EMPEROR’S HERITAGE

Scuffling through his memories, Lynne remembered that there were many depictions of scythes throughout the history books. While wholly impractical in usage for the normal armies, some Mages used them – albeit in the non-wielding fashion – but never to great proficiency.

In accordance, Lynne remember four distinct scythe types: one-bladed, double-bladed, double-edged and flat scythes. There were also numerous offsets to the type, made using scythe as the base, but in a way to make it more practical.

Still, it was all out of Lynne’s hands; he didn’t know why the Spirit wanted him to forge a scythe, or even how is he going to train in it, but as he had already given in, he didn’t have much of a choice.

The Spirit had already sent him back out of the sect’s world, alongside the small, glowing cube. Lynne sat cross-legged atop his bed, inspecting the small cube closely as the Spirit’s voice sounded out inside his mind.

“This is called Soul Forging Technique,” a string of information suddenly flew into his mind. “My Master created it with the Immortal Flamestone in mind as the material. In addition, because both your Mana and blood have attribute of fire, the entire process will be much easier and quicker.”

“… do you have some badass Spell Arts instead of this?” Lynne asked.

“I do.”

“Can you give them to me instead?”

“Can you get past the Garden of Flames?”

“…”

“Thought so,” the Spirit concluded. “Use your Soul Force in accordance to the technique, and slowly begin reforging the Flamestone into a scythe of this design,” the image of a massive, two-meters tall scythe suddenly appeared inside Lynne’s mind.

“Don’t tell me… your Master’s design?”

“Indeed,” the Spirit laughed proudly. “He named it Emperor’s Scythe. It’s a one-bladed scythe with flexible haft and long blade with great reach.”

“Fantastic…”

“It’s core is placed within the extended handle at the mid-point of the haft,” the Spirit elaborated. “After you craft it, simply infuse the core with small bit of your blood and Mana. The core itself will harness energy on its own, so you could say it’s a second container of sorts.”

“Hai, what a waste of a good design,” Lynne shook his head in disappointment. “Only if your Master had designed something normal… like a block of throwing stone.”

“… stop whining and start crafting.”

“Aye, aye…”

After the room fell into silence, Lynne let the Flamestone hover in front of him, brimming with golden light. After taking in a deep breath, he focused his Soul Force outwardly and, in accordance to the process described in the Soul Forging Technique, began chipping away at the cube and remodeling it.

Although the cube of stone was merely palm-sized, that was only after having been condensed multiple times. In reality, Lynne quickly realized, this small cube seemed to have been created with the crafting of this exact scythe in mind.

From the shaft, handle, bridge, core, inner countenance, all the way to the thirty centimeters long blade atop, Lynne slowly began shaping the weapon, bit by bit. Every so often he’d pause, his Soul Force completely exhausted, his complexion pale. After recovering, he’d go back to the process.

A day… two… soon, five days had quickly passed, and Lynne had done nothing but kept forging the weapon. Whenever he’d tire out, he’d pause for a moment to recover before going back at it. His expression had already turned completely ugly. The more the scythe took shape, the more unrealistic it appeared. It was absolutely gigantic – taller than Lynne himself – and it weighed over eighty kilograms… and that was with the blade itself still not completely forged.

The haft appeared metallic, completely straight, having two slightly extruded handles at midpoint and slightly below it. The shoe of the scythe was a spherical ball, extruding a glimmering, crimson point downwards. Not only was it a scythe, it was also an extremely flamboyant one, Lynne noticed; the haft emitted slight, scarlet sheen, with the bridge between it and the blade being round skull with two rubies as eyes, shimmering brightly.

The blade itself had three triangular holes, creating better airflow during the swing, with its flat, back side being crescent in shape, extruding upwards at the tip like a pike. The rest of the blade was curved under low angle, the inner parts being slight extruded in comparison to the sharp edges. Numerous runic lines were embedded in gold across the blade, making it absolutely breathtaking in appearance.

Even Lynne had to admit that the weapon – at least at first sight – appeared terrifying and indestructible. However, a mere moment later, he’d sigh in lament over the fact that it was a scythe. Although they were – technically – not impossible to wield, they were simply too crude in their basic design, as they were never meant to be used as weapons. This, especially, reflected in their sheer size; they were bigger than any other weapon Lynne was familiar with. Perhaps, only gigantic double-edged warhammer could compare.

A week quickly passed, and the scythe had slowly begun taking final shape. Through it lines ran like veins, continuously pulsating whenever Lynne infused Mana into it. As he was completing the weapon, his two Chakrams continuously shook inside his Soul; however, the Spirit took out yet another technique, called Seven Souls, and the Chakrams stopped shaking.

Envy, jealousy, anger, hatred, longing… Lynne felt many things when he saw the Spirit take out one technique after another, each more heaven-defying than the last. In theory, it was only possible to have one Soul Weapon, as each person only had a single Soul. Yet, here was Lynne, second Soul Weapon in tow, with the possibility of having five more in the future.

“Sigh, it’s finally done…” he breathed in softly as he stared at the finished product. Over two meters tall, with thirty centimeters long blade, weighing over 150 kilograms… “This is absolutely shit.”

“Perfect!” the Spirit suddenly exclaimed as its projection jumped out of Lynne’s soul into the world. “Everything is done according to the design of my Master! Well done Lynne!”

“Good god, I’m so embarrassed,” Lynne lowered his head, covering his face. “There’s no way I can actually take that thing out during the fight. I would never hear the end of it!”

