THE LAST PARAGON IN THE APOCALYPSEC140: Our peaceful days are over
"Aurelia, what do you mean by 'wipe your memory'? You will forget about me?" Fruity asked, looking at the young lady beside him.
Aurelia gave him a complicated smile and replied, "I know, Fruity. But I can't be the reason people come after you. If I know about your ice, it only makes it more dangerous for you."
"But you will forget about me. You're my only friend," Fruity said, his voice tinged with sadness.
"And you are my only friend too," Aurelia said, tears welling up in her eyes. "But I can't let my presence put you in danger. I have to let go of the small memories we have. I can't risk your life for my own unwillingness to forget."
The Ice Princess spoke up, "Aurelia is right, Fruity. She needs to forget. But don't worry. I will take her to the Ice Palace. Once you're strong enough, you can come search for her. For now, you should return to the monastery.
It's the best place for you to hide and grow stronger."
Fruity looked troubled. "But how can you help me? You don't even know me."
The Ice Princess nodded, understanding his concern. "I know it's hard to trust me, but I will do my best. I can cover your tracks and protect you for now. I can't promise everything will be perfect, but I will try my hardest to help you."
Fruity felt a mix of frustration and gratitude. He knew the Ice Princess was trying to help, but the uncertainty of his situation weighed heavily on him. He glanced at Aurelia, who gave him a final, tearful smile.
"Thank you," Fruity said quietly. "I appreciate everything you're doing."
Aurelia nodded, her expression resolute despite her tears. "Stay safe, Fruity. And remember, you are not alone. We will find a way to be together again."
The Ice Princess and Aurelia vanished from the room, leaving only Fruity and his uncle behind. Fruity looked at his uncle and sighed deeply. His peaceful days were clearly over. "Let's go, Uncle," he said. Together, they left and headed back to the monastery.
Far from Hammon City, the Ice Princess stood atop an ice mountain, gazing at a girl before her. Suddenly, an icy mist swirled around Aurelia. When the mist cleared, a completely different person stood in her place. She looked almost identical to the Ice Princess but had silver hair and a natural charm that made her seem more in tune with nature.
"Sister, do you think he will be alright?" the Ice Princess asked, her voice tinged with concern.
The woman, now looking like a more mature version of Aurelia, responded calmly. "He will be fine. You and I both know he's not as simple as he seemed. He just needs a few years to grow, and everything will be fine."
She noticed the worried look on her sister's face and added with a gentle smile, "You know you can't tell him everything right now. He has to figure things out on his own."
The Ice Princess nodded slowly. "I know, sister. It's just that when I saw him, he was so happy and full of life. Now, he looks like the weight of the world is pressing down on him."
Aurelia, now in her mature form, reassured her. "Don't worry, Tasha. He will be fine. For now, we need to ensure that no one discovers him. After all, he hasn't just awakened Annihilation Ice. He has also awakened Chaos Ice and Devouring Ice.
The world is about to become chaotic, and we need to be prepared."
"What?" The Ice Princess exclaimed, but her shout was cut off by the sudden shattering of space. The two women vanished into the void.
Back at the monastery, Fruity stood before six imposing figures, each radiating a terrifying presence. The room was thick with tension.
"So you're saying he has awakened Annihilation Ice?" one of the ancient monks asked. Uncle Monk nodded in response.
"Good. This is good," the ancient monk said with a smile, and the others followed suit, their expressions showing approval. Fruity was taken aback by their reaction.
"Grandpa, why is this good? People will literally come after me. They will try to kill me just for possessing this ice. How can this be good for me?" Fruity asked, his voice filled with confusion and fear.
The ancient monks exchanged glances before one of them spoke. "What you have awakened is incredibly rare and powerful. While it does put you at great risk, it also marks you as someone of immense potential. The power within you could turn the tide of many conflicts and bring great change. It is a double-edged sword, but it is a significant strength."
Fruity struggled to see the positive side of the situation. "But how can I protect myself from those who will want to harm me?"
The ancient monk nodded thoughtfully. "That is why we are here. We will help you train and prepare. Your journey will be difficult, but with our guidance, you can learn to control and harness your powers."
Fruity studied the monks for a while as if trying to gauge whether he could trust them. After a moment, he sighed and extended his hand. Dark ice, red ice, and dark gold ice materialized in the air, shimmering with a powerful aura.
The monks' eyes widened in shock as they saw the three types of ice. Their jaws dropped in disbelief.
"Annihilation Ice, Chaos Ice, and Devouring Ice," one of the ancient monks said, his voice trembling.
Fruity looked at them, confused. "Grandpa Monk, what are these types of ice?"
The ancient monk took a deep breath to steady himself. "Each of these ice types is incredibly rare and dangerous. They represent different aspects of the Ice element."
