Welnar sits at a table in a large hall, amongst a great many other monks… The sheer number is rather startling. Seventy, eighty, maybe a hundred monks? They’re all sitting at an incredibly long table that takes up the majority of the hall, with bowls of soup. Welnar looks down at his own bowl, absent-mindedly stirring it with his spoon… Both of which are made of wood. Not because he isn’t hungry, he’s damn starving… And it does taste good. But he’s got a lot on his mind.

  He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Charles nudging his shoulder. “Best eat it before it gets cold.” He says. Welnar nods, beginning to chow down like a ravenous animal. Welnar finishes in record time, drinking the broth from the bowl and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Is there uh… Seconds?”

  Charles laughs. “Go ahead.”

  Welnar would go through his second bowl… Then his third… And only on the fourth would he seem satisfied. By the time he’s finished, it would only be him and a few other stragglers still inside the hall… As well as Charles, who patiently waits.

  “Feel better now?” He asks. Welnar nods. “Much better…”

  “Good. We’re late for training as is.”

  “Uh… Training?”

  …

  Welnar stands in the frigid cold of the mountains, freezing his ass off amongst the monks of Glowrock mountain, who all seem to be doing some sort of training routine in unison, following the one standing at the front of the crowd. They’re less clothed than him, how the hell are they not even bothered?! Welnar is shivering just standing here.

  {“They probably just… Got used to it.”} Monarch says.

  {“That seems a little crazy.”} Welnar responds.

  {“Says the guy with mana that actively adapts your body to things. You’ll probably get used to it too given enough time.”}

  Welnar doesn’t have an answer to that. He just sighs, and tries his best to follow along with the monks… They don’t seem to pay him any mind thankfully. Time passes, and he eventually falls into a rhythm alongside them… Just as Monarch said, his mana is already adapting his body to the cold. He isn’t shivering now, and he feels fine… Warm, even. Wait isn’t that a sign of hypothermia?

  {“It is, but you aren’t experiencing hypothermia. I suspect your mana is generating a tiny bit of heat throughout your body instead.”} Monarch says, to Welnar’s relief.

  Welnar is suddenly snapped out of his rhythm by a voice. “Alright! Spar for 20!” The leader calls. Everyone starts spreading out into groups rather quickly… And Welnar feels a hand tap his shoulder, causing him to whip around. “Shall we begin? Until one of us lands a clean blow.” Charles says.

  “Oh! Sure!” Welnar responds, feeling a bit excited. He was rather curious about that fighting style… Maybe Charles can teach him some stuff…

  “Good. Prepare yourself then.” Charles takes on his fighting stance, much like last time. Welnar assumes his own boxing stance… And takes the initiative, dashing forward and throwing a right straight. Charles shifts his head to the side slightly, deflecting the blow away with the back of his left hand and throwing his own punch with his right. Welnar sways his upper body back to avoid it and retreats slightly, but Charles keeps up the pressure and advances, throwing a left hook that is blocked, followed closely by a roundhouse kick that Welnar manages to duck under, coming back up with an uppercut that lands cleanly. Charles stumbles back for a moment, shaking his head. “Not bad… Again.”

  Welnar nods, and once Charles returns to his fighting stance they begin once more… But this time, he meets Welnar halfway in his charge with a palm strike to the chest that Welnar blocks, and counters with a left hook. Charles blocks in return, striking Welnar’s leg with a kick as he does. He feels it sting in his shin, but he doesn’t back down as he throws an overhead punch. Charles shifts to the side, narrowly avoiding it and throwing another kick to the body… Welnar gets ready to block it, but… Midway through, Charles twists on his lead foot, his kicking foot rising higher in a semi-circle motion. All Welnar can think is “Not again!” As he’s kicked square in the face.

  “My point.” Charles says with a hint of smugness. “Jeez… How the hell do you do that?” Welnar asks.

  “Get more points than me, and I’ll show you.” Charles responds. Welnar scoffs…

  “Fine then… You asked for it!” He says, assuming his boxing stance once more.

  …

  The two would go nineteen exchanges. Well, almost… On the nineteenth they would unfortunately be interrupted before a clear victor is decided, much to Welnar’s disappointment. He’s damn near certain he would’ve had it… Not counting the nineteenth, it would seem they end tied, with both of them having won eight times.

  “Alright, break! You’ve all done well today.” The head monk would say, as Welnar had come to learn in between his and Charles’s fights. The person who created the Glowrock Monks, and is as expected the oldest one.

  “So, now what?” Welnar asks.

