Departure

The sun had long since risen, yet no sunlight bathed the world. Dark grey clouds loomed overhead, casting an endless shadow upon the land, tainting the once-beautiful blue skies.

Rain fell in relentless torrents, as if attempting to cleanse the blood-stained hills of Kulkula Town's outskirts.

Across the rolling hills, countless swords stood planted in the earth. Each blade bore a name, inscribed in runes that flickered faintly under the downpour. A graveyard of steel.

A graveyard of the fallen.

Icarus knelt amidst the field of swords, his body motionless, his robes still tattered and caked in dried blood. He had remained there all night, unmoving, as if the weight of the dead had anchored him to the spot.

Before him stood a single sword, its silver gleam brighter than the rest.

[Jonah Langster—Iron Soul Warrior]

The rain drenched him, running through his white hair, dripping from his stoic face. Yet his pupils did not waver. His eyes burned, unwavering, as he gazed upon the name etched into the metal.

Hours passed. The rain only grew stronger.

Icarus reached down, scooping up a handful of soil. Slowly, he injected essence into it, hardening the dirt into a bronze jade.

A blade of essence formed between his fingers—thin, precise. Methodically, with absolute focus, he inscribed each rune from the graves before him onto the jade.

One by one.

Each stroke was carefully etched, each line a reflection of perfection.

The sky rumbled. The rain poured harder.

The more Icarus inscribed, the more the gold within his gaze faded. In its place, rose-colored swirls bloomed, mixing with the depths of thick crimson blood that filled his eyes.

Once finished, Icarus conjured a black essence string, threading it through the jade before tying it around his neck. The pendant rested against his chest, heavy with meaning.

"Young master."

A voice drifted from behind him.

Lord Henry stood there, holding an umbrella over Icarus, shielding him from the rain.

"Tethering yourself to mortals," Lord Henry said softly, "will always inevitably result in sorrow. Immortality may seem far, but it is merely the beginning. Steel your heart."

Icarus slowly stood, his gaze still locked on Jonah's tomb.

"Does that not sound like the words of a weak man?"

Lord Henry's amber pupils trembled at the statement.

"To close my heart off from the world because I fear it will break? That sounds like the hymn of a weak and broken man."

Icarus exhaled, his voice quiet but firm. "Open or not, my heart will remain absolute." He sighed. "Though that is the case, it remains unfortunate."

"To think I'd be so weak."

Finally, he turned to face Lord Henry. Noticing the turmoil in the old butler's eyes, Icarus let out another sigh.

"I apologize. My anger got the better of me."

Lord Henry shook his head, exhaling deeply.

"No, your words are correct." A dry chuckle escaped him, cold and empty. "It seems I've grown old and lost much of my spark, hm?"

He fell silent for a moment before continuing.

"I cannot tell you to not bear the burden of their deaths. But I can tell you to look ahead. To strive to be better than you were yesterday."

"Step by step, seek comfort in strength. If your palms can hold the skies, if you can lift the heavens and tear the void apart—what could you possibly fear?"

Icarus' gaze drifted toward Lady Amalia and Oberon, who stood in the distance, mourning in silence.

"I suppose." His voice was soft, almost ethereal.

Lord Henry sighed before shifting the topic.

"We must prepare. We'll be setting off soon."

"Oberon has given us his aerial mount. He will be heading to the Star Council to report this incident. Officially, Kulkula Town is… no more."

Icarus nodded once. "There's nothing left for us here."

"No," Lord Henry agreed. "Additionally, Lady Amalia has plans she wishes to execute. For that, we must head to the Central Plains."

Icarus nodded again. "We're not leaving now, are we?"

"No," Lord Henry replied. "Three days from now. Take your time."

Without another word, Icarus turned and walked away, heading toward the lake of emerald waters.

Lord Henry watched him go, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him. He was still just a boy, a child who should have been kept far from the horrors of the world. Yet, looking at him now…

He saw something else.

The broadness of his back. The weight of his presence. The way his steps resonated in silence.

It reminded him of a man.

A man he had not seen in years.

'If he is fated to become a monster, then let him become a good one,' Lord Henry thought. 'But if he isn't… may he be like you.'

***

Icarus sat at the farthest edge of the emerald lake, his lower half submerged, his back resting against the shade of a tall tree.

Slowly, he scrubbed the blood from his skin.

His snow-white hair, once matted with dried crimson, began to return to its pure state.

As he cleaned himself, his mind wandered.

'Who would've thought the answer was so simple? To move as one.'

The enlightenment he had gained was almost insultingly simple.

As he fought the Soul Eater General, he had watched—observed. He saw how it swung its sword, how runes ignited across the blade's edge, how dark essence flowed seamlessly through its body and weapon alike.

And in that moment, he understood.

The answer was unity.

Before, he had viewed his Arcane, Sword, Essence, and Alchemical Paths as separate entities—individual disciplines that required separate study.

But that was wrong.

To reach the first stage in any of them, he had to do so across all of them, simultaneously.

The process was divided into two steps.

First, his Essence Control Path had to act as the catalyst, igniting the momentum of advancement. The other three would then follow, progressing in perfect tandem.

He had been standing on the threshold for so long, unable to step forward because he had only been trying to open one door at a time.

Now, he knew.

Within the waters, Icarus sat cross-legged.

The Essence Control Path he followed—forged by Amalia herself—was called the [Slither Ignition Essence Method]. Its first stage was known as Slithering Flow.

Its secrets had always eluded him, but now, as if the world had whispered them into his ear, he grasped its essence within a single heartbeat.

His pores opened, allowing atmospheric essence to flow in and out of him without resistance. It seeped into his blood, surged through his flesh, wrapped around his bones like a mother's tender embrace.

But this was only the beginning.

Essence coiled around him, morphing into slithering serpents, writhing and weaving along his skin.

Any essence that approached transformed, joining the sea of serpents that now surrounded him.

His body trembled, his breath steady, his mind still.

A domain began to expand around him.

The world resonated with his pulse. The echoes of hissing serpents filled the air.

And then—

For the first time, he felt it.

The chains that bound the tides of atmospheric essence… Falling into his hands.

The sensation was intoxicating.

"I see."