Shimmering filaments of light drifted through the air like strands of spun glass. They wrapped around Galahads limbs in delicate spirals, glowing faintly, as though woven from moonlight itself. At first they appeared fragile, whisper-thin, yet each strand hummed with an otherworldly energy, tightening into intricate patterns as more threads weaved together.
The tendrils overlapped and knot themselves into layered forms, each strand binding seamlessly with the next until the texture shifted. The light they emitted began to grow bright, eventually turning golden and then hardening into gleaming plates.
By then, he had caught everyone's attention, but as his transformation continued, they found themselves starting to back away.
"What are you doing?"
And still, the light grew even brighter. Before they knew it, they all found themselves reflexively covering their eyes.
"Stop it!"
Eventually the luminous glow did cease, but the person who once stood there was no longer familiar to them. He stood like a figure torn from legend, his presence heavy with the weight of myth. Gilded plates clung to his frame, each one carved with whorls of dragons and clouds, as though the heavens themselves had been hammered into metal.
His chest gleamed with layered plates, their surfaces etched so finely that they seemed to shift and move when the light touched them. Beneath, dark silks and crimson cloth spilled like rivers, the threads woven with patterns too intricate for mortal hands.
His legs bore the same weight of craft, greaves and plates hugging him close, yet his feet were bare rooted to the earth, primal, a reminder that beneath all the splendour, was a creature who did not forget his origin.
Despite the piece of gods that he wore, this sole flaw reminded him that he was a human.
Anvil trembled, his hands hovering near his sides, unsure whether to reach forward or to fold in humble restraint. In the end, he started to walk forwards, and with each step, his eyes quickly traced over every single detail of the remarkable craftsmanship.
"Magnificent..."
He had only seen one such a memory before, and even then, it was just a glimpse. He thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, but this... it surpassed even that.
The odd interaction had Ki Song stunted.
'Didn't know Anvil could be so infatuated with something other than swords. Not like this is any better.'
She cleared her throat before asking,
"So what exactly is that?"
Galahad snickered, before tilting his chin up and speaking with a voice filled with arrogance.
"It's a supreme memory of course."
That arrogance was well placed.
In just a few moments, a storm of voices crashed down on the young man. Everyone but Anvil red-faced, leaning forward, fists clenched, their shouts overlapping into a furious roar.
Ki Song was already jabbing fingers in his direction, Sylas waved his arms wildly, with anger almost physical in the air. And yet, at the centre of it all, he didn't even flinch. He stood loose and unbothered, lips tugged into a sly smirk, shoulders rising in an easy shrug as if the fury washing over him were nothing more than background noise.
'Well it seems one part of my plan worked!'
The number of great nightmare creatures slain by humanity could be counted on the fingers of ones hand. Of course, the nightmare spell did indeed reward humanity generously, as they had earned 3 Supreme rank memories in return.
The first for Immortal Flame, the next for the Nightwalkers, and the last going to Clan Valor.
And yet, what was most likely the fourth supreme memory to grace humanity, was standing right before them.
"How the hell did you even such a thing?"
"I got it from nowhere else but my Aspect legacy of course."
All of them knew the weight that an Aspect legacy had, especially on a legacy clan. It was something Epsilon himself strived to achieve as well. So seeing it did make him a bit jealous.
"The way I got it was weird though.. I just woke up one day and it was there."
'He unlocked an aspect legacy... as a sleeper... in his sleep... THIS SHIT IS RIGGED!'
So the spell just handed it over to him?? Just like that?? He barely had to work for it? Some awakened spent their entire lives just to never awaken it, and somehow he was supposed to believe he did it in his sleep??
'At least I had to claw my way out of the trenches! This is unfair!'
All he had was an attribute that told him the best decisions he could make, another attribute that let him heal quicker than most... made him unreliant on food in a place you had to put your life on the line to get it... as well as let him grow twice as fast.. and then there's his divine aspect...
'Well.. on second thought.. maybe it isn't that unfair.. Hang on he still earned it in his sleep, this is bullshit!'
But in the midst of his obvious irritation, another thought occurred to him.
"Wait... so you had something like this the entire time... and you never thought to use it once?"
Growing shy, Galahad muttered,
"Well you see... the thing is..."
