EPISODE: 197: NEW GENERATION 4

— GREAT EDRYAN, YEAR: 7292. SEASON: NEW BEGINNING.

What… Is Suffering?

…

Is it the act of pushing oneself to your limits regardless of the danger that comes from it? To face a creature knowingly out of your league with unbridled confidence to walk next to a man who has long since left your realm of strength. Is suffering the act of punishment? When misbehaved, experience a whooping as a child? Perhaps suffering can be explained in terms of mentality— YES —perhaps suffering can be considered doing something you just don't want to do. To understand it, it is important to define its characteristics.

…

What… Is… Suffering?

…

Simra, Lorde—they both didn't know. Their bodies ached, blood dripped from their helmets as they struggled to their feet. The magic of an Imperius Saintess quickly infused into their bodies, doing its best to ease their suffering—but the damage was already done. Perhaps that suffering could be alleviated, but the scar it issued into their mentalities could never be taken.

…

What… Is… Suffering…?

…

Suffering is the act of willingly or unwillingly entering a mindset in which nothing but pain is known. This pain can be attributed to physical, mental, emotional, spiritual—soul-wrenching torment—which can only end in two ways. Lorde stabbed his blade into the ground, somehow, through all the confusion, he hadn't lost the weapon or his trusty shield. He spat, face matte with sweat and blood dripping from the holes in his helm onto his pristine silver armor. He sighed, a heavy, self-mocking thing.

…

Lorde. Gin. Drumian.

…

Born in the year 7274 at the height of Central to Ariena Drumian and Saorr Drumian. Since his youth, Lorde has been trained for greatness. His etiquette, strength, appearance—all of it was a peak representation of what it meant to be a Drumian. The words beautiful, handsome, and perfect could all be used to describe the young scion of the Drumian House. He was trained by the best swordsmen—the best knights in the country. Like a prince, he was fed expensive elixirs and other commodities to ensure he received a legendary-grade bloodline—a thing that cannot be achieved by simply wishing for it. No human can be born legendary or higher without infusing precious materials. That was who Lorde Gin Drumian was…

Was it?

That was the perception of those who weren't him, who didn't know him personally. Then, who was Lorde Gin Drumian?

He picked himself up; his steps flashed as he appeared next to Simra Enlar a moment later. The young woman was struggling to her feet, gasping for air as her body quivered. She'd barely been able to block any of the damage from the creature's howl. Her eyes fearfully looked at her HUD and her remaining Life Points.

Steps away…

She was steps away from dying.

"Get up, Simra, it's not over yet," a warm, familiar voice coughed—blood splattered from their silver helm and onto the damp ground next to her. The blood mixed with the mud and the cool rainwater that fell—it painted a photo, a tale of a young man she'd come to like but didn't feel worthy of. She felt an arm about her elbow, lifting her to her feet.

The first manner to rid oneself of suffering was to let it all go. The Promised Land was just that— Promised . Magi could die at any time and find their souls escorted by [Messengers] to the land promised. That didn't mean they would be venerated to the greatest extent—that their names and deeds would last through the endless ages of time. The magi held pride in the tales of their ancestors and their deeds. No magi would willingly choose to take a coward's way out when the better their glory, the better their treatment in the land that is promised.

No one, no matter how heinous or glorious, wanted to be forgotten.

Lorde jumped, barely allowing Simra the time to stand before the area they once were in was ruined by an explosion of wind. Lorde didn't stop running, the voices of his comrades guided him.

"Careful, go left," Madria urged, "I'm preparing a spell to help, just wait for five seconds."

Five.

They didn't have five seconds. The Tempest Coyote was no longer playing with its food. Now, it deemed them threatening enough to eradicate. Lorde didn't think; he only listened to the words of his comrades he trusted—dragging Simra along away from the danger known as death.

"Jump, spread ice alongside the ground," Amaya nearly shouted through the connection. "Shit, where is Lawruthian?"

