I Leveled Up Faster Than The Gods Themselves
Chapter 5 Ashes Of Purpose
The atmosphere in the hall thickened around Ryn, the very heartbeat of the ancient edifice pulsing with a rhythm that became increasingly hard to ignore. Each resonating vibration crawled along the timeworn stone beneath their feet, carrying with it a low, resonant whisper that seemed to speak secrets too old and profound for mere mortal tongues to comprehend. The air was alive, shimmering with faint runes that glimmered against the cavernous walls, pulsing like veins coursing with blood. Every resonant beat pushed against Ryn's chest, intertwining with his own heartbeat until he could no longer discern which rhythm was his own and which belonged to the Guild Hall itself, intricately woven into a symphony of fate.
"Keep walking," Lyria urged, her voice a mix of determination and fear that trembled like a leaf in a storm despite the steely resolve gleaming in her eyes. "If we stop now, it might decide we are unworthy of its attention."
Ryn inhaled deeply, forcing himself to steady the frantic thumping in his chest. "Then let's ensure we give it something truly worth judging," he replied with a confidence he didn't entirely feel.
Together, they moved onward, the corridor gradually bending into an expansive circular chamber that felt almost alive with power. Towering pillars coiled like serpents in the dim light, each column etched with patterns of flickering luminescence that danced and shifted with a life of their own. In the very center of this grand room stood an altar, a magnificent structure carved from jet-black obsidian, atop which a violet flame flickered wickedly as if it possessed a will of its own.
In a flash, Ryn was transported back to the moment when that same violet flame had nearly consumed him, engulfing him in its fiery embrace when he had plummeted from the rooftop in Tokyo.
A jolt of memory surged through him, and his fingers tingled with echoes of that fateful encounter. The energy that had awoken his dormant abilities-the first he had ever harnessed, known as Soul Resonance-was still present within him, lying dormant yet vibrantly alive. He closed his eyes, reaching inward and grasping at that familiar power. It pulsed beneath the surface, responding gently to his call, as if it were echoing back to him, alive with all the promise it once held.
"Abilities are like promises," Ryn mused silently, the thought swimming like a ripple in his mind. "You can make them, but if you don't nurture them, they fade away and don't believe in you anymore."
At that moment, Lyria's gaze turned toward him, concern etched across her features. "What's troubling you?" she pressed, searching his face for signs of uncertainty beneath the brave facade he wore.
"Nothing," he reassured her softly, yet the weight of his words felt heavier than he intended. "I'm just recalling that strength means little if you turn your back on the very pieces of yourself that forged it."
Suddenly, a deep rumble reverberated through the air around them, shaking the very foundations of the chamber. From the violet flame, a figure began to materialize, cloaked in a shifting veil of smoke that writhed and coiled in unnatural angles, face obscured but filled with a palpable heaviness of intent.
"Prove your existence," the entity intoned, its voice echoing like the tolling of a distant bell. "Display that your actions shape your reality, not merely your words."
Ryn felt a thrill race through him, his pulse quickening with the adrenaline of the moment. He took a bold step forward, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. "If you desire proof," he asserted firmly, "then watch me carve it into the stone around us."
With a sudden burst of power, the figure struck first, its mere presence causing the ground beneath them to crack and splinter. Ryn dodged to the side-just barely-and summoned his resonance, feeling his blade hum and vibrate with the same energy that had once marked his awakening. Sparks erupted around him like stars exploding in a night sky.
"Another mistake," he muttered under his breath, recalling a lesson from his past. "You can't bury your action before it even begins."
The voice of his mentor echoed powerfully within him-those lessons he had once dismissed as mundane now resonated with clarity and truth as he found himself in the fray of battle. Each swing and every defensive maneuver became a rhythm, a cadence of learning that quickened his pulse alongside the heartbeat of the hall.
The entity lashed out again with a ferocity that felt almost personal. Lyria leapt alongside him, casting a shimmering barrier of light just in time to shield them from the blow, but it shattered like crystalline glass upon impact, sending her skidding backward with a sharp gasp.
Fueled by rage that collided violently with reason, Ryn lunged forward, determination flowing within him.
"Conflict is what gives stories their shape," he recalled, a mantra that resonated within him, "and every scar serves a purpose within the tale."
In response to the fire blazing in his heart, the hall seemed to react, the runes along the walls flaring to life with bright intensity. The violet flame mirrored the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat, and inside him surged a tempest of emotions-fear, fury, but most importantly, purpose-woven tightly together with the precision of each strike he initiated.
