Chapter - 9 A group of weirdos

The morning air was thick with the smell of damp earth as Dorian stood in the clearing, still catching his breath from the earlier lesson. Orin stood several paces away, his expression as stern and focused as ever. The lesson had been hard, but it had unlocked something in Dorian, a sense of connection to the energy coursing through him that he'd never felt before. The way he could manipulate it, just a touch—he was eager to learn more.

Orin's voice broke the silence, deep and commanding. "Aura, Dorian, is not a constant. It changes—like the ebb and flow of a river. It isn't always the same size or strength. Many factors affect it: how healthy you are, your emotions, your mental state at any given time. Your aura can expand or contract depending on these things. For instance, if you're exhausted, it will shrink. If you're angry or highly focused, it will stretch out. But with training, you can learn to control its fluctuations."

Dorian furrowed his brow, considering Orin's words. He had only just begun to understand the basic manipulation of his aura. But now, it seemed, there was a whole new level to it.

"The size of your aura," Orin continued, "varies from person to person, and even from day to day. For most people, the outer layer of their aura extends anywhere from two meters to ten meters from their body. But for those who train it—like you will—your aura can stretch even farther. With focus and time, you can push it further than you might imagine."

Dorian nodded, still absorbing the idea that his aura could expand. He had no idea how far his own could reach, but the thought of it was both exciting and a little intimidating.

Orin raised his hand, and a soft hum filled the air. "Now, we'll take it a step further. Aura detection."

Without warning, Orin expanded his aura outward, the air around him rippling as if charged with invisible energy. Dorian instinctively took a step back, but Orin's aura seemed to spread, stretching beyond the immediate area and wrapping around the entire clearing. The energy was palpable—thick and suffocating.

"I can feel the life in the air," Orin murmured, his eyes closing as he honed in on something in the distance. "With the right control, your aura allows you to sense the presence of other living creatures, no matter where they are."

Dorian's heart raced as Orin's aura swept out, reaching into the surrounding woods. It was like Orin was tapping into something beyond the physical, his aura alive with the energy of the forest. After a few moments, Orin opened his eyes.

"There," he said, pointing toward a cluster of bushes. "There's a rabbit hiding just beyond that thicket, and a deer about fifty meters to the north. You can detect anything living, as long as your aura is spread out far enough to reach it."

Dorian was impressed, but the true magnitude of Orin's aura hit him when Orin shifted gears. With a subtle gesture, Orin's aura intensified, pushing out toward Dorian. A sudden, intense pressure descended on him—his chest felt tight, as if something was pressing in from all sides. Dorian gasped, staggering under the weight of it. His breath caught in his throat, and his knees buckled. He collapsed to the ground, barely managing to keep himself upright.

"W-What's happening?" Dorian struggled to ask, his head spinning.

Orin's expression remained calm, but his voice was firm. "This is what we call aura domination. Your aura, when projected forcefully onto someone with a weaker aura, can crush them. It's a form of attack that works on the mental level, destabilizing their concentration and causing immense pressure. The stronger your aura, the more devastating the effect."

Dorian's vision blurred, and he felt the weight pressing in on his mind, his aura strained to its limits as he fought for control.

"The pressure you feel right now," Orin explained, "is mental damage. If your aura is weak enough, this could make you lose consciousness entirely. It's not physical, but it can still break you down."

Dorian's mind reeled. He had always thought of aura as a simple tool—an extension of his will, like a weapon. But this… this was something else entirely. The realization that his own aura could be dominated, crushed under the weight of a stronger will, sent a shiver down his spine.

Orin's aura slowly began to recede, lifting the crushing pressure off Dorian's chest. Dorian gasped for air, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Sweat dripped down his brow, but his mind was clearer now, even if a little shaken.

"Do you understand now?" Orin asked, his voice a bit softer.

Dorian wiped his forehead, nodding slowly. "I… I understand. Aura isn't just a tool. It's a force. And if I can't control it, it can be used against me."

"Exactly," Orin said, his tone now a bit more approving. "And now you know the dangers. But there's a silver lining. Aura can also be used to protect yourself from these kinds of attacks. If you build your aura, you'll learn how to defend against aura domination and other assaults."

