Shattered Sun Chapter 5

Edited by Priapus, Marethyu

With a tired groan, I slowly open my eyes to find myself staring up at another unfamiliar ceiling, taking a moment to process what’s going on. I immediately notice that I feel strangely well compared to the past few days. I’m not suffering from a headache, my throat doesn’t hurt as much, and I can actually move around without pain flaring up in every inch of my body. With my vision still blurry, I blink a few times, yawn, and sit on the bed properly. I rub my eyes and take a look around.

Unlike that tiny room I rested in back in the village, this one is pretty spacious. Maybe about three times larger, with an odd, uneven floor that’s made of untreated wood. Decoration consisting of the bed I’m on, a work desk, a collection of books on a shelf dug into the wall, several crates and barrels, and a couple of strange stumps around a dinner table next to a tiny kitchen. With a few colorful carpets here and there. There are two doors, one of which likely leads to the exit.

I passed out, that much is clear, but I have no idea where Solaris took me. I expected a clinic or something, but this? I don’t know what this is. It feels like I’m inside a tree, and a quick look out the window pretty much confirms it after I see the dense grove. Enormous trees stand tall, their leaves blocking almost all sunlight. It’s a sight to see for sure. Somewhat familiar, too. I think I read about a place like this before. Don’t know what I’m doing here, though.

Again, I thought he’d take me to a hospital or something. One inside a town or city. This place is extremely isolated, and I can tell because magic in populated areas becomes thin due to people constantly absorbing it. But here, there’s a great abundance of magic in the air. Almost no one lives in this location. Probably for good reason, too. If this is the East Forest, then it’s too dangerous for regular civilians to live in.

Though knowing where I am doesn’t really answer the question of why I’m here. Maybe this place belongs to some obscure doctor or something. It would explain why I don’t feel like I’m three seconds away from dying. I almost feel healthy. Kind of. I’m still missing an arm and an eye, and my throat is still a little sore, so maybe not entirely healthy yet.

I position myself to sit on the edge of the bed and look down at the floor. I’m honestly a little surprised I’m not dead.

…Not like I was trying my hardest to live, anyway.

After taking some time to enjoy this newfound vigor after what feels like years, I bring my hand in front of my face, focus on my energy, and, after hesitating for a moment, manifest the smallest spell of Sun Godslayer magic I can muster. The eclipse-like orb forms in the palm of my hand, shifting the space around it.

My eyes widen at what I see. I never noticed it during my fight with those bandits— my mind was too preoccupied with staying alive and slaughtering them to notice, but this? This is absurd. A spell so small, yet so bafflingly powerful, it makes all of my prior attempts at casting magic mere child’s play…

And this is only my second time accessing it. I haven’t had the time to train with it yet.

The thought is both exciting and frightening. If I’m just scratching the surface, then what else is there to learn? Just how far can I go with this sort of power? I’ve always been confident in myself. To me, becoming an S-rank wizard was always a matter of when, not if, but now I’m wondering how easy it’s going to be.

My look of awe turns into one of discomfort as I realize that it is already influencing me. Although this power is incredible, it is fundamentally vile. It belongs to and comes from a being of pure evil. Someone who killed everyone I knew and loved. And the way I’ve come to acquire it is…

I exhale and shake those thoughts out of my head.

No, what’s really terrifying is the implication of how powerful Solaris is. Because if it’s this powerful in the hands of a beginner, then just what is its creator capable of?

I close my fist and dispel the orb, rubbing my eyes and looking around the room one last time. I can think about that later. First, I need to figure out where I am.

Feeling confident enough that I won’t collapse, I decide to explore the place. I get off the bed and approach the desk first, interested in the alembic and alchemy tools on it. Test tubes, vials, beakers— all filled with glowing liquids of clearly magical origin. So, this place does belong to a doctor of some sort. However, there’s nothing indicating the owner’s name: no note or anything.

