Chapter 436: 437. Internal Conflict

You really should get some sleep, dear boy, Nil reminded.

Dallion didn’t respond. He had been laying in bed for the last few hours, and yet he couldn’t sleep a wink. Just thinking about this trip caused him physical pain. This was the last trip the hunters would have. It would see Jiroh’s departure—to her own world or a distant part of this one—as well as the destruction of a cloud citadel at the hands of Dallion himself.

Banishing the thought from his mind, Dallion turned to the other side of the bed. This was one time he was grateful that Eury wasn’t here to see him. No doubt she had issues of her own to deal with.

Staying awake won’t solve a thing, the old echo went on. It’ll only make you feel worse.

What do you suggest? Dallion snapped. Do exercises until I become exhausted? Go to the forge to make another item?

Level up, Nil said. You have the time for it, and it’ll make you more tired than any exercises could. Not to forget that there’s a chance that you deal with the core issue that affects you.

The idea wasn’t bad. It was definitely going to get Dallion’s mind off things, and who knows, maybe Nil was right about the rest as well?

Laying on his back, Dallion closed his eyes.

PERSONAL AWAKENING

Bright sunlight poured down, making Dallion shield his eyes. If nothing else, the atmosphere here was much better than Neorsal. Sitting on the stone bench in the middle of his “henge” he stared at the portraits of skills that decorated the slabs of white stone. There were quite a lot of them—several dozen distributed among eight stone constructs, each representing a set of skills. In the center of it all, the blue rectangle had become similar to a holographic beacon, displaying his awakened level, along with all trait and skill values.

“Thanks,” a voice said nearby. “I’m quite pleased with the result, myself.” Gen approached and took a seat next to Dallion.

“Still poking in my head?”

“I don’t have a choice. Not that I want to. It’s been getting dark in there.” He tapped the side of Dallion’s head. “Nil’s right, though. A quick level up is the way to go.”

“It won’t be quick.”

Thinking about it, this was the first time Dallion would go through a trial since the transformation of his realm. He was just about to ask Gen where it was supposed to take place, when he remembered—he was the one creating the realm. If that were so, a trial could occur anywhere he wished.

“Dal!” Lux popped into existence a few feet in the air. “Want me to fly you anywhere? I’m really good at it! Very fast too! Faster than sis even.”

“It’s fine.” Dallion stood up. “I’ll walk.”

“Sure. But I’m really fast!” The firebird would constantly change location, poofing from one place to another. The flat-out rejection had clearly done nothing to diminish his enthusiasm. Ultimately, Dallion continued on his own.

Feeling in a dark mood, he decided that the best place to have the next try was underground. No sooner had he thought of that, than a stone path emerged, leading down into a cave beneath the ground. No light whatsoever could be seen deeper in the cave, just darkness leading to the unknown.

Perfect, Dallion thought, and walked down the stone steps.

You’re in the halls of destiny.

Defeat your hidden fears and shape your future.

 

“Lux,” Dallion said.

Immediately, the firebird emerged, then surrounded it with its flames. From here on, Dallion could fly if he wished, but rather he kept on walking. The stone steps continued, then curved to the left, forming a stairwell. After about five rotations, the stairway stopped at a large metal door.

Time to see what’s wrong with me this time, Dallion said to himself and opened it.

To little surprise, the door didn’t lead to a room, but to a large swamp. The smell was putrid, though not the worst Dallion had experienced. It was the sight that was more disturbing; it was as if the swamp had suddenly appeared in an entire city and was slowly pulling it down into the earth itself. Streets, walls, even small buildings were gone, leaving only the upper parts of towers and more massive structures remain, as a reminder of what had been there.

Suspecting a fight, Dallion split into a dozen instances and cautiously walked forward. The muck was soft, though fast enough to walk through as long as one didn’t remain still for too long. Here and there, various city walls were sticking out just enough to form paths throughout the swamp. Reaching them would be easy, although Dallion needed to know where to go first.

As he walked, an arrow split the air, piercing one of his instances. Looking up, Dallion saw a figure dressed in white rags wearing a torn white cape. Unlike everything else, there wasn’t a speck of dirt on it.

“Are you my trial?” Dallion asked. The figure wasn’t someone he had seen before. That was slightly odd. In the past, his flaws had always taken the appearance of people he knew.

Instead of an answer, the figure threw another arrow in Dallion’s direction.

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Interesting, Dallion thought. The arrow hadn’t been taken from a quiver, or anywhere else for that matter. It just appeared out of nothing moments before the white figure threw it his way.

Without waiting for an order, Lux lifted Dallion up so as to be level with the mysterious enemy. At the same time, Dallion summoned his armadil shield and harpsisword.

“Gleam,” Dallion said. On the second, the shardfly appeared, fluttering above his right shoulder. “Is that an illusion?”

