Reborn: Evolving From Nothing - Chapter 231

Chapter 231: Focus (End of Volume 8)

Dorian took a deep breath, feeling the cool air soothe his lungs. His eyes were closed tight, shut to help him meditate as he focused on healing. Deep inside him, various Pills that he’d pulled from his Spatial Ring were currently releasing energy, slowly working their magic on him.

Around him, an old, familiar sight spread out.

The Ice Keep.

The Ice Keep was huge, stretching for miles underground. Dozens of sets of stairs led through twisting and winding corridors, giving it an almost maze-like appearance. The path Dorian had traveled was one from his memory, leading towards a specific place.

When he’d entered the Keep, he’d found it mostly the same as before. There was a throne room near the entrance, with a throne that he could activate just like Arial did to turn on the Red Portal, down below.

The further down they moved, the colder it got. Thankfully, even in their injured states, neither Sun Wukong nor Dorian truly needed to worry about temperature.

Dorian took several deep breaths, focused on his interior. Hot air fell from his lips, turning to icy stream in the cool air.

Slowly, after a few moments, he opened up his eyes, glancing around.

A massive, thousand meters wide and hundreds of meters long room stretched out around him. Ice coated everything, but beneath that ice, Dorian could make out dozens of what appeared to be forges, where a blacksmith would toil and work, smithing weapons, tools, and armor.

The Ancient Refinery of this Ice Keep. The same place he had fought against a team of attacking Shades, sent by the Church of Light.

After a moment, he glanced behind him, his eyes narrowed.

The exit to this room was the same as before. A vast, open doorway that stretched all the way to the ceiling, nearly a hundred meters above them.

Beyond that doorway, Dorian could make out a wall of crystalline blue.

It was cold, terribly cold. Dorian’s breath froze in front of him when he breathed in its direction, tinkling to the ground as tiny, little pieces of ice.

The Traveling Ice Waterfall lay just beyond that frozen wall. The World Phenomena he had just been practicing at before.

‘I forgot you were down here.’ He smiled as he looked at it. He hadn’t truly forgotten, but it just hadn’t crossed his mind to try practicing here.

It had been several hours since he started healing down here. In that time, his body had rapidly regenerated, healing at an incredible pace. He was already back at roughly 70%, easily able to defend himself if needed.

What worried him, slightly, however, was the monkey next to him. Well, not quite next to him, but around a dozen meters from him.

Sun Wukong lay on the ground, shifting restlessly. The monkey’s body was giving off a huge amount of heat, causing the air around him to steam up. Any ice near him had long since been vaporized by the raw power he was giving off.

The monkey appeared to be starting a long recovery process that was linked to the dire injuries his soul had accumulated over the years. By the looks of it, this was a process that wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, nor was it something Dorian could help with.

However, the cool, frozen environment of Blizzaria actually appeared beneficial to Sun Wukong, helping cool off the raw heat he was emanating. Thus, Dorian left him be, setting up his body to rest against the wall. He thought about putting the monkey in the Traveling Ice Waterfall, but opted against it in the end, not knowing how the World Phenomena would affect his savior.

After checking on Sun Wukong, Dorian walked over to the part of the room that faced the World Phenomena. He looked out upon it, his eyes piercing through the wall of ice to see what lay beyond it.

Past the wall of ice, he could see a long, faintly-glowing bridge that seemed to be made of pure gold. It was covered in smooth carvings of Grakons using their enormous blades and other Grakons smithing those same swords, a constant cycle of creation and destruction.

He nodded.

As the Ancient Refinery where many of these weapons had been forged, everything here remained unchanged despite the destruction this place suffered last time. The mysterious properties that magically restored this world when things got destroyed had done a solid job rebuilding everything.

The unending stream of pure, blue and white ice that smashed into that bridge, however, was what Dorian was truly here for. This ice blasted into Dorian’s ears as he raised his hand and destroyed the frozen wall that separated him from it, revealing the waterfall in its true glory.

The sheer fury of the ice as it collided with the magic bridge and ricocheted off was something he had once viewed as terrifying. Indeed, even as he looked at it now, he could see its raw power.