Dorian stood shakily, his legs still weak from the experience. He had learned more in this one lesson than he could have imagined. But there was so much more to grasp.

"I'll get stronger," he said, his voice low but filled with determination. "I'll master my aura."

Orin nodded, his eyes unreadable. "You have the potential, Dorian. But remember, the most important lesson is patience. Aura, like all things, must be honed over time. And it will test you, again and again."

Dorian stood tall, feeling the faint hum of energy within him. He had only begun to tap into its true power. But now, with Orin's guidance, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

*****

One week passed again.

The sky was tinged with orange and purple as the sun dipped low behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the forest. The trees, tall and ancient, swayed gently in the evening breeze. The air smelled rich with the earth, mixed with the faint scent of pine and moss. The fading light painted the leaves in hues of gold and amber, while a soft mist began to rise from the ground, giving the forest an ethereal, almost magical feel. As the last rays of sunlight touched the peaks of the distant hills, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Dorian and Orin sat near the edge of a clearing, a small campfire crackling between them. The flames danced in the cool evening air, casting flickering shadows on their faces. Orin had expertly roasted a deer over the fire, its rich aroma filling the air. The meat sizzled as it cooked, the occasional pop of fat hitting the flames breaking the otherwise peaceful silence.

For the first time since they arrived in this dense forest, Dorian felt a sense of ease between them, a quiet understanding. As the sun slipped completely behind the trees, Dorian leaned back against a large rock, staring into the fire for a moment before speaking.

"Orin," he began, his voice quiet but sincere. "I've been meaning to thank you… for showing me the path...from the cycle of neverending battles."

Orin, who had been silently watching the fire as he turned the meat, let out a low chuckle. "It's not the end, Dorian. It never is. The cycle will continue, as it always has. You'll fight, you'll struggle, but there's no final victory to be had. That's the way of the world. One battle ends, and another begins. It's always like that."

Dorian's gaze shifted from the fire to Orin. "I thought I could escape it. That maybe, if I just found peace… if I learned enough, then maybe there'd be a way out. But…"

"There's no escape from the fight," Orin interrupted, his voice steady and unflinching. "At least, not in this world. We're born into conflict. Some of us are made for it. You might think you're tired of it, that you've had enough of the endless cycle. But when the time comes, when you face your enemies again, you'll pick up your sword without hesitation. You'll fight, because it's what you know, what you're made for."

Dorian sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. His thoughts drifted back to the countless battles he'd fought, the lives he had taken, the weight of it all. A part of him longed for something more than the constant violence, but Orin's words struck him deep. He knew, deep down, that the fight would never truly end. It would always be there, lurking.

"But what if…" Dorian's voice faltered, "what if I could find something else? Something that wasn't fighting, something worth living for?"

Orin's expression softened, the firelight casting a flickering glow on his sharp features. "I've asked myself the same thing, Dorian. More than once. And each time, I came to the same conclusion. This is the world we live in. We can try to find something more, something that doesn't involve battle, but it's rare. Most of us end up right back in the fight, whether we want it or not."

Dorian looked at Orin, trying to read the older man's face, but there was no judgment there, no pity. Just an acceptance, a quiet resignation to the harsh reality they both faced.

"Maybe you're right," Dorian said quietly, "but I still have to try."

Orin gave a short, knowing nod as he pulled the roasted deer off the fire, cutting a generous portion and handing it to Dorian. "That's the spirit. You'll find your way, Dorian. But never forget… the fight never ends. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone."

The two of them ate in companionable silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire and the occasional sound of wildlife in the distance filling the space between them. The conversation had shifted, but Dorian couldn't shake the truth of Orin's words. The battles would always come—whether he wanted them or not.

And yet, despite the heaviness of that truth, there was something in the way Orin spoke that gave Dorian a sense of calm. Maybe it was the acceptance, the wisdom that came from living through it all. Whatever it was, Dorian found himself willing to continue, to press on.

"Thanks," Dorian said quietly, looking into the fire once more. "For the meal. And for the lessons. I think… I think I understand a little more now."

Orin didn't reply at first, but then he gave a slight nod, the firelight gleaming in his dark eyes.

