Kalon Bloodborn's POV
The walk to the residential sector of the citadel felt was lively. The halls bustled with energy of Lamians, which was a stark contrast to the familiar calm I was accustomed to. Here, the air was filled with scents of old parchment, exotic beast musk from nearby stables, and metallic tang of mana-conductive artifacts. Lamians spilled out of libraries clutching heavy tones, while others gathered in the open marketplaces to barter for mana stones or dicuss about mana. This was something I noticed, to them, the world was a playground filled with potential.
'I'm envious. I hope my mindset can change quickly to theirs. So I no longer see this world as a thin crust of ice over a void filled with demons.'
My eyes were soon drawn away from the crowds and now towards the walls of the citadel. Detailed carvings etched into the white stone walls. They shimmered with a gold glow. I had just realized only now, that every wall has this inscriptions.
'But why did I notice them only now? And why is it only this tiny section that glows?' The remaining vast inscriptions remained dull in the wall and only a small piece appeared to glow.
"What are those inscriptions, Selene?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I felt a strong pull towards the inscriptions.
Selene let out a soft giggle. "You're sharp, aren't you? Most newcomers just see pretty patterns. Those inscriptions hold passages from the great scholars. They aren't mere words, they carry truth. It's one thing to understand, it's another to truly believe. If you study them hard enough to not just come to an understanding but truly believe, you might gain insight, unlocking magical abilities you weren't born with"
I stopped, staring at that particular section of dense symbols.
"It's not easy feat," she continued, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Some find the knowledge too much to digest. It requires a level of enlightenment. To those who haven't reached it, they are just words. But to the enlightened, the letters move. Some describe it as dancing even, with a gold glow."
'It requires a level of enlightenment to comprehend the these inscriptions. But that enlightenment is what one seeks to gain from the inscription in the first place. Truly the unfairness of this world even has effect in Stygia. To reach the expected level for each inscription, wouldn't one need to match the level of enlightenment.'
I reached out, my fingers hovering just inches from the white stone. "Has anyone here.... actually mastered them?"
Selene's expression shifted, her brught eyes dimming much like a candle that had been caught in a draft. She bore old grief, that I was certain. "I was thinking of any friend," she said softly. "Ronan. He's a Sol and my intended."
She looked up again. "Back then he careless. Brilliant, but he was impatient. He spent years trying to unravel a specific passage regarding the mystery of true flames. At that time he was on the brink of a breakthrough. He did eventually gain enlightenment, but his mind suffered backlash from forcing it."
"It brought him immense pain" she waited, then continued." His body nearly broke under the strain of housing a power greater than he could hold. But he survived. And I have the Lamians to thank for that. No race matches your kind in healing. Enlightenment is a rugged terrain, Kalon. For Ronan, he was lucky to survive."
We continued in silence for a time. I kept thinking about Ronan's story.
'The path to enlightenment is not a gift. It is a trade.' I reasoned how quickly I could avoid such a backlash. Was I ready to trade so much for the strength to kill demons?
Finally, we reached the room designated for me. On opening the door, I was surprised first by the vast space, I considered enough to house two people. The room was decorated with tapestries on the wall. It depicted nine circles certainly representing the nine races.
"Rest," Selene urged, squeezing my hand once before retreating. "You bear the patriarch name. Much is expected from you. I may not be a Lamian but I could always help you with training. Take care."
Once the door clicked shut, I realized I was finally alone. I stripped away the tunic I had worn. Stepping into the bathtub, filled with lukewarm water that embraced me.
I closed my eyes, and a sensation took over. I felt a human warmth, my memory shifting. It was my mother's hug, with that familiar gentle, enveloping pressure. Even the scent that clung to her hair felt real.
The memory left a bitter, almost metallic taste in my mouth. I was here, living in luxury, while she lay became...
How could I even identify them? My parents had more wisdom that my entire being. I was simply lucky.
Time melted away as I remained in the bathtub reminiscing, while my stress dissolved into the water until my skin pruned. Eventually, I forced myself out, wrapping my body in ash colored tunic.
