Chapter 34 – Daren
The fire burned low in the safehouse, casting long shadows against stone walls lined with scrolls and tomes. Aric sat cross-legged on the floor, his hands still trembling from the memory of the divine fragment's glowing eyes. He hadn't been able to sleep, replaying the fight in his head again and again.
Daren returned from the back chamber, carrying a long, flat chest of blackened wood. Its surface was scarred, etched with faint symbols that pulsed faintly in the firelight.
Aric frowned. "What is that?"
Daren set the chest down carefully, his eyes sharp. "Knowledge that no one is supposed to have."
He opened the chest, revealing several tightly bound manuscripts. Unlike the other books in the safehouse, these weren't neat or preserved. The pages were yellowed, cracked, and in some places scorched. The ink shimmered faintly, as if alive.
Aric leaned closer, curiosity and unease mixing in his chest. "Where did you get these?"
"From the ruins of the old capital," Daren said, his voice low. "Places where the gods erased history. These texts were meant to be destroyed, yet fragments survived."
He handed Aric one scroll. The script was jagged, unfamiliar, but as Aric's eyes traced the words, meaning seemed to press itself into his mind, forcing comprehension. His breath caught. "It's… teaching me."
Daren nodded grimly. "Forbidden texts carry knowledge directly into your thoughts. That is why the system hunts those who study them. They bypass its control."
Aric's fingers tightened on the scroll. The words pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, whispering of things unseen—mana not as energy, but as threads woven through reality itself, threads that could be cut, reshaped, or stolen.
"This… this changes everything," Aric whispered. "The system doesn't give us magic. It's… siphoning it, then rationing what's left back to us."
Daren's eyes gleamed. "Exactly. Mortals are not weak because they lack power. They are weak because the system ensures it."
Aric's chest tightened. "Then why don't we destroy it?"
"Because," Daren said, closing the chest, "the system is not a single thing you can strike down. It is Aion's design. To destroy it, one must understand it completely—and survive long enough to resist its retaliation."
Aric hesitated, glancing at the flickering fire. The memory of the divine fragment returned—its layered voice, its blades of light. That had been only a lesser being. And even then, Daren had nearly struggled.
"Father," Aric said quietly. "What happens if I keep reading these?"
Daren studied him, his face unreadable. "You will grow faster. Stronger. Wiser. But the system will notice. The watchers will come. And once you are marked, the gods themselves will turn their eyes toward you."
Aric's throat went dry. "Then why show me this?"
"Because you need to see the truth," Daren said firmly. He leaned closer, his gaze piercing. "Power without knowledge is nothing. But knowledge without courage is wasted. You must have both if you are to survive what is coming."
For a moment, silence hung between them. The fire cracked softly, shadows shifting like restless spirits.
Aric looked back at the scroll in his hands. The words seemed alive, whispering of forbidden techniques: bending mana into living chains, severing the roots of another's spell, even glimpses of ascension beyond mortality.
His chest tightened with fear—but also with hunger. For the first time, he felt as though the world's cage had a door.
He looked up at his father. "Teach me."
Daren's lips curved into the faintest smile, though his eyes carried no joy. "Very well. But understand this, Aric—once you take this path, there is no turning back. You will never be safe again."
Aric held the scroll tighter, his resolve hardening. "I'd rather live with danger than die in chains."
Daren exhaled slowly, a shadow of pride crossing his features. He reached into the chest and withdrew another scroll, this one bound in strips of iron, its seal glowing faintly red.
"Then your training begins tonight."
The flames flickered higher as Daren unrolled the forbidden text. Strange symbols spilled into the air, hanging like embers. Aric leaned forward, heart racing.
The path ahead would be dangerous. But it was his.