Two months later...
Gritting my teeth, I scaled the jagged face of the mountain. Each handhold testing my grit and resilience anew. My muscles burned with exertion, each fibre screaming at me with a ferocity that could only be matched by the wind.
It's icy howls cut into exposed skin, making me feel as if I was breathing in shards of glass.
Yet none of this pain was enough, nowhere near enough.
This mountain was twice the size my master had started me with, and despite the short amount of time, I could feel the definitive improvements within my body.
Hours passed, the sun's light dipping into hues of pink and gold. Raw and bleeding hands finally clawed on the final ridge. With a growl, I pulled myself over the edge, collapsing onto the snow dusted plateau.
Chest heaving, I sucked in the frigid air.
"Haahhh...that was hard" I gasped, voice hoarse.
His chest heaved as he sucked in the frigid air, each breath a small victory.
Sitting up, I enjoyed the jagged forest of mountain peaks below. Up here, the world stretched in all directions, a sea of spires all bathed in the soft glow of twilight.
I had done it.
After relentless failure. Punishment laps and gruelling climbs.
I reached the summit of the final mountain.
This place would be missed.
It was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of my previous home. A change from the hot, sticky and loud battlefield that had at one point been my home.
Here was only...stillness.
Like my soul was taking in a deep breath.
"You did well," a soft voice called from behind me.
I didn't flinch. Not anymore, long growing used to Syar's uncanny ability to appear without a sound.
"Thank you master."
He must've seen the smile in my voice, because his next words came out unflinchingly.
"But not well enough...100 laps before you come back."
Spluttering, I turned around to face him. "Bu-wha - but I did it!"
"Yes," Syar agreed seriously, nodding. "But you were meant to be here five minutes ago."
My jaw hit the snow in outrage. "You didn't tell me I had a time limit!"
"Yes, I didn't," Syar agreed. He paused for a moment, tilting his head as if considering my words for a moment.
For a moment I thought I'd successfully convinced him.
Only for a moment though.
"100 laps" he repeated again, his tone sounding as if he came to a perfectly logical agreement.
Rising to my feet, muttering darkly under my breath, I stumbled down the mountain path.
"One day....when I'm older....I swear...."
..........
Syar's POV
Leaning against a jagged boulder, Syar watched Arthur's descending figure disappearing down the first wind in the path.
The boy had a stubborn determination that put rocks to shame.
His protests were more of a ritual than anything else. As if he felt obligated to protest for the sake of appearance.
Beneath those protests, there was an unyielding spirit. One that he no longer had any more time to shape
Still, there would be other opportunities.
A disciple was for life.
And that boy, well, Syar had no doubt he'd have plenty of it. Even with the prospect of this war looming over him.
With a sigh, Syar vanished from the mountaintop, leaving only the faintest ripple in the air.
..........
By the time I had staggered back into the cavernous hall that had served as home for the past two months, my legs had become lead.
Each step to get to my bedroll was a battle against my body.
And I was losing.
Groaning, I gave up on trying to reach my bed, curling up on the stone floor.
"Boy."
Looking up, I saw Syar. He was standing in the centre of the hall, holding two weapons.
I recognised - both of them. One was my masters. Spear - sword hybrid that hummed with energy.
And the other....that one I definitely remembered. How could I not?
I had wielded that weapon.
I had found it, like a needle in a haystack. Only the haystack was a spear with white runes webbing across it, and the haystack a battlefield of blood and fire.
'Ascension'.
It still looked like a masterpiece. Black blade etched with intricate white runes, each one pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. A natural aura of raw power radiated from it, as if the weapon demanded reverence.
Syar walked over to me, smiling at my expression. "Here boy" he proffered at my kneeling figure.
"M-Me?" I stuttered, surprised.
"No, I was talking to that wall behind you."
Hesitantly I took it from him, clutching it in both hands reverently.
"You like this weapon I gather" Syar asked, tone casual.
"Yes" was all I could say.
"Good, it's yours."
My jaw hung open. "What?"
"For now," Syar said. " This weapon belongs to a barony, they'll want it back once they learnt their son died. We'll give you something else afterwards, but until we can find something, you'll be able to use this."
"Why?"
Syar shrugged. "Thana boy called it your reward. A criminal can't get promoted, but they can be given weapons."
Tackling the disbelief, I stared at the weapon. Feeling a surge of protectiveness and pride, I held it closer.
Then I let go. Placing it on the floor.
"I can't...my weapon is a staff."
There was a moment of silence before Syar broke out into laughter, slapping his leg heartily. "Blood and ashes you're serious boy? That's a rare grade relic boy."
"S-So?"
"So? It means it can soulbind."
My eyes widened.
Soulbinding was the process where a weapon could reshape to the user's will during the initial binding process. But I didn't know how to do it.
"So...how do I do that?"
"Boy," Syar sighed, knuckling his forehead. "Just give the damn thing a name."
"A name huh."
Just as I said it, a glowing notification appeared before me.
[WEAPON 'ASCENSION' RECOGNIZED. WEAPON IS A RARE GRADE RELIC. DOES USER WISH TO SOULBIND TO THIS WEAPON?]
"Yes," I said without hesitation.
[PLEASE NAME YOUR WEAPON _________]
I froze. Naming things had never been my strong suit.
"Uh… Darkstick?"
[NAME 'DARKSTICK' REJECTED. PLEASE NAME YOUR WEAPON _________]
"Shit."
'What should I call it?' I wanted it to be something personal, something only I would recognise.
Considering, my mind went back to a story my father once told me.
My old father, in my old world.
A story of a boy who once gained freedom.
True and absolute freedom.
A boy who managed to deny the chains of the earth.
And yet his love for freedom had killed him.
A boy who once flew too close to the sun. And in doing so, lost all that he had gained.
"Ikarus," I finally decided. "That's what I'll name it."
[NAME 'IKARUS' REGISTERED. SOULBINDING...WHAT FORM WOULD YOU WISH IKARUS TO TAKE....]
"A staff."
[ATTEMPTING TO SOULBIND… SOULBINDING SUCCESSSFUL]
The weapon pulsed in my hands, runes growing brighter, until the glow eclipsed the entire weapon. When the radiance faded, there was no longer a spear in my hands.
But a staff.
Beautiful, sleek. With white runes running down in an intricate trail down one length. It felt warm in my hands.
It felt....right.
"Dismiss it" Syar called, his voice snapping me out of my reveries.
Reluctantly, I focused on the weapon, ordering it to disappear. Immediately Ikarus dissolved in a flurry of light, disappearing within me. I could still feel it's presence.
Like a string, just waiting to be tugged.
"Now" Syar beckoned, tossing me a wooden staff. "Get some rest, tomorrow we'll see if you're worthy of it."
Gratefully, I crawled into my bed roll. As soon as I set my head down, I was asleep.
Whisked away into a rush of dreams.
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A/N
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