Chương 91: Chapter 91: Thread Cutter Aether's Reckoning: Blades of Regret
"What the heck is going on?" I ask myself after finding myself in the midst of a battle near the base where June and Moraine were hiding out currently. Not really expecting an answer, I slowly get up but then...
"I have no idea, dimwit," startled, I almost jumped up in fright since I had completely forgotten about him.
"Are you trying to get us killed?" I ask the voice inside my head. Getting no response, I cast my eyes across the battlefield—a scene of desolation. Trees lay shattered, their once proud forms now silent casualties of the raging war. The forest floor was a haunting tapestry of fallen comrades, a somber reminder of the toll exacted by the merciless conflict.
Above, the airships loomed like dark specters against the ominous sky. Their relentless barrage rained down on the beleaguered revolutionary army, painting the air with trails of destruction. The heavens seemed to weep as the airships unleashed their fury.
Amidst the chaos, the republic's army surged like a relentless tide from all angles. Their numbers, an overwhelming force, stretched into the thousands. In contrast, our dwindling band of warriors, a mere three hundred strong, stood resolute against the impending tide of foes. The battlefield echoed with the clash of ideals, a symphony of chaos and sacrifice playing out on the canvas of war-torn earth.
The republican army all wore different types of masks, but there was one that stood out the most—one mask I would never forget. That was the grin mask worn by the leader of the republican army, Decker. He was on one of the two airships, looking down at the battleground with murderous glee. Our eyes met, and I could see the mixed emotions in his gaze. It was as if he was surprised to see me still alive before quickly hiding it and jumping down, coming straight for me like a meteorite descending from the sky. The minute his feet touched the ground, an uncontrolled burst of aether rolled out from his body, destroying what was left of the surrounding trees. His attack killed both friend and foe, but there was something different within me or, should I say, within this body.
"Stephen, do you feel it too?" I asked, not really hoping for an answer, but surprisingly I got one. "Yes, I do, and it's F***ING AWESOME! Now let's kick his grinning ass," he exclaimed. I shook my head at his childish behavior, but deep down, I knew he was right. This man standing a few yards away from me had chased me down with the intentions to kill me from one of my early visits to concilia, and I could not let him live any longer.
Slowly closing my eyes to allow the memories of the time I was absent from concilia to be transferred to me. Ever since I found out that this body could function with or without me perfectly, I knew that it had been training with either June or Catalina. So all of the accumulated experience it had amassed would be passed to me, including many aetheric arts. I allowed my mind to be empty as I waited for the flood of information to make its way into my mind. There I could feel it starting out small like a jug of water being poured into an empty bucket. I could see it all from the moment where my soul returned to my world and the pain in June and Moraine's eyes as they started crying, trying to get a response out of Stephen's soulless body. But there was no response. I saw everything that took place in the following months, from the planning, training, and the lonely nights of June and Moraine where they would climb into the bed and hug me. I saw it all. Eventually, the flood ceased, and I received all of the memories of the past few months, one of those memories being the time where Moraine spoke about her suffering and mentioned the name of one of the people that tainted her, Decker. To me, that was reason enough for me to kill him with immediate effect. I thought Stephen would comment, but he did not say a thing. It was as if there was a silent understanding between him and me.
"PLAGUE DOCTOR, YOU REALLY REFUSE TO DIE!" Decker bellowed, his eyes revealing his hatred for me, and that was a good thing for me.
"Plague doctor, huh? We are definitely keeping it," Stephen spoke with excitement. I was about to roll my eyes when a sonic boom resounded, and before I knew it, Decker was in front of me with his fist aimed at my head. Luckily, I was already prepared for this. Activating aetheric vision, I quickly stepped into the closest tear, appearing a few hundred yards away — "broken steps" — giving myself time to start casting intricate aether spells of the advanced tier. But Decker was surely not going to wait for me to finish spellcasting, so almost immediately, he used broken steps to appear right in front of me. His body releasing a faint aetheric glow, "Esteemed dome of the republic," Decker called out the name of the spell he had just cast, a spell only taught to the high-ranking members of the Esteemed Republic. It was a spell used to contain huge threats that needed to be executed, meaning that the Esteemed Republic now wanted me dead. This spell could only be released by the caster, and it did not use the aether reserves of the caster. Instead, it used the aether that escaped the tears in space. The only way the dome could go was if Decker removed it or I kill him, and I had no intention of keeping him alive.
"Reverse steps." Right when his fist was about to meet my face, I took action, but Decker was stronger and much more experienced than the people I fought when I was rescuing Moraine. He immediately moved too, "gravity falls" (see chapter 36). Just as my body was going up, Decker also released his spell, and the gravity inside the dome increased by 3 folds. But I had already anticipated something like that, so I had covered my body with an aether membrane to withstand the multiplied force of gravity.
