Chapter 173 - When logic escapes [14]

(POV – Protagonist)

I stared at Nyara with a cold, indifferent gaze as she slowly and hesitantly placed her hand right where my finger had touched. A small red spot appeared, standing out mercilessly against her flawlessly pale skin, like a blemish disrupting an otherwise perfect picture.

Nyara still looked confused; her eyes reflected the deep disbelief of someone who couldn't comprehend what had just happened. Technically, she hadn't even felt a trace of pain from my strike — as if the wound was more of a symbolic mark than a true physical blow.

More precisely, what really shocked her was the fact that a simple flick caused such an intense reaction. After all, Nyara had literally been thrown back the moment my finger touched her forehead. It was only natural she was confused — anyone would be. If only she remembered me, maybe she wouldn't react with such surprise. But since that wasn't the case, here we were, trapped in this peculiar situation.

Nyara shifted her gaze between me and the painfully red spot on her forehead. Her eyes narrowed silently, as if trying to decode something in my face. For a moment, she seemed about to speak — her lips parted slightly, a deeper breath escaped — but she hesitated.

The words died before they were born, drowned in the thick weight of the silence that surrounded us. Her hand still rested on the reddish mark, now sharper under the light, forming an almost symbolic contrast against the disbelief in her eyes. It was as if me having struck her was small compared to the confusion overwhelming her.

"What... was that?" she whispered, almost inaudible, more to herself than to me, eyes still wide and breath ragged.

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I briefly glanced down at the floor, as if seeking some invisible refuge, before looking back at her. Nyara seemed to search every expression, looking for a rational explanation, a flaw in logic that could justify what had just happened.

But there were no flaws. Nothing that could be explained. It was real. Intentional. Nyara wasn't just a destructive force or a simple chaotic entity; she embodied chaos itself in its purest, most abstract form — an almost divine presence whose nature transcends human understanding.

Her powers went far beyond mere disorder or mess: Nyara could rewrite reality itself, dismantling the foundations that hold the universe together with an almost imperceptible gesture.

She manipulated physical laws at her whim, shaping and reshaping life forms like an artist with a masterpiece, twisting the logic that governs the cosmos and creating and undoing worlds with the lightness of fleeting thoughts.

Though she was the living embodiment of absolute chaos, Nyara radiated a paradoxically warm aura, enveloping everything around her with an unexpected feeling of comfort and warmth.

As the physical incarnation of chaos, Nyara held absolute and almost visceral control over her disorderly forces. Yet there was a fundamental limitation to her power: despite her tumultuous nature, she was a virtue — an intrinsic, essential manifestation of creation itself.

For that reason, she was irrevocably bound by the laws and restrictions governing her own birth. Even with all her immense power, she could never break or destroy the primordial structure from which she emerged.

Her existence was subject to a delicate, unbreakable balance: able to alter and subvert everything around her, but never able to turn against the very essence of creation that gave birth to chaos. She was a force that lived in the shadows of the universe, shaping realities, but always respecting the foundation that sustained her.

Even if Nyara didn't fully remember herself at every moment, this fragmented absence of memory never stopped her from grasping, at her deepest core, the invisible logic governing her powers.

She felt, almost instinctively, the hidden harmony amidst the chaos, the secret purpose pulsing at the heart of the rupture. It was this silent, visceral awareness that transformed her chaos — not just into something destructive, but into a creative, divine, and inevitable force.

As incredible as it might seem, Nyara's powers obeyed a rule deeply intertwined with her very essence. If she wished, Nyara could rewrite reality completely — manipulating physical laws, reshaping life forms, and even subverting the logic governing the universe.

Indeed, in terms of destructive power, Nyara ranked among the most powerful virtues that exist. Though my memories of all the virtues were fragmented, what I could salvage about Nyara suggested a subtle, undeniable connection between her and the other virtues.

I closed my eyes gently, letting my thoughts drift through those memories — at once mysterious and strangely familiar. After a brief inner silence, a single answer emerged from the mental whirlwind.

Facing Nyara's earlier question, I finally spoke, my voice calm and neutral, reflecting the serene expression on my face: (Who knows)

Nyara, still visibly incredulous, rose slowly, as if every muscle in her body was reluctant to obey. She remained silent, not uttering a single word or showing any explicit reaction.

Yet her gaze gradually closed, growing more intense, darker — as if a silent shadow had descended over her soul. All Nyara did in that moment was a simple, almost imperceptible gesture: she raised her finger slightly, with a calmness that contrasted with the tension in the air. But that subtle movement was enough to trigger a chain reaction.

The ground began to shake with overwhelming violence, as if the earth itself was about to split apart. Along with the tremor, the trees composing the forest started being ripped from the soil brutally and mercilessly.

It was as if an invisible force — more monstrous and relentless than anything I had ever imagined — was lifting them, using only pure, devastating brute strength. Each tree, uprooted with a deafening crash, rose into the air, all pointing with terrifying precision right at me.

"I don't exactly know what you did" Nyara began, her voice low like a whispered threat. Her eyes slowly turned toward me, cold and calculating: "But if I can't destroy her directly... then I'll find other ways. Indirect ones"

In the next instant, with a simple, almost lazy flick of her fingers, all the trees around were suddenly hurled in my direction. There were dozens of wooden colossi thrown at once, like living spears coming from the forest itself. However, I stayed exactly where I was, motionless, my gaze as indifferent as ever — cold, unshakable.