I look around some more, curious about who owns this place, so I approach the shelves carved into the wall and inspect the books up close. Neatly lined up in alphabetical order, and it’s one hell of a collection, too. A few of these I’ve never seen before, and I used to frequent the library back home a lot. Sure, most of them are a couple of alchemy guides like ‘Herbalist’s Guide to Earthland’ and ‘Medicine and Magic: A Study,’ but there are a few magic tomes, and, most importantly, several personal research notes. What I was looking for.

I snatch one of the notes, flipping through the pages and looking for a name until—

“What are you doing out of bed?”

I flinch and yelp in surprise, dropping the note to the ground. I quickly turn around and see an old woman glaring at me angrily. She's probably in her mid-sixties, with bright pink hair and red eyes. I have no idea how I didn’t hear or feel her approach, but my reaction—surprised and alarmed by her threatening look—makes me act like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, as I stammer out an explanation.

“U-um, I was just— I just woke up and I thought I was alone.”

“And the first thing you do after waking up is rudely rummage through my things without permission.” She scoffs, genuinely displeased. “Is that how you treat your elders, boy?”

I open my mouth to say something, but then I quickly crush the childish urge to make excuses for myself, lower my head, and apologize.

“Sorry, ma’am,” I mumble, pick up the dropped note, and put it back in its place. “Won’t happen again.”

The woman’s glare softens a bit, and thankfully, she doesn’t chastise me further. Instead, she brushes the back of her hand over my cheek, making me blink.

“Go back to bed.” She says, retracting her hand. “Now.”

“Oh, uh, I actually feel better,” I respond. “Way better. Was it you who treated me?”

“You haven't fully recovered yet. The sense of ease you’re experiencing is only temporary.” The woman tells me, implying that she did treat me. “Go to bed and rest.”

“But I just woke up,” I argue. “And frankly, I’ve had enough sleep to last me a week.”

“I wasn’t asking, boy.” Her glare returns as she grabs my arm and drags me back to bed, making me wince. Although she’s being very forceful, I can tell she’s still being gentle enough not to hurt me. “You’re up too early and your body needs rest.”

“Hey!” I protest. “Stop, let me go!”

She doesn’t let me go and forces me back onto the bed, covering me with the blanket.

“Rest.” She tells me, leaving no room to argue.

“I’m not tired, lady.” I try to anyway, frowning in mild annoyance. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

Besides a slightly sore throat, I’m feeling great, if anything. Feel like I can take a few laps around the treehouse without breaking a sweat.

“No, you're not.” She disagrees. “Now stop making a fuss and go to bed.”

This person is very forceful, which I don’t particularly like. Still, I’m not about to piss off the woman who saved my life, so I try to keep my temper in check and try a different approach instead.

“Can I at least have something to eat first? I’m starving.” I ask her, failing to hide my aggravation in my tone. “I don’t want to sleep on an empty stomach.”

She looks at me like I insulted her whole bloodline before she huffs, mutters something about humans under her breath, lets go of me, and heads over to her kitchen. Didn’t think that would actually work. I mean, I’m not lying. I am pretty hungry.

I watch her quietly as she prepares a meal for me, not sure if I should speak up or not. She saved my life; that much is clear, but she’s not very friendly. Was she perhaps forced to save me? If Solaris wants me alive, then I can see him threatening someone to take care of me until I’m in better shape.

Even trying to ‘help,’ he does it in the most barbaric way possible. He really is nothing more than an irredeemable piece of garbage. Thankfully, he’s nowhere to be seen. I can’t sense his presence either, and I like to think that I’ve gotten better at that sort of thing. So maybe I can get some answers from her.

“So, uh… I haven’t really introduced myself.” I speak after a while, hoping to seem friendly. “I’m Cyrus. What’s your name, miss?”

The old lady pauses for a moment, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even give me a name. Okay, let’s try something else.

“What are you making?” I ask, keeping the friendly tone. “Oh, I’m not allergic to anything, by the way. In case you were worried about that.”

