The world suddenly warped, transford by a temporal anomaly that would last precisely nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds. A silvery luminescence enveloped half the clearing, freezing everyone in place except for Jenkins and Chocolate. Within this shimring do, ti itself stretched thin, slowed a thousandfold. For every second that passed for Miss Bevanna and the others, sixteen minutes and forty seconds would crawl by for Jenkins and his cat.
And because this temporal distortion would persist for only nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds in Jenkins's perception, the entire event would unfold in less than a single real-world second. To the outside world, it was as if ti had stopped completely.
“Rakul,”
he called. In response, a silver-blue light descended from the depths of the static sky. For the very first ti, Jenkins laid eyes upon the Star Spirit Rakul in the material world.
It was a fascinating sight. In the seemingly eternal Astral Plane, the spirit's translucent form blended perfectly with the sea of stars, making her appear as an incarnation of the cosmos itself.
But here, in the vibrant hues of the Evergreen Forest, her ethereal body seed entirely out of place, a beautiful yet jarring anomaly against the backdrop of the living world.
She offered Jenkins a slight bow, her silence more profound than words. Jenkins nodded in return, then crushed the crystal containing the sacred fla with his bare hand.
The fire plumted toward the earth, but before it could land, Jenkins’s physical body collapsed onto the grass. His spirit, however, remained standing, reaching out to catch the fiery orb. A fla that should have incinerated all it touched was held quiescent in his spiritual grasp, imparting only a faint, searing warmth.
Chocolate, who had been perched on Jenkins’s shoulder, reacted with nimble grace as his master’s body fell backward. The cat sprang into the air, aiming to land on the shoulder of Jenkins’s soul.
But Jenkins's soul, not yet ignited with divinity, wasn't entirely corporeal. Chocolate passed right through, landing on the grass with a soft thud. He turned, let out a quizzical ow, and then, with a flick of his tail, padded over to stand by Jenkins’s feet.
Jenkins tossed the ball of fire back into the air, sending it away from his position. Suspended by the temporal anomaly, it hung almost motionless in mid-air.
He bent down, picking up the hamr in his left hand. Then he placed his right hand over the left side of his soul’s chest. A tangible pull emanated from his core, and four slender tendrils of fla—scorching red, abyssal black, deep blue, and vibrant green—materialized outside his spiritual form.
One by one, the flas rged with the burning B-03-1-3832, the [Inexhaustible Fla]. The bizarre interplay of light and the unnatural blend of colors sent a wave of discomfort through Jenkins, his connection to the Four King Souls amplifying the sensation.
Hoisting the [Thunder God's Wrath] high with both hands, he brought it crashing down.
“Hah!”
As the hamr struck, sparks of electricity erupted, and lightning arced across the grass, only to freeze in place an instant later, caught in the temporal stasis.
With a single strike, the four-colored flas had rged by more than half. The uneven, mottled impurities within the mix were being incinerated by the divine fire, which pulsed with the power of a sun god.
“It’s that simple?”
A surge of confidence washed over him. He raised the hamr high once more and brought it down with all his might.
CLANG!
The rebound was imnse. Jenkins was sent flying like a batted baseball, slamming hard against the trunk of the colossal tree. Fortunately, the bubble of warped ti moved with him, centered on the pocket watch in his coat, otherwise he too would have been frozen in the stasis.
“What happened?”
To avoid falling into the pool below and “contaminating” the water, Jenkins used the hamr to push off the tree trunk, landing back on the grassy clearing.
“Where did that repulsive force co from?”
He approached the suspended fla. The second strike had seemingly fused the four-colored tendrils completely, yet the distinct hues remained. The four powers had clearly not been perfectly forged into one.
He raised the hamr for a third strike, and once again, a trendous force threw him back. A glance at the fla confird it: it remained a chaotic swirl of four colors. The rejection clearly signified that he could apply no more force.
It couldn't be an issue with the forging process itself; Jenkins knew he had perford every step perfectly.
“Rakul, can you tell now what ‘Uncrowned’ truly ans?” he asked. “Logically, I’ve already secured the throne. I haven’t received the crown yet because the ceremony in Bel Diran hasn’t taken place. Doesn’t that qualify as being uncrowned?”
He had been counting on that fact.
“It is not ant to be taken so literally. You are overthinking it,”
the Star Spirit replied with a serene smile.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
He tossed the hamr to the ground and plucked the mottled fla from the larger conflagration. He could sense the imnse power it contained, but it was obviously not yet enough to form a complete Savior ability.
“Do I need to renounce the throne, yet still control humanity in practice? To beco so sort of ‘king behind the curtain’?”
He ant it as a joke, but to his surprise, the Star Spirit didn’t contradict him.
