Chapter 7: Arcanist
Dawn broke over the Void Territory, painting the horizon in hues of blood-red and deep indigo, as though the heavens themselves anticipated the events to unfold.
Damon immersed himself in relentless training from the first light, his body encased in armor that weighed a staggering three hundred tons, each piece forged from void-iron and inscribed with ancient runes that amplified gravity tenfold.
The sheer weight would have crushed lesser men into paste, but Damon moved with deliberate grace, every step a testament to his formidable resolve and the unyielding will that burned within his soul.
Those who crossed his path, servants, guards, even seasoned commanders, instantly veered away, their instincts screaming danger. They felt the powerful aura radiating from him like heat from a blazing furnace, an invisible pressure that made hearts race and knees weaken.
Soon, he reached the serene edge of a vast, mist-shrouded lake, its waters dark and still as polished obsidian. Old Man Thomas awaited him there, standing with arms crossed, his ancient presence blending seamlessly with the solemn atmosphere.
"My sincerest apologies for making you wait, Old Man," Damon said, his voice light and teasing despite the crushing burden he bore, a faint smile playing on his lips as sweat glistened on his pale skin.
A prominent vein pulsed on Old Man Thomas's forehead, his eyes narrowing in mock indignation.
"Who are you calling old?" he thundered playfully, delivering a light punch to the top of Damon's head, light for a peak Hindu Realm expert, yet powerful enough to crater the ground for ordinary cultivators.
To his surprise, Damon didn't flinch or stagger. Instead, he rubbed his head with an exaggerated grimace, crimson eyes sparkling with amusement. "Aishhh, ahh, Grandfather, do you wish to end me?" he jested, a gentle, genuine smile illuminating his beautiful yet terrifying face.
In that moment, something stirred in Old Man Thomas's ancient heart, a warmth he had rarely felt. "I never fathomed I could feel such pride for someone," he murmured softly, voice thick with emotion, "something I've never felt even for my own children."
With a knowing smile that hid depths of complexity, Old Man Thomas produced a gleaming spatial ring from his finger and placed it into Damon's outstretched hand. "Child, this contains the cores of three Rank 5 demon beasts, along with several Rank 3 beasts, treasures I guarded for centuries."
Damon's eyes sparkled with unbridled excitement, like a child unwrapping a forbidden gift. He seized the ring eagerly, a broad, almost boyish grin spreading across his face. "Let's begin!" he exclaimed, brimming with anticipation that made the air around him hum with divine energy.
He carefully extracted the Rank 5 thunderbird core, a pulsating orb crackling with trapped lightning that illuminated the surroundings, and the water golem core, a swirling sphere of liquid essence that seemed to flow even while contained. "Grandfather, what I am about to perform here is our little secret," Damon said with a conspiratorial smile, his tone light yet carrying the weight of ancient knowledge.
From his palms, divinity leaked forth, raw, golden-crimson mist that poured into the Rank 5 demon beast cores like rivers returning to the sea. The energy was alien, primal, far beyond the Qi of Avalonia, carrying with it the scent of distant realms and forgotten epochs.
Old Man Thomas's eyes widened in astonishment, his Dao heart trembling for the first time in centuries. "What is that strange energy flowing from this child?" he wondered aloud, voice hushed with awe. "I feel as though a single drop could shatter my bottlenecks and elevate me straight to the Azura Realm." Greed flickered briefly in his ancient eyes like a shadow passing over the moon, only to vanish just as quickly, replaced by caution. "His talent is so demonic... it could even disrupt the rhythm of my Dao heart," he observed silently, watching Damon with a mix of awe, concern, and undeniable pride.
Damon began to compress the two demon beast cores together with his bare hands, divinity acting as both forge and hammer. Old Man Thomas gasped, his composure cracking. "What on earth is this child doing? I have never witnessed someone create an arcane in such a manner!" He stood in absolute shock, his eyes dancing with ritualistic fervor as the sky above the Void Territory darkened unnaturally. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning danced across the clouds Damon said to himself, "Soul Arcane, the art of summoning and binding souls to an object. Yes, there may be many flaws in this technique for ordinary cultivators, but with my presence... it becomes mere child's play."
Damon beamed with unrestrained excitement, he summoned the water golem essence next. It quickly took shape as a small, translucent blob of slime that hovered obediently at his side. Almost immediately, heavy rain began to fall from the darkened sky, torrents that should have drenched the land. Yet not a single drop touched the ground. Instead, the rain formed a thin, transparent barrier that enveloped the entire Void Territory like an invisible dome, shimmering faintly under the storm.
"Grandfather, cut your palm," Damon instructed calmly, his eyes never leaving the merging cores.
Old Man Thomas, momentarily jolted back to reality from his awe, complied without hesitation, trust in his grandson overriding centuries of caution. A drop of his ancient blood floated from the cut, drawn toward the orb by invisible force.
"Almehi ankutu," Damon spoke in an ancient tongue long lost to Avalonia, words that seemed to vibrate with the power of creation itself.
