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Chapter 98 - A Madman
🕑 Added 2021-12-03 23:21:56 +0000 UTCChapter 98
A Madman
Derrek sat in silence, his mind adrift. There were voices that he kept at bay. Words that he purposefully shut out from his mind. His heart astir, he wanted to crawl into his bed, cover himself with a tidy blanket, and forget. Forget what he had just been told. Forget what he had just witnessed. Cracking his head forward, he saw Sylas stare at him quizzically. An ordinary-looking man. Who just informed him... he had created a Way. And not just that, but how he created the way.
Though Derrek knew for a while now that Sylas had decent compatibility with the Cosmic Divinity, as even upon just being taught, he seemed familiar with it, there was a huge difference between decent compatibility and the ability to rewrite the codes of reality. Furthermore, how he went about rewriting them was what struck Derrek like a bolt of thunder.
The way of becoming a Bloodstone Knight, though trial-ridden, wasn’t necessarily hard; it was about using energy to create a dam of sorts within the veins, temporarily stopping the blood flow. Bit by bit, it was about acclimating the body to the sensation until the dam could be built permanently. The next step was building a series of these dams to reverse the flow of blood, bit by bit.
It was a process that took decades at minimum due to the fact that it redefined the base body structure. After all, changing the nature of one’s body wasn’t only beyond difficult, it was always life-threatening. There was a reason for the things to be the way they were, and altering them always bore that chance of lethal outcome.
And yet, Derrek was still stunned. Even just accomplishing that within the few months would have sent him on a downward spiral of doubt. But Sylas didn’t accomplish just that. In fact, he did something that shouldn’t be possible--coating the entirety of his blood in energy and halting that blood inside the veins. He wasn’t building dams to artificially stop the blood flow... he was taking every single drop of blood and individually stopping its movement.
Of course, Derrek bitterly mused. Of course he would create a new Way. It would be stranger if he didn’t. Nobody was mad or crazed or resilient enough to even toy with the idea. The very notion of using energy--an inherently volatile substance that could go off at the slightest misstep--to manipulate body in any grand way beyond the basic enhancements was unheard of. It would be like purposefully shooting poison directly into one’s heart--and just a drop or two, but an entire bowl of it.
Way of Madness... it was a suitable name. No, there’s perhaps no other name it could bear. As only the mad and the crazed would entertain the idea. No, Derrek shook his head. This went beyond that. Even people crazy enough to try had the instinctual, survival instinct that would prevent them from pushing it much further than the initial stages. After all, the certainty of death was absolute. At least, all of Derrek’s lifelong experiences told him so. And yet, they were defied. Defied by a strange man who could barely use magic a few months ago.
“Yo’, world to Derrek, you there?” Sylas called him out, but Derrek didn’t know how to respond. This was beyond him.
He was just a student of a Way--someone blessed by the minutia of talent that allowed him to transcend ordinary humanity, but that was it. He wasn’t anybody special, anybody outlandish, and certainly not anybody who defied the laws of nature. To him, magic was means of survival, means of affording himself a slight edge against the ever-growing aspects of death. It wasn’t a way for him to carve out a name in histories, and certainly not means of becoming something impossible.
To freeze one’s blood, drop by drop, through magic... shouldn’t be possible. And yet, Derrek witnessed it. Sylas showed it to him. He showed him seeps of energy spread out throughout the veins, the tiny canals that should blow up upon the touch of energy. He saw the tendrils of it wrap around the blood that should vaporize upon the touch of energy. Yet, all his expectations were defied. None of that happened. It was the opposite.
He suspected that, in that state, Sylas may as well be immune to every disease. In fact, even if Breath of Death was injected directly into his veins, chances are that it would be killed. Beyond that, this opened the doors to the possibilities beyond count. One of the reasons that Bloodstone Knights were generally not considered the strongest even within the Order itself was due to the fact that there were finite limits to how far one can push a body of flesh and bones.
That combined with the human’s limited lifespan ensured that no Bloodstone Knight ever truly reached the peak potential, but, more so, that they all died while still in training. Even draining blood once was an achievement that would land them in the books of history, let alone anything more than that. And yet, even the blood drain seemed like a child’s play to what Sylas accomplished.
Through the careful training and magic enhancements, human body could temporarily endure the lack of blood while it crystallizes into a heart. Though extremely dangerous, all people who eventually attempt it had decades of experience by then. And even still, many died. But not one did ever think of directly touching their blood by the energy. That was, in fact, one of the more popular means of suicide for a lot of Magi.
