Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 74: New Mission

The bitter sting of Rhydian’s words lingered in Jonan’s chest like a blade that refused to budge, yet even in its cruelty, it carried an undeniable truth. In this world, power was not granted through charity, nor would mercy or sentiment safeguard one’s future. A secret technique—even an incomplete one—was worth blood, life, and death. To receive such a thing demanded worthiness proven through action, not plea.

Jonan’s fingers clenched at his side, nails digging into his palm as he reflected. "I thought Father knew everything. I was certain he realized I’d broken through the Intelligence attribute limit. But perhaps not... or perhaps he’s chosen to remain silent."

The uncertainty gnawed at him, revealing it to Rhydian now might earn his respect—or his suspicion. To be high-profile was dangerous, not just from enemies, but also from those closer to him; he couldn’t guess other’s intentions, he would have to be careful about revealing his true attribute limits.

He swallowed the conflict down, letting it settle into the pit of his stomach like cold metal.

Rhydian’s voice cut through his thoughts. "Enough daydreaming. We’ll start with you practicing the Battle Arts again."

Jonan obeyed, adjusting his stance. The ground beneath his feet felt heavier than it had an hour ago, the accumulated fatigue a weight that refused to leave his limbs. Sweat traced lines down his temple as he raised his arms and began to cycle through the Battle Art, Moonlit Reverence.

His movements were precise, but not yet sharp. Each step forward lacked the fluid authority Rhydian demanded.

"No." Rhydian’s voice was a whipcrack. In a blur, he appeared beside Jonan, grabbing his elbow and shoulder. "You’re too stiff here. Battle Arts aren’t a memorized routine. It’s a connection between your flesh and your aura, feel the pressure around you, shape your movements to strike through it. Again."

Jonan exhaled sharply and tried once more, his aura started to flicker, and a pale silver sheen could barely be noticed by the naked eye, his strikes, now containing aura, looked more lethal and were far more dangerous than before.

"Better," Rhydian said, stepping back to observe. "Now, we move on to the second step."

They trained until dusk bled into night, the sky overhead darkening to a muted indigo. Rhydian remained unrelenting, driving Jonan beyond what he thought his limits could endure. Where other instructors might pause for rest or reassurances, Rhydian offered neither. Only corrections, demands, and rare, begrudging approval.

When Jonan finally collapsed to his knees, sweat-drenched and panting, Rhydian approached, crouching beside him.

"You want to grow stronger?"

Jonan nodded, too exhausted to speak.

"Then stop using your aura like a crutch, you have power, and that too pure raw untamed power, use it like a weapon. Channel what’s inside you, channel your hatred to drive it, don’t only use your aura, use the reason behind which you can have aura, manifest it."

Rhydian demonstrated, extending his hand. From his palm, a dense black-red aura erupted, laced with a sinister weight that made the air shudder.

"My aura is of Malicious nature, it has its own uses, and they are wondrous upon use, so channel the hatred inside you, and use it correctly, as it should be used."

He released the aura, letting it disperse. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

With an emerging sigh, Rhydian gently said, "Close your eyes."

Jonan did that.

"Reach inside yourself. Find the part of you that was the reason for your hatred to grow beyond this point, the hatred you felt when you stood before the abomination, the hatred when the Dark Tide swept through the city, grasp it, and feed it to your aura."

Jonan focused, at first, all he could feel was blank, but as his memories of his situation emerged, he felt anger, but what he started feeling again was hatred, and then... fragments started appearing in his mind, he could see the dead bodies of everyone he knows and is close with.

It enraged him, and his aura flickered, and then the silver streaked with a dark hue.

"Good," Rhydian’s voice came, quieter now. "Now, hold it. Don’t let it consume you. Control it."

Jonan’s entire body trembled as he fought to stabilize the volatile energy. Sweat poured from his brow, his teeth clenched until his jaw ached.

Minutes felt like hours.

When the aura finally settled, Rhydian gave a curt nod.

"Not bad for your first attempt. You’re reckless, though. If you’d lost control for even a moment longer, it would have burned your veins to ash. This isn’t Child’s Play, boy, while this secret technique is miraculous, it is also harmful to its user in its own way, that you will eventually have to face."

