Leon couldn’t keep the grin off his face: the Iron Needle was his, and he hardly knew what to do now, such was his joy. His face hurt from how widely he was smiling, and he erratically paced about the chamber where the Needle had awaited him, unsure what he should do. The Thunderbird didn’t help that much, either, as she remained silent ever since he’d woken up, despite the enormous amount of pride and joy that he could feel almost radiating off of her down in his soul realm.

But after several minutes of pacing off some of his excess energy and cackling like a villain in an over-the-top play, he finally sat back down on the smooth ground, the rock having been transformed into a smooth, black, glassy substance from thousands of years of constant lightning rolling about the chamber.

A moment later, he awoke in his soul realm. He’d brought the Iron Needle with him, pulling it into his soul realm at the same time that he’d mentally directed his magic body to wake up. Now, it floated just before him in front of his throne, not a single spark of lightning to be seen, but to Leon’s magic senses, the thing was like a sun had just landed in his Mind Palace.

“Leon…” the Thunderbird in her human form whispered from just a few paces away, her tone dripping with pride, her smile somehow wider than Leon’s. “I knew you could do it, but I’m so happy to be proven right.”

Leon flushed at the blatant pride and pushed himself off his throne to better examine the Iron Needle. He reached out for it, but hesitated just as his fingers were about to brush against the Universe Fragment.

“It’s fine, it won’t hurt you,” the Thunderbird whispered. “If you had not taken control of it, it wouldn’t have allowed you to bring it here.”

Without any more hesitation, Leon grabbed the Iron Needle and held it tightly, but relaxed his grip as, once again, the Iron Needle began sparking with multicolored lightning and his soul realm began to fill with power faster than it ever had before. Leon knew the dangers of growing his soul realm too quickly and didn’t want to try his luck holding the Needle for too long—though the possibility of reaching the tenth-tier even faster than the Hesperidic Apples could get him was strong in his mind.

‘How… what do I do with it?” Leon asked, his voice tinged with awe at the power he could sense within it. “It’s… It’s too powerful to do any one thing with…”

“Nestor should have a proper containment unit for it by now,” the Thunderbird said. “Until then, it’s safe here. It has accepted you as its master, it will not harm you. It cannot harm you.”

Leon continued to grin as he stared at the little sliver of iron in his hand. Were it not for the fact that radiated such power, it would’ve been completely unremarkable, just a long, dull needle.

“You said once that this used to be seated in the family sword, right?” Leon asked. “Should I put it back?”

“With your power, no,” the Thunderbird resolutely replied. “To master the Iron Needle is something wholly different than becoming the Iron Needle’s master. You are weak compared to the Needle, and have never even studied it, let alone used it in battle. You can sense the cosmic-level power within it, can you not?”

“Cosmic-level… that’s a good way of putting it,” Leon whispered, his eyes not wavering from the Universe Fragment in his hand.

“Anything and everything that can be achieved with lightning magic the Iron Needle can teach you, but it doesn’t have sapience, it can’t teach you as I have this past score of years. You must learn to interpret what it tells you, but even then… it will take a long time. I held it for millions of years, and it taught me to wield our family’s signature lightning. If you wish to learn anything from it, instead of using it like a simple weapon—as so many of my less creative descendants have done—then you will need time and a lot of patience.”

Still smiling, Leon finally tore his eyes from the Needle and said to his ancestor, “When it comes to learning new things, I have patience in abundance.”

The Thunderbird smirked. “Only sometimes, Leon, but I think you’ll do well in this regard.”

“I hope so,” Leon whispered as he looked back to the Iron Needle. “I hope so.”

His smile began to die; his elation at accomplishing what he’d set out to do still ran through his mind like a raging river through a thin canyon, but he was starting to remember exactly what lay beyond the Iron Needle’s chamber.

‘Tusk is still out there, and probably furious…’

Aloud, Leon stated, “I should get moving. The sooner I get home, the sooner I can study this. And the creature whose home I invaded to get here is probably waiting just outside, ready to obliterate me as soon as I show myself.”

“Indeed,” the Thunderbird said, offering no more comment. “You can leave the Iron Needle here with me, I will look out for it. For now, carry on with your other duties.”

Before Leon could respond, Xaphan chose that moment to finally wake up and, in his crackling voice, roared, “By the Primal Devil King’s mighty cock! You got the damn thing!”

“Yes I did, demon,” Leon smilingly said as he laid the Iron Needle down on Nestor’s old table, noting that instead of lying there flat, the Needle began to float above it almost as if it were unwilling to touch something so plebian as a crudely-made wooden table.

He then walked back to his throne, summoning his family’s sword to his hand as he did. He noted the Iron Needle start to float toward the sword for a moment, but almost as soon as he thought about telling it not to, it stopped in midair.

‘Hmm, curious…’

As he closed his eyes and returned to the physical world, he heard Xaphan asking, “I need to examine this!”

He also heard the Thunderbird sharply replying, “Not a chance!”

