Chapter 5

  The "Giving" and the "Taking" of the universe

  Aaronn’s heartbeat was dangerously faint. The sword lodged in his diaphragm had narrowly missed his heart. Blood seeped into his lungs, and the weight of the rocks made breathing even more difficult.

  Magnus’s speech struck him as senseless. Despite its wealth and immense power, Eile?n seemed to live in fear—the fear of losing control over its own blessing. What was so glorious about that?

  To be honest, he had not come to negotiate with them, but to impose his truth. A truth meant to heal bodies scarred by millennia of war, inequality, and suffering. A truth capable of tearing apart the veil of lies accumulated over all that time.

  He opened his eyes again in the dimness. There was no way his path would end here.

  His heartbeats accelerated, emerald light flashing repeatedly in his eyes. His breathing intensified. Blood surged through his veins. His aura ignited with fighting spirit, granting him the strength to burst free from the rubble in a cry of fury.

  “Magnus! The fight isn’t over!”

  Magnus turned toward him. His helmet concealed the stunned expression spreading across his face. He could hardly believe the sight before him—Aaronn advancing heavily toward him, the swords pulling themselves free from his body.

  “What is this…?” the prince muttered.

  Aaronn was of Arthémian origin. The vitality of a thousand men flowed through his veins. Every cell in his body retained the full memory of his physical form, allowing him to regenerate even the most severe wounds—as long as his heart continued to beat.

  He materialized a new sword and lunged at his opponent. Caught off guard by the sudden reversal, Magnus stepped back. Their blades clashed once more with a metallic crash. Aaronn pressed the assault, overstimulating his regeneration to increase both his strength and speed.

  “You seem stronger than before,” the prince said, “but it’s still not enough!”

  Despite his efforts, Aaronn’s blade struggled to reach its mark. Magnus seized his opponent’s wrist and hurled him into the air. Aaronn’s vision spun wildly. He tried to stop himself by bracing against the air, but Magnus immediately prevented it. With a two-handed gesture, he summoned a beam of light from the ground that struck Aaronn mid-flight, trapping him at its core.

  “Your species may possess unique gifts,” Magnus declared, “but you are still weak! And the weak have no right to impose their truth! They are only fit to project their fantasies onto reality!”

  The beam of light gradually transformed into a vortex of razor-sharp blades—a storm of steel. Aaronn was violently dragged along by the centrifugal force. The blades carved into his skin, his flesh, his muscles, ever deeper. His automatic regeneration could no longer compensate for the damage, and his cries of pain grew increasingly intense.

  He was completely overwhelmed. His strength was fading. His words had never felt so hollow.

  And yet, the pain did not make him falter. His suffering and helplessness transformed into a mixture of anger and determination.

  His arrival at the royal palace would not be in vain.

  He would heal the sickness gnawing at the mind of the monarchy—the divide it had created with its people, erecting laws of superiority and inferiority that filled him with revulsion. A population denied knowledge of its true nature could never prosper in this world.

  Aaronn suddenly stopped at the center of the steel deluge, as if saved by a miraculous force. His aura intensified, blazing with radiant light. The ground and the walls of the arena trembled. His hands moved closer together, drawn toward their center as if by a magnetic force.

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  The light emanating from Aaronn blinded Magnus and the spectators alike, forcing them to shield their eyes. At the heart of the infernal vortex, the deafening clash of blades dissolved into the incantation he uttered:

  “The karma of this world is my domain!

  Everything that is taken will be taken back!

  Everything that is given will be returned more abundantly!

  I accelerate the "giving" and the "taking" of the universe!”

  White sparks ignited between his palms. Magnus’s blades were violently repelled in every direction, crashing against the ground and the arena walls. The wind shifted in Aaronn’s favor, forcefully driving his opponent backward. White lightning erupted from his position and struck the arena’s foundations, debris collapsing onto the ground.

  “What are you doing, Aaronn!?” Magnus growled.

  His voice did not reach him—nor did that of his sister, watching from a great height in the sky.

