16 The Helm

Five days, that was how long it has been since he fought for his sanity. Five days since he had once again opened his eyes to the world; only to feel like he had been blind in the past. There was no pain this time. No madness was creeping into his mind.

There was only a majestic beauty beyond his greatest imaginations. The world looked brighter in its most obtuse order. Colors in hundreds of distinctions, painting a mural. A million shattered pieces put together perfectly. Each dancing around the other, always changing, evolving. Influencing and being influenced by those that surround it.

It was the same as it was during his suffering, yet fundamentally different. Then, it was beauty in its most wild of states; chaos born without boundaries. Constantly flaring in its most prideful countenance. Now, there was a precise order to everything that happened around him. Boundaries, though in constant fluctuation, defined each emotion emitted by its carrier.

It was… bearable. The pressure was not all-consuming in its embrace. If he was careful, the threat of insanity was a distant thing.

Most importantly, he knew that there were two extremes in this camp. One of great anger and pain. Splashes of red met his every step while fading darkness followed him like a cape - fluttering in an unseen wind. Another was of great happiness and joy. Oranges and yellows latched onto anything he touched. But, most surprising was how similar they looked. Only a few shades apart. Every time they neared each other, a war broke out for dominance. Curtained from sight.

Watching, he noticed that whenever they met, both lost a great deal in their emotional scape. The only glimmer of hope was that the anger filled sadness had less fuel to burn on compared to the joy and happiness. As long as nothing horrible happens while they battled, a ray of light would eventually pierce the dark storm brewing before Azeal.

Once he looked beyond the emotions to their carriers, he found that they were two of the freed slaves Harold introduced to him before. The first was named Undiel, a Monkeykin, while the other was Troyis, a Bearkin.

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Touching his head subconsciously as he watched the two emotions battle a small skirmish before his very eyes, Azeal rode on an all too familiar beast of burden. For some reason, this beast had been waiting outside his tent the morning after his harrowing experience. Having been in a depressed state, he did not have enough energy to reject this determined creature.

It followed him everywhere he went; though he did not visit any place other than to ask Roland what he was supposed to do to make the helm work.

Azeal had decided to put on the helm when he woke up. He tried to lie to himself, saying that it was his plan from the beginning, but the longer it took to put it on the more he had to face the truth. He wanted to hide his pain. To conceal his most vulnerable moment; his insecurity.

Once he decided to find help, he knew that Harold would demand to know what had happened to make him look so terrible. So, he went to Roland for the answer. Finding out that he had to drop a bit of blood onto it then wear it. Doing so, he put it on.

'Ding'

System -

Modifications -

Helm of the Knights of Chivas - Cursed (Semi-Permanent)

Effects -

…

Status Concealment - Moderate Tier (High)

- Shows what you choose to be shown during any reading.

- Any being with over one hundred wisdom more than you will be able to see past this effect.

…

Seraphim Bloodline - High Tier (High)

- The last of the full Seraphim kings had noticed the tide which they faced was the end to their noble heritage. In a desperate bid to survive, he resorted to an evil ritual that trapped his soul and bloodline within his own throne. Every half a century, a helm is magically created with the same properties, to spread his bloodline. Hoping one day, his lineage would be revived again.

- Absorb mana stones from light and holy based creatures to slowly unlock.

- 39.435% of 100%

ErroR… ErroR...

…

Due to your pure Raug bloodline and your recognized existence as a being from another world, this effect is no longer valid for the recip-

…

Skill Blind Emotion has cannibalized this effect, changing its structure.

Seraphim Bloodline Transfer - High Tier (High)

- The last of the full Seraphim kings had noticed the tide which they faced was the end to their noble heritage. In a desperate bid to survive, he resorted to an evil ritual that trapped his soul and bloodline within his throne. Every half a century, a helm is magically created with the same properties, to spread his bloodline. Hoping one day, his lineage would be revived again.

Yet, you achieved his greatest dream. The ability to transfer his bloodline.

- Absorb mana stones from light and holy based creatures to slowly unlock.

- 39.435% of 100% unlocked

- Needs a minimum of 54.455% to transfer

- Once transferred, it can no longer be taken back

-The recipient will be bound to you.

Surprised at the sudden cannibalization of the helm's effect, he had subconsciously tried to take it off. Only to feel a piercing pain in his head. Letting go, he took a deep breath. Afraid he would begin to panic once again.

He still had phantom pain. He had once heard that people who lose a limb would feel a phantom itch they cannot scratch. Never genuinely taking it to heart, he had stashed it into the back of his mind. Yet, now it was a part of his life.

Any sudden pain, no matter how small, reminded him of those torturous moments.

'Breathe in, Breathe out - You have things to accomplish.'

It had become a soothing mantra he constantly repeated. A necessity for him to not lose control; becoming a shivering mess in front of everyone as they moved towards their destination. That was for when he was in private. Away from prying eyes. Resolving himself to his fate, he composed his emotions.

Turning back to the bickering beastkins a bit in front of him, a small smile blossomed on his face. Though the pain was horrible, moments like this made up for it all. Moments were he could watch such pure emotion; no matter its make.

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POV - General Harold Winsten

Harold watched Azeal surreptitiously. He knew something was wrong after the Raug had left after their little spar with a distant look in his eyes. Following his instinct then, Harold had used his skill Mana Perception to find out why. What he found then frightened him to his core.

An unbelievable amount of mana gathered around Azeal. A storm that covered the entire camp and beyond. Face whitening, he found that his hands felt incredibly weak. His sword and shield dropped to the ground as he instinctively started to step back in fear and awe. That was not something he ever expected.

What had been in front of him then was a reminder to Harold. That no matter how hard a normal human may try, individually they would never compare to the monsters that lived far away.

Their battle was nothing but a farce. At any moment, Azeal could have simply blown him into particles. All it would have taken was a wave of his hands.

Oh, Harold had ways to deal with such powerful beings, but he would have to be fully prepared many days before the fight. An ambush would render them all useless…

Now, as he watched Azeal, a constant and thick covering of mana covered the Raug. The mana was so dense and compact that it was visible to the untrained eye. Like heat waves perpetually surrounding him.

What was he doing? Was he gathering mana? If so, why? If not, then what could it possibly be? Why was he intently watching Undiel and Troyis? What made their bickering special enough to garner his completely undivided attention? Why did he occasionally shiver and seem to put tremendous effort into stopping it?

Feeling the need to probe the situation, Harold clicks his tongue guiding his battle horse towards the oel Azeal rode. Knowing even the battle horses were extremely wary of such fickle creatures, he remained a comfortable distance away.

"Azeal! How is the Oel treating you? You seem to hate or fear riding on such mounts. You shiver every bump of the road."

Just as he had finished speaking, you could clearly hear the oel huff in displeasure. It was as if it could understand them. You can never underestimate these creatures.

Cursing under his breath, he watched as Azeal laughed uproariously. He did not know if the Raug was genuinely happy. The helm he had given him covered his entire face. The only thing that was apparent was his red eyes that seemed to shine brightly.

"Her name is Buttercup. And she is just wonderful."

Patting the Oel, he continued, "Arent you girl?"

Seeming happy at the praise, buttercup bellowed. Wincing at what sounded closer to a broken engine than anything else. Azeal laughed again.

Not knowing what to make of the great mood Azeal was in, he clicked his tongue again. This time speeding up closer to the front to the caravan. As he looked up to the sky, he noticed that they had a few hours until sunset. He ordered his men to find a suitable camp and begin laying it out.

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