He pointed to the dark ice. "This is Annihilation Ice. It can erase anything it touches, reducing it to nothingness. It is one of the most feared types of ice because of its destructive nature."
Next, he gestured to the red ice. "This is Chaos Ice. It causes instability and disorder. It can disrupt the balance of elements and create chaos wherever it is used."
Finally, he indicated the dark gold ice. "This is Devouring Ice. It consumes and absorbs other energies, growing stronger with each thing it devours. It is nearly impossible to stop once it starts feeding."
Fruity listened carefully, absorbing the information. "So, each type of ice has its own unique power. Why are they so dangerous?"
The ancient monk nodded. "These ice types are dangerous because they can cause great harm if not controlled properly. They have the potential to change the world in significant ways, which is why they are so feared and sought after."
"I see," Fruity said. "So, they are afraid I might become too powerful in the future and can't be stopped." Grandpa Monk nodded in agreement.
"I understand," Fruity continued, his voice calm but carrying a note of resignation. "I will train and become stronger." His usual lively demeanor was gone, replaced by a more mature and somber attitude.
Grandpa Monk looked at him with a heavy heart. He turned to Fruity's Uncle Monk. "Take him to the Soul Temple and let him select any skill or technique he wants. After that, take him to the Immortal Cave."
He then addressed Fruity directly. "Use whatever resources you need to grow stronger. Your life is in your own hands now. As for us old fossils, we will stay here and stand guard."
Fruity nodded, accepting the responsibility. He left with his Uncle Monk, heading toward the Soul Temple. There was nothing he could do now but train and grow stronger.
Once they were gone, one of the ancient monks turned to the Grandmaster Monk. "Activate the formation and get everyone ready. Our peaceful days are over."
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THE LAST PARAGON IN THE APOCALYPSEC141: Nine Divine Soul Bead Art
Fruity and his Uncle Monk walked in silence toward the northern part of the monastery. This was where the training area was located—the most secure part of the monastery. The quiet between them felt heavy, each step filled with unspoken thoughts.
As they reached the edge of the training grounds, Fruity couldn't hold back his worry any longer. "Uncle, do you think my presence here will put the monastery in danger?" He already knew the answer deep down, but he didn't want to admit it.
Uncle Monk paused for a moment before replying, his voice calm but firm. "No, Fruity. You are part of this monastery. This is your home. No matter what happens, your uncles and everyone here will protect you. You just need to grow stronger and show the world you fear no one."
Fruity nodded, though the knot in his stomach tightened. His uncle was trying to comfort him, but Fruity knew the truth. The monastery was on the brink of being dragged into something dangerous, all because of him.
"Thank you, Uncle," Fruity said softly. He felt a mix of gratitude and guilt. The monastery could have easily sent him away, distancing themselves from whatever trouble was coming his way. But they didn't. They chose to stand by him, even knowing the risks.
As they walked further into the training area, Fruity clenched his fists. He had to become stronger, and fast. He couldn't let his uncles sacrifice their safety for him without doing his part. He couldn't allow himself to be the reason they faced danger.
The weight of responsibility pressed on him. Every step he took from now on had to be toward growth, toward becoming someone capable of protecting not just himself but those he cared about.
Uncle Monk glanced at Fruity, sensing the storm of thoughts inside him. "Don't carry this burden alone, Fruity. We're all in this together."
Fruity gave a small smile, though his heart was still heavy. He appreciated his uncle's words, but he knew he couldn't rely on others forever. He had to step up.
After passing the training ground, the Soul Temple came into view. It was a grand, majestic structure, standing proudly at the heart of the monastery. This temple housed all the most advanced techniques and skills that the monastery had accumulated over centuries.
Uncle Monk stopped and turned to Fruity. "Fruity, you need to choose the best technique that suits your abilities," he said. "Inside are powerful defensive and offensive skills, but remember, everyone has something unique that sets them apart from others. It's the same with techniques—some things can't be learned unless you're meant for them."
Fruity listened carefully as his uncle continued. "What I'm trying to say is, don't choose a technique just because of the trouble you're facing. Relax and look for something that fits you. Some believe that when the right technique appears, you'll know it instantly."
The idea of picking a technique overwhelmed Fruity a bit, but he knew this was an important step. His future strength depended on it.
"Take your time," Uncle Monk added. "Go through the scrolls and see what calls out to you. Once you've made your choice, I'll take you to the Immortal Cave. The Spiritual Qi there is denser and more concentrated. It will help you cultivate faster."
Fruity nodded, understanding the weight of this decision. Since his uncle could not enter, he approached the entrance, Fruity felt a strange energy emanating from the temple. It was as if the techniques themselves were alive, waiting to be chosen by the right person.