  “No… this won’t work, Aaronn,” Aaliyah said, her cloak whipping in the wind.

  Aaronn failed to properly catalyze his technique. It collapsed in a brutal shockwave. His aura dimmed, and the lightning storm subsided. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath, exhausted by successive regenerations and his failed counterattack.

  The dust settled.

  Magnus took a few moments to recover from the lightning storm. His opponent’s sudden display kept him on guard. He removed his helmet and cautiously approached the figure collapsed on the ground.

  “You seem far more dangerous than you let on,” he said, “but this is over. You’ve disappointed me greatly, Aaronn. I thought you had more than words to offer.”

  He crouched beside him and checked the pulse of his fallen opponent. Aaronn coughed heavily, spitting blood.

  “What are you trying to prove?” Magnus asked. “What is your true objective?”

  Aaronn could barely move. His cloak was nearly shredded, his armor in ruins. His wounds remained open, blood pooling on the ground. He managed to part his lips and whispered:

  “That I am a good man.”

  Magnus’s expression remained grave. He seemed to respect every word Aaronn had spoken.

  “I am deeply intrigued by the origin of your power. Is your people also blessed by the gods? Your final attempt to turn the battle did not leave me indifferent. I will give you one last chance to prove your words…”

  He paused briefly, his grip tightening on his helmet. He hesitated, afraid of uttering words that might endanger his kingdom.

  “…from the world below,” he finally continued. “Do not set foot here again unless you can make a name for yourself down there.”

  He stood and walked a few steps toward his father, then knelt in a noble gesture.

  “My king! I request divine punishment!”

  “What grounds do you have for this request?” the king replied. “This man has demonstrated powers beyond our understanding. What you ask of me is to ignore that danger.”

  “I am aware of that. I will assume full responsibility. This man has insulted your name and the monarchy. Death would be far too easy a punishment for him. Moreover, despite the blasphemy of his words, he issues us a challenge—to transcend our limits. As prince, and for the happiness of my people, I wish to see whether his words are a barrier to overcome… or the delusions of a misguided mind.”

  A long silence fell over the arena.

  Aaronn did not fear death. And completing his mission had become more important than his life. His father had sent him here to fulfill the trial of a good man. He would prove himself worthy. This defeat would not be his end.

  “Magnus, you are ambitious and strong,” the king said at last. “But what purpose would it serve to send him below? He has revealed his intentions. Leading him into the world below would be sheer folly. And if he speaks the truth, what will you do if he manages to contact his world?”

  Magnus’s fist clenched against the ground.

  “I will assume full responsibility,” he repeated. “If he speaks the truth and is truly the son of a king, then they will come to this planet sooner or later. Let us give him a challenge: find the leader of the resistance and bring them to us. If he succeeds, we will be open to negotiation—and to changing the world below.”

  Magnus caught a glimpse of doubt in his father’s eyes. But his request could not be denied; he was determined to see what the future held.

  “Is not the happiness of the people your priority?” he pressed. “I do not wish to question your rule, but this man may truly possess a means to restore balance between our two worlds. Still, a mere unknown has no right to impose his truth upon an entire planet.”

  The king’s brows furrowed. Magnus could not know exactly what his father was thinking, but he hoped with all his heart that he would accept. Eleusia had stagnated for far too long. Despite Eile?n’s uncontested divine superiority, he wanted to believe in a fairer world.

  The king raised his hand to deliver his answer.

  “I grant your request, Magnus,” he said, striving to conceal the irritation in his voice. “Only because it is you who asks it.”

  Rising from his throne, the king enveloped Aaronn in a translucent circle of light. His body slowly lifted from the ground.

  A faint smile appeared on Aaronn’s face. He knew he would not die here. Gathering his last strength, he met his opponent’s gaze.

  “I will return, Magnus… I will be a good man… and I will spread that good around me.”

  With those words, Aaronn was hurled at prodigious speed over the city. His trajectory curved beneath the clouds. The continent below rushed toward him, until a rocky desert came into view. He crashed violently into it—then lost consciousness.