a hand on the boy's head, his touch gentle. "Thank you, Leek. But… we've all lost our parents, haven't we?"
Leek looked up, his tear-streaked fur damp and matted. Darius gave him a small, reassuring smile before lifting the boy to his feet. "You have a kind heart, Leek. Don't lose it. Some might tell you it's a weakness, but if you temper it, that kindness will become one of your greatest strengths."
Carrying Leek back to his pillow, Darius placed him down gently, brushing stray fur from his shoulder. The boy sniffled but nodded, his small eyes radiating quiet strength.
Breaking the silence, Glabe hesitated before speaking, his tone respectful. "I hesitated before, but I've heard stories of your family." He glanced at Darius cautiously. "Not firsthand—just from my previous masters—but the Valdene name never carried warmth from those who mentioned it."
Darius let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as a shadow crossed his face. "My family has a complicated past." For a moment, his eyes seemed distant, but then he straightened, his voice lighter. "Enough of this talk. Instead, let's talk of tomorrow, and you all eat until you're full."
Everyone nodded eagerly, diving back into their meals. Even Leek, grease smearing his fur, stuffed his face with strips of fried beast, his earlier emotions forgotten in the warmth of food.
The evening carried on with the lively hum of chatter. The children, their curiosity boundless, peppered Darius with questions about his past. Gasps and laughter echoed through the dining hall, filling it with life well into the night.
As plates emptied and bellies filled, the children's energy waned. Their eyes drooped, heavy with exhaustion. Haku shifted into his massive beast form, gathering most of the kids onto his back with surprising care. Darius picked up a drowsy Leek, cradling him gently, while Glabe followed behind on foot, his steps slow but steady.
Neko and Ursie had retreated into the Codex, their snores muffled by the swirling clouds they rested in, with Kahoon curled up within his own. Daemen's presence remained faint but steady within Darius's dantian, his cultivation undisturbed.
Glancing at Haku, Darius's expression sharpening. 'You ready?'
Haku grinned, his stride steady as he padded alongside Darius. 'Are you ready? I'm not the one leading this.'
A quiet chuckle escaped Darius as he looked down at Leek, the boy's small hand clutching his robe even in sleep. 'Nine disciples... Wu Chen would be shocked to death.'
Back at the lodge, Darius, Haku and Glabe helped settle the children into their rooms. Each child mumbled a quiet thanks before drifting into a deep, contented sleep. When the last door clicked shut, after parting with Haku, Darius turned to Glabe, his voice low but steady. "No matter what happens tomorrow, I'll make sure I read your story by the following day."
"No need to rush," Glabe muttered, his voice tinged with weariness. "It's no great tale—just the pathetic story of a pathetic life."
Darius sighed, his hand resting briefly on Glabe's shoulder as he passed. His parting words lingered in the still air. "Remember my story, Glabe. Although not as long as you, I too once crawled through filth and despair."
The shadows of the hall seemed to swallow Darius as he walked away, his robes trailing behind him. Left alone, Glabe turned to a window, his gaze fixed on the towering Pagoda—a symbol of the work he and Darius had created. He stood there for a long time, silent but for the absent-minded motion of his hand brushing his ear.
As he walked, Darius watched the elf with his mana sense, his mind turning to the scrolls stored securely within his pouch. A flicker of curiosity stirred in his chest. 'What could make him hate so deeply?'
Rounding the corner of the hallway, Darius paused at the sound of a muffled crash. His mana sense flared briefly before his expression softened. "Not so easy, is it?"
Arriving before a large wooden door, he knocked softly, waiting calmly as hurried shuffling and faint cursing sounded from within. A faint smile crossed his lips when Crelos's voice finally called out, strained and coughing, "Come in."
Pushing the door open, the sight that greeted him was all too familiar. Papers were scattered across the floor, books piled precariously on every surface, diagrams and charts plastered across the walls like a chaotic tapestry. Arcanic equations, half-finished and scrawled in frustration, littered the desk. Darius's eyes swept over the mess before landing on Crelos, who sat hunched at his desk, amber eyes rimmed with exhaustion and frustration.
"Been busy?" Darius asked, his voice light as he gestured to the bed. "Mind if I sit?"
Crelos glanced at him briefly before returning his gaze to the cluttered desk. His hair was a mess, and the tension in his posture spoke louder than words. "Technically, it's your room," he muttered, his tone edged with bitterness. "Sit wherever you like."
