CLANK!
Yonar staggered backward as a bullet nearly tore his sword from his grasp.
Strangely, every attempt to activate his artifact's ability failed, his timing slipped each time, leaving the weapon to absorb the full force of the impact.
Worst of all, he didn't recall Zatch's bullets ever possessing such devastating power. This phantom's shots moved with a speed utterly incomparable to the originals.
Overwhelming, even for him, someone who had once managed to deflect an authority‑infused bullet back when he– or rather his artifact– had only just awakened.
"You still haven't grown?"
The voice emerging from the phantom chilled him.
"Here you are, still trapped in that phase you convinced yourself you'd escaped."
"Do you–"
"Of course I'm aware, given the circumstances. Why would I attempt to eliminate my own prized investment? Then again, considering my journey has already concluded, what purpose is there in allowing someone else to reap the fruits of my labor?"
"Tch!"
"Not to mention, I feel more powerful now than I ever did in a human body."
CLANG!
The phantom parried Yonar's direct strike with its bare hand when he attempted to overwhelm its perception with speed.
It felt as though he had struck solid steel.
Yet, as Yonar quickly realized, that density did nothing to hinder the phantom's agility.
"Gah!"
It slipped past his striking range, palming his neck before seizing it fully and slamming him into the ground.
Even from the compromised angle, Yonar managed to whip a kick toward its head, but the phantom blocked it effortlessly.
"It's no secret that a body like this existed only in my wildest dreams." It dragged him through the shallow water with brutal force before hurling him against the hardened petals of the formation. "So try not to die too quickly."
Yonar could only lie there, breath repeatedly driven from his lungs.
His thoughts no longer aligned with his will.
Even as he tightened his grip on his sword and launched himself at the phantom without hesitation, he couldn't stop the trembling or the familiar itch running through his arm.
It wasn't as though he was ignorant of the cause. Rather, he simply couldn't find an answer.
The root of his hesitation.
The reason he had turned back after so long.
Something he had always wanted to say, yet could no longer remember.
…
As they stepped forward, the scenery around them shifted with each pace.
When Whitney halted, Blue drew up beside her and froze in disbelief.
Before them sat a little girl on the floor of a small room, utterly clueless.
On either side of her lay the lifeless bodies of a man and a woman, their hands still clasping hers.
"A family of warriors who lost all prestige after a disaster caused by a behemoth‑class Shadowbeast that somehow reached the mainland."
Whitney guided her through each scene born from Rita's memories, those defining moments that shaped the girl they both knew.
After most of the family's major forces were wiped out by the expulsion that followed the cornered behemoth's self‑destruction, they were left with nothing but ruins and a stigma of failure.
No one truly understands the origins of Authorities, and the catalyst for inherited Authority is even more enigmatic. So when this family suddenly lost the ability to produce Eminents, they were doomed to decline without ever uncovering the true cause.
It wasn't for lack of effort.
Migration, patrilineal extinction, cultural divergence, anything that might reconnect them to the root that once blessed them, or lead them to a new one.
Yet nothing bore fruit.
Not until one hundred and twenty‑five years later, when a couple from an outer branch conceived a child with glowing violet eyes.
That child became their testament. Their proof that fate had not abandoned them.
As she neared the age at which awakening became possible, their hope turned to impatience, and impatience to fervent longing.
In their adoration, they welcomed her into the family's central branch and fashioned her as some manner of symbol.
Her needs were met excessively, her status always at the forefront, innocent as she was.
They did everything they could to hasten her awakening–even prematurely–but ultimately, they were forced to wait for fate to act.
Fortunately for her, they refrained from resorting to emotional or mental shock as a trigger, fearing it might divert her from the intended root. They kept such methods as a last resort, to be used only when desperation outweighed caution.
When it came to her parents, it was apparent that they loved her as well.
They cherished her as deeply as they yearned to restore the family's glory, leaving them torn.
They refused to give up, which made them more desperate than anyone for her awakening.
In the end, their shared desperation manifested not as an Authority within her, but as a Grace within them.
They had unknowingly made her an idol.
An idol meant to receive their collective desire and project what best suited their glory.
The couple never realized this, yet their devotion was strong enough to grant them a miracle on the night before the child's deadline.
They held her close, desperation laid bare, ready to sacrifice anything, livelihoods, their futures, anything to secure her own.
The girl had to meet those expectations, no matter the cost.
~Let it be so.~
It took, and it granted, and the girl lost her parents before her eyes, long before she could comprehend what that meant.
The rest never found an explanation for the couple's sudden deaths, but they cared little once they discovered that their wish had been fulfilled in their stead.
Incidentally, the girl was gifted.
Even before she translated an ability, her level growth far surpassed that of her peers. The family had much to celebrate.
No disdain or scorn ever touched her; she was their pride and joy.
Love surrounded her, and she grew without longing for parents she barely remembered.
Rita had everything, more love than anyone could desire.
So much that it welled up within her heart.
So much that it yearned to burst forth and return itself to the world around her, along with the joy she carried.
And so, "Boom," it went.
Her translation manifested as an Authority unexpectedly during her tenth birthday celebration, and the main house suffered the resulting catastrophe.
But that wasn't the real issue.
The problem lay in the shockwaves.
It was a calamity, and in the chaos that followed, the consensus formed quickly: she was an abomination that needed to be eliminated.
"Rita…"
"If I had to put it simply, what they rallied against for generations was the tragedy caused by that blast. Which, in turn, made it the core of their wishes."
Rita received their stares. Confusion, anger, disgust, for the simple fact that she reflected to them a truth they refused to acknowledge.
Any Eminent who survived that event would confirm it wholeheartedly.
Her outbursts mirrored the Behemoth's.
"The destruction to which they prayed was woven into the idol of their faith," Whitney continued. "You can imagine what followed. But somehow, Rita ended up at the academy all alone."
They returned to the white space, the sounds and scenery vanishing as swiftly as they had appeared.
Oddly, Blue remained silent. She listened as Whitney continued what she insisted Blue needed to know.
But she could only endure it for so long.
"We met during the pre–"
"Whitney…" Blue suddenly cut in. "My comrades are out there fighting for their lives, waiting for me to retrieve her."
"Ah–sorry, I know. But Rita doesn't talk much about herself," Whitney replied. "So if you want to get through to her, you need to at least underst–"
Blue began walking toward her without warning, and Whitney instinctively stepped back.
"Why have you been stalling me? What is it you're waiting for?"