  “Why, we knit of course.” Charles responds with a smile. Welnar just gives him a blank, confused stare.

  “Uh… Seriously?”

  “Yes. It’s a soothing practice for the mind, and keeps the hands busy. Come on, I got a spare set for you.” Charles says… Then laughs. “I’m kidding, I won’t force you. You can head back to your room.” Welnar sighs with relief. He’s not particularly interested in knitting…

  So Welnar heads back to his room, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He lifts his shirt up, looking at the bandages… He feels fine at this point… So he decides to get them off. He tosses the bandages outside, not entirely sure where else to put them before returning to his bedside… And his eyes lay on the Determined Heart, the soul right where he left it. He picks it up… No better time than now.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  He clasps the soul in both hands, and crushes it… The energy flowing through his hands and into his chest… Then, the scarlet weapon forms. First a pommel, then the hilt… The cross guard… And a blade. A simple, ordinary looking shortsword. Well, other than the fact it's made of red energy. That’s actually quite nice… Now he has a weapon for close range in the dagger, mid-range for the sword, and long range with the spear. A perfect balance…

  With a sigh, Welnar lays down in bed.

  {“So… Monarch?”} He calls.

  {“Hmm?”} Monarch answers.

  {“It’s later… So, do you know what’s up with my head?”} Welnar asks, not wasting time beating around the bush. The strange happenings regarding that woman she and Charles talked about still concern him…

  {“Well, not exactly. I have an idea though.”} Monarch says.

  {“Hit me with it.”}

  Monarch pauses for a few seconds, considering her words carefully. She’ll need to sort of dance around the specifics, lest she trigger Welnar’s mana…

  {“Well, back then… When you fought the Collector, I believe you experienced a traumatic event. It █████████”} Welnar’s mind is filled with sudden, overwhelming white noise as a headache comes on. A few seconds later, it passes…

  {“Crap… Sorry Welnar.”} Monarch says once it’s subsided. {“It’s okay. This is… Damn complicated…”} He responds, sighing outwardly.

  {“Okay… So it seems I can’t go into detail regarding the event. I think after you passed out, your mana deemed the event too much for your mind to bear… And in the interest of survival, it sealed that memory away.”} Monarch explains. {“Anytime someone tries to tell you about it, your mana forcefully prevents you from knowing… Whether that be by making you pass out, or otherwise.”}

  The thought frustrates Welnar… His mana forcefully modifying his memory, because it believes it’d help him survive? Or… Did he himself believe that, subconsciously?

  “Damn it…” Welnar scoffs out loud. Just what had he been thinking, back then? But then it hits him. There is something he remembers… Something he remembers very clearly. Those words…

  {“Monarch, do the words ‘make them pay’ have any significance?”} He asks. Monarch is silent for a few seconds before responding.

  {“How strange… They do. They ███████████”} The white noise returns, filling his head and disappearing seconds later.

  {“Hm… So I can’t tell you where they come from.”} Monarch says. {“Well… Regardless, they are significant.”}

  Welnar sighs. Just thinking about those words fills him with an odd motivation… Like it’s something he shouldn’t forget. So he won’t… Whatever meaning those words hold to himself, even if he doesn’t know it… He won’t forget it.

  He hears a knock on his door. “Come in.”

  Charles opens it and walks in. He seems to eye the newly formed scarlet shortsword for a moment, but doesn’t mention it. “The head monk wants to speak with you. Come with me.” He says. Makes sense… Welnar is an outsider afterall.

  The two would walk in silence through winding paths, carved through the rock of the mountain and covered with a thin layer of snow amongst dozens of small huts… The sun is setting. It’ll be night soon. Eventually, they reach a temple of some kind it seems, at which point Charles stops. “You’re on your own now. See you later.” He says, walking away.

  Welnar looks up at the temple for a few seconds… It’s easily the biggest building here on this mountain. Just when did they have time to build all of this?

  With a deep breath of the cold air, Welnar pushes open the large double doors, stepping inside the temple. At the end of the room, opposite to the doorway sits the head monk, with his legs crossed and eyes closed as if meditating. Getting a closer look at him now, he certainly seems to be rather old… He might be around Derlock’s age. Maybe more?

  “Uh… E-excuse me? Sir?” Welnar says, his voice echoing slightly through the place as he closes the doors behind himself.

  The head monk opens his eyes, looking at Welnar. “You… Are the outsider.” He states plainly.

  Welnar gives a small, awkward nod. “Yep… That’s me.”

  The monk scratches his chin in silence for a moment.

