Grimoire of Cultivation

Chapter 44: A Father's Fury, A Mother's Grace

Jarek channeled the full strength of his aura into Mythrender, unleashing an overwhelming force that ignited the blade. A deafening outpour tore through the sky as countless bolts of lightning burst from the sword's tip, surging upwards in a frenzied dance.

Thousands of streams of electric light gathered high above, forging a titanic sword of surging blue lightning. Its vastness pierced the clouds, its presence thundering through the atmosphere, commanding the attention of the world below.

Ramman's shout, fueled by rage and desperation, ignited his aura, a fierce blaze enveloping him. The ethereal snake, once a mere specter, clamped its fangs into the stump of his missing arm. A surge of wild, dark green energy crackled, its eyes flaring with the same intensity as Ramman's. In that moment of union, the serpent began to fuse with Ramman, its ethereal form solidifying, melding flesh and spirit.

As the transformation unfolded, scales, dark and glistening, sprouted along Ramman's body, slithering across his skin to form a grotesque armor of living essence. His missing limb regenerated, reborn with the sinewy strength of the serpent, while a tail, long and coiling, burst forth, completing his transformation into a being of nightmare: a monstrous snake man, his eyes burning with a ghostly green light..

Ramman's jaw unhinged, an unnatural gap widening as he stretched it grotesquely wide. Delving into the abyss of his own maw, his scaled hand emerged, clutching a sinister shadow.

With a fluid, unsettling grace, he drew forth a black scimitar, its blade a void against the chaotic backdrop of their duel. The weapon, born from the depths of his transformed being, gleamed with a malevolent glow, ready to carve despair into the heart of the storm.

Ramman stood in the sky, his transformation into a serpentine form complete. His skin, now a tapestry of black and green scales, shimmered with a sinister dark green aura, enveloping him in a vortex of wind. His arm regenerated, mimicking the fearsome physique of the monstrous serpent, his newly formed tail whipping through the air with deadly intent. Eyes ablaze with madness, fixated on Jarek below.

"You dare challenge my heart?! With your fleeting storms, Jarek?! Witness a true storm of passion!" Ramman's voice, twisted and echoing, tore through the silence.

Below, Jarek's eyes became beacons of pure lightning, signaling the descent of the colossal blade formed from the heavens. As he swung Mythrender, the clouded sky split, revealing a tapestry of stars in the void created by the blade's path.

Simultaneously, Ramman's body and his black scimitar swelled in size, now standing 20 meters tall. His aura, dark and potent, infused the blade, etching green runes along its length, each symbol pulsating with power. With a serpentine hiss that chilled the blood, Ramman raised his enlarged weapon in defiance.

As Jarek's towering sword of lightning struck Ramman's scimitar, a deafening blast echoed, light and darkness clashing in a brilliant display. Blue lightning splintered, scattering across the heavens, while dark green energy from the scimitar surged upwards, meeting the onslaught.

The ground trembled, fissures racing through the earth as the force of their clash pushed against the landscape. Trees snapped, uprooted by the shockwaves rolling out from the epicenter.

The air hummed with charged particles, the night sky lit as day for a fleeting moment. Ramman, his figure outlined against the chaos, hissed as his black blade held fast against the descending strike, the green runes on his scimitar glowing fiercely.

As the sky roared above, lightning and wind mana clashed, lighting up the night. Amara, propelled by a surge of water mana, broke through the forest's edge into the clearing, feeling the ground shake under the force of the battle overhead. Shadows moved wildly as mana flashed, and broken trees spun in the air, caught in the chaos.

Her eyes, wide with alarm, scanned the devastation. Spotting Jarek's sword and the electrified barrier encasing Darius, relief flashed across her face, quickly replaced by fear. She dashed towards her son, her movements swift and desperate.

Then, a humongous crack split the sky, the sound deafening, silencing the battlefield for a heartbeat.

Ramman's scimitar began to show signs of strain, tiny fissures webbing along its blackened edge. His reptilian eyes, wide with a mix of rage and desperation, bore into Jarek. "He will still die, Jarek! Give him to me if you truly love him!" he hissed, defiance and twisted logic fueling his plea.

Jarek remained unyielding, an immovable force amidst the elements. Lightning surged around him, arcs of electric fury dancing into the night, casting blinding light across the battleground. "You are sick, Ramman," his words sliced through the pleas of Ramman, steady and cold. "And like a sick animal, you put them down."

With a surge of unmatched power, Jarek's towering sword completed its descent, shattering Ramman's scimitar.

His screaming hiss, a final act of defiance, echoed as his eyes locked onto Darius, a scaled hand reaching out in a futile gesture of longing, before being swallowed by the blade's light.

