The Villain's Story

Chapter 836: He who is himself.

Alan walked through the rows of benches, full of believers whose form was hidden by black cloaks. As he walked towards the center, the lights in the church began to dim, and it felt as if the darkness was coming alive.

Everywhere he looked, he saw mana come alive, a sight that he didn’t see even in the innermost chambers of Lanesha’s palace, the home of a Supreme being.

Each and every granule felt different, as if it had a mind of its own, a life of itself. Moments passed by as Alan walked deeper and deeper.

The further he went, the less believers he saw to the sides. The church was bustling at the outskirts, but the numbers decreased as he went further in.

And at some point, whilst he was studying the mana in the church... He felt a few gazes lock onto him, studying him.

He stopped abruptly, but didn’t turn around. What was the point anyway? He couldn’t figure out who it was no matter what, now, could he?

The darkness hid everything. Even if he could feel it, he could never see it. Alan ignored the gazes and focused his mind on the mana gathering around him. In the church.

It was enchanting, and as a Dragon, he found it extremely difficult to resist being drawn in and change his course. He assumed it was a different sort of trial and pushed through with sheer grit, surrendering to the mana and letting his aura take hold of his body.

There was no tension, but there was exhilaration that came from being a dragon. He had thought mana was a force under his command, but coming here had changed his mind. Alan had reached a point where he was drawn into the mana all around him.

It and his own, merging together and becoming one and the same. Before he could completely lose himself, he let aura take control of his body.

’Shit...’

A curse escaped his mind as it... stopped. He had tried to stop it, but eventually he had become one with the mana in the surroundings.

His mind had, at the very least. Aura was still present through his body, guiding it through what now had become a storm.

The calm sea of living mana was gone, replaced by a storm of energy assaulting his body. A vessel braving through a dark storm. As the body ventured deeper and deeper, more and more gazes stuck to it’s back.

’Alan’ turned his head, trying to peer through the darkness surrounding him to witness the gazes, but he could not see anything. For what could a vessel braving alone through a storm comprehend.

Unmanned, alone, and hurt. The body advanced, paying no mind to the darkness tearing its body. Regeneration had stopped, as the darkness tore through it so much. Aura enhanced and enhanced, but there was only so much it could.

Not even the strongest vessel could withstand the harshest storm. And ’Alan’ broke down.

His body as a whole, from the flesh to the bone, from the heart to the mind, it all broke down as the vessel collapsed. His dragon heart, his Winter heart.

All gone, as his body turned to ash, consumed by the storm. However, what happened next was astonishing.

The gazes that had locked onto him didn’t go away. They remained, and the intensity of their stare only increased, ushering forth a new, foreign sensation.

The calm sea which had turned into a ruthless storm now turned into a land of nourishment. The energy fell down, becoming a fertile land.

The gazes acted as fertilizer, enriching the land further, and providing sustenance to the seed that had been planted, and slowly.

A hand escaped through the ground, like a sprout. An ethereal hand of foreign energy that had always existed, but never utilized.

A being emerged from the rich soil, a young being that only moved further through, a being unlike any other, the first and only of its kind. Someone that didn’t come naturally, but was created.

Crafted, molded, weaved, and nourished.

It had no mind to think of its own, it had no physical form, but it had an ethereal form, a form of spirit, a soul wandering making its own path.

A sea of calm, a brutal storm, and an enriched soil gave birth to it, it was a realization.

As the soul went further and further, it appeared incomplete, it began to break down... but threads stitched it back together. Becoming its body.

The soul collapsed to the ground, but what hit it was not an ethereal form, but rather a physical body. The threads came together to form flesh, cell by cell.

A lower body of flesh was completed moments before both knees collapsed, and the upper body was completed moments before the soul completely fell.

But in the center of it all, it was still an empty vessel.

There existed a soul giving substance. There existed a body holding it all together... and soon enough, there would exist a mind giving it all value.

The very soil, the very calm sea, and the turbulent storm all coalesced into a single ball, floating in front of the being’s open but listless eyes, and went closer and closer.

The moment it made contact, it was like ink touching a piece of blotted paper. Absorbed into the eyes, the calm sea, the turbulent storm, and the enriched soil became one.

Cough!

Alan coughed the moment he came too, wondering where he was. Weak but strong, he stood up, supporting his body by his hands as he scanned the area.

"... The hell."

His mind existed, but there existed a sound beyond a border of comprehension. His body was whole, but there existed a sensation beyond the border of feeling. His soul was complete, but there was a sense of control beyond the ethereal border.

He stood up fully, realizing himself to be at the center of the church, the deepest point where not a single believer but himself was present at the center of the church. The energy that had felt alive was gone, and it was only himself.

Himself, at the center of it all. Alan looked left and right, searching for a statue and a message...

But there was none, until he looked up.