She stood silently on the grass, as if she were still in the cold, quiet expanse of the Astral Plane. The customary smile remained on her face as she watched Jenkins, compelling him to press further.
“Do I really have to give up the throne?”
It wasn’t that he couldn’t bear to part with it, but the thought of all that effort going to waste was deeply frustrating.
“You do not need to renounce the throne. Having co this far, do you still not understand?”
The Star Spirit’s gaze fixed upon Jenkins.
“In ancient tis, what was the true source of the power derived from weaving racial myths? You, now, can draw strength directly from the legends of the King Souls, power that has accumulated over ages. But what about those who first conceived of this idea? Those people back in the chaotic Fifth Epoch, with humanity on the brink of extinction—how did they originally intend to harness the power of the King Souls?”
This was perhaps the longest she had ever spoken to him at one ti.
Jenkins sank into contemplation. It was true. The King Souls of today possessed extraordinary power, nourished by legend and transford by the growth of the human race. But the ancient humans who first sought to forge these racial myths could not possibly have intended to wait a dozen epochs to reap the benefits.
If that was the case, then the King Souls were...
He looked up at the Star Spirit, who simply smiled back at him.
“The true essence of the King Souls’ power... is it faith?”
“Mrow?”
Chocolate stared blankly at the hideously colored fla in Jenkins’s hand, wondering if he might get a chance to have a little taste.
“Wait, if the substance of the King Souls is faith, then this... it couldn’t be a divine domain, could it? A racial divine domain... the God of Humanity?”
The words had barely left his mouth, and he was already stunned by the implication.
“Of course not. You are a god yourself. Do gods in this world rely on faith for their power?”
The Star Spirit shook her head. Only then did it click for Jenkins. The gods of this world were part of its fundantal rules, not entities dependent on human belief or worship, like those in the fantasy novels from his old world.
“So, in other words, becoming king and holding power over humanity is only part of it. I also need the faith of all humankind to temper the King Souls?”
The Star Spirit remained silent, but Jenkins knew he was right.
“The Uncrowned King is, in essence, a powerful individual elevated by the collective faith of the human race—a champion cultivated by the strength of an entire species. But that can’t be right. An ability like that seems far too powerful. Humans are the dominant species in the material world now. To win the faith of all humanity would be to win the faith of the entire world, wouldn’t it?”
The Star Spirit continued to smile, and Chocolate continued to ponder the flavor of the fla.
“No,” he reasoned aloud, “though it seems powerful, the conditions for acquiring it must be incredibly strict. It must be like the mad poet’s [Child of Disaster], or my own [World Tree Seedling]. Even a Savior born with such an ability only possesses its prototype. Achieving its final form requires completing nurous trials. So, despite its apparent power, one could easily die long before the ability ever matures.”
Having reached this understanding, he now knew what he had to do.
“The forging of the King Souls is actually complete. All that’s left is the final tempering. I have to beco the leader of humanity in the truest sense of the word. For one mont, at least, I need the eyes of every person in this world to be upon . Uncrowned King... the crown itself is irrelevant. What matters is my position within the race.”
“The na of the ability hinted at it all along. The throne doesn’t matter. It’s about my true standing.”
As he continued to muse aloud, the cat let out a bored yawn and smacked its lips, already anticipating lunch. Realizing it would get no taste of the fla, its gaze drifted from Jenkins’s hand. It happened to notice the Star Spirit watching it and, in response, raised a tiny paw in a wave of greeting.
Just as Jenkins had surmised, the hamr was no longer of any use; the final formation of the King Souls required faith. After bidding farewell to the Star Spirit and waiting for the temporal anomaly to end, he could only announce with regret that he had failed to obtain the [Uncrowned King] qualification.
He did, however, display the mottled fla, claiming that he now fully understood the final step. He needed a mont in the spotlight, an opportunity for all eyes to be upon him. And as luck would have it, just such an opportunity was fast approaching: the great conference that would determine the course of the final war.
The Church representatives had likely anticipated that it wouldn't be so simple. Though disappointed, no one voiced their complaints. After the others dispersed, Jenkins sought out Papa Oliver.
“Have you ever heard of a basic ability called [Four Seasons]?” he asked. “While I was forging the King Souls, my [Cycle] ability upgraded on its own.”
It was another lie.
“Four Seasons? An ability like that exists?”
The ever-knowledgeable Papa Oliver shook his head.
“I’ve never heard of it. With a na like that, I’m certain I would rember it if I had. If I don’t know, then it’s unlikely anyone else in the Inherited Sage Church does either. You should ask the diviners.”
Papa Oliver gestured toward the edge of the woods, where Miss Broniaons and Miss Audrey were waiting for him.
Reviews
All reviews (0)