NOVEL NEXT 9. The last moments of serenity
Three days later:
Golden rays of sunlight streamed through the small window of Constantine's room, casting a warm glow on the cross-legged boy perched on his bed. His eyes were shut, and his face contorted in a grimace of pain, contrasting with the tranquil silence. It felt as if a bonfire blazed within his chest, sending waves of burning sensation through his heart.
The sudden chime of bells shattered the silence, and his eyes flew open as the burning heat receded, his control over it increasing with the reduction of impurities inside him.
'The lungs are done, and the heart is almost purified,' he recounted his progress aloud. Without fail, he practiced every morning and evening, diligently circulating his mana to cleanse his body of impurities.
'Implant, show me the current energy stats and progress.'
<<------------>>
Current amount: 0.07
Maximal capacity: 0.12
Energy concentration: 0.9
<<------------>>
Rising from his bed, fully content with the speed of his growth, he stretched his arms and legs, savoring deep, refreshing breaths. His movements were more energetic, and his face looked brighter. Mindlessly, he approached the basin of clear water beside his bed and splashed it onto his face, washing away the sweat. As he ran his fingers over the skin of his face, he could feel it getting smoother with his practice.
'Alright, I am done. Let's meet up with Aurelia and go.' Straightening his robe, he stepped out of his room. Today was the day the lord of the city returned, and he eagerly anticipated witnessing the arrival. The opportunity to see such a powerhouse and obtain precious data was rare.
Later the same day:
Constantine, standing amid the bustling crowd under the scorching sun, looked eagerly at the wide main street sprawling before him. Vibrant pennants fluttered overhead, casting brief, colorful shadows over the throng of onlookers. The scent of street food mingled with the earthy smell of the street. He could hear the excited voices of anticipation rising like a wave around him.
"The Lord is coming! I can hear them." Aurelia, standing beside him in a light, white dress that swayed gently in the warm breeze, tiptoed, trying to get a better view. Her eyes darted around chaotically, and she hummed softly to herself, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Constantine smiled at her enthusiasm but kept his focus on the approaching procession. The rumble of hooves grew louder, and the crowd hushed in unison, a wave of silence rippling through them. Constantine craned his neck, his heart pounding in sync with the approaching riders.
At the forefront of the procession was the city lord, riding a magnificent horned horse, its coat as dark as obsidian. The lord's ornamental armor, engraved with silver coiling dragons, shimmered under the piercing sunlight, and his long, green cloak billowed behind him.
The entire crowd fell to their knees, and Constantine followed, his gaze fixed on the imposing figure of the lord. The oppressive heat of the day seemed to recede as the Lord drew closer.
Constantine paled, his hand starting to tremble as an aura of icy coldness, akin to bathing in the arctic sea, washed over him, radiating from the lord. It felt as though the sun had vanished, replaced by a void that sapped warmth and hope. His breath caught in his throat.
He had never felt power like that—a power that made him quake. Albeit, this was what he wanted; this was his main motivation for coming here.
'Implant, record all the data.' This was his opportunity to observe a powerful cultivator.
The thumping of the horse's hooves grew closer, the aura growing even stronger, more suffocating. His instincts screamed at him to run, to escape the terrifying danger. Nonetheless, clenching his fists, Constantine remained kneeling, watching and observing.
<>
The aura weakened, and the warmth returned to the world under the calming rays of sunlight. The lord had passed by, moving further and further away. Gradually, the crowd stood up from their kneeling positions. Constantine followed, relieved.
Dozens of soldiers, their heavy metal armor clanging with each step, their heavy boots banging against the stone road, marched past. Their faces were hidden beneath demonic iron masks, resembling those worn by the samurais of Constantine's old world.
Constantine paid them no attention; in his eyes, they were not worthy of studying. 'Implant, show me the measurements.'
<<------------>>
Maximal capacity: >100 (Unable to estimate)
Energy concentration: 18.5
<<------------>>
He dumbly stared at the shocking number he saw. Its scale made him feel like an ant, no, it made even the cultivator who led the council of mortal knowledge look like an insignificant bug in comparison.
'A true monster,' he thought, truly realizing how dangerous the forces ruling this world were. A silent chuckle escaped his lips, a small tingle of ridicule lightening his mood. 'So powerful and mighty, yet your energy concentration isn't that much higher compared to a cute little bunny.'
"Look, it's a demigod." Aurelia's poke on his shoulder drew his attention back to the parade. A horse-drawn carriage rumbled down the road, carrying a young girl between eight and ten years old. Constantine was momentarily mesmerized by her clearly inhuman parts.
Angel-like wings of azure feathers wrapped around her like a protective curtain, blending with her silk aquamarine dress. Even the color of her hair was unnatural, with strands of light blue poking through the whiteness.
