[200] Firm Resolve of the Defenders and Attackers

Chapter 200: Firm Resolve of the Defenders and Attackers

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Jasmine and her descendants were brought to a large room, where the three of them received medical help from the elves, and Sieran herself. It was advised to rest for at least a few hours, but Jasmine was impatient to meet her successor.

A successor who’s now my predecessor. How weird. Jasmine waited for him, sitting on a bed with her back against the frame, while her great-something grandkids did the same in their own beds. The two of them had a kind of nervous expression, especially Amir. He was a fanboy.

Hero Seriphoth Babylon’s legends were spread all across the continents, but since Jasmine’s era was 600 years ago, her stories were not as widely spoken as his. That differed in Erebia, however, since it was the Empire she founded. Her name was more well-known than his, and people believed her to be a greater Hero than him too.

Yet, somehow, the 2nd Prince of the Empire turned out to be a fanboy. He wasn’t the only one, a few of the other royal children were the same, but… they were now dead. There were a few more older siblings to this new body that Jasmine occupied, but they were all dead. The three of them were the last three drops of Erebian’s imperial blood.

The realization made Jasmine a little sad. Her smile dropped. She shook her head soon and smiled back. It’s alright as long as one of her blood remains, the Imperial family will rise to its feet in no time. As long as one of them lived, and as long as Pangeal survived.

And Pangeal will survive.

For he who guaranteed that by his sheer presence, stepped into the room with a heavy aura around him. Jasmine quit brooding over impractical supposition and got off the bed. The room suddenly thrummed with a heavy aura; Sieran rubbed her temple with an unamused look, while the two imperial kids flinched in shock.

Jasmine walked over to the blonde bastard, a smirk playing on her lips, “Should have kept the same appearance, you brat,” she said as she came to a stop in front of him, her arms crossing. She would have had a hard time believing he was the hero indeed, if not for the technique he performed. “I would have loved to smack it twice.”

“You? Smack me?” He scoffed out a laugh. “Weren’t you crying on the floor, almost dead, against that weakling Phoenix minion?”

“I was not crying,” she growled.

“You were on the floor,” he crossed his arms too.

“I was recovering my strength.”

“And I didn’t need to do that even after bombing him to the afterlife.”

“Because, you cheater, learned other sword skills in the time you weren’t here,” she narrowed her eyes at him, stepping an inch closer. “What the fuck is Vagabond Style?”

“Something stronger than the Grand Chariot you taught me,” he said, also stepping forward. Their noses touched, and blue eyes stared down at golden. She was a very tall woman, standing at 6”2, but Aqua was just an inch taller.

“....” she stared up in silence, scowling as if her pride was hurt. After a short silence,  she chuckled. “We were supposed to have an arm wrestling match when we would actually meet face to face. Do you remember?”

“I do,” he admitted. It had been buried in the back of his mind all this time until he reunited with Galaxara and she mentioned the promise.

“...I’ve been thinking about that every single day for the last 290 years,” Jasmine said. She’s been thinking that even more recently when she engaged in battles against the foreign demons and lost. “But there is no point in doing that now when I already saw you beat an opponent I couldn’t.” A small smirk played on her lips; she let out a soft sigh. “I admit my defeat.”

Aqua stared at her in silence, sharp and cheerfully arrogant eyes dimmed. A gentle, soft light painted over his eyes. “....” That took an excessive amount of effort from her side to admit, yet she did so just like that. It was a feeling of pride to admit that your student was better than you, but at the same time, a sense of dread and worthlessness would often fill one’s heart at that very moment.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s weird.” Yet she didn’t show such a feeling in the open. She was a strong woman, indeed.

Aqua spread his arms and pulled her into a hug. She blinked, surprised, feeling his arms tighten around her back. “I’ve missed your voice, master,” he admitted, “When I died in this world and was reborn, without your voice in my head, I felt like a part of my soul had died.”

“...H-hey,” she cleared her throat, raising her head to look at him. “Are you alright?”