Again, nothing, and I immediately feel like giving up. This is both awkward and tense. She does not want me to be here, that much I can see. Still, I try one more time.

“I noticed that some of the texts you own are ancient. Centuries old, even.” I point out. “How long have you been a medic for, miss?”

This makes her pause again, and thankfully, she responds. Not much, but it’s a start.

“Long enough.” She says curtly. “You talk too much, boy.”

“Well, forgive me for being bored,” I reply dryly. “There isn’t much to do here besides staring at the ceiling and talking to the human equivalent of a wall. I have to entertain myself somehow.”

I freeze once my brain catches up with what I just said, hoping I can take it back before the woman gives me another death stare. Instead, she surprises me with a different response.

“And have you considered that this ‘wall’ prefers for you to shut up and do the former?” She fires back. “Your ailment is troublesome enough as it is. The least you can do is be a good patient and save me the headache. Hah. ‘Entertainment’, he says. You’ve got some nerve, boy.”

I open my mouth to argue before realizing she makes a good point. Kind of. She’s still very unfriendly, but she did save my life, so…

“Fair enough, I guess.” I concede. “…I’m still gonna keep talking, though.”

“Of course. How could I expect any decency from a human?” She scoffs. “Can’t even afford the tiniest sliver of respect to his elders.”

“I dunno, lady. You look pretty human to me.” I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t think that has to do with anything.”

This time, she says nothing, giving me the cold shoulder.

She’s not just bitter. She’s also pretty weird, which I should try to get used to soon. Nobody was that weird in my town, so I didn’t think much of it, but this used to be an anime world, so there’s gonna be a lot of weirdos around. But I probably should stop bothering her. I trust her enough as a doctor, but you should never piss off the person who makes your food.

I still need to know, though…

“Can I ask you something, miss?” I speak up after a while. At her lack of response, I continue. “The person who brought me here— Is he forcing you to treat me?”

She visibly reacts at that, pausing from stirring the pot before slowly turning her head to look at me. Her expression doesn’t change much— still a displeased frown, this time with a hint of skepticism.

“What?”

“Is he making you do this? Did he perhaps threaten you or something?” I ask again. I would’ve asked him directly, but he’s nowhere to be seen, or sensed. “Because if that’s the case, then you don’t have to listen to him. I can pack my things and leave right now—”

“What person do you speak of, boy?” She questions in response.

I blink at her unexpected reply.

“Er, you know, the massive guy that brought me here. Long blond hair, evil-looking eyes, shirtless…” I list off some of his odd traits. Relative to what’s normal, anyway. “He calls himself a god.”

“What nonsense is this?” She raises an eyebrow. “I’ve not met anyone with that description.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” I ask. Now I’m confused… “Then how the hell did you find me?”

“I found you collapsed next to my front door upon my return from a brief errand," She explains. “No one has dropped you off. If anyone had done so, I did not encounter or see them.”

I take a moment to process her words. So he just… left me at her front door? I mean, knowing him, I thought he’d at least make sure I got treated. No doubt that he needs me alive for whatever reason, so what guarantee did he have that this lady would’ve found me in time? Worse yet, how was he sure that she wouldn’t just abandon me?

…I guess I feel better knowing this, though. Knowing she’s not under gunpoint, that is.

“Right…” I swallow dryly. “Well, thank you for taking care of me, anyway. How much do I owe you?”

The doctor pauses and looks at me like I said something stupid. Then again, I’m convinced that’s just her default expression at this point.

“I mean, I don’t have any money on me right now, but I promise I’ll pay you back,” I clarify.

“I don’t need or want your money, boy.” She scoffs, pouring a bowl of stew from the pot before approaching me. “I just want you to shut up.”

She’s still rude, though.

