Read Novel Full Chapter 253: Finding Her Essence
Chapter 253: Finding Her Essence
Awilix lay on the grass alone deep in thought, save for the distant presence of the imps, their existence barely registering in her mind.
The quiet pressed in around her, heavy yet familiar. She stretched, muscles pulling taut before releasing, then kicked off the ground. The motion steadied her, giving her something physical to cling to. As she balanced herself, she read her Soul Scripture.
♥︎♥︎♥︎
Name: [Awilix]
Title: [---]
Aspect: [Moon Dancer]
Class: [Monster]
Core Rank: [Nascent] - (300/300)
Traits: [Iron Claw] [Eclipse]
♥︎♥︎♥︎
’Nascent...’
The word dwelled in her mind longer than it should have...
Everyone around her had left her behind. They’d all become Emergent.
She exhaled slowly, ears twitching faintly. The cat wasn’t one to be too caught up in jealousy, but she found herself in quite the awkward state. Not because she envied them, but because she could not ignore the gap anymore.
’I can’t just talk shit like that then become the weak link!’
It was frustrating. No, it went beyond that. Much too frustrating.
And a little embarrassing.
Her claws flexed unconsciously. Awilix growled as she looked at her palm.
"Find your essence."
That’s what Salome had said was the step to becoming Emergent. Something she’d unwittingly accomplished back on Kaldora.
’But my essence back then was rampage, revenge, and murder.’
The thought settled heavily, refusing to pass. In the time Awilix had lost her memories, she came to cherish the bonds she created. Those bonds had reshaped her, whether she liked it or not. It allowed her festering hatred to mellow out by giving her a new purpose, something else that grounded her.
She still held the idea of her forlorn revenge.
Yet, that was simply the lie she sold herself to justify using her Aspect against Toy. That’s not to say she didn’t relish the lie, treating it as a true goal, but that no matter how much she worked toward that goal, it was simply impossible to reach. It stayed like something already dead, yet stubbornly refusing to decay.
Not to mention her declining hatred.
’This sucks...’
The admission came easier than she expected. She still hated all the fuckers who wronged her and Selene, but they were far in the back of her mind at the moment.
Awilix kicked the grass, causing a few of the indestructible blades to sway. The motion was sharp, but the result was meaningless.
’What is it?’
What was Awilix’s essence?
The question refused to resolve itself. Awilix closed her eyes, listening to the slight rustle of the wind. The sound threaded through her thoughts, pulling at something deeper.
It was easier to think when she stopped trying to force an answer. Thinking about the past always brought up the deepest and darkest of one’s memories, as they were the ones that stuck. The good ones were there, but often drowned out.
And despite knowing that, she let herself sink anyway.
***
"Third-born."
The frail girl shook on her hands and knees, her head bowed to the dirt, her tail tucked between her legs. The position was instinctive, learned long before she understood why.
Vishik, her father, picked his foot up and slammed it into the back of her head, pressing it into the mud. The force drove her down, dirt filling her mouth.
"All you’ve ever done is disappoint me and our tribe. First, you can’t even hunt for yourself. You haven’t won a single Ma’I’shok. You are without Aspect. The Shakur rejects you. A shame like you is not worth naming nor keeping. Need I say anymore?"
Each word struck harder than the last, not because of their volume, but because of their certainty. Vishik took his foot off her head, then slid it down her face and tilted up her chin.
With a disdainful look in his golden eyes, he said,
"Third-born, prepare for Ka’Shon."
The frail girl, with tears streaming down her face, yelled,
"P-please! D-don’t! I— I. I..."
A few of her tears fell onto Vishik’s foot.
"Disgusting."
The tall cat man winced as he pulled away his foot and kicked the girl in the side of her temple.
Everything went black.
When the girl woke up, she found her arms bound behind her back and her left ankle slit by her heel. Pain greeted her before awareness fully returned. Her entire family crowded around, chanting:
"Ka’Shon."
"Ka’Shon."
"Ka’Shon."
An endless cacophony assaulted the girl from all sides. The sound swallowed everything else, leaving no space for thought.
She began to cry again, but with her arms bound, she couldn’t even wipe her tears.
Eventually, her father declared,
"Lakon of the night, I offer an Awilix."
Then Vishik looked down at the cat.
"Ka’Shon. Jik."
Ka’Shon: to the gods, a failed creation goes to be remolded in their next life. They are injured, then set out on their own to die.
And Jik...
’Don’t look back or you will be lost...’
Instead of letting your soul and body be remodeled by the gods, your family eats you while keeping you alive for as long as possible, trapping you from reincarnation.
Finally, each member of the tribe sentenced to Ka’Shon would get a designated name to guide their soul toward the family’s god. Awilix was the name of the nameless sacrifices offered to the god of the night, Lakon.
The third-born began crawling away.
She was scared. Terrified in a way that hollowed her out from the inside.
The beasts that lived within the forest were much too fearsome for someone like her to ever face, especially in her state. She’d be mauled, eaten, torn apart.
But she dared not look back.
She’d been raised to believe in the gods and reincarnation.
She knew it all to be fact.
She knew the price of angering the gods.
Yet a part of her wanted to look back.
So she never had to suffer like this again, not in her next life. However, the fear of being eaten alive trapped her gaze onto the forest’s edge.
She had witnessed such a scene first hand before. The screams were something she’d never forget.
’I’m sorry.’
With pattering sniffles, the Awilix closed her eyes and dragged herself along the ground with her right foot.
’I’m sorry, sorry, sorry!’
The tears began to flow.
Vishik clicked his tongue.
"Look, fifth-born and fourth-born, look at your failed older sister. You’d do well to draw a lesson from her pitiful existence."
As she pushed along, the frail girl’s shoulder caught on a sharp rock, resulting in a nasty gash. The pain flared, then refused to fade.
’Sorry!’
"I will never become something so hideous, father."
The third-born kicked again, moving only a portion of a meter.
The fourth-born sneered.
"Neither will I."
Then she stepped forward and spat on the frail girl.
’I’m sorry I was born! I’m sorry I’m weak!’
Kane, her oldest brother, sneered.
"Pitiful."
Soon, the others began to spit as well. Then, a few began to throw pebbles, urging her to move faster, yet they were careful enough not to kill her themselves.
They wanted her to reach the forest alive.
The girl couldn’t help but scream as a pebble landed in the open slit of her back left heel.
"Yak! Argh!"
Her pained scream only angered the tribe more. Crying was already a punishable offense. Screaming in pain was an affront to the gods.
More spit. More pebbles.
The onslaught continued for what felt like an eternity.
Time stretched, losing all meaning beyond pain and movement.
Eventually, she made it to the forest’s edge, and it all stopped.
The silence was abrupt. Total. Suffocating in its own way.
She was in the forest god’s domain.
The fourteen-year-old girl was now the problem of the gods.