Chapter 339

Roar of a King (XX)

Fighting felt... different. That was about as elaborate as Cain could have put it--it was simply... different. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what was different, but unlike just a few moments ago where it felt he could die at any point, he was entirely capable of matching the strange man’s speed and strength. He could see it normally, as though the time slowed down just enough for him to witness the bizarre movement.

Other than that, however, he couldn’t pinpoint his finger as to why he could fight and follow and react normally. It didn’t feel as though he’d gotten stronger, and yet it didn’t quite feel as though the man himself had gotten weaker--it felt like something else entirely, something indescribable.

Ducking, he spliced forth a fiery blade, though the man easily dodged it, replying with a swirling, gray mist in the shape of a sawblade. Cain, similarly, easily dodged it and replied by firing off a starlight-suffused and triquetra-shaped attack that spun both unto itself and counterclockwise. The man, instead of dodging, fired off a dark-shackled sphere, causing the two attacks to collide and negate one another.

The fight reigned smooth, like a dance, with no outbursts that Cain was familiar with. There were no moments of heightened tension where all hell breaks loose, there were no world-bending attacks that sent both fighters careening off into the distance. Instead, it was somber--like a true dance to the tune of the world’s music.

Every action was measured, every reaction appropriate; even Cain, though in want of change, danced to the tune. He perceived it all differently, he realized. There was nothing to prove here--no medal to fight for, no honor to achieve. He was learning, absorbing the new reality thrust upon him. He was a little bit lost and a little bit confused, but he was finding his way.

Bit by bit, however, pace began to speed up; from the measured, even, steady fighting, he began noticing outliers--attacks that seemed a tad bit too violent, clashes that resulted in more backlash than others. And he kept up, matching the strange man’s pace. Rather than trying to set it himself, Cain bought into the lesson and let the man guide him. His job was, Cain realized, to simply follow and keep up. Watch. Observe. Take in. Process.

Void above him split open as a misted spearhead flushed forth, causing Cain to blink backward and usher forth a fiery palm that clashed with the spear; rather than destroying it, Cain’s intent was to bend the spearhead’s trajectory and send it toward the man. Issue was, however, that the spearhead entirely ignored his fiery palm, simply lodging itself into the ground and turning into ash soon after, vanishing .

Cain frowned, but ignored it, chalking it up to it just being a strange spell. However, soon after, it happened again--the man’s attack seemed impervious to Cain’s attempt at deflection, forcing him to haphazardly dodge at the last second. Glancing at the man, Cain realized the true lesson was beginning at last; he began observing each and every attack the man sent forth in depth, opting to turtle-up and turn entirely defensive.

There were differences between two attacks, he realized--despite them being the same. The man charged a misted sphere for a moment before unfurling it into the shape of a blade and sending it forward at Cain. The latter easily deflected the first, barely with any effort, yet the exact same attack just a second later forced him to dodge, which he managed to do barely in time. However, despite paying a great deal of attention to the attack, he was unable to discern the differences.

He would get it, he knew--he just needed time. And time, bit by bit, began to pass. More and more attacks became the type that he couldn’t deflect, and more and more he began noticing the subtle differences. It wasn’t difficult to actually grasp the core reason for the differences--it was in the manipulation of Mana. The true question was: how was that Mana being manipulated to produce those results? The answer came about an hour into their fight.

The way the man manipulated Mana into doing what it did was in many ways bizarre and counterproductive--at least in Cain’s understanding of Mana manipulation. The way he--and everyone else, as far as he knew up until now--wove Mana is through something called ‘motting’--effectively, he’d combine strands of Mana as though they were droplets of water and ‘line’ them up into tiny motes before ushering those motes through whichever pathway an individual chose. The primary reason everyone did it this way was that it was by far the safest, and it produced the highest potential consistency.

While he had heard others toy around with different ideas on how to manipulate Mana, all of it remained in theory as everyone largely believed that even if there were some small benefits to the alternate ways, they’d be mostly outweighed by the safety factor.