He took a deep breath. "Thank you, Uncle. I'll choose wisely," he promised.
Uncle Monk smiled warmly. "I know you will. Trust your instincts, Fruity. They've never led you astray."
As soon as Fruity stepped inside the building, he felt like he had entered another dimension. The air was different, heavier yet filled with an almost ethereal energy. The space seemed vast and endless, yet when he looked around, he noticed something surprising—there were fewer than a hundred scrolls and tomes scattered around the room.
"I guess Uncle wasn't exaggerating when he said I should look through them all," Fruity muttered, scanning the room. "There are fewer than I expected."
He began walking slowly, wanting to see the techniques first and hoping to feel some sort of connection. His eyes landed on a scroll, and curiosity got the better of him. He opened it and read the title aloud.
"Astra Projection Art." The moment he gazed at the scroll, something unexpected happened. A strange sensation filled his mind. "Huh, I... I learned it. But how?"
He had merely glanced at the content, which was written in a series of diagrams, and yet he could now recall everything perfectly as if it had been embedded into his mind.
"Does this mean I can learn any skill or technique just by looking at it?" Fruity whispered, his mind racing with disbelief. The information had appeared in his head without any effort, as though he had spent weeks studying it.
"Maybe it's just this one," he thought, still baffled. He put down the Astra Projection scroll and moved to the next one.
"Divine Ascension: 419 Strikes," he read aloud. As soon as the words left his mouth, the entire technique materialized in his mind, just like before.
"Well, this is weird," Fruity muttered, though he couldn't help but smile. The situation was strange, but the potential was thrilling. "It won't hurt to learn them all, I guess."
He glanced around the room again, counting about 73 scrolls and 14 tomes in total. His heart raced with excitement. If simply looking at these techniques allowed him to memorize them, why not learn everything? It was an opportunity too good to pass up.
Without hesitation, Fruity walked from scroll to scroll, tome to tome. Each time he opened one, the content would immediately flood into his mind. Defense techniques, offensive arts, even rare and forbidden skills—everything was now at his fingertips.
As he absorbed the knowledge, Fruity felt an overwhelming sense of power growing inside him. It was as if the techniques weren't just being memorized—they were becoming a part of him.
After a while, Fruity stood still, his mind buzzing with countless techniques and strategies. He had learned them all, effortlessly.
"This... this is unbelievable," Fruity said to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He wasn't sure what this strange ability was or why it worked, but he couldn't deny its power.
Just like that, Fruity had learned all the techniques the Monastery had gathered over centuries, possibly even millennia. "I'm sorry, Uncles, but I couldn't stop my brain from working," he said, feeling guilty for absorbing all the skills and knowledge so quickly.
"Well, I guess there's no special technique here for me," Fruity muttered, disappointed. The connection his uncle had spoken of didn't happen to him. He had already learned everything the Monastery had to offer, but the unique technique meant just for him still hadn't appeared. With a sigh, he turned and started to leave the building.
As he approached the exit, something caught his eye. The door he had walked through earlier, which had closed behind him, now seemed different. He had been so focused on the strange space inside that he hadn't looked back to check the door like most people would.
Now, as he looked more closely, he noticed intricate drawings of diagrams and runes etched into the door. Above them was a title written in strange, glowing runes.
"Nine Divine Soul Bead Art," Fruity whispered as he read the name aloud.
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THE LAST PARAGON IN THE APOCALYPSEC142: Strange Place
"Nine Divine Soul Bead Art," Fruity whispered as he read the name aloud. He didn't even need a second to look at the runic inscriptions, he immediately knew the meaning so he spoke the name.
The moment he said the words, the runes on the door began to light up, pulsing with energy. A low hum filled the air, and Fruity immediately felt a strange sensation in his chest as if something was calling out to him.
Fruity's heart raced faster as he approached the glowing door. "Is this it? Is this the technique meant for me?" he thought, moving closer. The light intensified, and suddenly, the door swung open again.
He expected to see the outside of the building, but what greeted him took him by surprise. Instead of the familiar surroundings, he saw a peaceful, evergreen space filled with vibrant flowers, rare plants, and birds flying about. Their soft chirping created a melody that instantly calmed him.
"What is this place?" Fruity muttered as he stepped through the doorway. The atmosphere was serene, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could tell that this place wasn't part of the world he had come from. It felt like a completely different plane of existence.
"Finally, the renegade has appeared." Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.
Startled, Fruity jerked forward, his heart pounding again. He quickly turned around and saw a bald man sitting under an apple tree, draped in simple monk robes with heavy-looking prayer beads around his neck. The man sat calmly on a prayer mat, his presence powerful yet strangely peaceful.