Anvil finally noticing that Galahad was leaning over, quickly stepped out the way as he came crashing down to the floor. He slammed into the ground, face first, with the weight of his armour creating a small crater.
"Its too heavy to move in!!"
**
Once the fire went out, everyone finally left to go rest for the night. Of course, someone had to stay out on guard, so the first to volunteer was Epsilon. Gracia had no body, so she didn't need to sleep. But staying active many days in a row still took its mental tole, so occasionally she would also stay out longer than most, and even overlap shifts with the others.
After his shift ended though, the one to come out next was Sylas.
The two moved a bit further away from the shelters entrance. Not too far enough that they wouldn't be able to notice stray nightmare creatures trying to sneak inside, but not too close that anyone who may still be awake could hear them.
Starting things off strong, Sylas asked,
"So when were you going to tell me?"
She didn't say anything for a while. She herself wasn't even sure, but after reaffirming her thoughts, she finally replied,
"I was hoping you wouldn't even ask."
Sylas grunted.
"Why."
And almost immediately, she responded,
"Because I know what you would do."
It was a given. How could he sit back and watch her die?
"Is that such a bad thing? Is wanting to save you that much of a problem?"
"Save me? Did I ask for you to do anything like that? Do you think so little of me to be just some damsel in distress? I have never needed your help. Nevertheless, we don't know for sure if I can't use a gateway."
"And what's your plan if it turns out you can't? Fight the terror anyway, on your own? You say you don't need help, but you've been pretty eager to throw your life away for others!? Silon told me about what you did for Ki Song. How you valiantly sacrificed yourself to fend off an Ascended Tyrant with him. Did you even bother to ask Ki Song if she wanted to stay and fight too, or did you let Silon do all the convincing?"
There was a faint tremor in her voice. She said with as blunt as it could be,
"I didn't sacrifice myself."
It wasn't out of fear, but of recoiling, like she couldn't believe she had to acknowledge what he just said at all. Even without seeing her face, you could hear the way whatever she had for nose wrinkled, and the way her lips curled up in disbelief.
Sylas looked at her with morbid confusion.
"You genuinely thought you could win? With no plan?"
She stayed quiet.
"This is the problem with you. You're too arrogant. Even when you get kicked down to your knee's, you don't yield."
"If I gave up in the face of adversity so easily, how could I carry the name Immortal Flame?"
She was a legacy, Sylas was not. It wasn't unusual for him to struggle to understand the way she thought, as the two lived in completely different worlds.
Sylas lived a mundane life in a mundane place. He struggled everyday just to survive, with no one else to count on. Gracia on the other hand, although not having to go through the same struggles he did, grew up with a much heavier weight hanging just above her shoulders.
She was the daughter of Immortal Flame, heir to a great legacy clan, and the next hope of humanity. If she dies, humanities destruction to the Nightmare Spell was all but assured.
She could not afford to give up, she could not afford to sacrifice.
Whether she liked it or not, she would one day have to step up in place of her father if he were to fall.
Death was not a possibility in her eyes, nor was failure. All that mattered was what she had to do next.
"But you don't have to do it alone. I'm right here with you. I can't understand the way you think, but I don't need to either."
Sylas slowly lifted his hand, his palm open and steady towards the faint white flame. It hovered there, small and delicate, yet it glowed with a purity that seemed almost otherworldly. As his fingers edged closer, the warmth reached him, not searing, not harsh, but gentle, like sunlight resting on skin after a long night. His breath caught, the subtle heat spreading across his hand, carrying with it a sense of calm and quiet wonder, as though the flame itself were alive and welcoming his touch.
"All I know, is that I want to do it with you."
As his words left the air, she suddenly couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. When she finally dared a glance up, it was quick, fleeting, and immediately followed by a nervous smile tugging at her lips.
She was somehow so happy, and yet deeply saddened.
"Tomorrow, I'll split off from the rest. Galahad will definitely come, so I'll use him as a distraction. Even if I have to watch him die, I'll get you out of there."
He considered him a friend, but if he was to pick between the two, he'd save Gracia over anyone in the cohort, any day any time.
With a small plead in her voice, Gracia asked,
"I know I can't tell you to stop, but please promise me this. Don't ask for help from the other soul in your body, no matter what."
Being reminded of his existence, Sylas gripped his chest tightly and silently nodded.