Third Implantation (6)

The rain around Vastarael stopped mid-air, each droplet frozen in time, as if bowing to the sheer will of his Water Divinity.

This was it. The First Plenituse Technique: Viridescence.

His lips curled into a soft, bittersweet smile as he raised Calimostria in both hands.

"Goodbye, mother."

His heart ached, but there was no room for hesitation anymore.

The air vibrated violently as he swung his glaive forward, and the rain obeyed.

With his first horizontal slash, an arc of luminous sapphire energy tore through the air, carving a crescent path toward Lysameria. The suspended rain droplets surged forward as if commanded by the arc, condensing into thousands of razor-sharp shards. Each droplet became a blade, each blade seeking her like a predator scenting its prey.

Lysameria's katana blazed to life as she moved. Her mastery of combat was unparalleled and she didn't just block the arc; she redirected it, splitting it into harmless streams of water that shot past her. But Vastarael was already in motion.

He spun Calimostria in a circular sweep, unleashing a second wave of Viridescence, this one a spiraling maelstrom of sapphire light and liquid blades. The rain swirled with him, amplifying his attack. Lysameria leapt high into the air to dodge but the rain followed her. It willed itself into spears, rising toward her in a relentless barrage.

She twisted mid-air, slashing downward with her katana, sending shockwaves of force to scatter the spears. Yet even as she landed gracefully, Vastarael was already closing the gap.

His glaive was a blur, slashing vertically now, sending another wave of Viridescence crashing down toward her. The energy ripped through the platform beneath them, the force of the attack creating a chasm. Lysameria darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the attack but her movements were no longer as effortless as before.

"You're using the rain itself..."

Vastarael didn't respond. Another horizontal slash. Another arc of sapphire energy. Another thousand droplets turned to blades, slicing through the air with terrifying precision. Lysameria blocked, deflected and countered, but she was being pushed back.

And then, he changed.

The final slash wasn't horizontal or vertical. It was circular. Vastarael spun with every ounce of strength he had left, Calimostria carving a perfect ring of energy around him. The rain followed his movements, solidifying into an unbroken wall of sharp, spinning death that expanded outward like a hurricane of blades. Lysameria's eyes widened as the sheer scale of the attack dawned on her. She moved faster than she ever had before, her katana a blur as she tried to cut through the encroaching storm.

But this time, it wasn't enough.

The wall of energy and water crashed into her and for the first time, her defense faltered. Her body was struck from every angle. Slashes of sapphire light carved into her. Blades of rain sliced through her. Her arm fell. Her legs were torn. Her torso, split cleanly. Piece by piece, Lysameria was ripped apart, her katana clattering uselessly to the ground as the storm consumed her.

Vastarael came to a stop, his glaive falling to his side, the glowing energy dissipating as the rain began to fall again. His chest heaved, his body trembling with exhaustion, but his gaze remained locked on the dismembered form of his mother. The pieces of her body hovered in the air, suspended by the residual energy of his attack, before slowly descending to the ground.

"Goodbye… Mother," he whispered, his voice breaking as he closed his eyes.

But then, pain.

Searing, blinding pain exploded through his face and he stumbled back, clutching at his eyes. He hadn't seen her final strike. In the split second before his attack had consumed her, Lysameria had swung her katana in a desperate counter, and the blade had found its mark.

His vision blurred.

Darkness crept in at the edges. Blood poured from his eyes, mixing with the rain that continued to fall around him. He gasped, falling to one knee, Calimostria clattering to the ground beside him.

Even as the world faded, he could hear her soft and gentle, filled with love.

"You've grown so much," she said, her words echoing faintly in the storm. "I'm so proud of you, Vastarael."

And then, silence.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw nothing but blackness. His vision was gone, but the weight in his heart was heavier than any physical wound. He had won. He had passed the test.

But at what cost?

[You have passed the third test. Prepare for the next one—]

But he barely heard it.

His head dipped forward, his wet hair sticking to his bloodied face. A strange numbness settled over him, but it didn't last. A sharp, horrifying agony exploded through his skull. The katana hadn't just taken his eyes.

It had sliced clean through his head.

And just before everything faded to black, a cold, cruel truth settled in his mind: even victory could feel like defeat.

°°°°°°°

The suffocating void of the cosmic horrors welcomed him once more.

There was no "entry," no sense of being pulled or transported. One moment, his broken body collapsed in the rain and the next, he was submerged in their unrelenting chaos.

