Chương 42: When the world breaks (10)

The Xiangliu Titanoboa introduces herself as Zainab, her voice slithering through my mind like a snake through tall grass. Her eyes gleam with a sinister intelligence, weighing me for secrets and hidden strengths. Without another word, she turns, beckoning me to follow her deeper into the cavernous paths of this serpentine realm.

I trail her through the shadows until we arrive at a dimly lit cave, illuminated by the faint bioluminescent glimmer from the fungi that coat the walls. The sight that awaits me is unsettling—a dead gorilla sprawled across the ground. It's larger and far more massive than the one I fought previously; its body is a mess of wounds and bruises. The stench of decay fills the air, but I barely flinch. This beast was Zainab's recent opponent, her latest conquest. She doesn't address it and slithers past with a look of disdain.

My attention shifts to the smaller snakes gathered along the floor. Brown serpents peer at me warily, their beady eyes sharp with caution. But the blue snakes, like coiling rivers, seem enchanted, or perhaps merely drawn by the water affinity I possess. They slide closer, curling themselves around me, their scales cold and smooth against my skin. I allow it, suspecting they're Zainab's subordinates. Angering her by pushing them away would be a pointless risk.

Once the smaller snakes release me, Zainab leads me further in. The winding path eventually opens into a vast cavern, her true domain. She finally coils herself in a relaxed posture and eyes me with undisguised curiosity.

"Tell me," she begins, her mental voice smooth but probing, "about your knowledge of elemental control."

Her questions are shrewd, her tone neutral, but I can sense the weight of her years in each inquiry. She's testing me, gauging what I know, where I stand. She speaks of the fundamentals of Water Control—how it requires both will and mana to wield. The rules, though straightforward, hint at the complexities that creatures like us face when striving to master such elements.

"To control water," Zainab explains, her gaze never leaving me, "you must overpower the existing will imprinted on it. If another being with a higher affinity or stronger will has already laid claim to the water, you'll find it nearly impossible to override their control."

Her explanation brings to mind my recent battles and victories, particularly the Shadow Wolf and the Goblin Shaman, their king. It was only due to his affinity for water and his cunningness did he kill them. Each of them had possessed some elemental connection or power, yet I overcame them.

The conversation flows seamlessly, as though this information has always lingered at the edge of my understanding, waiting for someone to confirm it. Zainab's words clarify much but leave me with even more questions. I shift slightly, preparing my response, but she isn't finished yet.

"Affinity is not limited to power alone," she continues. "It's influence. A creature's affinity can override raw power if it's strong enough. Among creatures of the same element, the one with the highest rank—an elemental lord or elder, for instance—will naturally have superiority. Even if another being is more physically powerful, they'd still struggle to match that command."

She pauses, her gaze narrowing as she studies me. "But you… you possess a water affinity that rivals mine or even surpasses mine. Why?"

I feel her probing for answers, but some things must remain unsaid. A brief silence stretches between us as I meet her gaze, I knew I couldn't lie in front of her, I would be caught posing know benefits but only risks thus. "I can't tell you," I say evenly, "It's personal."

She holds my gaze for a beat longer, then nods, a faint glimmer of something akin to satisfaction in her eyes. "I understand," she says, though I can sense her plotting, trying to unravel me. She won't press the matter, not overtly, but I can tell she intends to get that answer someday. After all, as she coils herself more comfortably, she's in no hurry.

Our silent pact lingers her desire to extract secrets balanced against the quiet truce we've formed. After all, she's spent centuries in solitude, without anyone to match her in conversation. I can tell she's enjoying this, in her way. Perhaps she even hopes I'll survive long enough to keep this companionship alive.

Alypos asks her if she has any ideas on surpassing one's racial limit.

"Breaking through your limits is… difficult," she muses. "There are few paths forward. The first way is to merge your bloodline with that of a higher being, one with greater potential. This would elevate your limits and alter your essence. You would become a halfling."

I consider this option, immediately dismissing it. The thought of relying on another's power, blending my essence with a creature beyond me—it's not something I could willingly entertain. I'm bound by my ambition, my need to break free from any shackles, even those of blood.

Zainab regards me as if reading my thoughts and continues. "The second option," she says, "is more elusive. In ancient legends, there's talk of a Seed of Limit, an artifact capable of removing these constraints completely. Once consumed, it erases the ceiling set upon you by birth."

Her words strike a chord—a legend whispered through ages, a possibility few have dared chase. But the Seed of Limit is a myth, a dead-end option. Even she seems unconvinced of its existence.

"Many have searched," she adds with a flick of her tail. "None have found it. It is, perhaps, a fool's quest."

I nod slowly, noting the faint resignation in her tone. She's offering me guidance, but it's clear she's resigned to her own fate. That path is closed to her, bound as she is by the same constraints we all face.

As for me? I won't rely on myths or bloodline mergers. I'll find another way, even if it takes years. I give myself two years to discover an alternative method. If nothing arises by then… then I'll consider my next step.

Her eyes linger on me, and I can tell she's gauging my resolve, assessing if I'm truly as relentless as I seem. I offer her a faint, wry smile, amused by the intensity of her study.

The faintest hint of approval flickers in her gaze before she looks away, coiling herself into a tighter ball. This strange alliance, this pact of shared knowledge and mutual respect—it's tenuous, but for now, it holds.

As silence settles, I glance around the cave, noticing the blue snakes again. They're creeping closer, regarding me as though I'm one of their own. I hold back a chuckle at their devotion, the familiarity that comes from our shared elemental bond. Perhaps they, too, feel the pull of kinship, in their own cold-blooded way.

"The blue ones are fond of you," Zainab observes, her tone droll.

"They recognize quality," I reply dryly, unable to resist.

Zainab's gaze sharpens, and for a moment, I almost expect a flicker of laughter. But she remains silent, coiling around herself with a finality that suggests our conversation is over, for now.

As I prepare to settle in this cavern for the night, a quiet determination solidifies within me. This encounter has made one thing clear: to survive, to thrive, I must outgrow every limit set upon me, be it by nature, birth, or blood.

Two years. I'll give myself two years to break the unbreakable. And if not I will evolve.

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