Lorde laughed, following Amaya's command as he did so. He hadn't turned once to gaze at their opponent, focusing on surviving rather than attacking. This couldn't continue. A solid five minutes had barely passed since the initiation of the battle, yet they were already looking to the Prince to save them. Did their delve into [Stormforge] mean nothing? Lorde wouldn't allow it.

He would not allow it.

Four.

The second way to end suffering is to confront it—to accept its nature and not allow it to define you. Suffering is a part of human nature—it holds an intricate, intimate connection with growth. It is the first lover all sentient beings connect with as the cool air of the world touches their body. To grow in any manner, no matter if it's pain or pleasure—you must suffer. Lorde could have picked the path of an Artisan, to do something which the level of pain he must experience to level is far less than what it is now. He didn't —the option is always available to children of the Drumian. Unlike the Oni, not all of their members are required to be warriors.

He… didn't.

…

What is suffering?

…

Why… Do… We… Suffer…?

…

"Simra, get your ass in gear— NOW ," Lorde commanded. His voice woke her from her half-stupor. She'd lost her sword—tossed away by the Tempest Coyote's howl; now, a long machete-like dagger appeared in her right hand—a gift courteous of her seniors.

"Sorry, I'm ok now." ‎ Three.

A simple response, but hearing it gave Lorde the strength he needed.

Lorde Gin Drumian turned, shield raised and sword ready. "I need to know if you can fight alongside me."

His voice was steady, but the ache of his earlier wounds hadn't disappeared from it. The healing magic from Madria hadn't stopped. Lorde felt like there was a hand placed on his shoulder, gently guiding his bruised body back to its perfect condition—Madria's power to restore Health Points was... insane . Lorde was nearly back to full in this small period.

Simra didn't speak, choosing to respond to Lorde by raising her shield and standing back to back. Even with the armor between them, they could feel the warmth of one another.

…

Why… Do… We… Suffer?

…

They saw the vision of the Tempest Coyote appear as {Foresight Shift} showed them a glimpse of the future. Then, before their minds could register, they were reacting, Lorde stabbing forward as the creature chose to attack from his angle—when it appeared, it would naturally skewer itself through its neck on his sword. The vision shifted again, the creature reacting to Lorde's attack before its reality came true. Simra's blade glowed with fire, an armament skill activating as she did much of the same. And, like Lorde, the creature reacted before the future vision came true.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The two of them continued fighting the future version of the Tempest Coyote, ensuring it wasn't able to get close to them.

Two.

There was no longer hesitation in using their Life Points. There was no attention allocated to the (Life Link) connection, nor could they feel the back of their partner anymore. They dashed in a five-meter radius, constantly fighting a creature that reacted to their every move before it became true. Around them, only flashes of wind could be seen—an apparition of their strong foe.

Lorde stabbed upward, ice on the edge of his blade extending through the air as it froze the very rain itself. He ducked, the extreme heat of Simra's blade sliding over his head as she targeted another position of the Tempest Coyote. It played with them, exhausting their mana before it would go in for the kill.

"They're not alone," Amaya drew close, closer than a [Mage] of her caliber should be to a creature of this strength. "(Seismic Rupture)," she activated, forcing her way into that five-meter radius from above.

"YOU'RE MAD," Simra mentally screamed. "This area is far too dangerous for you!"

Lorde didn't speak, continuously focusing on attacking everywhere {Foresight Shift} showed him where the creature would be. {Wisdom's Insight} showed him every critical point on the creature, yet he hadn't managed to hit one. And, the two times Simra struck the creature, it managed to dodge the worst of the damage that could be delivered.

The ground around them shifted and cracked; the closest trees fell as their roots dislodged and their trunks cracked.

…

Why… Do We Suffer?

…

"NO, I'M MUSA—A [HERO], JUST LIKE MY SISTER," Amaya yelled back—the quiver in her voice barely contained. Even in [Stormforged], she'd never been this close to something so dangerous. A creature that could kill her before she could fully register it as a defense against it. She wasn't confident the automatic shield all mages passed could save her life.

