SVAN CHORYTH

  “One thing I find interesting about you is your persistence; like a stubborn itch that refuses to go away. But that is all you are, an itch, nothing more. I wonder what kind of arrogance that fuelled you into thinking that you could take me on. Were you confident or were you just simply deluded?”

  For the first time in the long life I’d lived, trying to stand up seemed like an impossible task, as exhaustion rendered me helpless. I couldn’t speak, and the only thing I could do was wheeze loudly, because that was the only thing keeping me alive. Each breath I inhaled was painful, like a sharp knife slashing my lungs every time air went in. I could bear it because it wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

  “You should be thankful to me for getting rid of you. Things like you are an abomination, and shouldn’t exist.”

  The words that the Monarch of Chaos spoke were becoming increasingly annoying, but unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it because I was helpless. I felt the true power of a Monarch and the outcome was embarrassing—an utter defeat.

  Did I go too far? Was I being too greedy? Maybe I should have just settled with being the Sovereign that I was; at least Sovereigns wielded immense power, and were considered Lesser Monarchs.

  “No, it wasn’t greed,” I thought reassuringly, clinging to the belief that my ambitions were justified.

  These realms were difficult and unforgiving—where the strong survived, and the weak, well, remained at the mercy of the strong.

  The Chaos Monarch moved closer to me, and spoke once again. His voice sounded like a blend of soothing tones and thunderous roars at the same time. Though It sounded unintelligible, I could hear him clearly. He didn’t condense his form into a body even after defeating me, just to intimidate me further.

  His boundless form; a pure and unrestrained chaos. He appeared as a colossal ever-expanding tempest—a raging storm with a cacophony of thunder and shrieking winds. The storm pulsed with a blinding iridescent light, a fusion of every colour imaginable, and some that defy description. The light wasn’t static, but was alive, shifting in patterns that seemed to whisper the secrets of creation and destruction. Tendrils of energy spiralled outwards, sometimes they collided, creating rippling shockwaves. The air—if it can still be called air—crackled with the energy of creation; one could see things of all sorts, trying to take form. But it was short-lived, as they were destroyed as quickly as they came alive.

  “Look at you. Your human traits have once again failed you. Did you think you were special just because you are a child of Darya? Did you think you were untouchable? You bit more than you could chew and now, you are paying for it.”

  I looked at the monstrosity speaking to me, and a sense of satisfaction washed over me. It felt impossible to believe that I was even able to go up against a Named Monarch. Though In the end, it turned out that I stood no chance against it. I didn’t go down easily, I fought a good fight, forcing him to come at me in his boundless form.

  I wasn't arrogant or overconfident about beating the Monarch like he claimed. For me, it was all about survival. I’d carefully and meticulously prepared for this battle for a long time, and I wasn’t going to be a part of it if I didn’t think I had any chance of beating him.

  I wasn’t just a weakling that tried to defy the odds. I was my mother’s son, so it was natural that I inherited some of the powers she possessed as a Monarch. But like the Monarch of Chaos said, my human traits failed me. I was part human, therefore wielding even part of the powers Named Monarchs possessed was overwhelming. I didn’t just want to sit idly and let my limitations define me. My mother had once told me that I could become one of them if I gained the Heavens Feel. Unfortunately, the Heavens Feel wasn’t something that was just given like a gift. It was earned, a price that came at a very high cost.

  I knew that the odds were stacked against me, yet I challenged it. Each step I took, each challenge I faced, each battle I won, and each adventure I conquered, brought me closer to attaining the Heavens Feel. There was just one more hurdle left, and the most difficult of them—killing a Named Monarch.

  I chose to take on the Monarch of Chaos, simply because I despised him. My history with him was one marked with vengeance, a tale woven with pain and loss. During my early quest to attain the Heavens Feel, I ventured into the Shattered Expanse—a chaotic realm under Modraths dominion. Whispers reached me about a fragment of the Heavens Feel hidden there, guarded by the forces of the Monarch of Chaos.

  The encounter marked my first taste of defeat. But just defeat wasn’t the sole reason for my deeply rooted hatred towards the Monarch—the death of Ghrelin was. Ghrelin wasn’t just a friend to me, he was someone I considered a brother, and I watched him die by the hands of the forces of Chaos. I carried the weight of the loss and blamed myself for his death. The trauma of defeat at the Shattered Expanse, coupled with Ghrelin’s death left me with a deep personal vendetta against Modrath. So I thought, if getting rid of a Named Monarch would finally grant me the Heavens Feel, then the Monarch of Chaos had to be eliminated. But in the end, once again, I fell short.