The old woman drags a chair with her and puts it beside my bed before sitting on it, taking the time to feed me the stew she made. I hesitate and almost argue that I can eat by myself just fine, but I’m admittedly somewhat intimidated by her glare, so I let her do it and not bother her further than I already have.

Rude, but treats me like a king, so I’m not entirely sure what she wants. She’s confusing.

“Can I ask you something else?”

She sighs.

“You talk too much.” She says. “Fine. What?”

“Why did you help me?” I ask, genuinely curious. If he’s not threatening her to do this… “I mean, clearly you don’t want me here, and I’m not exactly wealthy or anything, so what’s in it for you?”

“What a stupid question.” She huffs. “I’m a doctor, boy.”

“Yeah, and they typically get paid for their services,” I argue. “But you say you’re not doing this for money.”

The lady pauses for a moment and, with her ever-present frown, looks me directly in the eye and decides to humor me.

“I helped you because I could.” She answers simply. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

…

“Because who in their right mind would let a child die right in front of their doorstep?” She continues.

I remain silent for a few moments, and after swallowing a spoonful of her thankfully okay-tasting stew, I chuckle.

“You’re right. That was a stupid question.”

“Oh?” She snorts, finally cracking a smile. “So you are capable of learning. I was beginning to lose hope.”

Yup. Still rude.

But maybe she’s not that bad.

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– Porlyusica –

Silence followed quickly after the boy had finished his food, leaving Porlyusica to wash the dishes and prepare his medicine. After all, despite his condition having vastly improved since he was brought here, he wasn’t cured yet. He wasn’t in a critical state anymore, thankfully. But without her medicine, the symptoms could return.

The boy’s Ethernano Container was in a state so terrible that it was a miracle that he was still alive, much less capable of still using magic. Her medicine worked as a stabilizer, and he needed his container stabilized so it could eventually mend itself. 

The good news was that, as long as he took his medicine once a day for the next three months, he should be fully healed. Moreover, enduring such an ailment usually strengthened one’s container, rarely even unlocking a wizard’s Second Origin. So he would come out of this even stronger than before.

The bad news? That monster had given her three days, and while she only needed one to stabilize the boy’s condition to a degree where he could travel and even use magic to a small extent, Porlyusica wasn’t sure if that was enough for him to stay true to his word and leave Magnolia unharmed.

But unless she had a Miracle Cure, which she didn’t, the boy needed those three months, especially after barely surviving the most aggressive form of Fracturing Fever she’d seen in her life. Again, it was a miracle that he had been alive when he was brought here. The boy was a lot stronger than he thought.

Porlyusica exhaled through her nose after finishing a new dose of her medicine. Still, she had her work cut out for her. Preparing enough to last the boy three months would be impossible, and she hadn’t pre-prepared any prosthetic limbs or eyes for him to take. Though she’d prefer him staying here where she could see him, she knew that wasn’t an option.

Though she supposed she was lucky that Fracturing Fever wasn’t rare. The medicine for it should be readily available in any proper clinic, so as long as she gave him a prescription before he left, he should be fine. It was the quality of the medicine that she was worried about.

She glanced at the boy, sitting tight on the patient’s bed. Porlyusica was dreading him rambling on and on about whatever just to avoid sleeping, but getting him to shut up was surprisingly a lot easier than she expected. All she had to do was give him a few books he could bury his head in.

Though it hadn’t taken her too long to realize why he spoke too much, and it was purely to distract himself. Porlyusica didn’t know who this boy was or where he came from, but he couldn’t hide the pain in his eye from her. She’d treated wizards who had seen horrors that scarred them for the rest of their lives. Townsfolk who had lost everything to monsters or bandits.

And he was no different.

She had been impressed, at first. He was a child— he couldn’t be older than ten years old, yet he was able to keep his emotions in check. Despite his sorrow and anger, he kept it all under control; he refused to blow up. Rather, he seemed somewhat lively and inquisitive.

Porlyusica did not know if the boy was merely unusually mature for his age or if he’d lost his ability to react in such a manner, but seeing this broke her heart. No child should feel this way.