Her reckless actions gave her team a moment of respite as the future visions of the attacking coyote halted. They glanced at their HUDs, assessing their situation as they conversed, formulating their next plan.

Madria Juud Gamal – Level 72

HP: 738/738 (+450)

SP: 570/570 (+450)

MP: 595/990 (+0)

DP: 595/990 (+0)

Simra Enlar – Level 50

HP: 540/540

SP: 510/510

MP: 660/660

Lorde Gin Drumian – Level 78

HP: 1050/1050 (+0)

SP: 750/900 (+0)

MP: 830/1080 (+0)

Amaya Aesira Musa – Level 75

HP: 1140/1140 (+375)

SP: 750/750 (+375)

MP: 1700/1800 (+0)

"I'm ready, if you can have it stay still, even for a moment, we can kill it," Madria finally spoke. She'd been chanting a spell that would allow them to kill the creature—if not heavily wound it. "When the skill hits you, don't hesitate—no matter what!"

The Tempest Coyote prowled—it watched them from outside the range of the effects of the spell, waiting for its dispersal. Lorde looked above and toward the figure of his aunt, who calmly floated next to the Queen.

Liana's Drumian's face was too far to be seen clearly, but he was certain she was facing toward him. He felt some burden, some crisis of the situation dissolve—then, an angry, nearly furious energy overtook his mind.

What was he afraid of? Why did he look to his aunt for comfort? Those thoughts and more raced through his mind in this situation. If his aunt, if the Queen, wanted to, they could have long since deployed the full force of the Central Gate Army and cleared this minor beast horde away. Instead, they gave them the glorious opportunity to clear the way—to level in an environment where death wasn't a guarantee… and… Lorde looked to them for more ? Was he a coward—just being logical…, or was he a magi-human—a worshipper of the Goddess ready to face death with a sword in hand and the confidence to make it to the highest halls in the land that is promised?

He looked next to him at Simra Enlar, the woman he grew to like—that he was growing to love. He chuckled, the light laugh entering the minds of his companions. Amaya turned toward him, her face confused at his reaction. Madria stayed silent from her position, having approached closer to her companions but in an area where she was outside the notice of their threat. Around her, knights and soldiers fought to protect her from any errant beast that chose to face death.

"Simra Enlar—now that you have status… how about answering me properly?"

His words caught her off guard—this was a situation where they faced life and death, but here Lorde was chuckling and asking questions that should be saved for later.

Lorde didn't want to wait until later. He waited days… months… YEARS —since he first began to let his affection be known.

Simra paused, a Stamina and Mana Potion in hand. She resumed, breaking the tops before dumping the contents through the holes of her helmet. There was little time to waste in properly lifting it to consume the potions.

Amaya appeared confused, but she paid them no heed as she began to prepare a spell of her own. Her bloodline was not combat-based, and it would not help in this situation. It was only Madria who was truly paying attention, but she too held confusion on Lorde's question.

Simra tossed the empty vials, once again equipping her dagger. Of all times, it was now that Lorde asked for an answer. A complicated expression appeared on her face—she took a deep breath, clearing her thoughts and sharpening her mind. These next few years would be interesting.

Why… do we suffer?

"Yes, Lorde Drumian," Simra's voiced confidently, cocky even. "I accept."

Lorde eyes brightened—his bloodstained pearly whites shinned underneath his helmed head. "Then, my lady… allow me to be your knight—(Heartbound)."

The skill emerged as a soft whisper, barely heard by those around him. The Drumians were a clan of knights bound by duty and oath—now, Lorde would be bound by something else.

(Heartbound)

Rarity: Legendary

Category: Bloodline Skill

Functions:

1. Grants {Attributes UP},+10% to all attributes, when protecting a Heartbound individual. ‎ 2. Activates {Heartbound Synergy}, enabling the knight to mimic or amplify an ability used by the (Heartbound) once every 2 minutes.

Cost:

40/SP MP per minute.

Description:

A bond forged in trust becomes a source of immense power, turning affection into strength and unity into an edge against any foe.

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