June had told me about Decker's martial art , arcane flow.Arcane Flow is a martial art that seamlessly integrates magical elements into traditional combat techniques. Practitioners of Arcane Flow channel raw aetheric energy through their physical movements, enhancing their martial prowess with magical power. This unique fusion allows for dynamic and unpredictable fighting styles, combining the finesse of magic with the precision of traditional martial arts.
In combat, Arcane Flow users harness aether to empower strikes, create defensive barriers, and execute rapid, aether-infused maneuvers. The art emphasizes agility, supernatural reflexes, and an intimate connection with the aether. Each movement is a deliberate dance, where the practitioner harmonizes their physical form with the flow of magical energy.
Central to Arcane Flow is the ability to manipulate aetheric currents, shaping them into devastating attacks or protective shields. The practitioner's proficiency in both martial skills and aetheric control defines the effectiveness of Arcane Flow in battle. This dual mastery allows for a versatile combat style, adapting to various opponents and situations.
The effectiveness of Arcane Flow lies not just in the physical execution of techniques but also in the practitioner's attunement to the aetheric currents around them. It's a discipline that requires both mental focus and physical prowess, resulting in a unique and potent martial art that blurs the line between magic and combat.
As for me I used the elemental blade dance , an aetheric blade art that uses the natural elements .The Elemental Blade Dance, a martial art as ancient as the whispering winds and as fiery as the heart of a raging inferno, unfolded like a mesmerizing symphony on the battlefield. The dance, a delicate balance between the ethereal and the lethal, turned the wielder into a conduit for the very essence of nature.
As the blades traced through the air, each movement was an ode to the elements – a caress of wind, a surge of water, a flicker of flame, and the unwavering solidity of earth. The dancer, a silhouette against the chaos of battle, moved with fluid grace, their steps a seamless blend of earthly connection and otherworldly finesse.
In the heart of combat, the Elemental Blade Dancer channeled the spirits of nature into the steel they wielded. A simple slash became a cascade of roaring flames, and a twirl summoned a cyclone of razor-sharp winds. The elements responded to the dancer's every step, creating a spectacle that captivated both friend and foe.
With each strike, the dance unfolded like a narrative written in the language of the elements. The wind whispered secrets to the dancer, guiding their movements, while the earth beneath acknowledged every step with a silent resonance. It was a communion between the martial artist and the forces that shaped the world.
The Elemental Blade Dance was not merely a display of combat; it was a spiritual journey, a connection to the primal energies that pulsed through the fabric of existence. The dancer, caught in the rhythm of the dance, became a vessel for the very soul of nature, their blade an extension of the elements' will.
In the midst of the battlefield, the Elemental Blade Dancer exhibited not only lethal precision but also an artistry that transcended the chaos of war. The dance spoke of an intimate understanding, a dialogue between the warrior and the elements that echoed through the aether, leaving an indelible mark on the tapestry of the ongoing conflict. But it was hard to master only I could efficiently use this blade art.
As I was descending I noticed Decker's fists surged with the raw energy of Arcane Flow, thrusting forward at breakneck speed. Swiftly, I countered with a parry, the blades of my sword meeting the arcane force in a resonant clash through the aether.
In response, Decker unleashed a rapid barrage of Arcane Fist Strikes, each hit pulsating with concentrated aetheric power. Maneuvering through the onslaught, the rotating blades of my sword formed a shimmering shield. The dance unfolded as I struck back, precision targeting openings in his arcane defenses.
Our movements painted an intricate combat tapestry—Decker's Arcane Flow, a fusion of martial skill and magic, collided with my Elemental Blade Dance, a flurry of aether-infused slashes. Lunging forward, my rotating blades became a rapid flurry, disrupting Decker's rhythm.
Undeterred, Decker dodged with supernatural agility, his Arcane Flow bestowing uncanny grace. Closing in, he delivered a point-blank Arcane Torrent strike, sending me skidding backward, aetheric currents resonating with our clash.
Gritting my teeth, I unleashed a Cyclone Dance, the blades creating a whirling tempest. Adapting, Decker dodged with acrobatic finesse, the ground quivering with aetheric turbulence.
In the climax, I channeled aether, the rotating blades extending into a celestial cascade. Decker summoned an Arcane Shield to weather the radiant onslaught. The clash reached its zenith, the aetheric storm subsiding, leaving charged silence.