  My consciousness was gradually fading, I was dying slowly, yet the Monarch didn’t want to finish me off. It was almost as if he relished watching me die. I fought the exhaustion that overwhelmed me for a bit, before finally managing to speak.

  “Why prolong it?” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper.

  “He laughed loudly, as thunder rumbled incessantly.

  “Isn’t it obvious? I want you to take your time to realize just how futile your efforts were. How helpless you were in the face of Modrath, the Endless Tempest. But personally, I think watching you suffer is far more entertaining than a quick death.”

  With each passing second, time stretched endlessly. I could feel the life draining from me—a slow and agonizing withdrawal. It was then that the reality of the situation hit me—I was going to die even without attaining the Heavens Feel.

  Before my consciousness completely faded away, I felt my mother’s presence. Darya, the Celestial Sovereign, Monarch of Space, had come to my aid.

  ***

  I opened my eyes, realizing that I was in a healer’s inn. While waiting for Yukina to recover, I drifted to sleep. I found myself sitting tiredly, my head tilted, my shoulders dropped, with my arms resting against my thighs. I, too, was exhausted from the battle against the Dark Ones, but I didn't seem to notice it because there were a lot of other things I had to worry about.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Yukina, now awake, sat on her bed staring at me. And when I opened my eyes, she said to me,

  “Watching you sleep like this reminds me that you are human after all. Sometimes, watching you do the things you do, I tend to forget that. It was a much needed sleep, you’ve been through so much.”

  I straightened,

  “Look at who’s talking, You are the one who almost died.”

  “Died? He-he,” she chuckled.

  “Death must have given up on us considering the number of times we’ve escaped its claws,” she continued.

  Yukina offered a faint smile, but her eyes reflected the shadows of what we faced. She was still scarred, yet she tried to stay strong. Did I look at her any differently, knowing what I now know? The answer was no. She was still my sister, and I couldn't see her as anything else besides that. I knew a lot was going to change in my life given that my memories had returned, but my family wasn’t.

  “Are you okay?” She asked me. Her voice was soft, laced with concern,

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Your skin, parts of your face, it doesn’t look good.”

  “Oh, this?” I voiced, tracing the dark lines that ran the length of my arm.

  I wasn’t even aware that my face was affected too. I felt no pain, no irritation, but I knew it was bad—a sign that my body was dying. There was no telling what exactly would happen when my body becomes completely covered with the dark lines, but I didn’t want to wait until then. I had a strong belief that I would find some sort of remedy to it, even though no ideas came to my head yet.

  “It’s fine. It will disappear after some time,” I said to Yukina.

  I lied, and from her expression, she knew that I lied to her. But she didn’t press me on it any further. I knew she was fighting the urge to say something, but she also knew that I had a lot on my plate, so she didn’t want to be a bother. Though worried, she decided to have some faith in the lie I’d just told. In the end, she simply nodded, her gaze lingering on the marks as if willing them to vanish.

  “I don’t know if the Dark Ones attacked Galdor too, if these red gateways in the sky are widespread or just limited to some certain regions. Either way, I have to go to Galdor to ensure that Mom and Evren are safe.

  “Alright, I am coming with you,” Yukina said to me.

  “I knew that would be your response. You would have been mad at me if I went to Galdor alone, leaving you behind. That was the reason I waited for you to wake up.”

  “It’s a good thing that you are still sensible,” she said to me, nudging my arm.

  Yukina had no idea of what kind of life I’d lived in the past before I was reborn here. To her, I was just Svan, her brother. I couldn't help but wonder what she would think or how she would have reacted if she knew the truth. Would she still look at me with those kind eyes of hers? Would she still consider me as her brother, or treat me with the same affection that she’d treated me with all her life? Not just Yukina, Mom, Evren, and even the High lord. One thing was certain; they would react, but how far that reaction would stretch was what I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t going to tell them anything, one thing I was good at was keeping secrets. But if a day should come, and they find out, well, until that day comes.