Whatever had brought him to this point must have to do with that monster. This… self-proclaimed god, as the boy had mentioned. She knew that was the case, as when Cyrus spoke of him, she saw two emotions on his face. One was of mind-crippling fear that nearly consumed his whole being, and the other was of overwhelming fury and an unquenchable thirst for vengeance that startled her.

Porlyusica wasn’t sure what the boy would’ve done had she answered him truthfully, but now, seeing him reading some of her books, much calmer and almost forgetting his situation, she was glad she hadn’t. He needed to rest. Not just physically, but mentally as well.

Grabbing the medicine from her desk as well as a glass of water, she approached the boy, who quickly noticed her presence.

“It’s time to take your medicine.” She told him as she sat on the chair next to him.

“Already?” He blinked, eye flickering toward the vial, then to her. “Isn’t it too early?”

“The sun is already setting, boy,” Porlyusica replied, nodding her head toward the open window.

Seeing this, his single eye widened.

“Oh wow. I didn’t even notice.” He admitted before sighing. “And I’m not even finished with one book. Reading with one eye sucks…”

Cyrus closed the book and set it aside, looking at the medicine for a moment before addressing her.

“So um… I don’t wanna sound like I’m whining.” He said. “I mean, I’m gonna drink it anyway, but how bad does this taste?”

“It’s medicine.” She answered vaguely, eyes narrowing. “What do you expect?”

“Okay, but on a scale of one to ten—”

“Just drink the damn thing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Porlyusica got closer to help him take it, and after hesitating for a bit, Cyrus shut his eye and braced. As the dark blue liquid slid down his throat, his face scrunched in disgust, struggling to keep down before struggling to swallow it, nearly gagging afterwards.

Showing him some mercy, she helped him drink from the glass of water, washing the admittedly terrible taste away. He panted, groaned, and shuddered, looking at her sharply.

“Eugh, what the hell?!” He whined. “That’s vile. It tastes like someone threw up in my mouth. What is in this thing?”

“Do you want to know?”

Intimidated by her ominous question, he slowly shook his head.

“N-no, not really. It was a rhetorical question.”

“That’s what I thought.” She snorted almost playfully. The medicine was purely herbal, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Do I really have to drink it every day?” He questioned with a defeated look. “For three months?”

“Quit whining.” She scoffed, making him sigh. “How are you feeling?”

“Right now?” He blinked. At her nod, he answered. “Pretty alright, I guess. I have a mild headache, but I think it’s because I was reading with one eye. I’m not used to it, and I don’t think my brain likes that very much.”

She grunted.

“It’s not much of an issue, though. I can live with it.” He shrugged.

“Can you cast spells?”

“I can. Or I think so, anyway.” He nodded. “Want me to try that?”

“Yes.”

Cyrus listened, opening his palm and forming a small orb of Light Magic. Porlyusica observed the spell, not noticing anything wrong with his Ethernano Container. She put the back of her hand over his forehead, and once again, noticed nothing out of the ordinary.

However, she noticed that he wasn’t using that Slayer-like magic she sensed in him. Was he perhaps unaware that he could manifest it? Unable to? Or could he be hiding it from her, for some reason?

“How do you feel now?” She asked, wanting to be sure. “Do you feel like you’re burning up? Chest pains? Has your headache gotten any worse?”

“Nope. Still alright.” He answered, smiling at her. “I think your medicine is working. Seriously, you’re a miracle worker, lady. I dunno how to thank you.”

She hesitated, and for a while, as she checked for any irregularities, she said nothing, staring back at the boy’s rage-filled eye. Though beneath it, she spotted the gratitude, respect, and appreciation he held for her.

…Getting called ‘Lady’ or ‘Miss’ was starting to get on her nerves, anyway.

“…It’s Porlyusica, boy.” She finally introduced herself, retracting her hand. “My name is Porlyusica.”

