Edward sat in his place under the oak tree, intently watching the circle where Ashen was supposed to stay.
Nothing was visible due to the time distortion, but the lingering madness in his eyes told a different story.
'Is this how they also felt…?'
Like Oppenheimer, who led the creation of the atomic bomb, he felt like he was creating something equally deadly.
But like Alfred Nobel, who had created dynamite to help with construction, he felt like he was making a mistake.
What if the pressure breaks him and permanently changes his personality for the worse? What if he lashes out in rage the moment he is free?
Edward did not truly care about himself. If his death would appease him, he would gladly give it after all was said and done. As long as Ashen became the savior of their Earth, what would one life amount to? Even if it was his own.
But just like Victor Frankenstein, who sank into obsession and arrogance, thinking that he was creating a masterpiece, he was also afraid that the result could only be revolting.
But unlike the man, he would never run if that were the case. Frankenstein ran from responsibility and rejected the creature by abandoning it and fleeing his own lab.
And that, ironically, was the spark that made it into a demon.
The creature was born innocent, but the first thing it experienced was abandonment. That single moment, Victor turning away in disgust, is what set everything else in motion.
Ashen was equally innocent here, for he did nothing to deserve the cruelty brought upon him now.
Edward would not make the same mistake, and so, he marched once more toward that distortion, ready to face the disaster of his own making.
His body, which was looking significantly more aged now, moved with more difficulty, but he ignored the discomfort and walked forward.
'All of this is my own conjecture. I shouldn't judge too early. What I should be doing is trusting my student more. There's no way that man would turn into a killing maniac.'
The Kingmaker was still in the middle of reassuring himself when his eyes fell on Ashen as he entered the time-sped distortion. And in that moment, all the reassurance he was about to utter was swallowed back.
It was rage incarnate. That was all he could glean from his eyes.
But it wasn't directed toward him. In fact, Ashen barely registered his presence. All of his awareness and wrath were directed at that rock, and he unleashed it to throw it with all his might.
Edward saw a phenomenon that made him widen his eyes. Mana frantically danced around Ashen until a transparent aura clung to him. While each breath gained a blueish hue from the concentration of the inhaled energy.
The real reason for his surprise was the way mana felt. It was filled with resentment and anger, mirroring Ashen's state. As if it were a friend grieving for a companion's wronged situation and raging on his behalf.
Edward could even see some unrefined mana charging at the rock and colliding with it in vain.
But the most outrageous thing before him wasn't any of the above; it was what he was sensing from Ashen's lower belly.
'Is that… a second mana heart? No, more like a a core with the function of containing mana.'
But Edward didn't understand how that was even possible. Never had he seen such a thing, and he was sure that attempting anything like it would only end up with either destroyed circuits or a blown-up stomach.
Many complex emotions passed through his eyes, but in the end, he only sighed, "You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only option."
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—"
Like the cries of a cornered beast, he shouted at the top of his lungs, and the teacher did not interrupt his student, but instead stayed still, watching him reinforce his body to absurd heights that a fifth step had no business reaching and still failing to move the rock whatsoever.
When the sun was about to set, the rage finally abated somewhat, but it never left; instead, it hid in the recesses of his eyes.
When he finally turned to his guest, Ashen's eyes stayed cold. But surprisingly, he chose to speak first.
"What? You came to congratulate me on gaining my 'freedom'? How thoughtful of you, teacher," the way he called him teacher lacked any of the previous respect the word used to carry.
Now, only biting sarcasm was left, "It would be even more thoughtful if you removed this goddamn thing from me, though."
Edward had long reined in his emotions and was back to his impassive self, "About the contract, I guess you have noticed its dissolution," he nodded in understanding.
"I have always disagreed with the practice of tying people with those things. Someone who is kept against his will never be as sincere as someone who stayed of his own free will."
"Gee… what do you think about someone who had his own freedom stolen on top of being constantly tortured for twenty years?" Ashen's tone turned light, as if he were recounting a joke to a close friend. "How sincere would that man be, teach?"
"..."
Edward fell silent briefly.
"Ashen, what do you think is necessary to triumph over an incomprehensible monster?"
He didn't wait for an answer, "The Sin Lords are basking in the illusion of safety created by their mighty power, fooling themselves into thinking they would find a way out, but I am not fooled."
"I see reality as it is. And what I see is the end of us all."
"So, tell me… what is the best and only weapon against these monsters?"
"The answer is simple. It is a monster."
"Since time immemorial, the answer had always been the same. To combat a monster, you have to become a monster."
His stone-like face finally gave way to a bitter smile, "Even if you decide to abandon Seravelle, as long as you protect our final bastion, Esperra, I would be satisfied. All I wish for is the continuation of our race. Nothing more."
"I… am… sorry."
Ashen watched his mentor's now-aged face show such a deep exhaustion that almost mirrored his own.
But he did not speak even after he saw him leave, for his head was filled with too many thoughts.
Was that really the only way? Does he really have to become a monster? What about his loved ones? What would they think if they saw a new alien version of him?
And… what about his family? Would his mother even recognize him then?
'No…'
That thought sent a violent jolt down his nerves. And that thought was all the push he needed to do what he had always refused to do.
Lucid Dreamweaving—
.
.
When he opened his eyes, he was not under any rock, or in any foreign continent; he was… home.
And right before him was none other than his mother, Akidia.
"Ash…?"
When that sweet motherly voice uttered his name with such consideration and love, he finally broke.
"..."
Tears traveled down his cheeks, and he could do nothing to stop them.
"Son?" When she approached him in concern, he found his body moving on its own, firmly moving to embrace the only harbor that he knew could shield him now.
"Mother…"