“Every new beginning required a creative soul to set a standard,” the Spirit spoke seriously. “Perhaps, because of your endeavor, a hundred years from now, a generation of children will be waving scythes instead of sticks around.”

“… you’re absolutely loving this, you lowbag scum!” tears slowly trickled down Lynne’s face as he switched glances between the Spirit and the scythe. “A hundred years from now, people will still be telling folk tales about a completely moronic youth who rode into battle wielding a scythe, tripped over and pierced his throat with his own weapon!”

“Ha ha,” the Spirit suddenly laughed as it looked at Lynne. “You really have absolutely no faith in me, do you?”

“Of course not!” Lynne replied bluntly. “You want me to wield a scythe! As an actual weapon! That’s the most hysterical thing anyone has ever uttered in the history of everything!”

“I heard one of my Master’s disciples once say ‘Everything in this world is mine, I just haven’t taken it yet’.”

“How’s that hysterical?!” Lynne protested. “That’s absolutely brilliant!”

“Ah,” the Spirit sighed as he looked at Lynne strangely. “As I suggested this idea, I naturally have my reasons Lynne. I’ll beset you with four techniques in total. They are not Spell Arts or Soul Arts or Divine Arts. The reason why my Master arose to the heights he did is because of the three of those four techniques. For the entirety of his life, though, he regretted never learning the fourth one.”

“Hm?” Lynne creased his brows as he listened.

“He found them in the ruins of Primordial Catacombs,” the Spirit explained. “From what my Master learned, they were the heritage of the True Dragon of Flame who spent the last of its life force to forge these four techniques.”

“These techniques are similar to the ‘paths’ people of your Realm claim to be Magus Paths,” the Spirit explained. “Simplified derivatives of the Origin Laws. First technique is called Emperor’s Inferno,” the Spirit procured a single parchment, thigh-sized, and handed it over to Lynne; on it were depictions of various images, accompanied with letters Lynne couldn’t understand.

“It goes hand in hand with your training of Origin Law of Flame; the purer the fire attribute of your blood and your Mana is, the stronger the technique becomes. Your body will naturally begin producing various flames, strengthening itself. At the full mastery, you will become embodiment of the flame itself, as all flames will reside within you. Inferno stems from the fact that you can unleash those flames in any way you wish, through any part of your body, to incinerate everything around you.”

“Second technique is called Emperor’s Flame – name Master used for his own sect.” the then procured the second parchment, slightly smaller than the first. “The technique allows you to create a flame unique to yourself. You can mix and match properties of other flames to create it, or simply divine it on your own.”

“Third technique is called Empyrean Absolution,” the Spirit’s voice grew more solemn as it continued. “But, you’ll only be able to practice it once you enter the first half of the Empyrean Realm – or Grand Realm as you people refer to it. So, for now, you don’t need to know much about it.”

“Fourth, and last, is the technique my Master never go to practice: Empyrean Scything.” Eh? Lynne’s eyebrows shot upwards. Instead of a parchment, the Spirit took out a small tome this time around and handed it over; the tome had 48 pages in total, all depicting a figure holding a scythe. “It’s, in reality, a set of techniques devised specifically for scythe-wielders.”

“The reason Master never practiced it is that by the time he got the four techniques, he had already reached the apex of skill in swordsmanship, and he didn’t wish to start anew. In the end, he devised the design of the Emperor’s Scythe to be most compatible with that set of techniques. He also believed that the only way to unlock all the secrets behind the four techniques was to know all four and combine them. Alas… Master fell long before he had a chance to either do it… or witness it.”

“How did your Master die?” Lynne suddenly asked, putting the tome down.

“… in a war,” the Spirit replied. “Terrible, terrible war… war which shook the Divine Realm to its core. Not only my Master… but many others like him. Considering the three Laws locked inside your soul, I’m assuming you’ve met my Master’s friend sometime during your journey.”

“Eh?! N-no way!” Lynne exclaimed, looking at the Spirit astonished.

“It’s been such a long time, yet I am still unable to forget,” the Spirit lamented softly as it spoke. “Great beings fell from sky like rain, turning both the earth and the heaven crimson.” he then looked at Lynne strangely, his eyes hiding a glint of resentment for a brief flash. “Alas, it is the time of the past. The vestiges of time turn all heroes to myths, and all wars to either legends or lectures. I’ve given you my Master’s true heritage, and it is up to you how far you walk. I hope… to the very end.”

“… what end?” Lynne asked curiously. “Restoring the sect’s glory?”

“… the end, ah,” the Spirit said somberly. “The end is an enigma, one you can’t possibly understand yet. Perhaps, by the end of your current journey, you’ll have understood more…”

“… yeah, it’s amazingly fun being a cryptic. Try being on the opposite side though.”

“Ha ha,” the Spirit laughed loftily as it turned into a beam of light and flew back into Lynne’s soul. “Practice well, Little Lynne. I’m expecting great things from you…”

“… please don’t. Unless you’re into being disappointed greatly.”

No reply came. Lynne continued to sit cross-legged atop the bed, staring at the scythe and the three techniques the Spirit gave him, while also thinking about the little knowledge he acquired in regards to that strange creature which had granted him scriptures for the three Origin Laws, as well as the Master of the Emperor’s Flame Sect. He felt many things were awry, yet lacked answers to form a full picture.

As such, he decided to listen to the Spirit’s words and wait until the end of his current journey to ask yet again. The teleportation array will be activated in less than two days, and his father’s execution is less than a week away.

“Whatever may happen,” he spoke softly as he began reading through the tome of Empyrean Scything. “Will happen. Dad… your son is coming back home at last.”