Dargo

Chapter One-Hundred-Forty-Five: Echoes Of Regret - Part Two

Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

Government: Talum Merchant Federation

System: D-447

Planet: Ora

Location: Orarak City, Facility below the Colosseum, Floor 16

As I walk among those I have marked, telling them their deficiencies, I notice the boy's wounded pride as I purposefully do not instruct him. A bad trait, being guided by pride. I wonder if he can rise above it. My eyes catch his hunter number, H215-777. I still have not figured out the strangeness of his soul. Invisible to my eyes. There are no runes that claim his flesh either. It is peculiar. He is a Netheric user, I only know because I saw it with my own eyes. And yet, he has no runes to make it so. A curiosity I have not seen in all my years. Nonetheless, he is not the spark that I seek, that much is clear, lest I would have seen it by now.

These warriors are more skilled than I initially thought they would be, the harshness of the Federation's treatment, a veritable anvil that has forged them stronger. However, I see little hope inside their souls, the torments have stripped it almost bare. It is a shame they march to the absolution of a death they do not choose. Regrets fill me again as I think on the past. How many have I seen doing the same, I press the thoughts away, dwelling on it will not change anything.

***

I am surprised by the resilience of the souls of the Kuwathi warriors that follow behind me as we run circles around the training grounds, climbing the many steps of the stadium. All of them brim with potential, even the lowest among them. I take note of each of their abilities, if I am to train them, I must see the extent of their will. I see the boy from before again, near the front of the pack. There is determination in him. If he is to improve, he will need to relinquish the pride though.

As the hours pass, one of them remain. The boy H215-777, Kalon as they call him, his grit continues to impress me. I will have to increase the pace to finish this in a timely fashion. It does not serve the rest to dawdle, the time I have to reshape them before the first challenge is limited.

"Vitar." The man they call Nekam yells to the boy.

An old Kuwathi battle cry that means – Strength of Will. Hearing it now brings back fond memories of my old apprentice Amon. He would say it frequently to his soldiers and disciples. Thinking of the memory fondly, a grin finds my face as I turn to look upon the boy named Kalon.

This boy has potential, if he were born among the Noble Houses, I shudder to think what a monster he could have become. Alas he was not, yet another who will be swept away by the fates cruel designs. All I can do is try to guide him. Perhaps then he can escape the grasp of Victoria, she no doubt uses him to motivate the heir of Ravena. I shake my head, a poor tactic. Victoria is young though, younger than she ought be for the power she has gained. In a few thousand years, perhaps her hand will become more delicate. It was not until my third millennia that I calmed.

The boy pushes harder, his body fights with determination, reminding me of Amon when he was younger. It causes me to laugh, the boy's anger begins to grow, rage swirling in the determination, being pushed by the instability of pride. I will do him a service and show him pride cannot hold the weight that he wishes it to.

My pace erupts as I release a small fraction of what I have suppressed. The boy lags behind, soon I lap him, marking him in red. While his ability was above the others, his pride holds him back. I will break it, allowing something else to grow from the ashes. Something that may serve him better. It is why I will push him more than the others. I made the mistake of not addressing pride before, my mood sours once more as I press back the memories. If I had addressed Amon's pride, perhaps he never would have tried to control Dashkatul. If I hadn't secluded myself for training… I push it away, it will not help me pass the next boundary, if anything, it holds me back.

***

The others marked in red have finished their extra laps, the boy has not. I look out among the crowd of silent bodies as they try to find inner peace, looking within themselves. It surprises me to see the calm from some of them, a young woman the others have called Ira seems to have a grasp of the lesson I taught. I feel her soul becoming malleable, Nekam and his son he calls Neeba do as well. It is strange that his daughter Nevari seems to be struggling, she does not lack potential, but her soul is clouded with worry, with regrets. There is something else buried deeper, the flickers of love, tarnished by adversity, smothered by her worries. My mind's eye drifts to the boy who comes now, finally joining us. I am curious to see what depths he will explore without the instructions I gave the others. Curious to see what an invisible soul looks like when it communes with the body.

As he meditates I try to look at his soul with my mind's eye. From his flesh I see pain, horror and a weight upon it that would crush most. He carries it all, all of the pain and sorrow in the world around him, as though it is his burden to bear. Seeing it saddens my heart, almost surprising me. Then a change begins to stir in him, I cannot see where it comes from, but it swells inside of him. Lifting the darkness up from him, filling him with light. Even still, I cannot see the shape of his soul. Why can I not see it?

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My eyes open to look at him, the force of will swelling. The mana in the air shifts around him, as though his very thoughts whisper to it. Is he the spark bearer? If so, why can I not see it clearly like the thousands before him. My Goddess, Leora has been meddling again I see. Perhaps he is shielded from being seen by mortal eyes. Letting out a sigh I stand up, is that how he has the strength of the fourth boundary? Did Leora give him the strength to pass it? I have never seen her train a Netheric wielder though, her sister, Goddess Krotha, I have seen her do it many times with those who wield Dashkatul.

Memories flood me, thinking of what my old master said of her, before she became corrupted. Before she took Dashkatul in her hands, thinking she could tame it. Thinking that she could release that which could be with her power alone. He said he remembered the days when she walked amongst mortals, she was perfection, a goddess worth worshiping. The shadow she cast over Leora and the other Gods stretched into oblivion. He told me that in her prime before her fall, she could have defeated Thane and his Pantheon, by herself.