He joined the cores together as Old Man Thomas's blood formed a perfect orb around them, forcefully merged by Damon's indomitable will. "Merge for me," Damon commanded, channeling the full power from the Pillar of Control. His palms transformed, turning jet black with demonic veins pulsing beneath the skin, while the blood crystallized into a vibrant, multifaceted gem that radiated thunder and water essence in perfect harmony.
"A legendary arcanist!" Old Man Thomas exclaimed, falling onto his rear in utter disbelief, his ancient composure shattered. He pointed at Damon with a trembling finger, voice a mix of astonishment and awe. "Who the hell are you?"
The question hung in the air, startling even Damon for a brief moment. Honestly, I wondered when he would ask, he thought, a flicker of complexity crossing his crimson eyes. At the end, we are bound by blood and a strong soul link. He gave a gentle, reassuring smile as he approached his grandfather. "Who am I? Ah, sometimes I wonder that myself. But as long as I know you are my grandfather, bound by unbreakable blood and soul, I am content," Damon replied calmly, presenting the newly forged arcane in his palm like a sacred offering. "And now, you are an arcane holder."
Old Man Thomas could feel the truth in Damon's words; it was palpable, resonating in his very core. Suddenly, his defenses surged to new heights. His strength skyrocketed, breaking through stagnant bottlenecks he had wrestled with for centuries. Golden wings of pure thunder and water essence sprouted from his back, vast and majestic. "Incredible!" he exclaimed, launching into the sky with explosive force. His long beard fell away in strands of void energy, his skin regaining the vitality and smoothness of youth long lost. "What in the world!" He laughed joyously, a sound like thunder rolling across clear skies, as he descended with lightning trailing behind him like a comet's tail. He landed gracefully, nullifying the massive force of his descent with effortless control. "Water golem property: nullification," he murmured, biting his lip in disbelief and excitement. "I always knew I possessed superior seeds," he declared with a mix of shameless pride and genuine wonder.
"Tell me, Grandfather, how was my gift?" Damon asked with a warm, knowing smile.
"This, this is nothing short of amazing!" Old Man Thomas replied, his now-handsome, youthful features unable to contain his overwhelming joy. "From now on, this barrier shall remain steadfast," Damon assured him, a glimmer of fierce determination shining in his crimson eyes.
Merely merging these two souls has drained me of the little divinity I possess, Damon murmured to himself, feeling the temporary weakness in his limbs. How weak I have become in this fragile vessel.
"Grandfather, this barrier above us will never collapse, as long as you stand, nothing will thrive or enter without your will," he continued, his tone imbued with grave certainty. "In this way, we can take our time to root out those lurking beneath the Red Moon in the Void Territory."
Yet Old Man Thomas interjected calmly, his newfound power radiating confidence. "My child, leave those trivial matters to me."
With commanding presence that shook the surrounding void essence, Old Man Thomas channeled energy into his voice, projecting it across the entire territory like heavenly decree. "Effective immediately, I declare a state of emergency in the Void Territory. Anyone who defies the curfew will be regarded as an enemy of the Void family."
Damon's eyes widened in disbelief. Ha! This old man has lost his mind! Who declares a state of emergency so casually? he laughed inwardly, amusement bubbling despite his exhaustion.
Upon hearing those words echo through the territory, Alfie and Abel surged toward the source with alarming speed, their auras flaring in outrage and confusion.
"This lunatic old man!" Alfie exclaimed, fury propelling him forward like a void storm.
Within moments, Alfie arrived at the lake of dreams edge, void energy seeping from his very being in waves of darkness. "Where is that old man? He must have gone mad!" he spat, eyes blazing, only to find his gaze fixed on Damon standing calmly beside a strangely youthful figure. "It's your doing!"
Damon pointed at himself with mock bewilderment, crimson eyes wide in feigned innocence, which elicited a lazy, amused laugh from the rejuvenated elder beside him.
Soon, Abel joined them, gripping Alfie's shoulder firmly to restrain his brother's rage. "Brother, temper your anger."
Alfie raised his head slowly to meet the two standing before him.
"Father?" Abel exclaimed, astonishment washing over his features like a tidal wave.
"Ah, son!" Old Man Thomas replied playfully, his voice rich and vibrant with renewed life.
Alfie's expression shifted into one of pure shock. This voice... it definitely belongs to Father, but the pressing question is how did he…
Old Man Thomas stood before him in all his rejuvenated glory, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Insolent fool, do you dare to label your father as mad?" he retorted, veins prominent on his forehead in exaggerated anger.
"This glorious one hasn't changed in the slightest," he declared with shameless pride, flexing his golden wings slightly for emphasis, "yet you all act as if I've transformed from a duck into a swine."
Abel and Alfie exchanged looks of sheer astonishment, mouths agape, as the implications of this miracle sank in.
The Void Territory had gained not just a barrier.
It had gained a reborn Ancestor.
And Damon watched it all with quiet satisfaction.
The game had changed.