He smiled as he took several steps forward, feeling the familiar sensations of the World Phenomena wash over him. He reverted to his Balance Demon form as he sat on the ground, ignoring the fearsome noise and power of the frozen waterfall.

‘Focus…’ He shut his eyes, a solid line of determination filling his body.

He was going to meditate, and this time, he wasn’t going to leave until he made a substantial amount of progress. With the meditation-boosting tools he had, as well as the World Phenomena at his beck and call, he had everything he needed, between here and Taprisha.

‘I will break through every barrier. I need strength, now, more than ever.’ He clenched his fists slightly, the pain of his loss to Zero still cindering within him,

‘I will not lose again.’

.. .. .. .. .. ..

On the Lesser World of Toraph, very far from Dorian, a man sat upon a rock, looking out across a vast plain. His simple black pants lay unruffled and stainless, melding well with his tanned, muscular chest. His blue eyes held a complicated look in them, as if he was lost in thought.

Next to that man lay a blood-stained woman, resting on the ground beside his rock. Her long, lustrous black hair had become ragged and twisted, the tight, rust-colored armor cracked and broken. She was shivering as she lay there, unable to move.

Yukeli sighed morosely as he sat on that rock. He turned down and glanced at the fallen woman, gazing at her with a look full of understanding.

“I understand your pain, Witch.” Yukeli shifted slightly till he was fully facing her. His legs were crossed as he sat, with his elbow resting on his knee and propping up his chin.

He continued to speak,

“The agony of doing everything right and yet facing defeat, time and time again.

“A mantra borne by losers everywhere, those that strive for victory but falter at the crux.

“Yet, in the end, what can you do but persevere? No matter the failures, no matter the loss, the only thing you can do is not give up.

“Victory is born from defeat. Success is born from failure. Gain is born from loss.” Yukeli paused for a moment,

“Perfection is born from imperfection.”

As he finished this line, he glanced around the grassy plain, gazing upon a nearby valley.

Gazing upon the remnants of a battle.

The ground in this valley had been ripped apart, with huge gouges in the earth, enormous craters of scattered rock, and even several new, jagged mountains formed in the distance.

In that damaged ruin, tens of thousands of humans lay on the ground, collapsed in disarray. Remnants of incredible Auras constantly shifted in the air, the nearby energy thrown into a massive flux of chaos. Warriors lay silently on the ground with broken weapons, Wizards lay with shattered staves.

Lord Class, King Class, none of it mattered.

The mighty, grand 2nd Main Division of the Borrel Autarchy lay in this valley, defeated by a single man.

Yukeli stood up from his rock, stretching his arms and back as he did so. Every movement he made was full of predatory grace, a being that was unrivaled in power constantly remaining on guard and staying aware of his surroundings.

“That was a good warmup, Witch. The fact that it took me so long really shows how new this body is to me. Losing most of my soul certainly didn’t help either, but I should still be able to use around 30% of my full strength.” Yukeli looked down at the fallen, Angelic Class Wizard, Cynthia Gudet, the Head of the Borrel Autarchy’s Annihilation Department, with a smile.

“It’s a bit more than the power I had before I Ascended.” Yukeli walked over to the edge of his rock as he gazed at Cynthia, a hint of pity in his eyes,

“It was a bad matchup for you. I just recently experienced quite a bit about the Law of Annihilation, though the result of this battle was never going to change either way.” Yukeli shrugged.

He jumped down off his rock and took a few steps forward until he was right in front of the woman.

In that time, the woman had recovered enough to stop her shivering. Her eyes had opened, revealing a fierceness that refused to be tamed as she looked up at Yukeli.

“Bear a message for me, lass. Tell Arthur that Fate cannot be stopped. I could ravage his lands like a warmonger, throwing an army of drakes across a thousand planets…”

“But that is not the future I see.” He shook his head,

“One month. This is my message to him. After this body and my soul have fully merged as one, I will march to his palace and take back what is mine.