Such words always made me curious to what my master meant. So much so that in my youth I decided to try and tame Dashkatul… it is why I must drink the Etherius Prism Flower. Lest the insanity that Krotha inspires will take me.

My own hubris is why my own apprentice fell to it. Because I told him of its overwhelming power. He sought to use it to defend the Kuwathi Empire. Instead… bitter memories press from me.

It will not serve this boy Kalon to rely on a Goddess, he must reach the boundaries himself, lest his foundation become weak. I will not make the mistake again of letting those I train rely on strength that is not their own.

"That's enough, now we train. Pair up with those of your marking and wait for instruction."

The room begins to pair up with their combat markings. I study their movements, giving them advice as I pass. Those that take to it willingly improve rapidly, so much potential among these people.

"It would appear the seed does not wish to sprout." I say to Kalon as I approach him and Nekam sparring.

His pride comes strangling his potential, I will have to push harder to break it.

Moving towards Nekam I show him how to improve, he takes to it quickly, practicing the move. The boy's expression flashes with jealousy when I do not instruct him. It is only a moment, as the pride comes, strangling his potential once more.

"Thank you, my Keeper," Nekam says.

Their next exchange leaves the boy on the floor.

"Ready to give up?" I ask him, stabbing his pride. It must die for him to rise.

"No." he says, fire in his breath.

He is close to the precipice of change now, I can feel it. He will not be able to find it fighting someone he holds respect for.

"Change partners."

I move away, but my mind's eye still follows the boy as he pairs up with a man I have seen fight unfairly. He will make a suitable partner for the boy. I will purge this pride from him.

They exchange blows, there is frustration in both of their expressions as they fight. The man does not want to accept Kalon's blows. I feel it brimming, the pride and rage in him. Kalon takes the advantage, pressing him, the man tries to use his size to change the dynamic but fails. The man is upon the floor now, with Kalon striking his face again and again. Nekam rushes over, pulling him off. The boy struggles, his expression becoming dark, the weight he carries breaking the pride that seeks to hold it.

Nekam calms him, speaking to him, like a father to his son. There is a bond between them that goes past blood. One that I sense is muddled with regrets. Kalon falls to his knees looking at his bloodied hands. As shame fills him, he begins to see what rage purchased with pride brings. Soon he must accept he cannot shoulder the world's pain. I stand over him and mark him slowly in red, cutting at the pride that lingers deeper.

***

A few days later as night comes, the warriors all leave for their bunks after I dismiss them, save one that lingers still, Nekam. He approaches me, there is inflection in the calm I normally feel in his soul.

"Speak your mind." I say to him, folding my arms.

"My keeper, it is about H215-777 as you know him."

"Kalon," I say, his eyes fill with surprise.

"I did not realize you knew his name."

"I know all the names of those who show promise, Nekam." I say, giving him a light smile.

His soul ripples with a small wave of pride, but it soon falls back. He is mindful of his emotions, not just on the surface, I was not wrong to take interest in him.

"My Keeper, that means you see promise in him, I don't understand why you treat him unfairly, he was clearly the best on both challenges," he says, his eyes meeting mine.

"Perhaps he was on the surface, but looking beneath it, he could have done better. His emotions control him too much, there must be balance."

"I understand that My Keeper, but…" he begins, I hold up a hand.

"You see him as a father sees a son." I say, he nods slowly before I continue, "Then you know well his failings."

"He is conflicted because of what I did to him," he admits.

"What did you do?"

"I… I sold him."

The act does not surprise me, but the regret does. Old memories I had thought buried by millennia crawl slowly in the back of my mind, bringing me back to when the Kuwathi were the boot.

"Why did you sell him?"

I feel the turmoil in his soul.

"There was a situation where he would have been taken, no matter what I did," his eyes lower, caught in regrets, "I did the best for my Clan and sold him for a high price, instead of getting nothing for him."

"I sense there is more?"

He nods, "Within a month our Clan was no more."

He blames himself for it. Blames himself for Kalon's fate. What he doesn't realize is that those in proximity to the whims of gods have no say in their future. I don't know why Kalon knew the heir of Ravena. Perhaps it was chance, perhaps not. What I do know is that it was not Nekam's fault that they were all taken for the Games. Nothing he could have done would have prevented it. This is something he will have to figure out on his own though.

"Learn from it, but do not be broken by it."

"I understand, My Keeper," he says giving me a bow, turning away towards his sleeping quarters.

As he leaves, and I see the continued turmoil on his soul, I am reminded of my relationship with Amon, before the fall. Before my Goddess pushed him in my absence to take Dashkatul in his hand, my mind pushes back the memories.

"He is lucky to have had you. You have done well raising him," I say, the words slipping on their own.

Nekam pauses for a moment before continuing onwards. Letting out a sigh, I venture upwards on the raising platform towards my own quarters. Wondering if my Goddess will show herself. She has been very quiet again as of late. The more I ponder on this boy Kalon, the more I think he is part of her plan somehow. It is not coincidental that I was instructed to subdue him for Victoria, only to see him again months later. What part does he play in all of this though? There is much that Leora is withholding, more than normal.

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