The Path to Enlightenment

"Our greatest glory is not that we never fall, but that we always get up after every fall."

— Oliver Goldsmith;

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Kleio tried to scream loudly, straining his lungs as hard as he could. Unfortunately, he was unable.

His throat hurt too much and his body didn't have enough oxygen to help him in this endeavor.

A dagger was attached to his rib cage. A huge and worrying hole was also found on the left side of his abdomen.

His condition could only be described as critical.

In the face of so much pain and suffering, he was desperately trying to stop the blood from continuing to seep through his body. His hand was wet with vivid red, completely damp, sticky, and slimy as if it had been sitting in a full bucket of water for hours.

''Kuch...!'' Kleio groaned, his body and consciousness persevering as long as they could as the lad struggled to keep walking as far as he could. ''Why is this happening to me?''

He felt a pang in his chest.

The blood that dripped from his forehead smeared the strands of hair tied in a bun, slowly running down its face till it meet his beautiful amber eyes.

''Ugh…!''

Blood poured from Kleio's mouth in heaps. The boy threw his free hand forward, trying to contain the excessive amount of vomit mixed with blood he had just expelled.

'Shit', he thought. 'I'm not going to die here, am I?'

Even though he knew he was weak, he kept up his defiant facade like always.

It was an unwritten rule in this crazy world that power and influence reigned and the slightest weakness would result in death. But he still tried. A useless bravado that would actually lead to his death.

He tried with all his might to fight. His sword technique wasn't even bad, although his mana control was the worst in the whole Veritas class.

He tried to follow his plan to the letter, replaying the opponents' moves in his mind — as the Saint Blanc Academy instructor had told the boy. He also trusted his own knowledge; he trusted his swordsmanship.

But in the end, it was all in vain.

He was weak. He was foolish, frivolous, and beyond a shadow of a doubt ignorant.

Although he knew that people hated him from the bottom of their hearts, ridiculing him every day, Kleio never thought that one day someone would try to kill him.

The young man was going to die there. Probably being left to rot in a dark, cramped ditch shortly thereafter.

''Damn it!''

The sword he was carrying fell from his bloodied hands, the boy no longer had the strength left to hold it. The equipment had helped him walk for a few minutes, but nothing more.

Slender, thin arms, a poorly developed physique, and, most of all, weakness were what could aptly describe Kleio's body — which, believe it or not, he'd been training for as long as he could remember being a human born.

A frail, weak person, at the lowest level of the mana manipulation and control hierarchy, wielding a rusty sword nearly snapping in half against enchanted daggers and arrows — was that what a bad joke was supposed to mean?

After all, was he the joke or the clown here?

He did not know.

Honestly, the one and unique thing Kleio knew better than anyone was the truth behind so many failures in his life. He was a piece of trash born into a powerful and influential family by luck.

Of all his siblings, Kleio was the only one who didn't achieve any notable achievements, even though he was the second oldest of the four.

Before long, the boy was exonerated from the family and sent to the Saint Blanc Academy by his father. He was such a hindrance that the older man no longer wanted to waste his time; on the other hand, his brothers and sisters would be sweet fruits in the future, so he invested his riches in them.

'So am I not worthy to live?'

Panting and lost in pessimistic thoughts, his already blurred vision became completely pixelated and against his will, he collapsed onto the poorly leveled wooden floor of that place.

The limbs of his body no longer accepted the orders of his brain. The adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream was no longer helping him. Furthermore, the boy's lungs were failing more and more and his throat was burning a lot.

His time was closer than ever. The seconds crackled like hellish flames in the darkness of that crumbling hall he was trapped in.

''Ew…!''

His spine ached, his bones creaked, moreover all he wanted now was for it to all come to an end. He just wanted to get some rest; to take a break from so much madness that surrounded him.

And, as if heeding their deepest requests, a hooded individual emerged from the darkness – walking calmly along the blood trail left by Kleio.

''.....''

The armed silhouette approached the already weak Kleio, who was panting heavily. His hand held firmly to the region of its belly.

His knife, covered in a wet layer of a cool, viscous red liquid, pierced the lying boy's chest. He stabbed again, and again, without a second's hesitation. Whoever was behind that murder certainly wouldn't want to give Kleio even the slightest chance to make it out alive.

The pain was agonizing and filled Kleio with despair. His eyes watered as he softly pleaded with the beings who had imbued him with that cruel, unjust fate.

''I… don't… want… to die… please, anyone…''

Kleio closed his eyes, feeling the blood slowly leave his body. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the last impact of the dagger against his body.

And then… nothing happened.

The young man opened his eyes only to be faced with a scenario of some kind of frozen time. Everything was at a standstill, except for himself. To give an idea about it all, the assassin's dagger — whoever he was —, stopped about precisely two inches from Kleio's face.

All this happened only for Kleio to be startled by a metallic noise that filled the inner part of his ears completely.

[The Great King of The Seven Dogmas is looking at you.]

[The Great King of The Seven Dogmas is saddened by your tragic end.]

Kleio stared motionless like a decorative stone statue. His eyes glued to the golden window that floated before him.

It was an amazing sight.

[The Great King of the Seven Dogmas says he will help you.]

[The other 'Gate of Truth' entities are unhappy with the choice of avatar made by the Great King of the Seven Dogmas.]

Kleio had once heard of an expert in a documentary, showing documents about events related to deities' powers.

Gifts, that is. Supernatural gifts that even went against the laws imposed by the magic and technology of the modern age.

Most of the highest-ranked in the Tower's global ranking were gifted. Renowned avatars representing their respective deities who granted them the ability to empower themselves to such a level.

But Kleio never thought that he himself, a slender worm with long black hair, would be able to witness such a scene. No, not just witness — he was the target of those messages.

[The Great King of The Seven Dogmas triggers Avatar's claim!]

[The Great King of The Seven Dogmas says he can help you overcome this situation, but that you will have to pay a high price to prove your worth!]

[Do you want to accept the sponsor offer?]

[Yes No]

Without thinking twice, Kleio pressed the [Yes] button.

The screen glowed with a maddening white that filled his vision. At the same instant, small beams shot to the side and some other notifications unfolded before Kleio's eyes.

[Starting loop process…]

[The test is starting…]

[The path to the first Dogma: Strength and Overcoming has been opened for the user.]

[The Great King of The Seven Dogmas wishes you good luck.]

[Resuming the test!]

Without prior notice, the time was defrosted. The last thing Kleio saw was the enemy assassin's dagger being plunged straight into the center of his forehead.

Tin ~

[Number of attempts: 1~]