Standing before the mirror, I took a long look, admiring my thick braided hair. I tied it into a neat bun, revealing my face. My cheek fat had begun to slim down, leaving a chin that looked sharper. Brown skin that had a healthy sheen in light of the room.
"A survivor" I said.
A knock at the door drew my attention.
'Could it be Selene?' I thought, turning and walking toward the door. I open it to find a boy who looked no older than I. Curly hair framed his face, that bared a unmistakable scarlet eyes of the Lamians. Behind him stood a small, mischievous looking creature, I realized was I drunt. It carried with it a sliver platter of food.
The boy smiled. "Hello. My name is Damon Bloodborn. Nice to meet you, brother." he said, extending a hand.
I looked at the lamian named Damon, and the nameless creature and realized my life in the citadel was about to become far more complicated than a simple 'path to enlightenment'.
I took it firmly, noting the softness of his palms. Behind him, the drunt shuffled into the room. It was bearded with a face mapped with wrinkles. Despite being a mortal in the realm of Celestials, the drunt carried itself with dignity. It wore rather simple clothes.
On the sliver platter, was a feast that stirred my hunger. Succulent meats, with berries and rich dark pudding.
"This will save you well," Famon said, gesturing to the Drunt. The little figure bowed so low his beard brushed the plush carpet. "I greet Master Kalon" the creature spoke, his ears twitching.
"What is your name, mortal?" I asked.
"He's unnamed, Kalon," Damon interjected, sauntering toward the recliner and resting on it.
I looked at the drunt. It would cost nothing for me to refuse and have him continue his service as the lowest level he could possibly serve. But I felt a desperate purpose from his eyes. In that moment, I decided.
'I do not want a servant. Rather, I need a witness. I firmly believe even now that the wreckage of my life is not the end. It is simply a foundation for my journey. Kalon Bloodborn will change this world. I would stop the demons. And when I've succeeded, the younger generation would need to know how it all started.'
"Then your name shall be Proteus," I said "my first follower."
Proteus eyes widened. "Thank you, Master. This one shall be called Proteus."
"There'll be much to learn from me, Proteus," I continued. "I'm not one to needlessly burden others, even a mortal such as yourself. I offer you a simple role. You shall serve as my chronicles. Keep records of my feats. That is what I require of you."
Damon let out a short, sharp laugh, waving me over. "A chronicles? You haven't even finished your first meal in the citadel and you're already planning the history books? Come, Kalon. Let's chatter over your food."
As I ate, the succulent meat made my nerves feel as though they knitted back together. Even with the heavnely food, I tried remain focus on Damon. He spoke greatly of the patriarch. That was when I mentioned I had been saved by that very patriarch and even invited to be his real disciple. The expression was expected, Damon looked jawdropped.
"The patriarch? Lord Cian?" He leaned forward, that goofiness, replaced by envy that he barely tried to hide.
I chuckled inwardly. Damon began to talk about his studies. He went as far as to demonstrate. With a casual flick of his wrist, a thin jagged wound appeared across his palm. Blood trickled down.
I watched, stung by his brazen display. He hovered his other hand above the injury. Like wet silk rubbing together, flesh seeked flesh and bone aligned with bone. That was healing and the wound merged seamlessly, leaving behind a skin as smooth as if it had never been cut.
"Don't you love pain?" I asked, still dazed.
Damon face twisted in confusion. "Like most, I have the privilege of being born in the citadel." He said.
"It has brought me this far. I understand what you've been through, Kalon. But it's okay to take things slow. It might take longer, but it what's best for someone... from the outside"
Damon tried his best to be friendly, but i already had my own plans.
"I'm well aware of my strength, Damon," I said, a smug grin masking the inferiority I hid inside me. "It won't take long for me to finish my studies once I get to the Hall of Knowledge. Who knows, the patriarch might even grant me access to his personal abode."
Damon chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, mister Sagacious. How about I take you there now?"
I stood up, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to me. My direction veered not towards the door, but back toward my bed. "I need a little rest before diving into it"
As I laid down, my body sank into the foam. The scent of the room swirled in my mind.
I fell into a sleep that felt less like rest. Almost like I was drowning.