As echoes lingered, Decker, his Arcane Flow dimmed but not extinguished, recognized the intricacies of our exchange. The Elemental Blade Dance and Arcane Flow dance had unfolded like a symphony, each move a note in an aetheric composition.
The battle roared with clashing blades and swirling aetheric energy as tension between Decker and me intensified. In a brief pause, Decker's voice cut through the chaos, laden with bitterness.
"You, the Plague Doctor," he sneered, eyes burning with hatred. "You wrecked my world. You were the doom-bringer, erasing everything I held dear. My pregnant wife, Amena, perished because of you."
His words hung in the air, the weight of his grief echoing through the aether. Decker's fists clenched, his Arcane Flow intensified by seething emotions.
I felt the weight of his accusations, flashes of a past I couldn't fully grasp. "Plague Doctor" echoed, a tag carrying unintended consequences. Memories flickered, realizing the profound impact on Decker's life.
The battlefield transformed into an emotional stage. Fueled by grief and anger, Decker charged forward, his Arcane Flow vibrating with emotions. Each strike packed an aetheric punch, a manifestation of his pain.
I grappled with guilt, my sword's blades moving with solemn grace. The clash continued with an emotional undercurrent. Strikes mirrored the turmoil within us. As Decker unleashed a barrage of Arcane Fist Strikes, his voice cut through, "Plague Doctor, you brought death, and now it's time for you to pay."
The battlefield, once a dance of aether, now echoed a deeply personal conflict. The clash of blades mirrored our intertwined fates, bound by tragedy and fueled by raw emotions.
In the swirling aether, I parried Decker's strikes, each clash echoing emotional turmoil. As accusations flowed, I took a moment, my voice steady but filled with empathy. "Decker, I understand your pain. My actions were unintended, but the suffering they caused is undeniable. Amena's loss is a weight I bear."
Decker, fueled by anger, retorted with determination, "Understanding doesn't change that you destroyed everything. You took away my world. And so, I took something precious from you."
His mention of Moraine sent a chill. "Moraine," I whispered, a bitter reminder. "Hurting her was not the answer. She was innocent, and you had no right—"
Decker interrupted, voice dripping with resentment, "I wanted you to feel my pain, Plague Doctor. To know the agony of losing someone you love. Hurting Moraine made you understand the pain you inflicted."
The revelation hung in the charged air, the battlefield a stage for an emotional clash. Torn between guilt and frustration, I responded with determination, "Hurting Moraine won't bring back what's lost. It only perpetuates pain. We can find a way to make amends, to rebuild."
Decker, still resentful, showed contemplation. The emotional battleground unfolded, a poignant struggle of understanding amidst aetheric clash.
In the midst of our emotional duel, I questioned the haunting moniker Decker had given me. "Why 'Plague Doctor'?" I asked, curiosity and confusion evident.
Decker, eyes filled with bitterness, responded with cold intensity, "Plague Doctor, your intervention erased our world from the gods' memory. Like a relentless plague, your actions spread and erased our existence."
His words hung heavily, the battlefield now a testament to unintended actions. I, an unwitting agent of destruction, acknowledged the profound truth. The title "Plague Doctor" echoed—a catalyst for a world fading.
Decker continued, resentment in his voice, "Our world was almost wiped away, its memories fading into the void. The gods turned away, leaving remnants of a forgotten existence. You are the Plague Doctor, a bringer of erasure. If it wasn't for Cirdec, I would have never known what really happened, and for the past few years, I dedicated my life to training just so I could kill you and avenge Concilia, Amena, and our unborn child."
The realization struck. In attempts to save, I became a force of oblivion. "I'm sorry," I uttered, voice heavy. "Forgive me for what I've done."
Decker's eyes remained stern, and he responded with resolve, "I don't need your apology. It won't bring back what's lost. Understand the pain you've caused."
I nodded, acknowledging the gravity. The battlefield, a stage for aetheric combat, bore witness to a soul-searching exchange. In his refusal to forgive, I respected Decker's resolve. Our duel continued, infused with somber understanding—a clash on the precipice of forgiveness and irrevocable loss.
"Then let us settle this, Decker. Let us end this, but I have to tell you this: I am not dying today," I spoke with absolute confidence.
"And neither am I. Etheric Chains OF JUSTICE!" Decker responded with a binding spell. Thick chains of aether manifested within the dome, all headed for me. This battle was now reaching its climax, and looking at the state of the battlefield reminded me of the Hall of the Living Paintings in Heta, where two opposing forces clashed in the midst of an ongoing war. That painting must have been depicting this very moment. Damn it, I always seem to be stuck in the middle of battles bigger than me. The chains quickly caught up with me and started wrapping around my body, but I quickly moved into a tear in space. But then...
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