Chapter 61: Awakening

A gentle breeze rattling a pair of well made wooden shutters, ever so lightly, woke Dorian up.

He instantly came awake, stumbling to his feet as he looked around in panic. His mind became incredibly on edge, every muscle in his body tensing.

Colors! He was surrounded by colors!

His chest heaved as he looked around the furnished room, soaking in the sight of everything.

A very faint rattling sound rang out again, drawing his attention to the closed window behind him. Pale gleams of moonlight could be seen, dropping down from one of the faint moons that orbited Taprisha, in the chaotic space above.

“Is this a dream?” He pushed his hands up into the air, waving them back and forth. They began to shake as they moved, his nervous excitement overwhelming him.

Dorian looked at his hands. They were pitch black, with small claws on the end of each of them. The hands of an Ifrit.

He knelt down, putting his trembling hands on the ground, feeling the texture of the rug that covered the wooden floor.

The room he was in had a nice, quilted bed, one he had just been laying in. A small, dark orange rug decorated the floor. A pair of wooden nightstands stood on either side of the bed, with a couple of simple tapestries decorating the walls. A quaint, nice but simple room.

‘It’s soft.’ He thought, a smile slowly appearing on his face. He poked it a few times before running over to the window, throwing open the shudder.

Cool, pale moonlight drifted into the room, revealing the crowded city of Potor.

Dorian stared at everything, half afraid it would all vanish as he took in all the colors and sights. A cold breeze brushed against his skin, setting him shivering.

Ecstasy, pure unbridled ecstasy ran through his veins. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, barely able to control himself.

“I made it back, Will.”

‘Your soul has been fully repaired.’ Ausra’s voice rang out in his head.

“Ausra.” Dorian couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he heard the voice, the first voice he had heard in so long.

“Hahahaha! You punk! It’s good to see you again!”

Ausra didn’t reply.

All of a sudden, a rush of memories flooded into Dorian’s mind. A deluge that happened in an instant. From his coming to this world, to taking on his first form, to William dying to protect him, to meeting Mello, to stopping the Eleventhborn’s fearsome attack, all of these memories swarmed his head.

He experienced them almost as if he was reliving them, all in a single split second.

“Arrgh.” He fell backwards onto the soft rug, clutching at his head. He accidentally stabbed his forehead slightly, forgetting he had claws in his Ifrit form. Faint sparks of fire flared up from his arms and legs. The flames on his Ifrit form’s head blazed silently and mysteriously. They didn’t seem to actually burn anything, but were more present in a spiritual form.

‘Your body is now undergoing a genetic repair process. Due to consistent treatment over the past week in real time, the process is vastly sped up. It will finish within 6 days. Switching forms will reset the repair process.’ Ausra’s voice rang out in his mind once again.

“Ahh. Okay, okay, hold on. Only a week has passed?” Dorian stumbled back to his feet, blinking blearily. His head felt cluttered. He winced in pain.

Gradually that pain faded away, the regenerative powers of his Ifrit form, and the Life Energy in its veins, coming to his aid.

He took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

He was back.

He felt like tearing up, all of a sudden. The constant fear that had plagued his heart for the past several years faded away, replaced by such relief he couldn’t even begin to describe it.

“Never again.” He muttered, shaking his head vehemently.

“I am never doing that again.”

“Ausra, show me my status.”

–

Dorian – Soul Status

Soul Stage: Lord Class

Health: Good (Undergoing Genetic Repair)

Energy: 880/10,565

–

He mentally glanced over his status. It was what he expected, from the memories of before. The only thing odd was the energy part of his status. It was abnormally low.

As he looked at it, he paused.

He looked at his body, and then sat down, crossing his legs.

“I still have my memories of the inner area of my Soul Spell Matrix.” He muttered, resting his elbow on his knee as he sank into thought.

“I lived in that place for several years. Alone. Well, Will was there. Kind of.” He shrugged,

“But I made it back out.” He continued,

“It was horrifying and horrible, at the same time. Any regular person would have gone insane.” He nodded,

“But I don’t feel insane.” He looked around the room, his eyes filled with a deep, inner fire,

“I feel confident, and strong. As if I’ve grown more assured.”

Dorian couldn’t quite explain the feeling. The past 8 years in that mental prison had been hellish for him, but had seemed to fly by like a dream. Instead of horribly traumatizing him like he would expect, he felt as if his soul had grown stronger, letting him deal with the horror and grow from it. The memories weighed down on him, but they did not paralyze him.

“Ausra, is there anything unusual about my soul?” He asked, abruptly. He’d gained a bit of a habit of talking to himself over the past several mental years, he’d almost forgotten Ausra was back with him.

‘Fate twists around your soul. Repairing or reconnecting injured parts of your soul is the limit of my capabilities. I do not possess the power to scan it in depth.” The reply he got was lackluster.

“Alright, whatever.” She was exactly as he remembered. Helpful most the time, but at other times lacking.

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“Why is my energy so low?” He scanned his body, closing his eyes. At his core, he felt tired still, as if he needed more rest.

