Legend of the Empyrean Blacksmith

BIRTH OF THE EMPYREAN BLACKSMITH (I)

[Lyonel Qa’yi – Human – Level 1000(?)]

Titles: Adept of Writ (???), Empyrean Soldier (???), Continental Crafter, Harbinger of Chaos, The Unbent, Destroyer of Life, Beholder of Madness, Writ Slayer, Ender of Light, Dragon Rider

Occupations: Beggar (Level 86), Blacksmith (Level 800 - Continental Archmaster), Cultivator (Level 20)

Martial Arts: Empyrean Will (Level 3), Peerless Empyrean Spear Scripture (Level 2), Sword of Chaos (???), Berserk, Unshackled, Aeonian Body, Weapon Mastery

Primal Spirits: Ra, Ye, Gu, Li, Glog, Tet, Ashta

Damage: 21,600,000

Defense: 8,600,000

What was the difference between all the previous realms and becoming a Void Titular? That’s an answer Lino was currently trying to figure out, seated on top of a crystal-like altar, enshrouded in milky-white mist all around, drawing Qi from hundreds of miles all around . His mind spun more quickly than ever before, images flashing through his thoughts, words, concepts, truths and lies, his entire life crammed into a singular flash of memories .

His black hair streaked upwardly as though there was wind beneath him blowing up . He had his eyes closed, his expression placid and tranquil, his posture relaxed . It was a moment of monumental change, both within and without; after having spent over two years in practically perpetual solace, training in silence, he’d finally come this far -- yet only a massive wall awaited him . There was no one in the entire world who could help him traverse it -- it was something he had to do himself for himself, as every crossing was vastly different than the other .

What it meant to become a Titular was different or everyone; to Hannah, for instance, it was finally letting go of the fear and guilt over what she believed . It could be something as simple as merely desiring for it, and yet it could be something so complex one can never hope to even achieve it . Lino himself had no idea what his would be like, though if it were to go anything like Hannah’s, he could venture a guess or two .

After nearly an entire day of silent sitting, he opened his eyes slowly and breathed out . He had a rather bitter expression on his face, his lips curling up into a faint smile before he stepped off the altar and into the frosted wild . Hannah and Seya sat down below, both anxiously looking at the alter, their expressions also turning bitter when they saw him walk out .

"Good god, you suck!" Seya exclaimed . "That was your third time moron! Do you have absolutely any talent to speak of?!"

" . . . oi, oi, ease with the anger, peacock," Lino grumbled, sitting down next to the two of them . "Don’t you think I’m also tired of moving my ass back and forth?"

"What’s the problem?" Hannah asked with a sympathetic expression .

" . . . I don’t know," Lino sighed . "It’s not that I’m unable to cross . . . it’s almost as though there’s no bridge to the other side . Just . . . blackness . "

"Did you try lighting it up with one of your jokes?" Seya poked at him .

"No, but I did consider setting you on fire . " Lino shot right back .

"Take your time," Hannah said, jumping in-between the two . "There’s no rush . "

" . . . "

Lino didn’t say anything, though well-aware that there was some hurry to be had; after all, according to Edryss and Vy, the war of the North was less than a year away from actually beginning . Still, even with the pressure, Lino didn’t let it get to him . He’d faced and beaten far worse in his life, never allowing himself to fall down into the pit of self-doubt .

He remained sitting in silence and drinking, his gaze focused on the sky above . Here and there, every now and then, sun would at last pierce through the enshrouding clouds . Though brief and rather meek, he welcomed it; living under eternal clouds and rain was rather depressing, even for him .

What did it mean to become a Titular? He didn’t know . Though he thought about it many times before, he never really gave it a good hard look -- he merely imagined it was just another realm with specific requirements he’d have to meet before crossing over . Now that he stood in front of the gorge, looking over on the other end, he realized it was all but . Perhaps, in the most primitive sense, it really was just another realm, but it was also far more than that .

If all the realms thus far were about Qi, becoming a Titular was all about the World itself and its Laws -- one’s own command of them . Lino had already grasped the mastery of both Death and Time, even touching a threshold of Lightning . He was still some ways off from complete and absolute mastery, but his current understanding was more than enough to become a Titular . His eyes honed onto the distant horizon, his gaze slightly dull, lost in thoughts .