On the other hand, the way that the man seemed to be doing it was even simpler--he skipped the process of motting and grabbed Mana in its raw form and just... form a spell with it. This was never even entertained as the idea since Mana in its raw form was relatively slow to move. It would be like trying to move a thousand feathers--the best way was to just get a box and put all of the feathers into a box rather than moving them feather by feather.

And yet... it worked, bizarrely so. It wasn’t that the attacks were stronger--in fact, they actually weren’t. However, they were effectively immune to deflects. Cain supposed it had something to do with how the spells were inherently structured and that the man’s way just negated the ‘normal’ Mana manipulation. It was an interesting theory, so Cain tried to test it. He didn’t get too far, however--trying to do it without motting immediately strained his body and caused him to heave out a mouthful of blood while clutching his chest. Luckily, the man stopped his attacks and just waited, ‘looking’ at him.

“Is... is this what separates Divines?” Cain asked.

“No,” the man simply replied. “This is merely a gift from me to you.”

“Your gift hurts,” Cain said, taking a deep breath. “A lot.”

“It will cease hurting, in time. Remember, however, this is merely a trick--many a great warrior across the cosmos have their own tricks and means by which they condense Mana. This should merely serve as an inspiration for you to find your own way.”

“Okay... so, if that’s not what makes a Divine, will you show me what does?”

“I can’t.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because you’ve already experienced it.”

“... you genuinely lost me.”

“Perception of reality,” the man said. “Is the difference, seedling.”

“...”

“Those with no Divine seed see the world as you did--in four dimensions. Their sights are limited to what the frame encompasses. That is why you were unable to react to my attacks--for my attacks did not arrive in any of the dimensions you could recognize. But now... now you instinctively recognize them. It will take a while for you to see them consciously and realize them, for it is the architecture of the design. In the early days, most new Divines would go mad immediately upon seeing the new reality. As such, a little leeway is afforded.”

“So, what? Eventually, I’ll start seeing things go through other things and bend unto themselves?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Leave it for a surprise.”

“Sure?”

“Our battle comes to an end now, seedling.”

“Wait, what? But we barely fought!”

“This form’s time here is very limiting,” the man said. “And, to no one’s shock, I have gotten rusty. Nothing shall and should change for you for a little while, seedling. I do suggest retiring back to your homeworld and climbing through the Crucible. As your perception of reality unravels, the challenges of the Crucible will become meaningless. However, I suggest your limit yourself and not use it. Use the strength that you have to mould yourself into an even greater thing before ascending. In time, there shall be challenges immovable without the senses of Divine. For now, however, polish that side of you mostly in private.”

“...” Cain remained silent and stunned, watching as the figure began to fade into the rising smoke.

“For our parting, I shall afford you one last gift,” the man said and extended his arm, shooting a mote of gray light from his finger that easily went into Cain. “You will eventually be in no want of new Elements, but for now it should help you. Be careful, however; you must dominate it, for it is an Element that is divinely proud. Not unlike the little pet of yours. Good luck, seedling of Chaos. We shall meet again in due time.”

“Huh? What Element? What are you talking about?! Why are you leaving me on a cliffhanger, you bastard?!!” Cain’s shouting was pointless for the figure disappeared, leaving him confused. Suddenly, a screen appeared in front of him--screen not unlike the one that he’d seen just recently with the seed.

[You have gained access to a new Element: Domination]

[Domination: all things are measured. Creating Spells with this Element in them affords the spells several new augmentations.]

[Warning: Pride of Domination is bursting with anger]

“WHO DARES TRY AND SUBJUGATE THE GRAND ME?!! I SHALL FEED YOUR SPINE TO THE HOUNDS OF HELL, FROTHING MORTAL!!!” Cain sighed. Haah, another misbehaved kid? Do they just naturally orbit me? Fuck me...