“The genetic damage your body suffered is still being rectified. Until it does, you are unable to make a full recovery.” Ausra replied, concisely.

He mentally pulled up his Growth Status, the once familiar thoughts coming naturally to him again.

–

Ifrit – Growth Stage: (4/4) Elder Ifrit –

Growth Progress – 0/0 –

–

“0 still huh?” He noted, sighing. It wasn’t unexpected. He began running over what to do, trying to get back into the groove of being in the outside world again.

‘While you were unconscious, your body underwent consistent treatment. Thanks to this, the amount of time and energy needed to rectify the genetic damage was vastly reduced, but all energy points you may have gained from this were used up.’ Ausra continued,

‘You can absorb energy and store it like you normally would, as of right now. No more energy is needed for the repair process.’

It seemed all he needed now was time to make a full recovery.

Dorian took a look around the room. His thoughts went astray as he studied the texture of the quilt bed, looking at the myriad of colors. He studied it, following the wavering trails of linen.

It was beautiful, in its own, simple way.

Even with having his memories forcefully relived, and his soul strengthening, he still couldn’t shake the effects his mental imprisonment had left him with, not fully.

He sighed, however, focusing back on the present.

“It seems those vampires saved me.” He distinctly remembered the female vampire he’d saved rushing to catch him as he fell. They hadn’t been ungrateful after all, and seemed to have helped rescue him. The constant treatment to heal his wounded body probably fell on their shoulders most likely.

He looked outside at the sleeping city once more, and then turned back to his bed. His body was tired, but he couldn’t make himself sleep right now. The sheer wonder of being back in his body, in a world of sound and color, was too much to resist.

“I’m going to go out.” He nodded his head as he fully opened the shutters. He reached up with his hands and pulled himself onto the side of the inn, his body moving agilely and quickly.

He was on the top floor of a three-story establishment. He leapt up to the roof in one smooth motion, taking care not to clip the sides of the Inn.

The cool night air ran flush against his skin. As an Ifrit, he was very sensitive to the temperature changes around him. Very small, dim flames were visible on his elbows, knees, and head, mostly dormant unless he was in combat.

“Ahh.” He took a deep breath, taking in the scene around him.

He appeared to be in the middle of the city, in one of the nicer, but not fancy, Inns. He looked around at the other homes, shops, and buildings closed up for the night, soaking in the sights. He teared up slightly at the sight, the wonderful shapes and colors a myriad that he hadn’t seen in far too long.

He wrinkled his nose, however, at the smell. Even here in one of the nicer parts of the city, there was a faintly distasteful scent. About what he’d expected in a city.

“Hello.” A voice broke into his concentration, causing him to spin around in panic. He hadn’t detected or sensed anyone on the roof. It was a large, thirty meter wide platform, mostly flat.

A small form was huddled on one side of the roof, a figure that was now standing up, giving him a small nod.

“It’s great to see that you finally woke up.” A feminine voice rang out as the female vampire Dorian had saved walked towards him, giving him a cautious wave.

“Thank you for saving me last week. My name is Helena.”

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

“Don’t worry, Probus. We’ll play it by ear, trust me. When have I ever let you down?” Trajan’s voice projected supreme confidence as he fiddled with a ring on his hand, looking around nervously. The vampire Wizard blinked his eyes as he focused, concentrating.

He was currently in one of the waiting rooms in the austere Castle of Darkness, the headquarters of the Aurelius Family. The room was ornate, decorated with black and grey tapestries and portraits of previous vampires in history.

It had been a week since their clash with the Anomaly they were targeting. Their expedition had been a preliminary one, and the possibility of failure had been something they accepted.

The extent of their failure, however, was unprecedented. At least, it was to Trajan.

A vampire warrior dressed in form-fitting black armor sat on a couch near the Wizard. The powerful swordmaster Probus.

“I seem to recall someone being in charge of stopping a certain giant fireball and failing, no?” Probus returned, not deigning to glance at the Wizard.

“That was hardly my fault. The Anomalies twist Fate around them, and if anything, you should have expected that. So really it’s your fault.” Trajan returned, shamelessly,

“Thankfully I was prepared, with my emergency countermeasures.”

Probus looked at Trajan askance.

“You didn’t even know the Demon Race had surviving members. How can that Demon possibility count as a countermeasure?”

Trajan smiled and held his hands in front of him, snapping his fingers twice and then slowly letting them fall.

“Magic.”

Probus rolled his eyes and snorted,

“I trust you about as far as I can throw you.”

Trajan smiled wider, replying,

“That would imply a considerable amount of trust. I’m a lightweight, after all. You see this physique? That’s what you get if you eat environmentally friendly.” He motioned at his lean figure, turning from side to side to model.

Probus rolled his eyes again,

“We are not having this talk agai-”

“The Highlord will see you now.” A voice interjected, breaking into the conversation.

Probus and Trajan stopped talking, turning to look at one of the doors that led to the waiting room.

The beautiful red-headed assistant and Spymaster to the Highlord stood in the doorway, giving them a cool smile, and then gestured for them to follow her.

Trajan gulped and walked along with Probus into the room, ready to report to the Highlord.