260. Care

  Zetius woke with a sudden jerk, propping himself up on the bed to support his shivering frame.

  It had happened all over again — the recurring nightmare that plagued his very soul.

  The thumping of blood in his ears began to subside as he took in his surroundings. The Victorian-style furniture with its carved metal frames of black-coated iron. He was back in his bedchamber inside Borealis Castle.

  "You've got to be kidding..." Zetius dragged his hands down his face.

  He thought he was getting better, thanks to the training and sheer exhaustion. But now, even if he poured all his mana into training until he could barely move a finger, the nightmares still haunted him.

  A gentle breeze waved the heavy curtains; Cubie must have left the windows open again. He found her sleeping soundly on her side, hugging a long feather pillow.

  He didn’t know why, but she seemed to become more human the longer she stayed in this form. She ate. She drank. And she slept. Just like he did.

  Slowly, Zetius swung his legs out and sat on the edge of the bed. He propped his elbows on his thighs, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes. He didn’t want to sleep any longer, no matter what time it was.

  He held onto the belief that Empress Aurora would one day appear in front of the castle in all her glory. She had said she would return, and he believed her wholeheartedly.

  But as days went by, reality started to set in.

  She hadn't returned. In fact, people were starting to lose faith, fearing she was gone forever. The image of her body plunging into the abyss still haunted him; he could see it clearly, even now.

  Now he felt the void inside him, its size too large to ignore. But it wasn’t just him; Cartier was even more devastated, having lost her only guardian. Occasionally, he could see the redness in her eyes during their short daily interactions.

  "I’m broken..." Zetius muttered softly, his voice quivering.

  He admitted that he was angry at everything — at Ignius, at the demons, at the Helltides... and particularly at himself. He had gone on a murdering spree, crushing the fleeing enemy forces in the rural Britainian towns.

  It only made the emptiness in his heart wider. Deeper.

  They had won this war; the Helltides were receding and had never risen again. Yet, he had lost... so, so much.

  Before he knew it, his knuckles were bone-white with fury. He clicked his tongue, realising he needed a shower to cool his head.

  Inside the rejuvenation chamber lay a small bed. The room was plain, furnished with just the basics: a table and two chairs. The perpetual hum of Primordial Iasis played in the background like a song.

  It was always green-leaf particles in this chamber, but it was even more beautiful now that Celestius Vivian had adjusted the settings to intensify the healing.

  If only Triss were able to see the beauty of it.

  He suspected her injury wasn’t entirely physical; it was far beyond Zetius's comprehension. Hence, no amount of physical healing would restore her vision.

  Zetius sat beside Triss’s bed, stirring the porridge to cool it down for her.

  "I wish I could try something tastier—maybe a chicken sandwich." Triss wore a thin white band across her eyes. Her sweet smile lingered, while Zetius’s expression was the complete opposite.

  Pain. Guilt. Uselessness.

  He was a warmongering arcanist; he didn’t know how to fix this if the best doctor in the world couldn’t. It would take him decades to make even a little progress with his current stage; his Iasis essence was not even Greater-tier.

  "How are you feeling? Do you think your jaw can handle it?" he asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady.

  "I’m not sure," Triss said while squeezing the therapy ball in her hands. She could barely make a dent in it.

  The toll wasn’t just her vision; it was everything that stripped her of an ordinary life. She was crippled.

  "Celestius Vivian is working hard. You’ll be fine." He knew it was a lie. If it were working, she would have walked out of this chamber by now.

  "At least I can drink tea. There’s a Britainian tea I’d like to try." Triss smiled.

  Zetius didn’t respond immediately. His fingers balled up, wringing the fabric of his trousers. "I can get that for you," he said, forcing a happy tone. "Here comes your breakfast. Open wide."

  She followed his command and swallowed slowly. "It’s good." Although she hadn't been able to taste anything recently, she said it anyway — a white lie.

