Ch 193 – The Oath that Kickstarted Ragnarök
Deacon walked into the Training Field wearing his burnt orange training suit, his heart beating with anticipation as he took in the sight of his uncle standing two hundred meters away from him, and he found himself feeling better than he had in weeks.
Better than he'd felt since before Solomon's Fourth Temple had taken almost everything from him and left him with nothing but guilt, anger, and self-hatred.
After his heart-to-heart with Bonehead a few nights prior, where they'd finally confided in each other about the thoughts that had been eating at them both for the past two months, Deacon had managed to actually rest without experiencing the nightmares that would normally have him launching from his bed covered in sweat with his arms already swinging at anything that even breathed in his direction.
And in the place of the nightmares was dreamless slumber.
Bonehead had explained and forced him into a tentative understanding that not everything was his fault, no matter how much he told himself it was, and that he had no right to shoulder all of that burden on his lonesome when he was just as much their friend as they were his.
To say that it had been a bitter pill to swallow even days after their conversation would be putting it mildly.
But he understood it now, at least part of it.
Deep in his heart, though, Deacon knew that this seed of self-disgust and failure had already taken root and that while in time it would begin to heal and the ache would dull, it would always remain somewhere in the back of his mind waiting to remind him of what had happened in that temple.
And that was fine with him; it would serve as a reminder to him of his failure.
Deacon hardened his gaze and tightened his grip on Echoform Reliquary's Ulfberht hilt, unsheathing it, because his eyes were now open to a world that held far more dangers than he had ever imagined existed.
And with that realization came a solemn oath he made to himself as he stood there on the grass: never again would his friends meet their end as a result of his lack of power and foresight.
"Are you ready?" Bjorn called out from across the field, mirroring Deacon's stance by unsheathing his own Ulfberht and holding it in his right hand while his left remained loose at his side.
In the eyes of others, his oath would be one they'd claim was made of arrogance.
They would be correct.
Taking in a deep breath, Deacon closed his eyes for a few seconds to steady his heart before snapping them open as he simultaneously activated Power Boost at 10%, feeling his muscles swell slightly as steam began rising from his skin, and cast Flame Armament along the length of his blade.
He then took his first step forward and cast Flame Art: Flame Steps beneath his feet, the soles of his boots searing the grass as the spell took effect and created jets of orange flame that boosted his forward momentum.
Both his and Bjorn's Ulfberhts clashed with a loud metallic ring that echoed across the Training Field and into the surrounding forest, though it was immediately followed by another clash and then another as Deacon pressed forward with a series of rapid strikes that Bjorn met with his own blade, each impact sending sparks flying between them and ringing out like bells being struck in quick succession.
Was this an oath that everyone would say was ignorant and foolish?
Yes, it was.
Deacon parried a heavy downward swipe from his uncle with gritted teeth, using both hands on his Ulfberht's grip to redirect the force of the blow to the side rather than trying to stop it entirely, unbothered by the sparks from their clashing blades that struck his face and singed the edges of his hair as he stepped into his uncle's guard and drove his right elbow upward toward Bjorn's chin.
The strike would have connected solidly if his uncle hadn't raised his head at the last possible instant to get just out of reach.
Would others say the oath he'd made was one born purely out of grief? Yes, they would, but those people could go fuck themselves because they didn't understand that the grief wasn't going to fade, it was just going to change shape.
A kick struck Deacon square in the chest before he could follow up on his failed elbow strike and sent him flying backward through the air, his body flipping end over end as he fought to right himself.
He managed to get his feet under him just before landing on the grass at the edge of the forest, though he barely had time to process that he had landed before his uncle was already there in front of him, his fist cocked back and already thrown.
Deacon shifted his neck to the side and felt his uncle's fist graze past where his face had been a fraction of a second earlier, and in response, he let go of his left hand's grip on Echoform Reliquary.
Within that same movement, his left hand snaked into his uncle’s guard and shot at his uncle's exposed throat, though it was quickly stopped by Bjorn's left palm intercepting his hand.
Or that's what should have happened if Echoform Reliquary hadn't shifted forms mid-strike into its crowbar form, the hooked end catching Bjorn's blocking palm and yanking it off course just enough that Deacon's fist continued forward toward its original target.
Bjorn's smirk grew wider as he recognized what had just happened.
But just as Deacon's fist was about to connect with his uncle's throat, all the air exploded from Deacon's lungs as spit flew from his mouth and his uncle's free fist buried itself into his gut with enough force to lift him slightly off his feet before sending him flying backward deeper into the forest, his back crashing through smaller branches and saplings before his momentum arrested itself against a hardy tree trunk.
"That was a good," Bjorn called out as he started walking in the direction Deacon had been sent, his tone carrying genuine approval before shifting into a teasing one. "But is this all you've managed to accomplish in the two months I've given you to train?"
Bjorn launched himself into the air to close the distance faster and immediately had to twist his body mid-leap to dodge six throwing daggers that came whistling out from between the trees and embedded themselves into a trunk just behind where he'd been.