  My mindset shifted significantly. Before now, I was in some sort of disconnect with the reality I lived. Disinterested or discontent, whichever one it might have been, summarized how I felt. I believed that my purpose existed far beyond this realm. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt that way if I’d known nothing about Darya’s existence, though one way or another, I would have discovered the truth. In the end, it turned out that it wasn’t just a purpose that existed beyond these realms, but my entire identity as a being.

  Now, a lot had changed. That yearning had faded with the realization that I was once part of what I sought. But yet, my goals still converged, this time, a bit more specific, centered around the Heavens Feel. It was clear that I had to start all over, and frankly, I had no idea on how to begin. The journey ahead was going to be a lot more challenging than it was in the past, but it didn’t matter. I was determined to achieve it one way or another.

  I felt a sense of relaxation, knowing I was no stranger to the otherworldly. Yet, I still needed to return because there was still much unfinished business awaiting me. I decided to take things one step at a time, this time properly preparing myself for what lay ahead.

  At the moment. It was difficult to tell what I really was. I had the memories and consciousness of a Sovereign, and the body of a human. I had no misconceptions about humans and Arcanes, or even the Dark Ones anymore—they were all humans. Arcanes were simply humans who could wield aether. That was the reason why they had to undergo an awakening to realize the full potential of their abilities. Interestingly, the ability to wield aether differed across different individuals.

  Aether was originally intended to grant humans who wielded it, the power to manipulate cosmic elements, but that wasn’t the case for everyone. For some wielders of aether, instead of manipulating cosmic elements, the aether they possessed refined their mana manipulation to extraordinary levels, far beyond what any caster could imagine. My mother Eliora, was one of such individuals. Her connection to aether enhanced her abilities, allowing her to achieve feats that seemed almost mythical, even if she couldn't manipulate cosmic elements.

  Mana granted humans the power to manipulate mortal elements, casters and stillbringers fell under that category. And then, there was naethrium; an essence which the Dark Ones wielded. Naethrium ensured a clear separation between mana and aether. It remained unaffected by both, and did not bestow mortal or cosmic manipulation to its wielders. However, the Dark Ones who harnessed naethrium possessed unique abilities of their own, which was safe to say that naethrium was capable of much more than merely being an opposing essence to mana and aether.

  Monarchs weren’t constrained within the limits of mana, aether, or naethrium. They were a total embodiment of power that controlled the fundamental forces that shaped reality. Yet, there was one thing they had in common with humans; the Feel. Though Named Monarchs possessed the Heavens Feel—a far more powerful form of the Feel that made the human variety look trivial, some similarities still existed between them.

  I understood why Darya suppressed my memories and lied to me all this time. She wanted to make sure that I was prepared to bear the burden of the truth. Everything she did was no coincidence. Born as Svan offered my existential force the best chance of survival; offering a durable body of a stillbringer, and a Feel that enabled cosmic elemental manipulation.

  The concept of knowing and memories in general was interesting. Now that memories of my past life had returned, I could feel that my abilities had returned too. It brought me to the conclusion that memories weren’t just static records of the past; they were interconnected with our sense of identity and understanding of the world. The first connection to my lost abilities that I realized was the presence of Black Steel.

  Spatial manipulation was an inherent ability of mine which I had inherited from Darya, yet another ability—one that personified my identity as a Sovereign—was the power to absorb and utilize the abilities of those I defeated. That was why I was called the Reaper. It was ironic; having an ability that I couldn’t maximize its fullest potential. My body was already struggling to contain spatial manipulation, so it was simply impossible to be able to absorb and utilize the powers of others.

  I found a way around it, a way to absorb the powers of the ones I fell, without straining my body. In one of my many adventures, I came across a sentient being born out of naethrium. I managed to tame it, transforming it into a weapon that stored the powers I desired. I named it Black Steel as It wielded a peculiar sword with a characteristic black hue—the darkest shade of black I’d ever laid my eyes on. The length of the sword was equally frightening, almost as long as the height of an average human.

  Black Steel had been with me all this while, but I had no idea because I had completely forgotten about its existence. Now, my memories had returned, and nothing seemed easier than summoning it from the domain I’d created solely for it. I was tempted, but it wasn’t the right place or time.

  I stood up offering to pay for the cost of Yukina’s treatment, but the old healer declined, stating that they owed us their lives. Grateful for his kindness, we accepted his kind gesture, before setting off for Galdor.