"You'll get there, Dorian. Just keep moving forward. That's all any of us can do."

Dorian, still staring into the fire, hesitated for a moment before speaking again. The words had been on his mind for a while, but the right moment had never come. Now, with the quiet of the forest around them, the flickering flames casting long shadows, he finally asked, "Orin... I've been meaning to ask you, about your group. The one you're part of. I always wanted to know more, but… I didn't know if it was the right time."

Orin's eyes flickered briefly toward Dorian, the firelight reflecting in his dark eyes. He took a deep breath, as though weighing how much to reveal. "You're curious about them, huh?"

Dorian nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Yeah. I've been wondering about it ever since I met you. I know it's something important to you, but you never really talk about it."

Orin let out a soft chuckle, the sound a mix of amusement and something darker. "Well, I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you." He shifted slightly, sitting up straighter, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "The reason I'm teaching you all of this… ki, aura, all of it… is because I want you to join the group. I think you might fit in well, Dorian."

Dorian's brow furrowed, surprised by the directness of Orin's words. "You want me to join?" He paused, thinking for a moment. "But… I thought your group was… different. What exactly is it?"

Orin looked away for a moment, his gaze distant. "It's not easy to explain, Dorian. I don't even know where to start. It wasn't always like this… It used to be something different. Something more." He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "But it's changed over time. It's... evolved into something else entirely."

Dorian leaned forward slightly, eager to learn more. "So, what is it now? What's the purpose of this group?"

Orin met his eyes again, his expression unreadable. "The group is for those who want to forsake their past and start over. People who want to forget who they were, forget the life they lived, and leave everything behind. It's a place where you can become someone new, someone who's free from the weight of their past. After that, you can do whatever you want. Each member follows their own agenda, but we still help each other out. We have each other's backs when needed."

Dorian absorbed this, his mind racing. "That sounds… freeing. So you just leave everything behind and start fresh?"

Orin nodded slowly, but there was a bitterness to his tone now. "Yeah, that's the idea. Every year, the group holds a meeting where new recruits are introduced. They're like us—people who want to forget their pasts. We judge them, see if they have the will to join, and if they do, they're accepted into the group. But over time… things have changed."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Changed? How?"

Orin's eyes darkened slightly, his expression turning more cynical. "Time, Dorian. Time changes everything. What used to be a group of people with a common purpose has become something else. It's not about leaving the past behind anymore. It's just about survival. We do whatever it takes to stay alive, to keep going. And it's become less about purpose and more about just... getting by. There's no grand vision anymore. No goal. Just... a group of people wandering without a real cause."

Dorian looked down, processing Orin's words. "So, it's not what it used to be."

"Not at all," Orin muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "It's become a weird, lame group, just trying to survive. I'm not even sure what the original purpose was anymore. It's become a farce of what it could have been. But," he paused, giving Dorian a small, knowing grin, "it's not that I don't like it. It's just… it's nothing like what it started out as. And maybe... maybe that's okay."

Dorian's lips twitched into a small smile at Orin's words. There was something both cynical and oddly comforting about Orin's acceptance of what the group had become. "So, you're telling me that you want me to join this... weird, purposeless group?"

Orin laughed, the sound deep and rich with both amusement and resignation. "Yeah, I guess I am. But don't get me wrong, Dorian. There are still things we can do, still people who can help each other out. Even in a group like this, there's value in the connections we make. But don't expect some grand mission. It's not about that anymore. It's just about us, moving forward in whatever way we can."

Dorian thought for a moment before nodding slowly. "I'll think about it. I'm not sure if I'm ready to forget everything just yet, but I get it. You've all chosen this path for a reason, even if it's changed along the way."

Orin's grin widened, and he gave Dorian a pat on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. Think on it, Dorian. You've got time. Just know that you're not alone in this world. Whatever happens, you've got a place with us if you want it."

The two of them sat there in silence for a moment, the fire crackling softly between them, the sounds of the forest filling the air. Despite the grim nature of their conversation, there was a quiet sense of understanding that hung in the space, unspoken but real.