“Nope,” the familiar replied. “Everything here is as real as it comes. Well, you know what I mean.”

Dallion did, just as he knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. However, it wasn’t the environment or the enemy’s skills that worried him the most, it was the emotions he saw: calm sadness without regrets. The target’s feelings said it all: it knew that it was going to die, even if it wasn’t fair, and had nearly accepted it.

“You are my trial,” Dallion said, gripping the hilt of the harpsisword.

A smile appeared on the being’s face that wasn’t covered by bandages. And as he smiled, everything around shifted. There was no swamp anymore, but a cloud covered with white buildings, so clean that they were almost glowing. The material was unlike anything Dallion had seen, but that wasn’t the most astonishing. Unlike a moment ago, the city was full of people, or rather, it was full of furies. All of them moved about, holding the standard conversations, discussing the standard trivialities of the day. Dallion’s opponent was among the crowd as well, clothes all new, making it obvious she was a woman. Long white hair flowed over her shoulders in clumps like soft cotton. And it was at that point that Dallion realized.

“You’re the cloud,” he whispered.

The moment he did, the whiteness vanished. The furies and the white ground itself fell down like water splashing into the swamp. Buildings soon followed, returning the scene to what it had been before.

“You’re strong,” the woman said. “All you need to do is take my heart to pass your trial.”

Dallion didn’t budge. He knew what was expected of him, but didn’t want to do it. Sensing his hesitation, his opponent shook her head.

“If you don’t, this is where you’ll remain. You need to make hard decisions without breaking. If not, you're not ready to move further along.”

Another brick wall, Dallion thought. He knew perfectly well that he could win this. It was just a trial, after all. Nothing that happened here would affect the real world. However, he also knew that he’d be going through similar situations in real life, and not only once. The task with the cloud citadel came to mind, but that was just part of the big picture. The deeper truth was that Dallion would remain being a hunter while following the path of the empath. There would be times when he’d have to, by definition, hunt creatures and not all of them were going to be Star spawn.

“Tough choice,” the white figure said.

Before Dallion could answer, three more arrows flew his way, all of them easily avoided thanks to his combat splitting. It made another thing clear: as painful as it was for him to take the heart of his opponent, she had no qualms about hurting him.

Down, Dallion told Lux. The firebird obeyed.

Upon reaching the level of the swamp, Dallion focused and performed a horizontal line attack. Unburdened by reality, the line of destruction spread through the half-sunken city, slicing what buildings remained like blades of grass. Swamp water splashed up, quickly pierced by a new array of arrows.

Dallion quickly covered himself with the shield. Knowing exactly what its owner was doing, the object extended, causing all the arrows to bounce off. It was at this point that Dallion combined two skills he hadn’t in a very long time.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the shield towards him, then thrust it forward in a point attack. Both his arms felt slightly numb, though it was nowhere nearly as bad as it had been in the past. Like everything else, he was starting to get used to doing such types of attacks.

The force continued forward like a bullet, hitting the woman faster than she could react. Normally, this would have been the end of the trial, though not in this case. The figure’s entire body burst like a pillow hit by a large caliber bullet. However, the white fluff didn’t fade aware. There were no red rectangles indicating the damage done, nor was there the green rectangle marking the end of the trial. Instead, the cloud fragments moved together again, recreating the woman.

“You’re a cloud,” Dallion said, as his shield shrunk to its normal size.

“Surprised?” the figure asked.

“Not particularly. I knew you weren’t human.” He did think she might be a fury, though.

A single thought was enough to get Lux to boost Dallion forward. Seeing that, the cloud flew forward as well. A foot before coming in contact, both stopped, at which point the actual battle began. Dallion burst into two dozen instances, attacking his opponent in a wide array of strikes. Despite being unable to split, the woman proved to be more than his match when it came to speed. More importantly, each time Dallion would slice through her body with his harpsisword, the blade would simply pass through. It was as if he was fighting air, only this air could fight back.

You know what you have to do, Nil said.

Dallion ignored him, doing a point attack thrust right through her. The strength of the attack was enough to reduce her to fine mist. However, even that didn’t deal any actual damage.

You can’t harm her that way. You know that. The only way to win is to use it.

No, Dallion said.

You don’t have a choice. You either use it, or end the trial. There’s nothing in-between.

“I’m not using that butcher’s tool!” Dallion shouted. His voice, full of bitterness and anger at his own helplessness, echoed throughout the swamp.

This was what was stopping him—the simple internal conflict. It was nothing new, Dallion had seen it illustrated in many movies, games, and comics: a character that was good at something that he hated. Now, more than then, he realized that it was an impossibility. Nil would have called it a living paradox. There was no way someone could become good at something he hated so much. Either they didn’t really hate it, or they weren’t as good as they were made out to be. Right now, in this trial, it was Dallion’s moment to make the unpleasant choice: whether to give up on what he was doing or learn to live with it.

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