“Destiny arises, old friend. Whether you step in its path or stand to the side, it matters not.

“The tides of change have come.”

Yukeli’s words were ominous, full of overwhelming intent as he looked down at the frail, injured woman. After seeing a gleam in her eyes, he smiled and turned away.

A moment later, his body blurred and vanished as he left, moving so quickly he appeared to teleport.

The moment he left…

Cynthia’s body collapsed into shuddering, her hands trembling as she wrapped them around herself. The woman’s chest was wracked as she took several deep breaths, forcibly gathering control of herself.

She tapped on her Spatial Ring, withdraw several expensive Healing Pills and promptly swallowing them. A faint, red flush appeared on her face after a few seconds, making her look slightly less like she was about to keel over.

The Head of the Borrel Autarchy’s Annihilation Department slowly dragged herself to her feet after taking the medicine. The powerful, awe-inspiring Aura of an Angelic Class Wizard was nowhere to be seen as she attempted to compose herself.

She brought out an Artifact from her Spatial Ring, a glowing tube with several strange glyphs carved into it, known as a Short Transfer Tube. It was a short-range communications device, used to talk to people that were, at most, a single World Bridge away.

“Re…report. Almanya, report.” Her voice became commanding as she spoke into the tube, stuttering only slightly as she clutched at her waist. A deep-seated exhaustion was present in her eyes, as if she wanted nothing better than to collapse.

“Wizard Almanya, reporting.” A masculine voice wavered out of the tube.

Before the battle, Cynthia had set aside a small contingent of Fate Wizards to watch the fight and scan everything. They were to mark down every detail they could about Yukeli, tallying up his power, his potential, and everything.

Of all the fallen, they were likely the only force from the 2nd Division that had escaped this battle unscathed.

“How… how many casualties?” Cynthia cut to the chase immediately, gathering as much information as she could as possible. The flush in her face was gradually spreading to her body as she grew stronger and stronger, now able to stand without clutching at her waist.

The observing Fate Wizards should be able to tally up the losses in an instant. This exercise had been one to test Yukeli, as well as one in an attempt to at least slow him down.

Cynthia braced herself to hear the results. The battle had been one of horrific proportions, the likes of which she had never experienced before.

Arthur had said he was a monster but… nothing he said could have prepared her for that.

No matter what they threw at that man, no matter how devastating an attack, how overwhelming in might or power, nothing fazed him. Nothing at all.

A mere wave of his hand deflected a thousand fireballs, a gentle turn of his fist blocked a hundred lightning bolts. It was as if he was a god of war, with no wasted movements and perfect responses, time and time again.

Even with the Heads of the Diamond Department and the Gravity Department here to assist her, the famous World Wall and the Diamond Wall, she had still failed.

It seemed impossible that any being could possess such power and skill. Yet the reality of the situation lay before her.

Remembering the destruction brought tears to her eyes as she thought of the Division she had helped raise, of all the elites that had fought for humanity for decades, or even hundreds of years.

“Ma… ma’am…” Almanya’s voice was haggard as he replied, filled with a hint of confusion.

“Almanya. Casualties. Now.” She cut into his wavering, demanding a response.

“None.” Almanya replied instantly, his wavering vanishing as he simply followed orders.

“What?” Cynthia blinked.

“The injured lie in the tens of thousands. Broken bones, split skin, bruised organs, almost everyone has been injured, from what I can see in Fate. But as for the dead…” Almanya took a deep breath,

“Not a single soul has fallen.”

The Short Transfer Tube tumbled from Cynthia’s grasp, her eyes wide. She fell down to one knee as the shock hit her, destabilizing her still recovering body. A spurt of blood shot from her mouth as she grimaced, forcing down the pain.

Still, she shook slightly as she realized the true disparity between her and that man.

Not only did he block or deflect every attack thrown at him, he defeated the tens of thousands of members of the 2nd Division, all elite Lord or King Class experts, and did so in such a way that resulted in zero deaths, as if he didn’t truly see them as his enemies…

And he did all of that in less than an hour.

.

.

.

End of Volume 8 – Return.