Next, Pyris raised his hand, calling upon Life, and instantly, the air around him shifted. Unlike Blood, which pulsed in his veins like raw vitality, Life was sothing bigger. It wasn't just about survival—it was about creation, restoration, and balance. It's just that he wasn't there yet, at least for now!
A faint green glow surrounded him as he closed his eyes—gentle but absolute. The mont it touched the ground, grass flourished, twisting upward, flowers blooming in fast-forward.
But this wasn't just about growth.
Life wasn't kind.
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It was rcilessly efficient. "Where there was life, there was struggle. Trees fought for sunlight. Beasts fought for dominance. The weak were crushed under the relentless march of nature itself. I see now, my eyes will open slowly by slowly!"
Pyris flicked his wrist, channeling a fraction of his power toward a fallen tree trunk. The dead bark twitched, groaned, then began to reassemble itself. The wood knitted back together, leaves sprouting anew. It wasn't the sa tree it had been before—but it was reborn.
"Life didn't just heal—it reshaped. It reforged. Ah~ cryptic shit…"
A dark thought crossed his mind. If Life could restore… could it also be used to force unnatural regeneration? Could he make an enemy's body regrow over and over—only to keep tearing itself apart?
He grinned. "Now that's a one nasty... but lovely idea."
____
Darkness wasn't just the absence of light. That was a childish way to look at it. Pyris summoned it, and the very air seed to bend around him. True Darkness wasn't emptiness—it was presence. A living, breathing thing that wrapped around the world, always watching, always waiting. It wasn't destructive like Ruin or consuming like Void. It was sothing else entirely.
He clenched his fist, and black tendrils slithered out from his fingertips, moving of their own accord. They weren't just shadows—they were will. They stretched, wrapped around a nearby rock, and with a re thought, crushed it to dust. Darkness didn't just hide things.
It corrupted. Twisted. Made things its own... "Maybe more deeper, or maybe I am looking it at the wrong way... Nevertheless..." He fed it and the more he fed it, the stronger it grew. He thought back to Darkness Infernum. That monstrous thing had been the ultimate force of destruction back then. But now?
Pyris flexed his fingers, the tendrils retreating into his skin. If he faced Infernum again, he'd wipe the floor with it. "No hesitation, no struggle—just obliteration." Because now, he didn't just have power.
He had understanding.
If Darkness was a living force, Shadow—it's sister or perhaps shadow was a child of darkness—was its assassin. Well, his Living Shadows were different! Pyris reached out, and his own shadow twitched.
Then, it moved.
Not as a reflection of himself, but as sothing independent. It crawled up his leg, wrapping around his body like a second skin, his form lting into the darkness. Then, he wasn't there. His physical presence vanished, slipping seamlessly into the shadows beneath him. If soone had been watching, they would have seen nothing but an empty clearing.
And then—
SHINK. A nearby tree suddenly had a deep, clean slash carved into its bark. A second later, Pyris reappeared a few feet away, his fingers still curved as if gripping an invisible blade. Shadow wasn't like Darkness.
It didn't corrupt—it cut.
Silent. Invisible. Lethal.
Pyris smirked, stretching his fingers. "I need to train these more after I'm done with Obsidian Tech." His power output now was three tis stronger than before. If he had this understanding back then, he would have crushed Darkness Infernum like it was nothing. And with this realization, he knew one thing for certain—
He stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was a lot. Too much. "I need to train more." Pyris whispered. "All this power… and still, so much to uncover. Once I'm done with everything, I'll focus on these elents. They're still far from where I want them to be."
He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers. Even with all these elents, Ruin was still out of his grasp. He would have to wait—wait until the right ti to fully unlock it.
But for now, he had sothing else in mind. Pyris reached for his side and pulled out a dark, curved sword.
The blade was sleek, black as the night, with sharp edges that glead with deadly intent. Along the length of it, intricate golden designs wound, forming the image of a golden dragon. The dragon was etched into the blade like a living thing, its body coiling around the sword, eyes glowing with fierce energy.
The hilt was covered in golden dragon scales, firm yet smooth under his grip. Despite its intimidating appearance, it felt like an extension of himself—powerful but not cold. It was gentle, almost comforting, in his hands.
He raised it, feeling the weight shift as he examined the blade.
"I think it's ti to see just how far this goes."
_____
Pyris gripped the sword, his fingers molding perfectly against the hilt of golden dragon scales. This wasn't just any weapon—it was a relic, a part of the Golden Dragon's Inheritance he had claid. A blade forged in the essence of ancient might, waiting for soone worthy to wield it—who he was exactly!
Now, it answered to him.
He exhaled slowly. The world around him faded—no sound, no movent, just him and the sword. Then, in a heartbeat—he moved.
SHING!
The blade sang as it sliced through the air, the force of the swing alone splitting the ground beneath him. The cut didn't just leave a mark—it scarred the land itself. Pyris shifted, his body a blur, the sword weaving arcs of golden destruction through the air. Each movent was precise, honed—not a single wasted motion. He wasn't just swinging a blade; he was conducting a symphony of death.
Then, he vanished.
BOOM!
A hundred feet away, a tree exploded into splinters as his blade passed through its core like it was nothing. Not because of brute force—no, he had barely touched it—but because of the sheer pressure of his sword intent.
The wind howled, whipped into a frenzy by his movents. The ground cracked beneath his feet. Pyris twisted mid-air, his blade flickering with golden lightning as he struck again. One cut. Two. Ten. A hundred. Each strike sharper, faster—unstoppable.
This…
This wasn't just swordsmanship.
This was dominion.
This was what it ant to wield power beyond human limits, well, he's a dragon!
He landed softly, his golden eyes burning with realization. This blade—it wasn't just a weapon.
It was an extension of himself. His grip tightened around the hilt, feeling the silent acknowledgnt between him and the ancient inheritance.
He smirked. "Alright, not bad but not enough, I don't think I can beat a real swordsmanship of the sa rank. So not enough," he murmured, twirling the sword once more, the golden light reflecting in his eyes. "Let's really see what you can do."
And with that—he moved again.
Faster.
Sharper.
Like a golden phantom of destruction, leaving only the echoes of absolute mastery in his wake. Soone was watching it all unfold!
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