  “Do you wish to remain here?” He asks. Welnar has to think about that… Maybe? It’d be a nice place to stay for a little bit at least. Let himself recuperate, get ready for the last three Hearts… Maybe learn the Glowrock style.

  “I-I do, sir. Only for a little bit of time… A month, maybe a bit more. If… That’s alright.”

  The monk scratches his chin a bit more, closing his eyes. “Hmmm… Hmmmmmmm…”

  Seconds go by in silence. He must be really deep in thought… At least, Welnar thinks he is at first. Until he hears a subtle… Snoring. Did he fall asleep?! “Uh… S-sir?” Welnar says, causing him to snap out of his sudden slumber.

  “Ahem… Come here, outsider. Sit with me.” He says. Welnar does as told, walking over to the head monk and sitting in front of him, legs crossed. “Close your eyes…”

  Welnar closes them. He feels a little bit silly about this.

  {“I’m sensing his mana beginning to flare.”} Monarch says. He’s a Sorcerer?

  “I see… Confusion. Strife. Grief, sealed deep within… You are a broken man, clinging to your ideals… Desperately trying to piece yourself back together.” The monk says with a sudden, unnerving clarity.

  Welnar opens his eyes in a moment of shock. The monk hasn’t moved… The hell did he do?

  He slowly opens his own eyes, looking at Welnar with a look of… Sorrow?

  “You may stay as long as you like, as long as you do your share of work.” He says, reaching out and gently patting Welnar on the shoulder.

  “You can find yourself again. I am sure of it, my friend. Now go, rest.”

  Welnar slowly stands up, still feeling confused and uncertain by the monk’s words. What was that? It was surely his magic… He would return to his room, laying down in his bed. A broken man, clinging to his ideals…

  “Make them pay…” Welnar whispers to himself, rolling over in bed and closing his eyes. Is that an ideal? Is he clinging to it? Questions for another day, perhaps. For now, Welnar’s conscience slowly begins to drift…

  And eventually, he falls asleep.

  …

  A white haired, old man sits in a cushioned chair amongst 8 other faceless individuals. Another Archon meeting has been called, this time by the Second. Derlock twiddles his thumbs, as they all wait for the final Archon to arrive… The Fourth Archon is absent.

  The First lets out a sigh of annoyance. “They will arrive eventually. Let us commence the meeting without them.” They say. They’d already been waiting for five minutes now, and just about all of them seem tired of waiting… The Fourth regularly has sporadic attendance at best.

  “Two, begin. Why have you called us here tonight?” The First says.

  The Second Archon stands from their seat, hands placed on the table.

  “Archons, I have excellent news regarding my experiments. I have been keeping watch of that boy, Welnar… The one with my soul artifact. He has made excellent strides… And acquired three of the six Hearts.” They pause, as if expecting applause or something.

  “Elaborate as to why we should care.” The Fifth Archon scoffs, earning a glare from the Second.

  “Fool… This means that he is halfway through his journey! His journey of attaining GODHOOD!” Two slams the table with glee.

  “A man clawing his way to divinity with his own bare hands… A feat never once done before. But now this can change… Once he’s completed his journey, I can take his godhood for myself.”

  The fifth Archon gives a slow, exaggerated clap. “What a fucking joke… Lost your mind, have you Two?” A loud hum begins to emanate from beneath the Fifth, a golden sigil forming underneath them. Two’s eyes glint golden, much like last time.

  “Silence, worm.”

  “Two!” The First yells, but it’s too late as in an instant a beam of golden energy shoots upwards, utterly consuming the Fifth Archon.

  When the beam fades though… The Fifth seems entirely unharmed, the air around them and their chair shimmering and warping faintly. They’re visibly shaking. Two’s head whips over to the first Archon.

  “Why did you protect such a weakling?”

  “They are an Archon for a REASON.” The First’s voice booms. “There is to be no violence between Archons during an official meeting. That is one of our few, very few rules.”

  The Second scoffs, crossing their arms. “Please. You believe your word is absolute?”

  The First stands from their chair. “I don’t believe it. I am certain, as I have proven it time and time again through strength. Do you wish to try and usurp me yet again in a friendly spar?” As the First says this, their eyes suddenly flash with two colours… Blue and green.

  “Fine then. Same rules as last time.” The Second says. The First Archon smiles underneath their obscured face. With a snap of their fingers, the world around them and Two suddenly warps, the walls and floor falling away into somewhere else…

  In mere moments, the Archons are in a black void, seemingly standing on nothing.

  “Shall we begin?” The First says.