At the same time, the black mist swirling around my feet began to stir, weaving through the air until it formed a dense, flexible shield before me. As the trees slammed into this dark barrier, one after another, they shattered like dry branches caught in a storm. Splinters flew in every direction, but none came near me.

One by one, the trees collided with my shield made of shadowy mist and, the next moment, broke apart into dry, powerless shards. I hadn't moved a single step.

The barrier created by my Alter Ego remained firm, dense, and impenetrable — as if the darkness itself had chosen to protect me. My eyes stayed fixed on Nyara; I watched her intently, analyzing every small movement, every subtle shift in her stance.

Of course, there were still people behind me. So, instead of sending the trees flying elsewhere, I chose to have them break right where they were, splintering with a muffled crash. At that moment, I noticed a subtle movement in the snow around me. My eyes shifted, alert to the strange disturbance — it was as if something writhed beneath the frozen surface.

And then it happened. The snow came alive. It rose in uneven whirlwinds, snaking through the air like a swarm of hungry pests. It surrounded me within seconds, spinning with silent fury. I simply stared at it, motionless. My expression remained unchanged: blank.

The snow seemed alive — a restless mass swirling around me, dancing with a will of its own. The flakes twirled and vibrated in the cold air, each one like a tiny pulsing spark, filled with the chaotic essence Nyara exuded.

The black mist at my feet slid silently, spreading like ghostly fingers over the snow. Within seconds, the white blanket was overtaken by that dark veil — and then, without any warning, the snow collapsed, lifeless, as if the threads holding it up had been abruptly and cruelly cut.

Nyara watched me silently. Her face flickered between astonishment and restrained tension, as if something inside her was awakening against her will. For the first time, I noticed a spark in her eyes — respect, maybe... or perhaps recognition?.

Slowly, I moved my feet, each step sinking into the black mist spiraling thickly, as if it rose from the very earth. The smoke drifted gently down to the ground, sliding around me with a silent purpose, guiding me toward Nyara.

The atmosphere was heavy, filled with a ritualistic silence that seemed to hold the world's breath. I approached her with an almost ceremonial calm, senses sharp, as if any sound could profane this moment.

Nyara kept her gaze locked on me — intense, probing — trying, perhaps, to decode my intentions across the distance still between us. Her eyes seemed to pierce the mist separating us. I returned the look firmly, resolute, letting my gesture speak louder than any words. Slowly, I raised my finger, extending it toward her forehead.

Nyara closed her eyes slowly, stepping back hesitantly, while a shadow of doubt crossed her face — maybe brought on by the memory of the last time I made a similar gesture, and the impact it had caused. But this time, there was no intention to harm or cause pain.

My finger glided gently to her forehead, touching it with an almost ethereal delicacy, as if merely brushing the surface with a feather-light touch, making time around us seem to dissolve in that silent moment.

At the same time, I sent my thoughts to Nyara, who still had her eyes closed, filled with silent apprehension: "I'm sorry it took me so long... I failed you"

I truly felt awful. I bit my lips so hard I expected to feel pain, but neither blood nor suffering came — it was as if my body refused even to hurt itself. I was the one who caused all that with Nekra, and that truth crushed me inside.

Still, in that moment, all I could do was give her what she wanted most and apologize. Apologize for, even though I was family, being so useless when she needed me most.

The instant our fingers touched, a vibrant wave of energy began to pulse between us, as if the very air had come to life. The black mist surrounding me expanded slowly, transforming into glowing spirals that delicately wrapped around her.

These bright currents seeped into her skin like a whisper, awakening an invisible chain of ancient memories — forgotten memories, buried deep in time, now beginning to silently echo between our worlds.

Nyara's eyes flew open abruptly, as if waking from a deep, ancient sleep. Behind them, a storm began to form — not an ordinary storm, but a whirlwind of intense lights, vibrant colors, and indescribable shapes dancing with the hypnotic grace of an inner aurora borealis.

It was a cosmic spectacle, a celestial dance seeming to overflow from the core of her being, illuminating the space around her with pulsing energy. Gradually, fragments of memories started to emerge, sparkling like shy stars lighting up one by one in the vast, silent night sky, bringing forgotten secrets and deep emotions to the surface.

She screamed, a sharp, visceral sound that expressed not pain, but a profound shock, a sudden revelation tearing through her consciousness. Before her eyes, like a frantic, chaotic film, scenes from the past began to unfold — a luminous, chaotic parade of forgotten memories.

The energy in the air intensified almost palpably, causing the ground to tremble beneath our feet as if the earth itself whispered ancient secrets. Reality around us seemed to ripple, gently distorting like a water mirror, reflecting the deep transformations happening inside Nyara.

Nyara dropped to her knees, her body trembling lightly, while her eyes glowed with an intense light — a light that transcended her very essence, carrying the weight of everything she represented but had forgotten over the years. An ancient fire awakened in her gaze, as if a thousand ancestral voices whispered inside her.

Her voice, now firm and charged with a relentless, ancient power, broke the silence with a deep reverberation that seemed to cut through time and space: "Sister... I... I remember"