  After ten minutes of nursing, Triss gently dabbed her lips with a towel. It wasn’t easy with the weakness in her hand, but she managed. "How’s Cartier?" she probed, her voice smaller. Weak. "I haven’t seen her much... I mean, she hasn’t visited much."

  "Me neither," Zetius admitted honestly. "She’s locked herself inside the library, day and night. She barely leaves that place."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Triss lingered for a moment, a hint of sorrow on her calm visage. "Can you take me there?" she pleaded, turning to where she thought he would be. “Just like old times.”

  "You can’t leave the chamber yet," Zetius replied gently but firmly. "But I can ask her to visit you instead."

  Triss smiled and nodded. "If it’s not too much trouble, please." Her velvet tone was a divine plea; no man could object to it.

  "I’ll see what I can do." Zetius placed the half-empty bowl on the tray and turned around.

  "Thank you, Zetius." Triss bowed her head slightly before pulling the white sheet up over herself.

  Zetius shuffled past two Novitcius Mages who had been assigned here since Triss’s admission. “Let’s pray together, Sisters.” Their voice drifted like the whisper of the wind.

  He knew he needed to train harder, to become stronger than ever before. He needed the power to protect the people he cared about. Although he now held an Epic-tier Empyrion and what he self-assessed as an Epic-tier Astrapyrion, he wasn't sure it would be enough.

  Perhaps with his recent power throughput — utilising dual casting time and the effect of the Artimas Gauntlet — he might enhance his attack just enough to challenge a Mythic-tier Empyrion.

  Still lost in thought, Zetius paused at the door. If only Ignius’s power level hadn't improved drastically since then.

  He had seen a glimpse of his rogue Master, Ignius — the man with more than enough firepower to clash with hundreds of thousands of Armatus while providing a barrier to protect Zetius, and still possess sufficient mana to teleport away.

  Desperation hung heavy in his shoulders. He sucked in his cheeks. It was wishful thinking to estimate that Ignius hadn’t progressed since then. He had the Empusa Necklace and the D’Arcane in his arsenal.

  The thought lingered in his mind, posing a daunting question: How could he possibly become stronger than Ignius?

  As the doors swung smoothly outward, a blonde figure interrupted his train of thought.

  "Celestius Vivian," he greeted, his tone indifferent. She wore a loose chiton, its fabric embellished with olive leaves — subtle yet aesthetically pleasing. The usual golden wreath was missing from her hair, lending her a casual air. There was no need for a strict dress code; she was, after all, the person of the highest station here.

  "Zetius." Her hand flew to her lips in surprise, but she recovered swiftly. "Um, good timing, I guess."

  "Indeed, Celestius." He paused to close the door behind him.

  The Celestius had been going back and forth between Poranthis and Borealis Castle ever since the incident. The Empress’s promise to them remained honoured and valid: Triss’s condition would be treated with priority.

  "Well, I wanted to reassure you." Her palm hovered reluctantly before patting his arm. "I’m personally overseeing Triss's medical care. She’s one of our people, after all."

  "I know," Zetius said.

  She could likely guess the faltering faith in his mind. Her green gaze met his and held it for a solid second.

  "Her vision impairment is not physical," she began, her soft words echoing in the lonely hallway. It was just the two of them.

  Zetius drew a long breath, his gaze falling to the thick carpeted floor. "I figured as much. The potency of the rejuvenation chamber would have cured a physical ailment by now..."

  “All is not lost, Zetius.“ Vivian’s eyes fluttered shut in deep contemplation. "I’ve researched the cause. Nyrethein gave me all the insights I needed." She offered a faint, sincere smile. "There’s a wound far beyond the physical, and even beyond the mental. Something far exceeding our earthly dimension. The Astral Plane."

  Seeing the puzzled frown on Zetius’s face, she added, "We call it a spiritual wound, in layman’s terms."

  "Spiritual?" Zetius repeated the word, sceptical.

  "You have fought them, haven’t you? The Damned Souls are of that plane," she said.

  Zetius nodded along with her words.

