Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 601: Primordial Earth

Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 601: Primordial Earth

The two Ancients said nothing more. The hollow mountain turned silent. Demon sat on the stone platform, unmoving like a statue and meeting the gazes of flame and earth, eagerness flaring from the fires but indiscernible thoughts gleaming from the gems. Anyone would leap at the chance for this great reward, but he was reminded of the Thread Saul forged with Oscar and frowned. Gifts were not trustworthy. He believed in deals, bargains, and possession by force or mutual exchange.

"Seriously?" Ignyres said, knowing his thoughts. He sighed out embers and scratched the ends of his lively head. "You're not wrong to be cautious...after everything that happened years ago. But I can speak on Tectones's behalf. He is a prankster but never harms intentionally."

"How will it help me? You haven't answered that yet." Demon ignored Ignyres and walked to the open maw of the Ancient of Earth. "Metures withheld information about Saul when we first met. What can you say to convince me?" He held no respect or awe for the Ancients. They were mere tools that wanted tools of their own, not worthy of any of the reverence they received.

The stone face of Tectones never changed, and his mouth shut tight. A few seconds later, a few rumbling chuckles resounded, quaking the earth beneath their feet, comparable to the sound of rocks bashing into each other. Tectones's lips cracked wider into the stone, spreading upward, resembling a smile a child would carve into a pumpkin. "Believe. Moment. Choice"

"You may not understand it now but believe in the gift I will bestow upon you. The moment will arrive when it will change everything or not. It all depends on your choice; unlike others, I grant you the freedom to choose. If you don't want it, it's fine. I believe in your decision." Ignyres translated for Tectones.

"That is acceptable. At least there is honesty in your words, not at all light." For years, he experienced all the lies and trickery. The simple proposition of choice was rare and believable. Urged by the Ignyres' grumbling, Demon stepped closer and reached his artificial hand into the stony jaws, the teal gem's glow waxing and waning to the deep thumping that sounded from the earth. The gem was smooth, carved into a perfect shape with equal sides and dimensions. He saw his reflection on the multiple surfaces, raising an eyebrow at the man in the gem. A multitude of black, lifeless eyes stared back at him. Oscar? It reflected not the coldness or indifference that dulled his gaze but the lifelessness and despair that muddied Oscar's.

Tectones waited, keeping his mouth open while Demon contemplated the reflections in the gem. The artificial arm grasped the gem, ending the confounding visages of a broken man. Power surged into his body. He felt stronger and healthier than ever. Suddenly, he lurched forward, nearly stumbling into the gaping maw. His arm creaked, the metallic fingers groaning while squeezed into thin strips, barely the width of twigs. The unknown force spread from the fingers, crushing the palm, and swept up the forearm, nearing the shoulder.

Hesitation bred trouble. Demon quickly detached his artificial arm and tossed it away. In its path along the air, the gem of primordial earth broke apart the arm, condensing it all into a compact bead the size of a seed. There, gleaming like a wondrous diamond, the gem landed on the stone platform, rolling around and behaving like an ordinary jewel. Cursing the loss of a precious arm, Demon glared at the Ignyres and Tectones. The arm was made from Erden's antlers and a precious grade-four ore. Its loss was calculated in tens of millions of gold.

"Body," Tectones said.

"It is a test of your body. Normally, only one from the Volten lineage and wielder of Reis can take it. Your perfect Reis body may be enough. Withstand it with your body and claim it." Ignyres cheered him on, releasing flames that brightened the dimly lit cavern.

.......

"Marcus!" Eve shouted hoarsely, her coughs worsening from the stress on her throat. She embraced Marcus tightly, and he couldn't resist stroking her bandaged head. She looked behind him and furrowed her brow, scrunching the bandages. "Where is Lord Draven?"

"He sent me away to handle a few rebels. He's not here?" Marcus rubbed her forehead, easing the tension on her brow and tightening the loose bandages. He lifted her into his arms and cradled her in a loving carry. "But don't worry about him. He's not someone who would die so easily. Where is everyone?"

"Indeed, where is everyone?" A cold voice caught him off-guard. Marcus spun around and released Eve from his embrace, bowing deeply beside her. He glanced up and gasped, eyes wide. Lord Draven was missing an arm. How? Why? His precious arm was gone.

"Who was it?!" Marcus roared, some of the wrecked houses falling from the force of his voice alone, cluttering into a rubble of rotten wood and crumbling stone. His shout attracted the attention of the others, who quickly gathered around from wherever they were, their eyes also wide at Lord Draven's missing arm. Kragg slammed his fist into the ground, baring his sharp canines. Santen, the ever-calm, had an indescribable expression, his eyes reeling to show the white behind the pupils. Restel scratched the ground with her nails, blood spurting from the exposed fingertips. Auren bashed his head on the ground, glaring the fiercest he had ever seen on the boy.

"Tell us who dared hurt our lord. Give us a name, and we shall see them ended." Santen said, clasping his hands tightly.

"Eh? What in the hell is going on here? Everyone's so murderous right now." A rough, unmannered voice shouted from the side. Marcus turned his head and saw a short man with a scruffy beard carrying a pair of beady eyes that blinked in confusion. He wore a torn shirt, held together by patches, and shorts that exposed his hairy knees.

"He lost an arm. Make him a new one." A woman descended from the sky. Her brown hair floated freely down to her knees, along with a few streaks of white hair running down, distinct from the rest. Her blue eyes locked onto Lord Draven's missing arm as a sigh escaped her lips. Her green robes swayed softly until their ends rested on the ground.

"Hector, Helen, why did you take so long to return?" Lord Draven asked.