The human race was largely held back by their bodies, and though they attempted to bridge the gap through magic, there were limits to the body itself. The strongest blademasters weren’t strong because they had bodies immune to death, with the Magi following the same structure. The body, in general, was viewed as a weakness, and many Magi across the history tried to rip their souls out and shove them into more durable bodies. All failed, naturally, but that was the desperation behind that weakness. And yet...
“How... how are you alive?” Derrek asked.
“How am I alive?” Sylas mumbled, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”
“What... what do I mean?” Derrek chuckled bitterly. “When I told you to freeze the blood... I... I didn’t mean literally, Sylas. I meant creating a blockade in your veins independent of the blood itself. And, rather than immediately freezing it, you begin by slowing down. Creating tinier and tinier gaps. That’s how it was done since the conception. By everyone. Literally. Everyone. Even the idea of touching the blood with energy is... insane.”
“...”
“...”
“WELL, FUCK!! WHY DIDN’T YOU FUCKING SAY SO, DUDE?!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES I DIED IN THE PROCESS OF GETTING THIS SHIT?!!” Derrek yelped in surprise at Sylas’ sudden outburst, pulling back.
“D-died? What... what are you talking about?”
“Jesus,” Sylas mumbled, seemingly pulled into his own world. “Of course. Shit, of course it’s like that. I knew there was a catch. Nobody normal could do that. It was impossible. Way of Madness... shit, that’s a light way to explain what I did. I can’t believe this shit. Haaah...”
“...”
“So, want me to teach you?”
“Fuck off!” Derrek, for the first time in many, many, many years cursed, instinctively so. The very notion that he’d want to do anything close to what Sylas did... was insane. Yes, insane.
“Eh? Did I stir some fire in you? Nice, nice,” Sylas nodded with a smile. “But seriously... haah. And I swore to myself I’d be smarter. And yet... I just continued doing the same thing. Stubbornly hitting the wall without asking questions. You know, I thought I was just a talentless hack, and what came naturally to other people was beyond difficult for me. That’s why I kept trying. Even when the shit fried my blood--literally--I figured, hey, others probably knew how to control it. I’m just stupid. Magic doesn’t come naturally to me. So, I kept banging my head against the wall, time and again.”
“...”
“In a way, I suppose,” he continued. “I really am the only one who could develop it. Ah, shit, that came out super condescending. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“May as well,” Derrek said. “Because I can echo that statement. Nobody else could develop it. No, forget that--nobody would even entertain the idea. Any body modifications through magic are very limited. We mostly augment our armor and weapons, using them to strengthen the bodies. Applying magic directly... perhaps only the Bloodard Tattoos compare. But even they are extremely risky with very limited effects.”
“Well, I guess, the next thing would be reversing my blood flow,” Sylas continued. “And play around with it since I can coat my blood with energy in its entirety. Maybe split it in half, or puncture wounds to use my blood like bullets, or something like that?”
“... the... the end-goal of every Bloodstone Knight,” Derrek said. “Is condensing a Blood Heart.”
“A Blood Heart?”
“Hm,” he nodded. “It’s the final transformation I talked to you about--taking every ounce of your blood and ripping it out of your body and surviving. The Knight, then, condenses that blood into a Blood Heart before injecting it back into their body. This, for instance, on the base level gives you another source of blood when you are wounded so you don’t bleed out. It also increases your body’s natural regeneration. Furthermore, you can then try condensing extra Hearts. The most I’ve heard anyone’s done is four. It was a leader of the Order at one point, know by his title only--the Immortal. Supposedly, he lived to be two hundred and forty-four years old and the only reason he died... is because he killed himself. He cut his throat and hung himself upside down, bleeding for four days and nights straight before finally running out of blood and dying.”
“...” Wait, isn’t that really fucking bad for me? Sylas frowned. He actually prided himself on the fact that he could end his life fairly quickly. But, if each time he wanted to reset the loop, he had to hang himself upside down with cut throat and bleed for days...
“Of course, this was around a thousand years ago, so chances are that some parts of it are greatly exaggerated,” Derrek added. “But, nonetheless, it is true that the more Blood Hearts you have, the harder it is to kill you. Naturally, beheadings and such still easily do you in, but things like stabs and cuts and general battle wounds tend to be much easier to endure. Bloodstone Knights in the Order aren’t treated as Knights--but like war soldiers. In fact, most of them are directly under the King himself in his personal Legion, and are one of the spearheads of our army should we ever go to war.”
“... it doesn’t hurt to experiment,” Sylas sighed, looking at the palm of his hand. “Immortality, though, is one thing I don’t lack. But... we’ll see. Aye. We’ll see. I’m not a Bloodstone Knight, after all. Apparently... I’m a Madman.”
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Bruno Borges
Sylas, the Madlad