  "The fact that they can manipulate and interact with our physical world means the Earthly Plane and Astral Plane can entangle. It’s never a one-way street."

  Zetius crossed his arms, trying his best to wrap his head around the concept. "Like... her soul is damaged, and that’s why she isn’t able to see, even though her eyes are physically healthy?" His voice faltered. He knew a tiny bit about the Dreamless Realm, yet this was even more strange to him.

  "Something like that. I knew you’d catch on quickly enough." Vivian smiled kindly. "In this case, I’ve configured the rejuvenation tree to restore her connection to her astral entity on that plane. Once we strengthen her thread, we should see an improvement in her condition. Holistically."

  Zetius felt the need to scratch his head, but restrained himself. "She can be cured." It wasn't a question, but it didn't answer. "How exactly?" he blurted, intrigue in his eyes as he glanced at her.

  "Do you know how demons possess their victims?" she countered, her smile never fading.

  "No. A curse?" His wild guess earned him a chuckle, an innocuous kind.

  "We observed that they exploit the dark emotions inside us. The Damned Souls released from the Dark Portal seek out those with weak mental states or unstable emotions. Anger, greed, guilt—you get the idea. They feed on these raw emotions until they grow strong enough to manifest and take over." Her voice was firm.

  "That doesn’t explain..." Zetius murmured. If there was a point, he couldn’t see it.

  "To tinker with her affected soul, we need a vessel for the Iasis to pass through." Vivian brushed her fingers on his arm, her expression patient. "We need her virtues: her will, her kindness... her faith."

  "Reverse engineered from demonic possession..." Zetius mused.

  "We call it differently, but that will do." Vivian cupped her chin.

  Zetius’s eyes wandered to the painting on the plastered wall and the chandelier on the ceiling. "Faith, you said? That’s something Triss has in abundance."

  Demurely, Vivian clasped her hands in front of her. "Fortunately, she certainly does."

  There was a shared hope in their eyes. Zetius suddenly felt a mountain lift from his chest. There was finally progress. I should have more faith in Celestius Vivian; she’s the best healer, after all, he jabbed at himself internally for his cynicism.

  "Thank you." His words were genuine.

  "No, we thank you for visiting her. Right now, companionship is the most valuable. Well..." She tilted her head, her wavy hair cascading across her shoulder onto her chest. "Second to love, I’d say."

  Zetius choked and coughed into his fist. "Sorry, what?"

  "Didn’t you know?" Here came another lesson from the wise Celestius. "Mortals were initially designed with two hearts, two brains, and eight limbs, but the gods grew fearful of how powerful we could be. That’s why we were split in half, leaving our other halves to wander, searching for their missing piece forever." She lifted a finger, an amused melody in her tone.

  "That’s a kid’s tale," Zetius puckered his lips. "It’s not real."

  "Anyway, love is powerful. That fact is undeniable." She rested her case, stealing a glance at him.

  It can be very destructive, too. Zetius didn’t want to argue; people experienced it differently. And from his perspective, he had poor experiences with love. With Lupus.

  When the awkwardness didn’t dispel, his denseness sure did. "Wait, wait! We’re just friends," Zetius snapped, feeling the heat rising. She likes Friederich, his mind screamed.

  "Whatever you say." Vivian spun around toward the door, no longer heeding his excuses.

  A loud, rumbling noise echoed through the hall from the north, startling them. Zetius saw Cartier sprinting toward them, wearing a panicked expression. Her hand gripped her notebook tightly as her short legs dashed forward.

  "What’s going on?" Zetius watched her beeline for his location.

  "Zetius!" she shouted, stopping a few steps from them. She bent over, hands on her knees, as she hyperventilated and coughed. That was the only workout she’d had in weeks, and it appeared she had run all the way from the library, her tunic drenched in sweat.

  "Cartier?" Zetius asked, confused.

  He was met with a raised palm. For a full second, she caught her breath, swallowed hard, and locked eyes with him solemnly.

  "I know where Ignius is!"