"Don't start your story on an average day," he muttered through clenched teeth, rallying his strength. "Start it on the day everything changes."
As he said the words, the flame-being faltered, its form beginning to solidify and take shape into a twisted reflection of Ryn himself, yet older and infused with an icy chill that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Suspense doesn't come from confusion," Ryn realized aloud, his voice echoing in the vast chamber like a haunting melody. "It emerges from clarity… from an acute awareness of what could be lost."
The doppelgänger struck with unyielding force, its blade clashing violently against Ryn's own. "You fear being forgotten," it taunted, adopting his own voice in a mocking tone. "That is why you tirelessly chase after gods."
"I don't chase gods," Ryn retorted, gritting his teeth as he pushed back against the doppelgänger's might. "I am in pursuit of meaning."
The reflection grinned-a cruel imitation of his own arrogance, illustrating the duality of his struggles. The lesson was laid bare before him-every ability gained, every failure encountered, every emotion felt had conspired to forge this very moment. Not a single experience had been wasted.
With a guttural roar, he unleashed Soul Resonance once more, this time channeling it through every fiber of his being rather than just his blade. The resulting shockwave surged outward, splitting the chamber's silence and unleashing a burst of violet light that dispelled the apparition into a flurry of shimmering particles.
As the echo of battle faded, Lyria managed to rise shakily to her feet, her eyes wide with shock and awe. "You… you did it," she gasped, unable to mask the tremor in her voice or the disbelief written across her face.
Ryn lowered his sword, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with exertion. "No," he corrected her with a steady voice, his expression softening. "What I did was learn it."
As they stepped out of the dim chamber, the violet flames that had cast their haunting glow slowly began to flicker and fade, gradually shrinking into mere wisps of smoke. In the aftermath of this ethereal light, the Guild Hall began a transformation of its own. The walls, once standing tall and unyielding, seemed to fold inward with a graceful fluidity, as though they were breathing, rearranging themselves effortlessly. The torches that lined the corridor realigned, their flames dancing to an unseen rhythm, while the interconnecting pathways converged into a singular archway-an exquisite frame of shimmering silver light that beckoned them forward.
As Ryn and Lyria progressed into the newly shaped space, letters began to etch themselves into the stone wall captivatingly, glowing with a soft, otherworldly luminescence. The inscription read
"To tell a story that lasts, one must never forget the lessons of creation."
A familiar frown creased Lyria's brow as she took in the words, the weight of their meaning hanging in the air. "What does it mean?" she asked, her curiosity piqued, as she struggled to grasp the intent behind the mysterious proclamation.
Ryn, feeling the ancient echoes of wisdom resonating within him, read the glowing text aloud. His voice took on a reverent tone, as if he were reciting a timeworn proverb-a rite of passage that every gifter of tales should commit to memory. The words resonated deeply, filling the gilded space with a palpable sense of history and significance.
Once he finished the recitation, the letters gradually dimmed and disappeared, leaving behind an unsettling silence that enveloped them like a thick fog, punctuated only by the distant reverberation of his own voice lingering in the stillness.
With a purposeful exhale, Ryn tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword, the cool metal grounding him. "Guess even the gods left notes for beginners," he remarked, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he pondered the divine humor hidden within the cryptic message.
Lyria glanced at him, a hint of a smile blooming on her face. "Or perhaps they are offering us warnings," she countered, her voice thoughtful as she considered the potential gravity behind the phrase.
The shimmering light ahead intensified, illuminating their path and revealing a spiraling staircase that descended ever deeper, leading into the very heart of the Guild Hall-a place shrouded in secrets and ancient lore.
Ryn turned to Lyria, a fervor igniting within his gaze. "If this place is imparting us lessons," he mused, his tone turning contemplative, "then perhaps the gods are not simply testing our strength and resolve."
Lyria tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "Then what are they doing?" she inquired, her voice soft, yet laced with anticipation.
With a resolute stare directed toward the darkened depths below, Ryn's determination shimmered in his eyes like the spark of a newly ignited flame. "Maybe they're guiding us, teaching us the ways to craft our own story… one that might even outlast theirs."
The Guild Hall pulsed once more-a heartbeat resonating through the corridors, either in approval of their newfound insight, or perhaps in eager anticipation of the next unfolding chapter.
Side by side, they bravely took the first step into the unknown, their hearts set on growing, learning, and ultimately, shaping their own destinies.
To be continued…