"Who are you?" Fruity asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though he couldn't hide the fear creeping in. The monk's presence felt overwhelming, like a force of nature.
The monk smiled gently and gestured to a prayer mat across from him. "Come, sit down, Fruity."
Fruity hesitated but was too curious to refuse. As he sat down, he couldn't help but ask, "Grandpa, how do you know my name?" Since the monk hadn't introduced himself, Fruity gave him the same respectful title he used for the elder monks at the monastery.
The monk chuckled softly. "Names are easy to know, especially when the heavens have been watching you for a long time."
Fruity felt a cold chill run down his spine. "The heavens?" he repeated, his voice tinged with sudden wariness. He couldn't explain it, but hearing that word stirred something deep inside him—an odd mix of anger and sadness.
It wasn't something he fully understood, yet the feelings lingered. On the outside, he remained calm, but the monk sitting before him seemed to notice everything, as though he could see straight into Fruity's soul.
The monk didn't mention it. Instead, he asked a simple question, "Fruity, what is it that you want in this life?"
Fruity blinked, caught off guard. What did he want? The question seemed easy enough, but when he tried to answer, he found himself struggling. A day ago, the answer would have been simple.
He would have said that he wanted to grow up, eat lots of food, play with his uncles, and maybe when he was strong enough, he'd seek out the Ice Princess, the girl he admired so much. But now, that dream felt distant, almost childish.
His life had changed in ways he hadn't expected. He wasn't just a carefree boy anymore. Now, he was responsible for much more. He needed to become stronger, not to chase after a girl, but to protect himself and those he cared about.
He had to grow powerful enough to reunite with Aurelia and defend his home when the inevitable dangers arrived.
"I want to be strong enough to tear down the heavens and protect the ones I love," Fruity said suddenly. The words came out without hesitation, even though he hadn't planned to say them. They were raw, filled with emotion he didn't fully understand, but he knew in his heart they were true.
The monk's eyes gleamed with understanding as he gazed at Fruity. There was no surprise, only acceptance. "A noble desire," he said softly. "But be warned, Fruity, tearing down the heavens is no easy task. It will demand more of you than you can imagine. Strength alone may not be enough."
Fruity clenched his fists. "I'll do whatever it takes. I won't let anyone hurt the people I care about."
The monk nodded. "Good. Hold on to that resolve. It will guide you in the dark times ahead. But remember, strength isn't just about power—it's about the heart, the will to keep going when everything else tells you to stop."
Fruity sat in silence, absorbing the monk's words. He wasn't sure what the future held, but he knew one thing: he couldn't afford to fail. Too many people were counting on him.
The monks didn't show it, but deep down, they were all wary of what was to come. They knew that no amount of training, secrecy, or careful covering of tracks could hide Fruity's existence forever. He was an oddity, something that didn't fit the natural order. And the heavens? They wouldn't allow such an oddity to grow.
Fruity's presence was like a crack in their design, something destined to be eradicated.
After observing Fruity for a while, the Monk spoke "Good. Now remember, you are who you choose to be. Don't let the rules or expectations of others change who you are meant to become. You are a Paragon, the bane of the heavens. Be one. Be the renegade, the one who defies all norms."
As the monk's words echoed in Fruity's mind, something strange happened. His vision began to darken, and before he could react, everything around him disappeared into blackness. The peaceful evergreen space was gone, and when his sight returned, he found himself standing in an empty, vast expanse. The place felt hollow and desolate, with no light to guide him and no life in sight.
A shiver ran down his spine. The darkness wasn't just a lack of light—it felt like something more, something pressing against his very soul.
Then, suddenly, a low, rhythmic chanting filled the air. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The words were strange, foreign, yet they stirred something deep inside Fruity. The chanting grew louder and more intense, and Fruity stood there, frozen in place as if drawn into a trance.
As the chanting continued, a sense of unease and wonder washed over him. His heart raced, but at the same time, he felt a strange calm, as though the chanting was meant for him, calling to him. The sound seemed to speak to the deepest parts of his soul, unlocking thoughts and emotions he didn't know he had.
He felt entranced, unable to move or look away. Something was happening—something beyond his understanding.
"What... is this place?" Fruity whispered, his voice swallowed by the vast emptiness around him. But no one answered.
The chanting intensified, filling his mind with images, symbols, and fragments of something greater. It was as if the very space he stood in was alive, pulsating with an ancient power that was reaching out to him.
Fruity didn't know what was happening, however, he soon got the answer. The chanting suddenly stopped and Fruity was left standing inside the Soul Temple. Somehow, he was back there.
He sighed, but just when he could move, something appeared in his mind, "The Nine Divine Soul Bead Art... It's the first form" He smiled and then walked out of the Temple with a smile playing on his lips.
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