Jonan exhaled a shaky breath. "I... understand."

"No. You don’t yet. But you will."

Rhydian rose to his feet. "Listen carefully. You’ve stepped beyond what anyone expected of you. But your foundation is unstable, your recent breakthrough in the Spirit Forger realm, came too soon. You haven’t gathered enough aura, and you haven’t tempered your core properly. Right now, you’re like a sword that was forged too quickly. Sharp, but brittle. If you confront others of your realm now, you’ll not stand a chance."

Jonan’s fists tightened.

"So what do I do?"

"Hide it."

The words hung heavy in the air.

"Do not reveal your true realm to anyone," Rhydian continued. "Not to your kin. Not to your friends. Not even to your mother if you value her safety. Until your foundation is stable, you’re vulnerable. If anyone caught wind of your current realm, and with your fame in The Starfall Family, many would target you or challenge you."

Jonan’s gut clenched. He knew how his family members were, and it was expected of them to be, but to hear it spoken so plainly by the one in front of him made the threat all too real.

Rhydian’s gaze was like iron. "You’ll spend the next months honing your strength, gathering and refining aura. Solidify your core. Your foundation must be so firm that even if a Monarch stands before you, your mind won’t tremble."

"Yes, Master Rhydian."

"Good. Because you’ll need it."

Jonan looked up, confusion creasing his brow.

Rhydian turned away, the edges of his cloak catching the night wind. "His Highness has arranged your next mission. For both of us."

"A mission?"

"Abyssal Ruins, try learning about them, this mission will be a bit longer, so prepare accordingly, and it is also not a pretty place."

Jonan’s breath was caught, for even someone like Rhydian to call it a dangerous place, this place must be dangerous, considering how effortlessly Rhydian handled the Abomination.

"I’ll take you there," Rhydian said. "Abyssal Ruins are the most wonderful, and also the worst place to go, you will understand, once you find out a bit about them."

He glanced back. "Until then, you’ll train. Every hour you have, hone your body. Sharpen your Battle Arts. Gather and refine your aura. Because once we enter those ruins... no one will be there to save you."

Jonan swallowed, he had fear and anticipation filled within him.

"Good. Rest tonight. Tomorrow we double your training."

And with that, Rhydian vanished into the dark, leaving Jonan alone beneath the vast, uncaring sky.

Jonan stared upward, at the cold stars scattered like shards of glass. His body ached, his soul felt scraped raw—but his heart was alight.

He would endure. He would surpass.

The following weeks were a blur of pain and discipline.

Rhydian pushed Jonan through grueling routines. They began before dawn, Jonan’s body subjected to weighted exercises that strained his physique to breaking. Battle Art forms executed under crushing spiritual pressure, where the weight of the aura field threatened to rupture his veins. Nights spent meditating, refining the tangled, unstable mess of aura within his Heart.

Each day left him bleeding, broken, but incrementally stronger.

They worked on aura refinement in brutal detail. Rhydian taught Jonan to compress his aura, to densify and purify it through endless cycles of release and reabsorption. To bleed away the impurities born of his hasty breakthrough.

"This is how you stabilize a foundation you neglected," Rhydian would snarl, slamming his palm against Jonan’s back, forcing his aura to flare and burn away weaknesses.

Jonan learned to channel his hatred not as an uncontrollable fire, but a steady, lethal edge. Every memory of loss, every humiliation and terror, tempered into fuel for his growing strength.

They drilled Battle Arts until Jonan could execute Moonlit Reverence instinctively, each form flowing like a lethal dance. Then Rhydian brought some beasts to the the field, for Jonan to fight with.

Jonan nearly died fighting these beasts, because they were grade four beasts, who were extremely skilled and powerful, three times his aura backlash and ruptured his veins, leaving him vomiting blood, but each time, he stood again to confront the beasts and hone his use of aura.

When he could finally execute the first form without collapse, Rhydian’s approval was evident in the briefest of nods.

Weeks later, when the summons arrived, a sealed order bearing the crest of His Highness, Jonan’s aura had stabilized, not perfect, but strong enough to face Initial Grade four beasts.

Rhydian handed him the scroll, his gaze unreadable.

"It’s time."

Jonan took it, and his heart was steady.