Time and again he spun his memories around, trying to find the answer within them . He replayed all parts of his life he considered as defining moments; from meeting Ally all the way to today, where he sat on top of the cold block of ice, reminiscing . Even if, in the end, it didn’t help him cross over, he was still glad he took the trip down the memory lane . He rarely thought back on his life, being a firm believer in the creed of what’s in the past stays in the past, and looking back is merely a waste of time .

Yet, here and now, in his most pressing moment, he too was looking back, searching, wondering . All the faces of the people he ever met, especially those he grew fond of and even loved, one by one appeared in this strange symposium of faces . Some were smiling, some were blushing, some were staring at him angrily . . . their expressions mirrored what he thought they thought of him . Only then it hit him how many of those faces he’ll never see again in his life . He can’t say he’s lost too much, but he’s lost enough to never want to lose another one again . The pain bubbling in his heart was something he had long since got accustomed to; all the grief he had slathered into the small pockets of his soul . . . it was all still there, pulsating in effervescent silence .

From time to time, he’d reach into those pockets, in those moments he needed strength to move forward, strength to contend, to overcome . And, bit by bit, the grief, the guilt, agony and pain had all begun seeping out . Some parts of himself felt rather hollow; some distant memories rather blurry; some voices and faces distorted by the passage of time . Even though he could have perfect recall through the basic usage of Qi, Lino had never chosen to do it -- rather, he’d tried to make himself as mortal as a cultivator can get . It was one part of his past he could not abandon, the first fifteen odd years of his life that he spent in blind hollowness .

Besides the memory, he never uses Qi to make the sleepiness or tiredness of everyday living go away . He doesn’t use it to keep a close eye out on things or even people, to notice whether they are lying or not; he doesn’t use it when drinking or eating; he doesn’t even use it to prevent sickness or to cure it . Really, he only ever used Qi during fights or something similar to them .

One of the memories, however, even if he forgot all others, would remain -- one that had been sealed and reforged time and again throughout his life . He wasn’t even ten yet, and it happened shortly after Ally left, but before he killed Barry . It was summer, a scorching hot one, and as per usual, he was left to his own devices when it came to finding food and water . By then, he knew Hannah was looking after him, and she’d never let him go thirsty or hungry . Still, that dependence hurt whatever little pride he managed to amass over the years . Thinking he was more than resourceful enough, he decided to leave the village for the first time in his life and try his luck outside .

He can’t, however, remember why he thought it would work out, or what he was going to do . He can only remember finding himself deep in the woods by the nightfall, surrounded by nothing but eerie silence, darkness and the distant howls of the wolves . He remembers shaking, trembling, and even sobbing silently while perched on top of a branch of a short tree he managed to climb . He was hungry, thirsty, tired and terrified . For a brief moment there, he truly thought that would be it, in his own little naive understanding of death .

However, he pushed through the night and, come dawn, he actually managed to catch a rabbit and find a nearby stream . For two whole days, he managed to survive all on his own; however terrible those two days may have been, he found a way to get by . It was an inspiring victory, one he never allowed himself to forget .

Today, however, he was not alone; rather, he had many friends, a whole hall of people he loved, who were there with him . He knew he would never find himself alone in the woods again because they would uproot the earth and bend the sky in order to find him . He knew, deep in his heart, he would never be alone again, not until he drew his last breath . Why was he fighting in the first place? Perhaps, in the beginning, it was merely naive curiosity and a simple desire to prove himself . It has long since evolved, however; he didn’t fight for himself, for the world, or even for Ataxia . He fought for those who stood by him, for those who hid behind his back, and for all those too weak to fight for themselves .

He hardly considered his motives noble, however; being noble is saving a complete stranger . Saving the loved ones, he merely considered it common sense .

Sharpness returned to his gaze as his lips curled up into a gentle smile . His eyes veered sideways onto Hannah and Seya who were sitting listless in silence . In some weird way, they really have become a family of sorts . Though the two were more like sisters rather than anything else, there was still that bond that transcended the ordinary, one that couldn’t be cut with anything but death itself . He got up suddenly and walked over, pulling both of them into his arms, surprising them . He was no longer a boy, a curious little pock wandering the world in search for answers . He was not a maverick, nor a lone wolf . For these two, for all those now fighting his war, for all those praying for him . . . the journey was about them, as should the destination be . In his heart of hearts, he was a smith before he was a fighter -- and, each smith dreamed of crafting a creation that cannot be surpassed . Where higher, then, can one go than the world itself? For them, for the rest, he would craft a world in which they wouldn’t need to dream of better days . He’d create a reality within which all of them could be anything they want to be . He was the smith, after all, and his material this time around would become the world itself .