The formless creatures shifted and twisted in the distance, their movements impossible to fully comprehend. Tentacles spiraled in and out of existence. Eyes blinked open and then vanished. A mouth, far too wide and filled with rows of glistening teeth, grinned at him from the blackness before fading into the abyss.

But this time, something was different.

He brought his hands instinctively to his face, expecting to feel the void where his eyes should've been. Instead, he felt searing, blinding pain. It was sharp and hot, radiating outward from his sockets as if needles were being driven into them. He gasped, clutching his face, but the pain didn't stop. It twisted and writhed, the agony climbing up to his temples, seeping into his skull.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain turned cold.

Something forced his eyes open. He didn't want to look but he couldn't stop himself. His vision was sharp, unnaturally so, and the cosmic horrors around him weren't blurry, incomprehensible shapes anymore. He saw them clearly.

Every detail was excruciatingly vivid.

The creature nearest to him was a mass of writhing flesh, its surface covered in translucent pustules that pulsated with an inner, sickly light. He could see the veins running through its form, black blood pumping rhythmically as the beast shuddered and let out a low growl. Behind it, another entity emerged—a twisting spire of bone and sinew, each edge glistening with a wet sheen. Its hollow eyes locked onto him, its mouth parting to reveal a pit of darkness that seemed to stretch into infinity.

"You are one brave soul," it said. "You have to see us. Avenge us. Look at how hideous we are!"

The cosmic horrors were no longer vague nightmares. They were real, tangible and devastatingly beautiful in their grotesqueness.

Vastarael gasped, staggering backward. He wanted to shut his eyes, to close himself off from the madness, but he couldn't. The creatures swarmed him, surrounding him on all sides, their presence pressing down on him like the weight of a collapsing world.

Yet, as the seconds passed, he realized something.

He wasn't screaming.

The last time he had entered this place, the sheer terror of it had torn him apart. The sights, the sounds, the oppressive atmosphere, it had broken him. But now... now it was different. His soul felt like armor, shielding him from the horrors' direct influence. They couldn't crush him like before.

Even as they moved closer, their forms shifting and distorting, he stood his ground. The pain in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a strange clarity. The chaos was overwhelming, but he saw it.

He understood it.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and then, suddenly, the cosmic horrors pulled back, retreating into the void. The blackness around him began to fade, replaced by the sound of rain.

°°°°°°

Vastarael's eyes snapped open, and he gasped sharply, his lungs filling with the cool, rain-soaked air.

He was back. The infinite platform stretched out around him once more, water pooling at his feet. The rain continued to fall, but something about it felt... different.

He brought his hands to his face, expecting to feel the cuts, the blood, the damage Lysameria's blade had done. But his skin was smooth and unbroken. His face was fine. His hands hovered over his eyes for a moment, hesitating, before he finally blinked and looked out into the rain.

The world exploded into clarity.

Every raindrop hanging in the air seemed to gleam with its own unique light. He could see the way each droplet moved, the subtle ripples it created as it hit the surface of the water. The platform stretched endlessly in all directions and he could make out every detail. The faint cracks in the stone, the patterns of the wet streaks left by his fight with Lysameria.

It was like he was seeing in Ultra 4K, but that comparison didn't even do it justice. His vision was so sharp, so precise, that it almost overwhelmed him.

He turned his gaze upward and for the first time, he noticed the way the rain swirled in the air before it fell. It wasn't random. There was a rhythm to it, a natural flow that he could feel in his very bones. His Water Divinity resonated with the rain, amplifying this new clarity.

The platform, the rain, the world itself, it wasn't just clearer. It was alive.

Vastarael took a shaky step forward, his boots splashing in the water. The sound was crisp, almost deafening to his heightened senses. He looked at his hands, the droplets clinging to his skin, refracting the dim light around him. He clenched his fists, testing his strength, and found that he felt... whole.

"Did... did I regenerate everything?" He murmured to himself, his voice echoing faintly across the platform.

But even as he spoke, he knew the answer. This wasn't just healing. Whatever had happened to his eyes had changed him. His vision wasn't just restored.

It was transcendent.

And yet, there was an unsettling undercurrent to it all. Something about it felt borrowed, as if the cosmic horrors had left their mark on him.

The rain continued to fall and Vastarael stood in silence, staring out into the infinite expanse. His breathing steadied, and for the first time since his fight with Lysameria, he allowed himself to smile.

He had survived.

And that was how he unlocked his Mystic Eyes.