Chapter Thirty-Two

Red gaped at Kuul’Than, an inkling of fear sprouting in his deepest depths. “What?”

“You’re still broken. I recognize Fires of Wrath when I see it, and it feels marred by impurity. You’ve got Essence of Blood, but what is -” Kuul’Than observed the minor bits of golden coloration that swirled within the mass of red and black. A deep, throaty chuckle rumbled through the painting.

It unsettled Red, full of mirth while at the same time tinged with unadulterated rage. A truly bittersweet thing.

Red was completely clueless. The other spirit’s faceless, raucous laughter off put him even more than he already was.

“Things -” Kuul’Than started, stopping as another bout of laughter wracked him. Once the fit finally subsided, the other spirit collected itself. “That explains a few things.”

“Mind cluing me in?” Red asked hopefully.

Kuul’Than shook his head. “Absolutely not. Now, let’s focus.”

Red wanted to sarcastically respond to remind the other spirit that they had been waiting on him to talk his fit of laughter, and almost did, but then he remembered that feeling of hunger directed at him and decided better of it.

“First thing you need to do,” Kuul’Than started, walking toward the fountain with the cracked and leaking pyre, “is find some common ground to connect your two different types of Essence, otherwise you’ll never fix this.”

Not entirely sure of how he was supposed to do that, Red stared blankly back at Kuul’Than. As far as he could understand, him claiming control over them was done through pure force of will. They sizzled in the pool below when they came into contact, his precious lifeblood fading as his wrath-fire returned to the pyre in its dull-grey form.

“Might, empowered by the Flame of Wrath and bound by Blood. Proliferation, endlessly creating creatures of Blood and flesh that you can imbue with Wrath to fight in your stead. Stimulation, increasing your own fighting power. Doubly so if you plan to serve your purpose as someone’s tool,” Kuul’Than stated, biting out the last part in disgust.

Reeling, Red took a step back. “There’s no way I can do all that.”

“You can, and will, do far more than that. I’m sure of it.”

From how confident Kuul’Than was, it was hard to say that he was wrong. Who was Red in the eyes of the other spirit? To the spirit that boasted of slaying gods by the dozens, that manipulated his soul even as a speck of his once-power, and that caused The Shattering, Red was little more than an insignificant bug.

But, an insignificant bug that existed.

Red didn’t think for a single second that Kuul’Than helped out of the kindness of his heart. Nobody does that, let alone the Incarnate of Sin. That was just asking for trouble.

There was no way he would leave himself defenseless, erecting translucent barriers around all that Kuul’Than touched. If he left some part of him, then it would be isolated away from the rest of him. It would be a hassle to deal with, but it was something.

Kuul’Than glanced at him as he ran a hand over the cracked pyre. “I can tell you’re confused, but you must create an ecosystem in which your Essences can coexist. Keeping them apart like this limits you way more than you realize.”

“You said Might, Proliferation, and Stimulation. What do those mean? How do I use concepts as something to bind Essence?” The questions were endless, but Kuul’Than’s raised hand put a stop to his relentless outpour.

Kuul’Than continued to analyze every part of the pyre, circling around it as he talked. “Those are concepts, yes. All things are connected, and a concept gives things focus and purpose. For example, iron and water. Two things that seemingly have no connection can be made to augment one another in different ways. Think, what if you took liquidity and imbued it into iron, creating liquid iron? Or, if you took the hardness of the metal and imbued that into the water.”

“That doesn’t make sense. How would you even do that?” Red asked, following.

“Simply so. Take a little of both Essences,” ordered the other spirit. When Red obliged, it continued. “Now, parse them. Find a True understanding of them. What makes each one what it is, and then tell me how you could make Might, Proliferation, and Stimulation.”

Another drop of wrath-fire began to fall, but Red caught it in his hand. It quickly clung to his hand, dancing happily. Then, he scooped his hand in the small reservoir of lifeblood, finding only a few drops within.

Similarly, the drop spread itself to cover his hand, tinging his pale skin a deep red. Walking back to the throne, he sat atop it and looked at both Essences. One was powerful but caustic, and the other vibrated with life.

Instead of figuring out what made Might, Proliferation, and Stimulation what they were or how they were connected, he focused on what he had to work with.

Lifeblood was first, being his original component. It was what he found himself drawn to the most. Recounting his experience with lifeblood, he thought of the time - a time that felt so long ago to him - when he was first forming.

Lifeblood was the final drop of blood that gave life meaning - a purpose. It was the functioning block for all living things. Feeling deep within himself, he found that he truly lacked this aspect. As a spirit, he didn’t naturally contain lifeblood.

So, lifeblood created life, as per its name. It provided a spark, something integral to humans and monsters alike, that allowed them to be. Something that he lacked.

“Form?” he pondered aloud.

Monsters and humans had a physical, fleshy form, but he didn’t. His sword, made of metal, had absorbed the final sparks of life from thousands as they bled into the ground. He’d absorbed the accumulation of power.