Orin leaned back, taking a long look at the fire as it crackled, the glow casting shifting shadows over his face. His voice softened, but there was a certain bitterness in it. "The group is like this because there's no leader. No leader, no purpose. Everyone's free to do what they want. No one unites them, not really. The rule from the beginning was simple: no leader. Not one, ever. Everyone is free. So, we've got this... irony now. The group's a mess because of it. There's no unifying goal anymore, no vision. Just a bunch of people who decided to forget who they were, but that's all they've got in common. It's chaos in its purest form."

Orin chuckled again, shaking his head. "The guy who started it must've been a joker. A damn fool to think this would work long-term."

Dorian watched him, his mind spinning as he absorbed this new layer of information. The more Orin talked about the group, the weirder it sounded. Dorian had always seen Orin as this cold, focused, normal man. But here he was, laughing about a group of seemingly lost individuals with no true purpose. Dorian's first thought was that it was all a bit mad, but as Orin continued, the picture of the group seemed even more absurd.

Dorian looked at Orin, still trying to wrap his head around it. "What… What the hell is this group, Orin? Are you all psychos? It sounds like some weird cult, to be honest."

Orin smirked at Dorian's bluntness. "That's one way to look at it. But no, we're not psychos. At least, I don't think so. We're just... lost. Each person there is running from something. The group's purpose now is survival, nothing more, nothing less. The original goal of the group—well, it's long gone."

Dorian raised an eyebrow, the irony of it all sinking in. "A group with no purpose, no leader, just chaos? That's a strange way to live."

Orin laughed again, a sound filled with dark amusement. "Yeah, I guess that's what it's become. But there's still some semblance of order in the chaos. We help each other. We're all trying to forget the same things, in our own ways. It's not as pointless as it sounds, I swear."

Dorian leaned back, his eyes scanning the campfire, contemplating the strange group that Orin was a part of. He'd never heard of anything like it before. But then his curiosity shifted to another matter. "What about the names? The ones you all take, like 'Orin the Seeker.' I heard something from Jareth about a ritual—what's that about?"

Orin's face became more serious, his voice taking on a somber edge as he explained. "Jareth? He doesn't know shit. He is a fresh man himself. After the recruits are judged and accepted, there's a ritual. The recruit must forsake their past. Their old name, everything. They leave it all behind and start fresh. The idea is that by losing their name, they're also losing their past, becoming a new person entirely. But there are two types of members that come from this."

Dorian leaned in, intrigued. "Two types?"

Orin nodded slowly, looking into the fire as he spoke. "Yes. The first type is the one who forsakes everything. Their past, their family, their entire identity. They're the ones who are called by the most distinct characteristic about them. If someone has a tendency for violence, they might be called 'The Killer.' Or if someone is cold and calculating, they might be called 'The Serpent.' They take on a name that reflects who they've become, not who they were."

Dorian's eyes widened as he processed this. "That's... intense. So, they completely leave behind who they were?"

Orin's gaze became distant, his voice a little softer. "Yeah. It's not easy. But some of them do it, and they live with the new name and the new life they've chosen. It's freeing, but it also leaves a lot of scars. Forsaking everything means you can't go back."

"And the second type?" Dorian asked, his voice quieter.

Orin's smile was faint, almost a shadow of what it had been earlier. "The second type is like me. I couldn't fully forsake everything. It's too much to let go of. So, I just forsaked my family name and added a new name. I was called Orin and since I am the one who's always seeking something, that's how I got my name, 'Orin the Seeker.' It's a mix of the old and the new, a way to move forward without completely leaving everything behind."

Dorian processed this for a moment, feeling the weight of Orin's words. "So, you're still tied to your past in a way... but you've found a new path. That's… heavy."

Orin's eyes met Dorian's, his expression softening for just a moment. "Yeah. It is. But at least I'm still moving. We all are, in our own way. The names we take—they represent who we are now. Not who we were, not anymore."

Dorian looked at Orin thoughtfully, his mind racing with the implications. A group of people all trying to forget who they were, but still holding onto pieces of their past in one way or another. It was strange. And it seemed like Orin, despite everything, still found a way to keep moving forward. Dorian wasn't sure what to think about it all yet, but something told him that whatever path he chose, it wouldn't be as simple as he once thought.