Chronicles of Legends

Volume 6 - Epilogue

Simultaneously, my second life flickered across the ethereal tapestry. The profound echoes of my birth resonated, intertwining with the formation of my two nascent mana cores. The exhilarating adventures as an adventurer, the triumphs within the Three Races Tournament, the formation of my aether core. The transformative years within Xyrus Academy, the grueling battles fought against formidable adversaries like Alexis and Jezebeth. The arduous training, the warmth and love of my cherished family. The mantle of Dicathen's commander, the anguish of Lancelot's passing, and the poignant finality as Kevin's hand brought about my ultimate demise.

As I slowly regained my senses, a radiant light bathed the surrounding darkness, drawing me back into the realm of consciousness. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the brilliance, only to find myself face-to-face with a familiar figure—the woman who had guided me through the depths of the dungeon, unveiling the mysteries of aether. Her ethereal presence exuded a sense of calm confidence, accentuated by her flowing white hair that cascaded like a cascade of snowflakes down her shoulders. Her regal demeanor was emphasized by the resplendent purple dress she wore, reminiscent of Amanda's elegance.

A genuine smile graced her lips as she spoke, her obsidian eyes fixed on me with an intensity that hinted at both concern and relief.

"You have finally awakened, my hero," she greeted, her voice carrying a hint of warmth. I rose from the bed, my body still recovering from the ordeal it had endured.

"Who are you, and why am I still alive?" I questioned, my gaze narrowing with suspicion.

"In due time, I shall answer your first question at length. However, allow me to address your second inquiry," she replied, her tone gentle yet laced with a subtle air of authority. "You are alive because I have imbued all Paladins with a fail-safe mechanism. When faced with the precipice of death, you are transported to a designated region and granted swift healing."

Surprise flickered across my face as her words settled in. I had not sensed such a fail-safe mechanism within me, prompting a wave of curiosity to wash over me.

"Your inability to sense the fail-safe is a result of your limited mastery of spatium," she explained, her melodic laughter echoing through the space. Inexplicably, my muscles relaxed in response, a semblance of trust gradually building. "But before I delve further into your second question, allow me to pose one of my own: Why did you refrain from employing your trump card against Kezess?"

As the revelation sank in, I couldn't help but ponder over the name "Kezess."

"It wouldn't be sufficient," I replied, my voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "My trump card, as formidable as it may be, is not yet honed to a level where it can surpass the strength of Kezess Indrath."

Vicht nodded in understanding, her eyes filled with a mix of empathy and wisdom. She hummed softly before speaking again, her words carrying a weight that commanded attention.

"Then, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Vicht, the Queen of the Djinns, the ancient mages who once thrived in a long-forgotten civilization. My people were decimated by the Indraths, and I stand as the sole survivor alongside my son, Alexis—the very same Alexis you faced in battle several years ago."

Shock rippled through my being, causing my body to tremble uncontrollably. It was as if the threads of fate were intricately woven, connecting my past and present in ways I had never anticipated. Struggling to regain composure, I activated Monarch's Indifference, invoking a sense of calm that settled my racing heart and restored my clarity of thought.

Vicht observed my reaction, her gaze unwavering. Then, unexpectedly, she spoke of "Godrunes," a term unfamiliar to me.

"Your 'skills' bear a striking resemblance to the phenomenon known as Godrunes," she mused, her tone laced with intrigue. "However, there is potential for further refinement."

"Godrunes?" I echoed, my head tilting in curiosity.

Vicht proceeded to enlighten me, her words unraveling the mystery surrounding this arcane concept.

"Godrunes serve as the physical manifestation of a mage's deep understanding of an aetheric edict," she explained. "They materialize on the caster's back, acting as conduits to direct the motes of aether and shape them into the desired spells."

Shifting gears, I redirected the conversation towards Lancelot, a dear comrade whose loss had weighed heavily on my heart.

"What became of Lancelot?" I inquired, my voice laced with concern. "We conducted a proper burial for him, but his return seems implausible."

Vicht's smile widened, exuding an air of mischief as she responded, "Ah, that was merely a decoy. A meticulously crafted dummy designed to deceive even the keenest eyes of the Claxter. In truth, Lancelot lives, my hero. He is currently undergoing rigorous training, determined to make a triumphant return to the side of Dicathen."

Relief coursed through my veins, mingling with a flicker of excitement that I struggled to conceal. "I'm glad to hear that," I replied nonchalantly, though a hint of eagerness betrayed my true sentiments. "Why do you address me as your hero?"

Vicht's smile took on a genuine quality, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "Because, Gary, you are my hero," she explained. "You possess the power and resolve necessary to save Dicathen from impending doom. It is my solemn duty to ensure that you attain the strength required within the limited span of one year."

"Now, let us commence, Gary Whiteborn... or perhaps I should address you as Ren Dover," she stated, a mischievous smirk gracing her lips as she gracefully rose from her seat.

Her words were an affirmation of what I had suspected. Vicht, the queen of the Djinns, was the one who orchestrated my reincarnation, all with the sole purpose of safeguarding Dicathen.

|Lancelot|

"What do you mean I'm forbidden from returning to Dicathen?" I demanded, my voice filled with frustration as I locked eyes with Mordain, the formidable phoenix before me. His blazing orange orbs pierced through me, igniting a surge of unease that prickled across my skin.

Mordain maintained his composed demeanor, his regal presence commanding attention. "Lancelot, it means precisely what I said," he responded firmly. "You cannot return to Dicathen until you have proven yourself capable of defeating me. Only then will you possess the strength necessary to confront Kezess Indrath."

My teeth clenched, my resolve surging against the constraints of his decree. While I understood the gravity of the threat Kezess posed after decimating the Djinns, the desire to stand alongside my friends in Dicathen burned within me.

"You claim I am too weak," I retorted, frustration evident in my voice. "But how can I help them if I'm kept from their side?"

Mordain's fiery gaze softened slightly, and he stepped closer, closing the gap between us effortlessly. I should have reacted, but a mixture of awe and trepidation rooted me in place as he pressed his fingers against my chest.

His searing flames seemed to penetrate deep within, compelling me to kneel involuntarily, rendering me powerless.

"The path to strength lies within you, Lancelot," Mordain spoke, his tone carrying a rare hint of compassion. "Unleash the power hidden deep within, a power that will illuminate your journey as you enter the integration stage. Trust in the process, continue to train, and the path to greatness will reveal itself."

I nodded, a blend of confusion and determination swirling within me. Though uncertain about the specifics, I chose to place my trust in Mordain, the wise leader of the phoenixes. 

[A/N: Remember to vote if you guys like this chapter! It helps me in gauging the quality of my writing!]