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Conqueror of the Verse
By ColdLink Writer
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CHAPTER II
Six Winters on the Mountain
The mountain did not forgive weakness.
It revealed it.
Winter winds moved endlessly across the cliffs, carrying snow through the tall pine trees that covered the slopes.
Hidden among those trees stood a small wooden cabin.
Simple.
Isolated.
Far from any city or road.
This place was not meant for comfort.
It was meant for preparation.
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Age Eight — The First Hunt
The forest was quiet that morning.
Kashihero walked beside Aether through the snow-covered ground, their breaths forming pale clouds in the cold air.
Suddenly Aether stopped.
“Twelve,” he said calmly.
Kashihero felt them as well.
Spirit signatures.
Dark and distorted.
They surrounded the forest perimeter.
Moments later, figures stepped out from the trees.
Masked men dressed in dark clothing.
Hollow Sigil.
One of them stepped forward.
“We found the anomaly.”
His gaze settled on Kashihero.
“The golden fluctuation six years ago.”
So they had noticed.
Not everything.
But enough to search.
The battle began almost immediately.
Aether moved first.
His movements were calm and controlled, like someone who had spent decades fighting.
Several enemies fell within moments.
But the Hollow Sigil warriors carried blades coated with cursed energy.
One strike slipped past Aether’s defense and pierced his side.
The wound was deep.
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Aether did not fall.
But the energy within the blade felt wrong.
Kashihero sensed it instantly.
Golden threads of Spirit Energy flickered faintly around him.
The masked warriors froze when they saw the light.
“There,” one of them whispered.
“That light.”
Their suspicions had been confirmed.
After losing several members, the Hollow Sigil retreated.
They had not come to win.
They had come to observe.
Soon the forest returned to silence.
Aether stood breathing slowly, one hand pressed against his wounded side.
“It’s nothing,” he said.
But both of them understood the truth.
The wound would never completely heal.
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From Age Eight to Fourteen — Training
Life on the mountain became simple.
But never easy.
Every day began before sunrise.
Aether would open the cabin door and wake Kashihero without hesitation.
There was no delay allowed.
They ran through the mountains first.
The cold air burned in their lungs as they climbed steep paths through snow and stone.
“If you cannot breathe,” Aether would say, “then you are weak.”
After running came sword training.
Wooden blades struck against each other repeatedly as Kashihero practiced the same movements again and again.
Every mistake was corrected immediately.
Aether never held back.
“Strength without control is meaningless,” he told him.
“Power without discipline destroys its owner.”
After sword practice came Spirit control.
Aether forced Kashihero to meditate beneath freezing waterfalls, where water struck his shoulders endlessly while he tried to focus his energy.
“Do not resist the pressure,” Aether instructed.
“Understand it.”
Slowly, Kashihero’s Spirit Energy began to change.
It became denser.
More refined.
He learned how to compress it, how to layer it beneath the surface of his body, and how to hide it when necessary.
During those years, he never used the Throne again.
Not carelessly.
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Hunting
Food did not come from markets.
They hunted.
Deer moved through the forests.
Mountain boars wandered the slopes.
Sometimes even spirit beasts appeared in the deeper valleys.
Aether taught him how to track movement in the forest.
Broken branches.
Faint footprints.
The direction of the wind.
“Observe everything,” he said.
“Nature speaks constantly. Most people simply do not listen.”
At night they returned to the cabin.
They prepared the meat together beside the fire.
During those moments, Aether changed.
The strict instructor disappeared.
The father returned.
“You’re improving,” he would say occasionally.
Not praise.
But recognition.
Sometimes he even smiled.
Once he said quietly,
“You swing a sword the same way your mother argued.”
Kashihero looked up.
“She argued?”
“All the time.”
After that they would eat in silence.
The warmth of the fire filled the small cabin while snow continued to fall outside.
Even during winter, those nights felt warm.
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The Slow Damage
Years passed quietly on the mountain.
Kashihero grew stronger.
But Aether began to weaken.
Not in skill.
His movements were still precise.
But his endurance slowly faded.
He tried to hide it.
Yet Kashihero noticed small signs.
The way Aether held his side when he thought no one was looking.
The blood-stained cloths hidden behind the cabin.
The cursed wound from years earlier had never truly healed.
The energy inside it continued to consume his strength little by little.
Despite this, Aether never reduced the training.
If anything, he pushed Kashihero harder.
“You must learn to survive without me,” he said once.
He did not look at him when he spoke.
Kashihero did not reply.
But he understood.
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Age Fourteen — The Second Hunt
It happened near dusk.
The forest was quiet when Kashihero sensed them.
More Spirit signatures than before.
Twenty.
Stronger.
Organized.
The Hollow Sigil had returned.
Aether stepped outside the cabin.
Silver Spirit Energy gathered around his body.
It was thinner than it once had been, but it still carried sharp intensity.
One of the masked leaders spoke.
“You survived longer than expected.”
His gaze shifted to Kashihero.
“Divine vessel.”
This time the battle was not a test.
They had come to finish it.
Kashihero fought beside Aether.
At fourteen, he was no longer a child.
His movements were precise and efficient.
Several enemies fell quickly.
But the Hollow Sigil did not focus on him.
Their target was Aether.
Remove the protector.
Claim the vessel.
A blade pierced through Aether’s abdomen.
Another cut opened across his back.
Blood fell heavily onto the forest floor.
Too much.
Kashihero felt something inside him stir.
The golden threads within him flickered violently.
Carnivorous Authority awakened.
His movements changed.
He no longer held back.
Within minutes, every Hollow Sigil member lay motionless in the forest.
Silence returned once more.
Aether lay on the ground.
The wounds were too severe.
Kashihero knelt beside him.
“Father.”
Aether looked at him calmly.
“You’re ready.”
His hand rested weakly on Kashihero’s shoulder.
“Do not let hatred control you.”
His breathing slowed.
“Become stronger than the gods.”
Then his hand slipped away.
The forest became silent.
Kashihero remained there for a long time.
Finally he carried Aether’s body back into the cabin.
He placed him gently on the bed.
Night fell slowly.
Exhaustion eventually forced Kashihero to rest.
He lay down in the next room.
And sleep came.
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The Dream
Darkness surrounded him.
In that darkness, another figure appeared.
A reflection of himself.
“You are grieving,” the figure said.
Kashihero did not answer.
“You killed them for revenge.”
Still silence.
“You were never meant to pursue revenge,” the figure continued.
“You were meant to conquer.”
Kashihero finally spoke.
“I loved them.”
The words felt heavy.
“My mother. My father. Those years… were the happiest moments of my life.”
The void around them trembled faintly.
“In my past life,” he continued quietly, “I never experienced warmth.”
“But in this life… I did.”
The other version of himself studied him carefully.
“You have changed.”
“Yes.”
“I want to feel that warmth again.”
A long silence passed.
Then the figure smiled faintly.
“Perhaps you will become a greater conqueror than before.”
The darkness began to fade.
“This world is unstable,” the figure said as it disappeared.
“If you want love to survive… then conquer for protection.”
Then it vanished.
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Awakening
Morning light entered the cabin.
Kashihero opened his eyes slowly.
The room was quiet.
Empty.
He sat up.
The pain inside his chest remained.
But it had changed.
It was no longer confusion.
It had become direction.
Revenge was not the final goal.
Only a step.
If he wanted to protect the warmth he had experienced in this life…
He needed power beyond gods.
Outside the cabin, the wind moved softly through the forest.
And deep within him…
The Throne stirred once.
Six winters had passed on this mountain.
The time for preparation was over.
Now the world would begin to see what he would become.
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End of Chapter II
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