“Eh?” He blinked. Immediately, he recognized her. “Porlyusica? The Porlyusica?!”

She paused, not having expected his reaction. He seemed a lot more excited than she thought he’d be.

“You know me?”

“Of course, I know you! You’re a Fairy Tail Mage!” He exclaimed, golden eye sparkling in admiration. “And not any Fairy Tail Mage, you’re the Healing Mage. The backbone of Team Makarov back in the day!”

To say she was surprised would be an understatement. Of course, she was used to being recognized as the ‘Healing Mage,’ which was why many people came to her for treatment. But with her hermit-like lifestyle and general disconnection from Fairy Tail in recent years, many had forgotten that she used to be part of the guild’s former ace team.

“Aw, man. I can’t believe it took me this long to recognize you.” He praised. “This is awesome. No wonder I already feel better. You’re like a living legend.”

“I-I see…” She mumbled. She was used to being looked at with gratitude, but admiration? That was new. However, that wasn’t enough for her to treat him any nicer, so Porlyusica quickly composed herself and got up from her chair. “It’s getting late. You may be feeling better, but you still need to rest.”

“I know.” He nodded. “Is it okay if I read for a bit longer? I promise I won’t stay up late.”

Porlyusica took a few seconds to think about it before sighing.

“Fine.” She reluctantly agreed. “I'd better not see you awake when I check up on you, got it?”

“Got it. Thanks a lot, Ms. Porlysuica.”

With that, she left the boy to his own devices, and a quick glance showed her that he immediately went back to his book. Seeing this, she returned to her private quarters. She hoped the boy wouldn’t do anything stupid while in that state, but he seemed smarter than kids his age. And most adults, too.

…Okay, maybe she did like him a bit more after he called her a ‘living legend’.

‘Backbone of Team Makarov,’ he’d said…

Porlysuica couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at that.

Makarov would definitely get a kick out of this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

– Cyrus –

Putting the book aside after reading the last pages, I grimace and rub my temples. Yeah, losing an eye sucks even more than losing an arm. My sense of balance is all sorts of fucked, I can’t really see properly, and my eye becomes strained way too easily, leading to painful headaches. Can’t even read for longer than a few hours before I feel like I want to pull my scalp out.

Why do I do this to myself when I should be resting? Because reading is, unfortunately, one of my favorite pastimes. I’ve read most books in the library in my town, so getting to read from the collection of Porlyusica of Fairy Tail is a bit too tempting. Sure, I didn’t know who she was until after I read some of her books, but my point still stands.

I still can’t believe that the one tending to me is a legend. Sure, a far less popular wizard than Makarov and other Wizard Saints, but damn it, she’s one of the old guard of the best guild in Earthland. She deserves the respect.

I had no idea she lived in this giant treehouse. I wasn't sure if she was still a member of Fairy Tail. I knew she had eventually parted ways with Makarov’s team to pursue her own path, but I wasn’t certain if she had entirely left the guild. She sort of just vanished one day. At least publicly.

Though if she lives in the Eastern Forest, that should mean she’s still part of the guild since Magnolia is right next door. Still making a lot of assumptions, but that’s sort of what it’s starting to look like. I wonder why she’s not in the guild building, though? She does seem like the kind of person who prefers peace and quiet…

I guess that’s something to ask her tomorrow. Too bad I can’t sleep.

I let out a sigh and gaze out the window. Although I am exhausted, it annoys me that I’ve spent so much time in this bed doing practically nothing. Porlyusica wouldn’t allow me to engage in any physical activities, and while I understand she’s just concerned for my well-being, my body feels overly stiff.

I gotta do something. Even a walk would do.

I drag my eye from the window to her room, my lips thinning as I wonder if she’d notice me missing for a couple of minutes. I mean, what’s the harm in walking, right? Physically, I feel great, and I haven’t really tested my God Slayer magic beyond that tiny spell. And now that it’s nighttime, it’s a good opportunity. No risk of accidentally absorbing sunlight. I think. Probably.

