There was no roar.
No storm.
No fire to devour.
No wave to drown.
No chill to still.
There was only weight.
Drakion stood alone in silence.
And the world felt... heavier.
Not in gravity.
But in presence.
It was the kind of weight you feel in a blade before it’s drawn.
The kind of silence before a hamr falls.
The kind of certainty that does not explain itself—because it doesn’t need to.
It just is.
That was the Law of tal.
It was not born of the heavens.
It was born beneath them.
Deep beneath the earth,
Where stone is crushed,
Where pressure reigns,
Where the world’s secrets are forged in silence.
tal is not found.
It is made.
Drakion’s Originat trembled—
Not with chaos,
But with order.
Sharp.
Clean.
Exact.
tal did not flow.
It aligned.
There was a rhythm to it.
Not fluid like water.
Not explosive like fire.
But asured.
Like the ringing of a hamr on anvil.
Like the echo of steel singing into form.
tal Law was not brute hardness.
It was structure.
It was discipline made tangible.
A will honed to a point.
A path without deviation.
Where Water adapts, tal defines.
Where Fire consus, tal refines.
Where Ice preserves, tal hardens.
Where Wood grows, tal focuses.
tal was not alive—
But it rembered every hand that had forged it.
Every fire that had shaped it.
Every strike that had tested it.
Drakion saw it now—
Not with his eyes,
But with the core of his soul.
tal was not the blade.
tal was the intention behind the blade.
It was edge.
It was form.
It was resolve made unbreakable.
A thousand thoughts could flutter like leaves...
But tal allowed only one to remain.
It chose.
It sharpened.
And it held.
To comprehend tal was to understand restraint.
The strength to endure pressure.
The patience to be shaped.
The resolve to hold form even under fire.
It was order beneath chaos.
Clarity within storm.
Conviction through trial.
Drakion exhaled slowly.
His Originat didn’t burn.
It didn’t flow.
It didn’t flicker.
It rang.
Like steel eting steel.
Like truth forged into weapon.
There was no flourish.
No chaos.
No bloom of color.
Only an invisible edge in the air around him.
Clean. Unseen. Absolute.
And then he understood.
tal is not the destroyer.
It is the consequence.
It does not pursue.
It waits.
It does not hate.
It judges.
It does not rage.
It cuts—when it must, where it must, exactly as it must.
To wield tal is not to kill.
It is to decide what should endure—
And what must be cut away.
What is excess.
What is flaw.
What must be purified through fire and hamr.
Drakion opened his eyes.
The world had not changed.
But the air around him had.
It felt sharper.
More exact.
Not because tal seeks to dominate—
But because nothing within it bends.
Ding!
[Host has comprehended the Law of tal]
.
\\\
In a world stretched wide with the expanse of Earth, Drakion stood upon it.
But he did not move.
Not by choice.
But because sothing deeper than stillness held him.
Not a cage.
Not a chain.
But a presence—immovable.
The sky could rage.
The seas could rise.
Flas could devour. Storms could scream...
But the Earth remained.
It did not react.
It did not retreat.
It did not explain itself.
It simply was.
He closed his eyes, and in that silence—he fell inward.
Down through the layers of himself.
Past mory.
Past pain.
Past thought.
Until there was only weight.
Not burden—but truth.
Earth Law wasn’t a power that pressed outward.
It was power that endured inward.
It was not about movent.
It was about bearing.
The Earth had no need to be quick.
It had no desire to be beautiful.
It bore every step.
Held every root.
Cradled every river.
It carried the world—and asked for nothing in return.
And yet... everything returned to it.
Drakion felt it now—not as sothing outside him,
But sothing he had always stood upon, yet never truly seen.
The Earth did not resist change.
It absorbed it.
Stone shattered.
Soil shifted.
Mountains crumbled.
And still... it endured.
It was not unbreakable.
But it could not be defeated.
Because defeat required surrender.
And Earth never surrenders.
Where Fire consus,
Water flows,
tal cuts,
And Wood grows...
Earth waits.
Not idly.
But deliberately.
It chooses what to hold, and what to release.
And when it chooses to rise—
Nothing stands before it.
Drakion’s Originat pulsed deep within—slow and steady.
No storm.
No fla.
No flash.
Just depth.
A pressure that did not crush... it reminded.
It reminded him of all he had endured.
All he had carried.
All that still rested upon his shoulders.
Not weight as punishnt—
But weight as purpose.
He saw it now:
Earth was not a wall.
It was not a prison.
It was not dead.
It was alive—with silence, with patience, with will.
It could break mountains with tremors.
It could cradle seeds until they blood.
It could bury the past—and support the future.
To comprehend Earth Law was to understand the quiet power of presence.
To know when to yield.
To know when to anchor.
To know when to rise—and let all things above be shaken.
Drakion felt his being align.
His Originat grew denser.
Not slower—but deeper.
It did not lash.
It did not pierce.
It settled.
Like stone forming beneath pressure.
Like land rembering its own shape.
Earth Law was not ant to overwhelm.
It was ant to endure longer than anything else.
Ti? It eroded.
Water? It carved.
Man? He built.
But Earth outlasted them all.
Drakion opened his eyes.
He did not glow.
He did not crackle with power.
But the ground beneath him seed to breathe with him.
Not in fear.
Not in awe.
But in recognition.
For he no longer stood on the Earth.
He stood with it.
And no force that walked, flew, or burned above it—would move him.
Unless he allowed it.
A/N: Please note that since Water and Ice are different, there will be both a Water Dragon and an Ice Dragon. However, there will also be a dragon capable of controlling both Ice and Water. But I am confused about how I should na it—help this author.
Reviews
All reviews (0)