As the colossal blade struck the ground, an apocalyptic explosion of lightning unfurled, its tendrils spreading across the forest. The land itself seemed to scream under the onslaught, a swath of destruction carved through the heart of Fang Root, altering the landscape in a relentless display of power that stretched into the distant horizon. Amid this storm, Amara's blue water mana swirled protectively around her and the fallen Darius.

Tears streamed down Amara's face as she knelt beside Darius, the chaos of the explosions hurling debris against their protective barrier. Her hands hovered, trembling over her son's injuries, a frantic scan revealing the extent of the damage. She opened her mouth to speak, to offer words of comfort, yet found herself voiceless, choked by her own tears.

Clouds, smoldering and rife with bursts of electricity, shrouded the devastated area. Near Amara, Jarek emerged, his typically stoic expression now marred by worry. Jaw clenched, he knelt beside his wife, urgency in his tone, "We need to move, he won't last much longer." As Jarek reached to lift Darius, a trembling hand halted him.

"I can save him," Amara's voice trembled. She took quick, deep breaths, struggling for calm. In a swift motion, she tore at her sleeve, her gaze darting, filled with urgency.

"Amara," Jarek's voice softened to nearly a whisper, "you're not capable of healing something like this." Gently, he placed his hand on his wife's shoulder.

Seasoned in the brutal truths of combat, Jarek recognized the numerous signs of death's approach. Looking over Darius's grievous injuries, he understood these wounds struck deep, beyond flesh, afflicting his very essence.

With a forceful shove of her shoulder, she dislodged Jarek's hand. "I know that!...I'm not using mana."

Jarek's weakened aura spiked, his response halted, eyes widening momentarily. His face, a battleground of emotions, betrayed a gathering storm of tears as he looked between his dying son and determined wife. After a tense pause, he exhaled, his shoulders falling, his aura diminishing to a whisper, "Be careful."

Amara's aura, crashing waves moments before, came to an abrupt calm. Her shoulders trembled while she lifted her emerald eye's to meet Jarek's, "A child shouldn't die before their parent." The words hung in the air, a shared understanding in their depth.

The two leaned in, their kiss a brief escape, a pause in the relentless pace of fate.

Turning away, Amara drew a deep breath, her hand moving with deliberate precision. A faint blue radiance enveloped her fingernail as she pressed it against her wrist, the skin parting easily under the glow.

Blood streamed from her open wrist, drenching Darius beneath. She whispered, her voice lost amidst the thunderous beat of a pulsing heart, akin to the very pulse of Gaia.

Water mages, powerful and versatile like their elemental counterparts, excel in areas where their element's innate qualities shine the brightest. While fire mages dominate in areas like alchemy and forging, and wind mages excel in others like reconnaissance and divination, water mages specialize in the art of healing.

Their abilities in mending wounds and curing ailments stand unparalleled, a reflection of water's nurturing essence. Among their abilities, a spell of profound potency allows them to heal any wound or illness, without relying on the strength of their mana.

This formidable technique is usually wielded in life-or-death situations, given its grave cost. Initiating this spell binds the caster to a pact of recovery, where the life force is the currency of healing. Should the mage's remaining years fall short of the spell's demands, they risk their very existence. Abruptly interrupting the process brings about dire repercussions, making its use a decision weighed with the gravest consideration.

Both understood the sacrifice required could be immense, possibly even insufficient. Amara, having reached her potential's peak, couldn't extend her life through ascension, every year lost was final.

Jarek witnessed his wife's lifeblood envelop their son, soaking into his injuries. The spell's conjured heartbeat, deep and resonant, seemed to echo his own accelerating pulse, a grim reminder of what was at stake.

As Amara's blood met Darius's battered form, it clung to him, moving against the expected path of any liquid. Each drop sought out his wounds, delving into the depths of his injuries with an eerie precision.

Through clenched teeth, Amara maintained her focus, her whispers steady and constant, despite the evident pain etched into the creases of her brow. Her incantations, a lifeline in the silent air, wove a blanket of healing over her son, demanding no less than everything she had to give.

Jarek's gaze shifted between Darius and Amara, a battle of emotion raging behind his eyes. He watched, heart aching, as the vibrant glow began to fade from Amara's skin, her once lush hair losing its volume to become sparse and fragile. The skin around her eyes and mouth creased, etching the passage of time into her face far too rapidly.

Jarek's eyes darted back and forth, from his rapidly aging wife to his slowly healing son, a silent plea forming on his lips before he swallowed it down, understanding the irreversible path they were on. His hand twitched, nearly reaching out, before falling limply to his side. Tears started to track down his face, a silent witness to his anguish as he watched Amara, his heart breaking in the quiet of the forest.

Amara's eyelids fluttered closed, her chant complete, her frail withered arm now produced not a trickle of blood. Yet, amidst this, her eyes reopened, locking onto Jarek's.

His tears, his face, his weathered and beaten heart, she saw it all. Her hand, now frail, reached out, finding strength to intertwine with his.