"A demigod?" he questioned Aurelia, raising an eyebrow.
She smirked, folding her arms with a hint of pride. "You should take more interest in the world around you. You're missing so much of our history. Before we humans took our fate into our own hands through the swords of cultivators, we were nothing but puppets of the heavens." Her eyes flickered with a strange light, and her smile widened slightly, giving her an unsettling aura.
"We couldn't defend ourselves against monsters; all we could do was pray to the gods. Once cultivators rose, it changed."
Constantine nodded thoughtfully, noting the intensity in her gaze. "However, far in the northwest, they are still backward, worshipping gods and heavens. There, they are ruled by their divine bloodlines, who act like nobility and royalty, descended from or empowered by the gods."
Constantine hesitated, unsure if she didn’t see the irony of her words or simply dared not to speak of it. Her eyes gleamed with a manic light, and her smile grew serene yet disturbing. "Those with the purest divine bloodline, they call them demigods. Bunch of morons, just relying on the power of their bloodline and the mercy of some gods."
'Demigod or not, she is still a child, and I doubt she even fought, let alone commanded anything.' He thought, disgusted at the act of parading a child like some kind of animal for the masses to cheer on.
Constantine paused his steps, turning toward Aurelia still watching the parade. "It was a pleasure to be in your company today, but I have some matters to attend to." He bowed politely and walked away. "Thanks for sharing your knowledge with me."
He saw what he wanted to see, and no longer had the stomach to see people cheering for those madmen with power.
He heard her cheerful voice from behind, almost lost within the thunderous cheers of the crowds. "Bye, Constantine." There was a lingering note of intensity in her tone.
Constantine quickened his pace, eager to return to his practice. Today, he had glimpsed the true height of this world's powers, and if he wanted to thrive, he needed to bridge the immense chasm between them.
Yet he couldn't help but think of Aurelia's smile; it looked so sincere and serene, yet something about her demeanor deeply unsettled him.
The cheering faded as he walked further from the main street. Despite his familiarity with the road, it felt eerily quiet, with almost no one in sight besides a few beggars.
A deep, unsettling sensation settled in his stomach, urging him to turn around, but he pressed on, dismissing the feeling. 'They must all be at that damn parade, cheering their overlords like mindless sheep.'
The number of beggars increased, one at almost every corner, each turn leading out of the street. He could feel their eyes on him. Fear gripped him slightly, but he maintained his calm facade and kept walking.
'This is wrong.' He used to be a beggar and knew how they operated. Why would they be sitting here on an empty street instead of closer to the parade filled with festive crowds?
He slowed down, needing more time to analyze the situation. His eyes darted around, searching for a way out. He knew something bad was going to happen on this street, but he was unsure if he was the target.
Steps quickly approached, figures emerging from the dark alleys—two from behind, one from each flank, and two cutting off the way forward, blocking all escape routes. He stopped, his hand reaching for the dagger dangling from his belt.
"So I am the target," he muttered under his breath.
The men were tall, clad in tattered hooded cloaks and scarves wrapped around their lower faces, long daggers gleaming in their hands. They meant trouble, and to someone who had spent years on the street, it was obvious they were an organized group of criminals.
'I can't ever have even a single moment of peace,' Constantine thought, cursing his bad luck, his grip tightening on the handle of his dagger. He didn't know what had brought the attention of these thugs, but he knew he was in deep trouble.
'Fight? Impossible.' He quickly analyzed the situation. Even if he used his mana to temporarily enhance his body, the men before him weren't amateurs; they were large, likely experienced fighters, armed, and severely outnumbering him. A single strike of a dagger, a single mistake, could cost him his life.
A muffled voice sent chills down his spine. One of the masked men flipped the dagger in his hand. "Boy, there is a senior who wishes to speak with you."
The second one took a step closer, laughing. "Kekeke, drop that dagger, kiddo. You stand no chance. Do not make trouble, and come with this uncle quietly," he said, pointing his dagger at Constantine.
Constantine glanced, his eyes locking onto the two rogues blocking his path. Warmth swelled within him; maybe if he directed it into his legs, he could slip through.
"The boss heard you might have something that belongs to him. Would you be so kind as to give it back? Otherwise, don't blame me for not being nice." The masked men were closing in. It was now or never.
'Phh, as if I would ever return if I came with you.' He wasn't as naive as to think that even if he gave them whatever they wanted, they wouldn't murder him just for the sake of silencing him.
Constantine, his senses heightening with adrenaline flowing through his veins, charged all his mana into his legs, bent his knees, gripped his dagger, and then burst forward. Like a human spring, he launched himself, the wind howling around him, pain burning within his legs.