Now, it made more sense how he could use Proliferation. Being able to drink his enemies dry, he could repurpose that form and life into something else.

As the process continued, the redness stretched up his arm until it stopped at his neck. The veins in his human form’s arms popped against the pale skin, writhing with stolen lifeblood. The feeling was euphoric.

It took several long moments for Red to come down from that rush. His head was light, and a content smile rested on his face.

But, there was more to be done.

So now, he eyed his wrath-flame. He was far less familiar with it, but if he took the two aspects that created it, then he could find some meaning within.

Wrath, rage, anger. A powerful emotion that stems from pain. Not just physical but also emotional pain.

When humans get upset, one of three things happen. First, they get loud. Angry. Second, they get quiet, channeling that emotion within. Third, and in his opinion the most interesting of them all, they allow that pain to fester into an explosiveness unlike any other.

That was Wrath. That third option is what it took to be wrathful. When something has pushed you into a deep spiral where you cultivate that anger, that rage, into something far beyond.

That was wrath, and it couldn’t be compared to rage or anger. Those weren’t the same, despite being similar.

Wrath, a powerful explosiveness that burns deep from the core. The deep blackness of the wrath-flame started to slough off in waves, leaving a dark shade of violet wafting wisps of vitriolic power upward.

But, that was only the first part of the wrath-flame.

Finally, he focused on the destructive properties of the fire. To him, the flame was a tool to burn away all that opposed him. He could feel the unadulterated energy within.

It reminded him of passion, a spark that bloomed into a fiery thing. Roland and Valerie’s passionate throes in the middle of the night gave way to tender affection. Red was amazed by the way their initial giggliness blossomed.

Valerie had accommodated Red by Roland’s bedside, keeping him company when he needed it the most. He hated to admit it, but he could find that blooming fire bud within himself.

“Roland,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

As he continued to discover these properties, he lamented his inaction. Now that he’d lost Melony, the failure of his performance with Roland was far less severe. Roland lived, but Melony was dead.

And for that, he couldn’t forgive his recklessness.

The image of the earth mage popped into his head, and the wrath-flame roared and raged in his hand, demanding that mage be consumed for what it had done.

“It’s not time yet,” Red said gently, clenching his teeth. “There will be a time, but it’s not yet.”

Reluctantly, that wrath-flame died down to a soft violet with black hues within. It watched and waited, refining itself so that when the time came, that mage wouldn’t escape again.

The wrath-flame churned in anticipation, flakes of blackened impurities drifting off of it as it fed off of Red's emotions. His anger. His frustration. His chained and growling impotence. Red opened himself, baring his emotions to the flame. His failures had left him with rage and indignation to spare.

Arnold.

Maye.

Lana.

Hendricks.

All the other trainees.

Roland lived, but he suffered.

Now, Melony.

His list was growing fast, and he wasn’t growing fast enough.

All three categories that Kuul’Than mentioned were interesting to him. Might had the implication of focusing on himself. When he thought of the concept, he could feel which properties would feed into it.

The explosive power of the wrath-flame turning potential into an explosive kind, imbuing the flesh with vitality. It would push his human form to a higher level.

Red wasn’t like Kuul’Than, though, so he looked at the ways it could empower his wielder. Might would give overwhelming bursts of power, but it wouldn’t work for sustained combat. It seemed like an inefficient use. Sabrina and Koronor were the only two that Red could really think the power would help.

So, he moved to the next.

Proliferation. This is where things started to get tricky. He could feel that the wrath-flame would be more of a passive effect and lifeblood would be the priority. Creating flesh and blood and then warping it, giving it great potential power, then using that creation as a minion.

Or a body.

He wondered if that was truly possible but forced himself to redouble his focus. If it was possible or not didn’t matter. Not if he would return to Roland to become a proper weapon spirit once this campaign ran its course.

Red looked up from his musings, staring at the soulless body and then at the sword in its hand. Kuul’Than was most definitely planning something, but Red had other plans. The other spirit had given him an idea and then provided a potential vessel as well.

Giving Kuul’Than a small grin, Red truly did redouble his focus, taking a moment to look at the wrath-flame.

The combination of wrath and fire created something uniquely different from the individual components, but it wasn’t a bad thing. It was far more potent than it would’ve been otherwise and even shared several properties.

Proliferation was off the table, so he turned to Stimulation.

Stimulation was formed of both, an equally reoccurring exchange. The wrath-flame’s power ebbed and flowed in opposition to the lifeblood, but those points that it intersected were loaded full of a synergy that caused his eyes to go wide.

It was a passive thing that coursed in regular intervals, about thirty seconds by his count. It always kept one aspect active at all times with large bursts of power here and there.

Most importantly, the repetitive pattern of stimulation promised stability.

Stability. Something simple, something so minute and easy to overlook. Its absence directly led to Melony's death, much to his shame.

Only by grounding himself once more could Red hope to atone. After all, as a weapon spirit, what good was he if he couldn't serve as a reliable tool for his allies?