Everything else Leon tuned out as he woke up in the physical world and glanced back at the sharply-inclined shaft that the Iron Needle had carved as it fell to the earth. He had several miles back to the surface, and after seizing undoubtedly the most valuable thing that Tusk likely thought was its own, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were pursued all the way to the surface, or even further than that. And being a tenth-tier equivalent being, he wasn’t sure how he was going to get it to let him go.

But he had the Iron Needle, and that had to count for something. If worse came to worst, he supposed he could just pull the Needle out of his soul realm, try to aim it at Tusk, and then hope for the best. He’d gone down into Tusk’s lair hoping that he could get out without even being noticed, but assuming that violence of some kind would have to be employed on his way out. Now, with the obvious dead end he’d found himself in, it seemed that assumption would prove itself correct, as much as he would’ve preferred another way.

When he’d first gotten through the lower carved wall, this tunnel had been so full of fulgurite that he’d barely been able to move. The Iron Needle’s ‘test’, he supposed it could be called, had eradicated nearly all of it from the tunnel; only a few shattered pieces were lying scattered about on the ground, and a few crystal stumps still attached to the walls here and there.

With an intrigued frown, Leon scooped as much as he could gather or pry from the walls into his soul realm. Each of these crystals held an enormous amount of lightning magic that he hoped he might be able to make use of. Normal gemstones were able to hold element-less magic power, after all, but the fulgurite created by the Iron Needle seemed able to hold far more than even a sapphire might be able to. Such crystals would have narrow purposes, but in those purposes, their utility would be unparalleled—assuming, of course, that he was able to reproduce their creation.

‘Lightning Lance batteries would be incredibly efficient if I can…’ Leon mused. ‘And if I can revert that lightning to element-less magic power, then that would be even better…’

Something to take up his researchers’ time, he supposed. They needed something else to work on, given that many were upset with his focus on more militaristic projects.

But he could only put off heading back out into the shaft for so long if he wasn’t intending on trying to carve his way back to the surface with his meager earth magic skills, and given the state of the burned walls, he didn’t think that was going to happen any time soon. He had to face Tusk if he wanted to leave in a timely manner.

He returned to the wall to find that Tusk hadn’t deigned to seal the hole he’d punched through on his way in. Its aura was still outside, clearly waiting, but as Leon paused to again try and think of a way out, he noted that the massive beast’s aura had changed. Where before it had been raging and wrathful, equal parts killing intent to magic power, now it was much calmer, more serene.

With much curiosity, Leon floated up to the hole and cautiously projected his magic senses through.

Immediately, he sensed Tusk hovering on the other side of the wall, the beast casually flying about in a way that reminded Leon of the way he might slowly pace as he waited for something to happen. But only a few seconds after his magic swept over the beast did it stop in place and glare imperiously down at the hole in the carved wall.

“Well, small rat? Art thou going to proceed?”

The beast’s projected voice was still loud, but it didn’t exert the same pressure upon Leon’s eardrums as it did before, it didn’t even rock the tunnel around them. If anything, Tusk sounded almost accepting, or at least not as angry as it was before.

With as much caution as he could muster, Leon hesitantly flew up to the hole—after giving his armor a quick once-over to make sure it was still intact, which it thankfully was.

When he reached the hole, Leon stayed in it and glanced out, ready for anything, lightning rushing through his veins, the tau pearl in his cuirass simmering with magic power. But as Leon revealed himself, Tusk didn’t move to strike. Instead, it floated about two hundred feet further up the shaft, staring at him with great intensity. Parsing the beast’s emotions was impossible for Leon, so he just assumed it was glaring at him with significant anger.

“Thou hast claimed the shard,” Tusk grumbled, its tone filled with reluctance and deep frustration. “Mine congratulations are extended to thee.”

“Congratulations?” Leon shouted back, mildly confused. “Didn’t you just an hour or so ago claim it as your own?”

Tusk huffed, the force of its breath sending the dust and sand that accumulated at the bottom of the shaft scattering around them, though made no further aggressive motions.

“Mine claim rested upon the beneficence of the Planar Lord. Thou hast claimed the shard, and in doing so, mine own claim hast been rendered moot. Bound I am by ancient accord to accept thine act of theft.”

‘Planar Lord?’ Leon curiously thought. ‘Is he talking about Ambrose? An ‘ancient accord’ with him over the Iron Needle?’

“Are you willing to allow me free passage?” Leon asked, putting that issue aside for a couple seconds.

Tusk seemed to mull his question over for a few more seconds before responding, “Thou hast left mine other treasures unmolested. Mine feelings towards thee art less than cordial, but neither art they hostile. Thou art free to go, if thou wishest.”

Leon edged a few inches further out of the hole. “Gratitude for the hospitality, then. Might you accompany me to the exit, that we may exchange a few more words?”

“I would have escorted thee anyway, small rat,” Tusk replied. “The purpose of mine Planar Lord hast been fulfilled, but trust thee I do not. Thou art deserving of death no longer, though generous welcome thou shalt not receive.”

“Fair enough,” Leon half-muttered as he slid a little further out of the hole. As Tusk continued to not attack him, he took flight once more and began drifting upward, going faster and faster as it became clearer and clearer that Tusk wasn’t going to break its word, despite its apparent anger and antipathy.