Overwhelmed, Jarek encased her hand with both of his, pressing it against his cheek. The spell's end marked by her gentle smile, she whispered, "I love you," as her presence, once vibrant and full of life, dissolved into wisps of blue, leaving behind a lingering final warmth in Jarek's hands.

Now alone, Jarek knelt next to Darius, who still lay unconscious, his breath steady and calm. Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions, Jarek began to weep, the tears streaming freely as he gazed upon his fully recovered son.

----

Images flickered at the edge of Darius's mind, a storm of lightning clashing against shadowy figures, each flash revealing a moment of battle before vanishing. Suddenly, as if breaking through the surface of deep water, Darius awoke with a sharp intake of breath, the dream's vivid scenes dissolving into the quiet darkness around him.

Darius's vision cleared gradually, his head pounding as if it had shattered and been pieced back together. Clutching at his head, he eased himself into a sitting position. "I'm alive?"

"Barely," came Jarek's voice, startling Darius. He turned, only then noticing his father, who had been sitting a few meters away.

Jarek rose and approached Darius. "Take it slow, you've been out for quite some time," he advised, kneeling to place a hand on Darius's shoulder.

As Darius rubbed his eyes, a surge of panic hit him. "Ramman! What happened?! Wait...how...when did you...is mother here?" He latched onto his father's arm, trying to pull himself up in desperation.

"It's OK, Ramman is dead, and your mother...she's waiting at home," Jarek assured, not resisting Darius's efforts, instead aiding him to his feet.

Catching a glimpse of his father, Darius took in the signs of exhaustion: the bloodshot eyes, the deep, dark circles, and the noticeably diminished aura. 'He must have saved me.' Examining his own body, confusion set in. "How am I still alive? I thought I was..." His voice trailed off as he noted the sudden shift in his father's demeanor. "Father, what happened?"

"A lot happened, but we'll talk about it when we get home," Jarek said, managing a weary smile as he began to walk away, "let's go."

Darius sensed a hidden tension in his father's brief reply, interpreting it as disappointment. 'He must be really upset with me,' he thought, choosing silence as he followed.

After a moment, a realization struck him. "Haku!"

Jarek stopped and looked back, puzzled. "What? You found him?"

Darius's memory flooded back, propelling him into action. "That's what started all this. Knights captured him; I had to hide him before everything escalated, and he's hurt." Without waiting for a response, Darius darted off in the direction he remembered, urgency in his steps.

Jarek followed Darius, the shadows under his eyes deepening with each step. Despite his attempts to appear unconcerned, the strain was evident in every glance he cast towards his son.

Reaching the hidden spot beneath a tree, they both began to dig through the dirt and roots with their hands. Finally, they uncovered Haku, the ember fox, still in a deep sleep but breathing steadily, the previous infection now seemingly cured.

Carefully, Jarek lifted Haku out of the makeshift den. "Poor boy. Seems we've all had a rough time," he murmured softly before passing Haku to Darius. "Can you hold him?"

"Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good actually," Darius replied, unaware of the brief flash of pain that flickered in Jarek's eyes at his words.

As they made their way home, silence enveloped them, with Darius occasionally glancing at his father, each look returned with a forced smile. Darius mulled over his father's weary appearance, turning his attention inward to assess his own condition. Remarkably, aside from a significant drain on his mana, he found himself in an almost miraculous state of well-being. More astonishingly, his physical strength and mana capacity appeared enhanced, as if his very being had undergone refinement.

Abruptly, Darius called out, "Crelos!"

"What is it now?" Jarek responded, a mix of concern and weariness in his tone.

"Have you seen a young mage about my age?" Darius asked urgently.

"A mage? I haven't. Who's Crelos?" Jarek’s confusion was evident as he watched his son dart off once more, this time in a new direction.

"He tried to save me!" Darius's voice carried back to Jarek as he sprinted ahead, urgency clear in his tone. "Before I blacked out, he was there, taking on Ramman to shield me!"

"A mage took a stand to protect you? Are you certain of this?"

"Come on! He might still be out there!" Darius urged, pushing the pace even harder as he delicately carried Haku.

Catching up, Jarek matched his son's strides just as the first light of dawn began to edge over the horizon. Together, they emerged from the treeline, stepping into the clearing forged by the shocking events of the night.

"Stop!" Jarek's grip tightened on Darius's shoulder, pulling him and Haku back to his side.

"What's hap..."

"Don't make a sound. Don't move until I say." Jarek's voice carried a weight, his aura simmering, muscles coiled for action.

Darius's eyes tracked his father's gaze across the scarred landscape, past remnants of destruction, to a figure in a sharp tailed coat hunched over a fallen body.

A chill ran down Darius's spine, breaths quickening as recognition dawned. There, across the desolation, bending over Crelos, was the mage tower's master, the Tier 5 mage, Rainslif Crowley.