…Oh, screw it. She’s pretty scary, yeah, but worst case, she just yells at me. I can deal with that.

Stepping off the bed, I quietly make my way toward the door, open it, and slowly close it behind me. I proceed to take a deep breath and walk down the stairs, surprised at how beautiful the forest looks at night. I thought it’d be in total darkness, seeing how big the trees were. How their ginormous leaves easily cover the skies…

“Wow…” I breathe, stepping on the grass.

It’s not at all what I expected. Illuminated by the swirling clusters of fireflies and the strange, luminous blue rays in the area, probably created by the excess Ethernano in the atmosphere. The blue seems to bounce off the green grass, giving it an almost teal hue. And aside from the cold yet gentle breeze, it’s quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful, too.

No wonder Porlyusica lives here.

…If only they were here to see it with me.

As that through crosses my mind, I frown and look down at the palm of my hand. In it, another orb of God Slayer magic forms. That’s as much as I was able to manifest earlier today, so I try to shape the orb into something else. Something lethal. And I do that by increasing the output.

The orb shifts and changes for a bit, but it only grows and size. Its power certainly went up, but it’s not… sophisticated enough. Unrefined. It’s amateurish to a point that any Wizard worth their salt could easily deflect it, despite its immense power. This isn’t enough. Something like this can never be enough.

I exhale and try again.

I concentrate on the spell, gradually increasing its power. The orb continues to grow in size, shifting into something almost resembling a weapon before quickly returning to its original form, making me grit my teeth. I have to be better. Stronger. I have to master this power.

And to do that, I have to think like a god. A furious deity passing down divine judgment on those who spread destruction and death.

As sweat drips down my brow, my headache returns tenfold while I do everything I can to cast a proper spell. I channel my righteous anger and desire for vengeance, imagining that wretched heathen who kills without cause. The one who slaughtered everyone I ever cared about.

His sadistic laughter echoes in my mind, pushing me closer to the edge as my power spikes. The orb grows from the size of a ping pong ball to double that of my fist. If I ever hope to avenge them, then I must never let that anger of mine wither away. I have to make him pay for what he has done. No matter what.

My expression falls, replaced by one of sorrow.

…Even if I have to go against my father’s final wish.

I clench my fist around the orb as tightly as I can, almost crushing it. My emotions of rage and fear, grief and guilt— all bleed into the spell. I can feel the orb transforming into something else. Something stronger, without any additional cost of Ethernano. Purely out of refinement.

And when I open my fist, I see it. As black as void and surrounded by glowing light is a small knife. It can barely be qualified as a dagger. If not for its eclipse-like appearance and power, I would’ve called it a dud and tried again. But this is it. As small a step as it is.

I sit down with a sigh as I dispel the dagger, only now noticing that the patch of grass beneath me is scorched.

…Progress is progress.

“What are you doing out here?”

I turn around and see Porlyusica staring at me in her sleep gown and a blanket, holding a lantern in her hand. Her expression is one of concern for my well-being and surprise at the power I wield.

“Practicing.”

“This late?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” I reply. “I thought maybe exhausting myself a little might help. Don’t worry, though. Beyond a little headache, I’m okay.”

Surprisingly, she doesn’t scold me. Rather, she walks closer, remaining completely silent.

“Sorry if I’ve woken you up.” I apologize again.

Once again, she says nothing. In fact, she sits down next to me and proceeds to pull me closer to her, making me rest my head on her shoulder and wrapping the blanket around me. I almost get up to protest, but I’m frozen in place for some reason. I don’t question her, though, and eventually choose to stay like this. It’s comforting, in a way.

“It’s been painful, hasn’t it?” She says, her tone soft and soothing.

I stay silent for a moment, eventually responding with a shaky breath.

“Yeah…”

More painful than anything I’ve ever experienced.