As he drew level with the beast, and then began to drift further up, Tusk moved to match pace, and soon enough, they were both flying fairly slowly up the shaft.

“You said something about a ‘Planar Lord’,” Leon said. “I think I might be acquainted with the man in question. What is your relationship with him?”

“Mine own business, small rat,” Tusk replied. “Thy questions shalt go unanswered, I desire only thine absence. Thou hast caused chaos enough in mine domain, and should thou continue to press upon mine patience, thou shalt know deadly wrath, raw and unfettered, and the shard shalt once more be mine own possession.”

“Fair enough,” Leon repeated, though a little more dejectedly. He asked no more questions, reasoning that if he wanted to know about Tusk, he could just ask Ambrose directly at some point.

Soon enough, they arrived at the upper carved wall, and without so much as a moment’s thought, Tusk projected a few strands of magic and pulled them both through the door.

“Begone, small rat, and never return.” Tusk didn’t say anything more, but remained hovering in front of the carved wall and glared at Leon, making it absolutely clear even in its alien body language that it wasn’t leaving until Leon had made himself scarce.

With an awkward smile, Leon made his way back up the shaft, past the cave-in, and to the surface once more.

It was late afternoon when he emerged, and though the sun wasn’t shining directly down into the Divine Scar, Leon still felt more than a little comfort in the sight of the bright sky. He quickly took flight again and flew with all haste back to Anzu at the northern tip of the long ravine cloven by the Iron Needle as it hit the ground.

Anzu was napping in his griffin form when Leon returned, but it seemed that all the young griffin needed was to feel his aura wash over him to wake. As Leon’s boots touched the ground again, Anzu was on his paws and almost barreling Leon over in his haste to welcome him back to the surface.

After a few seconds, Anzu changed back to human form and asked, “Is it done? Did you get it?”

“It’s done,” Leon confirmed. “I have the Iron Needle. Now, there are a couple last places I’d like to visit, and then we can get the hells back home. What say you to that?”

Anzu laughed and threw an arm around Leon. “Let’s go!”

---

Leon and Anzu’s cheer lasted only a short while, as Leon’s most heavily prioritized stop before they could return home was his childhood home, and the memories that were brought to his mind as he drew near dampened his mood. Seizing the Iron Needle was one of his greatest acts so far, as far as he was concerned, but recalling his father’s death banished all elation despite only an hour or so having passed since his accomplishment.

Anzu, sensing Leon’s shift in mood, didn’t speak so much as a word. Leon had told him of this place before, so though it was his first visit, he could recognize everything around them, and the significance it held for Leon.

The compound had largely decayed in the past seventeen years. Nearly all traces of Leon and Artorias’ timber huts were gone, leaving nothing but piles of almost indistinct scorched wood where they once stood. The storage huts had fared even worse, having been almost completely overtaken by the forest. The wall that had surrounded the compound was completely gone, and dirt and purple grass were creeping over the stone tiles of the central pavilion. Even Leon’s old bath behind his hut was little more than a shallow pit ringed by stones, now.

Fortunately, there were things that encouraged Leon at this sight, too. For one, all traces of ice wraith anger had disappeared. When last Leon had passed through here, the corpse of one of Justin’s agents had been found here, killed by ice wraiths, along with quite a bit of evidence that ice wraiths had trashed the place in the time he’d been away on what Leon figured was a separate occasion.

All of that ice was now gone. It was a little strange given that the tiny vale in which Nestor’s lab was nestled was surrounded by a massive wall of never-melting ice created by ice demons, but he supposed that ice was probably made by bigger and more power demons—likely the ones that had been killed when they’d attempted to gain access to the lab. Whatever the reason, Leon was just glad that the site was no longer polluted by evidence of ice wraiths.

What he found far more attention-grabbing, however, was pushing through the cairn he’d built his father in the center of the stone pavilion was a tree, and a surprisingly large one at that. Its bark was dark brown, and its tall canopy of leaves glittered red-gold in the light of the setting sun. It was now almost thirty feet tall, and thick enough that Leon couldn’t have completely wrapped his arms around its trunk.

In the air around the tree was a strange air of calmness and serenity. Heartwood trees weren’t particularly welcoming, offering peace and security, but only for a short time. This one, however, almost seemed to welcome Leon and Anzu to the old compound, its leaves rustling pleasantly in the early evening breeze, shining golden light down upon them both.

With a smile, Leon walked forward and sat down at the base of the tree, Anzu not far behind. Leon didn’t speak a word yet, and Anzu wasn’t going to break their silence. Instead, they just sat there, in the peace of the Heartwood tree, and lost themselves in thoughts of the past, nostalgia cutting through them like a sharp knife through fresh bread.

After almost an hour just sitting there in silence, Leon began to speak, though to the tree instead of Anzu. He narrated the events that had transpired in the past seventeen years, and Anzu settled himself in, recognizing that if Leon was going to do that, then it was going to be a long night. Despite this, he held no animosity, and in fact intended to speak when Leon was finished, whenever that would be.

But for now, he just sat back and listened as Leon spoke to the tree that had grown from the seed he’d planted in Artorias’ chest after the man had died, and enjoyed the sense of calm that came with Leon’s words.