We lapsed into silence.

There was something about my grandfather’s demeanor and presence that was digging at me. I doubted he was here just to keep me informed on the general state of things when communicating this way apparently dominated his attention and withdrew him from interacting with other business he had as king of kings.

“What do you want?” I said carefully, trying to sort out his motives and intentions.

“A man can’t spend time with his grandson?” Augustas said.

“A man can. The millennia old master of an interstellar empire with as many descendants as small nations probably has better things to do.” I said.

“Very well. There is another purpose to my visit, yes. I seem to have misplaced some things of mine that I was hoping you could reclaim for me.” Augustas said.

“What kind of things?” I asked.

“Golden Imperators.” He said casually as if discussing losing a piece of jewelry or a small sum of money.

“What?” I said, alarmed. How in the name of Olympas was I supposed to deal with a Gold?

“The Nine seem to have taken advantage of the recent chaos as well as some diversions the demigods set for me and have escaped my psychic reach in the Cognitosphere. Two of them are on a trajectory for Apollo system: Nero Aezion and Vespasias Flavion.” The Regent said.

“Why can’t you deal with them?” I said.

“Travel to the wing systems, even on the fastest ships available, takes half a year at best if the will of the three Fates and the currents of warp travel and spatial distortions are on your side. That is an unconscionable amount of time for me to be away from Terra when Akhillos, Orpheas as well as the Terran Great Houses are all scheming, and does not remove the fact that the other members of the Nine have all gone different ways to other systems which would require me to spend years to regather all of them. It’s best I stay here while countermeasures such as yourself are deployed in my name.” He replied.

“What am I supposed to do against two Golds?” I said. “I’m only a Bronze, practically a mortal foot soldier compared to their near divinity.”

“Not for long, if you kill a Silver like the Subgovernor Maxion or Governor Claudion you will ascend to the next Rank assuredly.” He said. “Felling a higher order of being is the surest way to jump to the next level compared to the slow process of moving forward by slaughtering immense numbers of opponents equal or lesser than you.”

“Killing a Third Rank is easier said than done.” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve heard that the distance between a Silver Imperator and a Bronze is like a child versus a full-grown Copper of our Path.”

“The power of my father flowing through you will close the gap if properly applied and focused.” Augustas said.

“How do I use it better than I do now?” I said.

“First, you can learn to control its intensity and ferocity more than you have currently, allowing you use of it for longer periods without risking long term injury and exhaustion or death.” Augustas said. “You can call upon it here in this vision or at least a memory of it that will be accurate to your usage in the physical world.”

I ignited my body with the rage of the funeral pyre of Heracles: my blood boiling, my skin cracking to reveal an emberlike glow in the chasms in my flesh, my breath escaping me in scarlet and gold flames, my heart glowing and burning within my chest as I breathed in and out.

“Extinguish it.” Augustas commanded of me, his tone regal and overpowering.

The heat died within me, the rush of energy and emotional volatility dimming and receding.

“Ignite it again but slowly, fractionally. Slow down the process until its tedious and completely subordinate to your mastery.” He said.

I tried to do so but after a few seconds of slowing ratcheting up the power it ran away from me and flared up to its full strength and wildness.

“End it and start again.” He said.

This time I managed to control it for thirty seconds.

“Progress, if miniscule.” The Regent noted as he examined me, the arcane and enlightened senses of both a Golden Imperator and the son of the Divine Champion giving him a penetrating gaze into my physical and spiritual structure.

“Bring it to an end, but slowly like how you initiated it.” Augustas said.

This was easier, the sacred flame wanted to burn until there was nothing left of me than ash. I had to actively force it to go out, more like drowning a wildfire sustained by chemical accelerants with an ocean of my will and intent than blowing out a mere candle with a halfhearted breath.

“Hold it at the very edge of dying out.” He said with a lordly air, a commanding intonation as natural to him as inhalation and exhalation was for any other person.

I kept it so until it the sensation grew so unpleasant that I could not bear it anymore.

“Bring it back up at a snail’s pace once more.” Augustas said.

He had me do both processes dozens of times until I could move the potency of the divine energies and the thermal intensity up and down as easily as moving a dimmer switch on light.

“At the lowest levels, you’ll benefit from a marginal increase in strength, durability and speed without taxing your regeneration at all and you will be able to bring it to its full potential with the barest thought.” Augustas said. “At the midway point you will have most of the power for hours or even a full day without killing yourself and you will retain most of your mental faculties.”

“Excellent.” I said, pleased. “Is this enough to kill a Silver though?”

“No. Not yet. Even going full force, the flame will only give you a chance at victory. You will need more and your basic Keenblade will be insufficient for the task. Silver Imperators laugh off ordinary blades, their regeneration means that Thanatosian particles are a joke to them, their durability means molecular disruption and monoatomic sharpness are barely up to the task, and their mastery of time and space granted by their teleportation ability renders Chronosian effects impotent. They fight one another with the Curse of the Skyfather infused in their weapons, a blessing that you will not attain until the Third Rank. However, my blood passed down to you and your activation of it gives you an alternative, you can charge your Keenblade with the same fire of my father that surges through your body when you call upon it.” He said.

“How do I do so?” I said eagerly, excited to acquire a new way to kill the unkillable.

The Regent waved his massive marble skinned hand and a sword appeared in my hand, its coppery alloyed metal shimmering.

“Channel the heat from your body through your hand and into the blade, but most importantly, command it with your will not to destroy or melt your weapon.” He ordered me.

I ignited myself, my blood boiling and seething, and I drew that power outward into the sword, the imaginary Keenblade vibrating and creating a heat mirage around itself.

“Draw it to the edges and point, concentrate and refine it.” Augustas said.

As I forced the unnatural heat to follow my instructions, the outermost parts of the metal glowed a deep crimson and golden sparks shaped like Thaekyrian runes of death, vengeance and butchery spat off in sprays of light.

I admired the dangerous glow as I ran through some basic sword forms and martial katas, swinging the hissing and humming sword through the air.

“That will leave grave wounds that will permanently scar a Bronze with marks that will never fully heal and slow a Silver’s healing factor for days. They’ll bleed from such an injury no matter how much their body’s nature and their spirit’s direction and their mind’s psychic sorcery tries to seal it shut.” Augustas said.

“Wicked.” I said in awe.

“Indeed.” My grandfather said.

“And what will it do to one of the Nine Golds?” I asked.

“Not much.” He replied.

“Oh.” I said, disappointed. “How am I supposed to kill two of them if this isn’t enough?”

“Their regeneration is monstrous, diabolical even, but if you can cut their heads off with this power and the swinging strength of a Silver enhanced by Heracles’s pyre, the scorched wound will keep them from regrowing their decapitated head long enough for their spirit to abandon their flesh and bone and withdraw to the realm of dread Hades.” Augustas said.

I took a deep breath. “I won’t let you down, Grandfather.”

“I know,” He said proudly. “You are the only descendant of mine of any worth. I never intended for my ring of augmentation to pass to a Servus, but now I see this was the will of the Fates. You will not fail me. Goodbye for now, Adrias.”

I awoke in the waking world of men sharply and heard a knock at the door.

“Come in.” I said.

Persias Fulvion entered, carrying a plate of eggs and ham. “A big day, little Heraklion, a big day. We set sail for Amatius on my warship in an hour.”

“A week and a half, right?” I said.

“Possibly shorter. But don’t worry, there will be plenty of enemies left for your blade.” Lord Fulvion promised me. “Enough to prove your worth to all of Apollo system and to shame the Governor with your prowess.”