"Hmm." Darius plopped down onto the bed without hesitation. "Guess you're right." He leaned forward, scanning the notes scattered across the desk. His eyes caught on a few half-formed theories, lines of logic tangled with frustration. "Interesting theories. Runic laws?" He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "Makes sense, but—"
"Just stop," Crelos snapped, cutting him off. He shoved back from the desk, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "What am I even doing here, Darius?" His voice cracked, his hands raking through his disheveled hair. "You think I don't know you know? I do. Doesn't mean I didn't want to try myself, but—" His words broke as he swiped a pile of papers off the desk, sending them fluttering to the floor. "What's the point?!"
His frustration erupted as he stood and began kicking the scattered papers, his movements sharp and erratic. "I couldn't even stop someone weaker than me! So what's the point, huh?! Why should Percy have had to die? Why couldn't I have stopped him when it mattered?!"
Darius stood slowly, raising a hand to calm him. "You had no—"
"It's because I'm weak!" Crelos roared, his aura flaring suddenly. The papers closest to him ignited, curling into ash as flames licked at the edges of the room. "Too weak to help you with Ramman! Too weak to help at the wedding! Even worse, too weak to even be trusted with the damn plan!"
Grabbing another handful of papers, he crumpled them in his fists, watching them burn away. "Too weak to figure out the truth. Too weak to save anyone." His voice dropped to a low, defeated murmur as he slid down against the wall, his back thudding softly against the wood. "So what's the point, Darius? Just get stronger, kill Rainslif, and let Barrond help you with the rest, right? Why all this? Why me?"
The room fell silent, the faint crackle of smoldering paper the only sound. Darius waited, his expression unreadable as he watched the mage.
"Are you finished?"
Crelos flushed slightly, the heat of his outburst fading. "Yeah."
"First off, you're right. But I wanted you to discover the Dao of Gaia on your own. And I still do. So I won't be telling you anything about it."
Crelos clenched his fists, his frustration barely restrained, but he remained silent.
"Second, you are weak," he said bluntly, his words cutting through the air like a blade. "Too weak to have helped with Ramman, and still too weak to have changed anything that happened at the wedding."
"And as for Percy, you had no right to interfere."
Crelos flinched, his frustration boiling over. "But—"
"No," Darius cut him off, his presence swelling, filling the room with an almost tangible weight. "If you had stopped him, Marcus would have died. Would you have blamed yourself for that as well? Percy made a choice, one that wasn't yours to take from him."
Crelos's head dropped, his shoulders sagging under the truth of it. But Darius wasn't done.
"If you had stopped him from saving his father," Darius pressed, his voice hard but steady, "he would have hated you for it. To his core. He would have probably tried to kill you for it. Then what?"
Darius paused, letting the words sink in before exhaling slowly. He sat back down on the bed, the overwhelming pressure of his aura receding.
"Percy chose to trade his life for Marcus's. That was his decision. So stop wasting your time dwelling on another man's sacrifice." Darius's gaze fixed firmly on Crelos, unflinching. "Your ego has no place in that tragedy."
Crelos's expression was one of utter defeat. His shoulders slumped, and his gaze stayed fixed on the floor. His mind and mouth both failed him, locked under the wisdom of Darius's words.
After a long, heavy silence, he exhaled sharply and collapsed to the ground, resting his back against the wall. "You're right, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm weak. And it still doesn't explain why I'm here."
Darius didn't respond immediately. Instead, he walked to a large window, his footsteps steady but deliberate. Reaching it, he pulled the panes open wide, letting the cool night air sweep into the room.
Crelos watched him, his brow furrowing. First expectant, then confused, as Darius turned back and began walking toward him. "What are you doing?"
He didn't answer. Stopping in front of the seated mage, his shadow fell over him. Without warning, he grabbed Crelos by the collar of his robe and hoisted him into the air as if he weighed nothing.
"Time to stop pouting."
"Pouting? Fuck you! Let go, you pervert!" Crelos snarled, his arms flailing as he tried to pry Darius's iron grip from his collar.
But Darius ignored the struggling mage, carrying him toward the open window. The faint hum of his aura began to change, crackling as arcs of purple lightning slithered across his body.
"W-what are you doing?"
Darius smiled, his voice calm. "Ethereal Steps." In an instant, they vanished, the room left empty as the window panes shuddered and cracked.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
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