He continued dodging by planting his feet against the air itself and using his ability to air-walk in order to twist and weave around the dozens more throwing daggers that came flying at him from multiple angles.
What impressed him more than the sheer number of projectiles was the skill with which they were being thrown, many of them striking each other mid-flight and changing trajectory to aim directly at him without any visible use of mana to guide them.
“While I knew you had some skill with knives, I didn’t know you also had this level of skill with throwing knives,” Bjorn remarked.
Following the trajectories of the daggers back to their source, Bjorn found Deacon standing in a small clearing between the trees with his arms spread wide and his fingers splayed, and Bjorn launched himself from his position in mid-air directly toward him.
The sound of metal wire pulling taut filled the clearing, causing Bjorn’s eyes to suddenly widen at the sound.
Bjorn found himself suspended in mid-air roughly a meter and a half away from Deacon, hundreds of thin metal wires wrapped around his body and limbs that glinted in the rays of sunlight filtering through the canopy above, and he looked down to see that the wires were wrapped around Deacon's fingers as well, the metal digging into his nephew's skin deep enough that blood was already running down his hands in thin rivulets.
"Good," Bjorn acknowledged with genuine approval in his voice. "Very good. On pure skill alone, you’re better than the others in our Knight Order – better than me in fact."
The words did nothing to fill Deacon with confidence, instead they put him more on edge because he knew his uncle well enough by now to recognize when praise was coming with a follow-up.
"But what would you do," Bjorn said, as his body suddenly began to swell, his muscles and training suit bulging against the hundreds of wires wrapped around him as he grew larger and larger.
The metal wires began to snap one by one like overtightened guitar strings, and his uncle didn’t stop growing until he reached eleven meters in height, with muscles that looked like they’d been carved from stone, towering over Deacon at a staggering eleven meters and displaying one of his Jötunn Racial Traits in full: Gigantism. "If I did this?"
I will become strong enough that I never have to experience this disgust in myself ever again, Deacon declared to himself as he let go of the wires still wrapped around his bleeding fingers and reached back to where Echoform Reliquary had long since shifted into its dual short sword form and sheathed.
Grabbing both hilts with his bloody hands, Deacon brought both blades forward, casting Ignis Sanguinis: BloodFlame Armament on them as he did so.
Using his newly gained blood manipulation ability, Deacon used what meager proficiency he had to move the blood from his still-bleeding fingers and guide it down the length of both blades, where it met the flames wreathing them and transformed the already crimson-orange fire into a roaring crimson that burned considerably hotter.
He activated his Fire Affinity’s Innate Skill: Undying Flame and pushed everything he had into the spell as the air around him began to heat up, evaporating the moisture in it.
Deacon's feet exploded off the ground in a burst of flame and torn earth, and he charged directly at his towering uncle, who had already wound up one massive fist and was driving it down toward him like a meteor falling from the sky – a fitting comparison as in his giant form, he was blotting the sun.
I will become the strongest, Deacon swore as his twin blades trailing crimson fire arced upward to meet his uncle's descending fist, and the impact when they connected sent a shockwave rippling outward through the forest that stripped leaves from branches and sent birds scattering in every direction while the ground beneath Deacon's feet cratered from the force he was channeling through his body to match his uncle's strength.
The collision lasted for only a heartbeat before Deacon was driven backward into the earth, his boots carving deep trenches through the dirt and grass as he was pushed back by the sheer overwhelming force of his uncle's strike, though he managed to keep his blades locked against Bjorn's massive fist and prevent himself from being crushed entirely into the ground beneath him.
"Come on," Bjorn teased. "I know you can do better."
Gritting his teeth hard enough that he could hear them grinding together in his skull, Deacon pushed Power Boost to 15% and felt something in his shoulders pop from the sudden surge of additional strength flooding through his muscles, though he ignored the sharp spike of pain and kept pushing against his uncle's fist with everything he had while the crimson flames wreathing his blades roared louder and hotter in response to the increased mana he was channeling through them.
The pressure on Deacon's blades doubled in an instant as his uncle shifted his weight and drove down harder, and Deacon's knees buckled slightly before he managed to lock them in place and brace himself against the ground, his feet sinking another few inches into the earth as the crater beneath him deepened and widened from the forces at play.
His arms were shaking from the strain, the muscles in his shoulders and forearms burning from keeping his blades upright, and Deacon could feel his entire body beginning to give way beneath the overwhelming strength his uncle held over him.
But even as his muscles screamed and his bones creaked under the strain, Deacon's lips pulled back into something between a grimace and a grin.
Keeping his blades locked against his uncle's fist, Deacon started casting Flame Mine beneath his feet, pouring mana into the spell as magic circles began appearing one after another in the dirt under where he stood.
One.
Five.
Ten.
Twenty.
Dozens of overlapping Flame Mines spread out beneath him, covering the entire crater, and the moment he had enough layered together, Deacon triggered every single Flame Mine at once.