Chapter 8

I always move forward.

Now being twelve years old, I have grown significantly stronger, now having an overall level of twenty two, fifteen levels in Fighter, having maxed it out, three in Master Fighter, and four levels in Cleric.

Since the emergence of my self-worship, I have unlocked the Cleric class in its full capacity, though I am currently only able to cast first level spells.

Bright radiance snapped me back to reality, as I exited the dark corridor into a bright one, accompanied by Nazaire.

We arrived once again before the entrance of the vault of the Great Gods. Coming here once more at the behest of Faine, I waited for Nazaire to unlock the entrance, when it started to open itself up.

The gap continued to slowly expand until soft light poured into the chamber beyond me, shedding light upon the dark, revealing the figure of my most esteemed mother.

Unlike when I normally see her, she isn't in her combat uniform, dressed in an embroidered dress of azure blue reaching her knees. More apparent was that her ordinarily silken black hair was split and dull, dark bags hung under her orbs of sight.

As her gaze fell upon me, her eyes once unfocused, sharpened with a glint of madness I was intimately familiar with. One which I have confronted for the past eight years of my life, the instability that once induced fear in me, now makes me feel indifferent.

Her disgust once inspired rage, now only coldness.

But there was a single staggering difference, the intensity.

The only accessory she had equipped on her was an ornate silver sword attached to her waist, decorated with cerulean diamonds, in a white sheath fabricated from dragon leather.

We stood from across each other for a in silence for a few seconds, before I pushed my gaze past, surveying its interior once more, as I spoke up:

"Well, why have you called me here mothe -"

Pain. It erupted through my arm, as I moved it to protect myself by instinct, my bones shattered, blood burst from my mouth while I shot across the hall, my body scraped against the ground before crashing into the wall, creating spider web patterned cracks on the wall.

Red cascaded down my chin in a torrent staining my clothes crimson. Some of my organs evidently ruptured. 

Distantly, I could hear someone screaming, the sound of footsteps bouncing around in my head.

'I'm concussed.' I absent-mindedly realized.

Through my blurred vision, I could see the form of my progenitor stepping towards me with purpose. Nazaire walked alongside her, yelling undistinguishable words into the void, seemingly trying to stop the god-kin that birthed me.

'She's gonna kill her, she's gonna kill her.' A voice spoke to me in a sing-song tone, my jumbled mind registered the fact that it was my own, the ringing in my ears distracting me from reality.

I felt like I was drifting through a dream, disconnecting from the world, blackness started to invade my vision, as darkness pervaded my being, and my consciousness started leaving my body, when a pair of hands brought me back.

They wrapped around the length of my throat and started squeezing, crushing my jugular, and once again pain greeted me like an old friend, bringing about an unforgettable familiar searing heat within my blood.

"Clear Mind." I struggled the words out of my mouth, forcing them through my constricted throat. 

The fog that had settled upon my mind was cleared by the activation of my Martial Art, I quickly snapped my eyes open, blinking a few times to get readjusted to the brightness.

I could already feel all my strength leaving me, sharpening my mind, I assessed the situation as rapidly as possible. My back was on the ground, my mother above me, her hands around my neck, I could feel her entire body shaking.

"Please stop! Faine, you don't have to do this! She's your daughter, your own flesh and blood! I know your hurt, I know you're afraid, but it's not Antiene's fault! She hasn't done anything wrong!" At my mother's side was Nazaire, yelling and exerting all of her strength to pull her away.

However, her efforts produced no results, Faine is, probably, the strongest being in the entirety of The Slane Theocracy, a nation that defies human comprehension, the only thing that is currently preventing humanity's complete annihilation and extinction.

She is well beyond the realm of heroes, being only surpassed by True Dragon Lords and Otherworlders. Although she doesn't specialize in physical ability, the sheer gulf of levels that stood between the two, Faine and Nazaire, made it so no matter her struggle, she could never breach the gap.

Despite Nazaire's presence, my mother ignored her very existence, stabbing her gaze into my own, a whirlwind of emotions twisted in her eyes, pouring out into reality, it seeped from her every pore, her shattered ego no longer held together by a thin veneer of sanity.

Innumerable feelings were projected with just a single glance, regret, sadness, despair, loneliness, resignation, fear, fury and a single emotion that almost dominated all.

One which had its seeds planted well over a decade ago, left to fester and grow, digging its roots into every corner of her being, roots that led back to my father, roots that led to me.

Her digits tightened around my neck, her hatred growing by the second, her determination to erase me from her life, to purge me from reality was finalized.

One look upon her face tells me everything I needed to know, nothing could stop her now, I knew that she was decided.

I'm dead.

The only way to unravel this absolute eventuality, is to send Faine to the underworld.

My universe was turning black once more, and in that moment it clicked. I viewed the path to victory.

The distance between the two of us was completely insurmountable through ordinary means, so I must use that which is intrinsically mine, my god given gift, to read the currents of the past, to grasp power long lost.

My Talent, Psychometry.

Reaching upward for the waist of my mother sitting on top of me, my fingers wrapped around the handle of White Dread, an instrument of death wielded particularly effectively by Faine. 

A Legendary-class rapier originally owned by the God of Life, Aonraydius.

Gripping the blade, my mind was filled with information on the power he once possessed, and with a sharp screech I ripped the sword out of its sheath.

With death moments away from embracing me forever, I stared my mother straight in the eyes, fury empowering me and held her treasure aloft.

And I chanted.

"Eir's Retribution."