“It’s not like I’m crying, don’t worry, I’m just happy,” he laughed. “I’ve just… wanted to hold you like this for a long time. It’s been forever.” It was one of his oldest wishes to actually meet her, instead of hearing her voice through the Holy Sword and pulling her into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“....” she was too old and experienced for this, but a blush still managed to force its way into her cheeks. She looked into his eyes, hesitating to find words, before she smiled, closed her eyes, and sighed. Opening her eyes, she pulled his face into her chest and ruffled her hair, “You’re really a kid. I didn’t think you’d be so open about it. How long has it even been for you, anyway? Fifteen years? Twenty?”

Sieran’s eyes grew a little sad at the question, while the two imperial kids looked confused. Jasmine didn’t notice their expression, her eyes only focused on her disciple.

Aqua smiled, holding her by the waist and raising her high. Her chest still pressed on his face, but he didn’t have to lower his head awkwardly. Amir’s jaw dropped, while his sister gasped at the sight, but the lady herself remained composed. “Twenty? I wish. It’s been longer than 300 years,” a bit too longer. “But yes, this body is fifteen.”

She giggled at his hold, running a hand through his hair, “You’ve lived more than one life after death?”

He shrugged, “Don’t worry about that, meaningless questions. Let’s talk business instead. You said you liked the Vagabond Style?”

“I didn’t say I liked it, I just mentioned its name.”

“How about you call me master from now on, and I’ll teach you?” Aqua offered, and Jasmine scoffed. She flicked his forehead with two fingers and laughed.

“You wish. How about we go spar instead? I’ll figure out the technique myself after seeing it a few more times,” she dared to say.

“Big words from a loser,” he said, then his eyes lowered to her chest. “A big loser.”

Her eyelids twitched and she shook her head, “You’ve grown even bolder.”

He gently put her down, smiling, “No idea what you mean. Anyway, I’ll teach you the Vagabond Style; no, you don’t have to call me master, but not now. The village is going to be loud and busy soon.”

“Huh? Soon? Why?”

“Uh, one second too late.”

A series of gasps filled the air from outside, and Aqua’s Jade Perception confirmed the reason to be the Goddess of Pangeal.

****

[First Person Point of View]

The Goddess never descended on the mortal world. Not because something blocked her access or anything, but because she wanted there to be a tangible difference between the ethereal realm and the mortal realm. Her presence also made the world flourish too much on a single spot, the spot she stood at, so it came off as unfair to the rest of the world. As a fair deity, she didn’t like that.

Yet, she had to come down a few months ago to fight off the foreign invasion. When her mortal subjects saw her for the first time, it was against the Outer Gods, engaged in a battle that nearly cost her life. My Goddess was quite ashamed of that. So she was happy this time, as she descended on the mortal world and her creations accepted her with their heads bowing.

Elves, dark elves from another village, dryads from all over the forest, as well as druids, dangerous heavenly beasts, spirits, ghosts, fairies, and even the trees lowered their heads before their Goddess. She floated before the World Tree like a beacon of divinity, and all but me and my group bowed on the floor.

Still, my people and I lowered our heads a little too. Even Ranefer and Quetzalcoatl did, showing proper respect. That was how we greeted the Goddess in her world.

From rooftops, tree branches, balconies, and trees, bowing creatures waited for her to speak. My Goddess smiled down at her creation, her children, for a long time, before parting her lips, “I shall keep this short, my precious babies,” she announced. “The Hero is back. And everything is going to be alright soon.”

She made this about me, instead of keeping the attention to herself. I had no choice but to fly to stand before her, kneeling in the air. She put a hand on my head, ruffling my head, “Kneeling doesn’t suit you anymore, my child.” She said aloud. For a moment I wasn't sure if she meant it or if she was mad that I didn’t kneel from the get-go. Her smile said it was the first, as she said in a whispering voice, “You have become a God-class entity far surpassing me, it doesn't suit you to kneel to me. Please raise your head, and just promise one thing to the crowd.”

One thing, huh?

I did so, facing the thousands below me. I stood with my blonde locks rustling against the wind before I closed my eyes and sighed. Opening them again, I spoke in a firm tone, “While my appearance may differ from last time, my goal is one and the same. To eradicate evil from Pangeal. For the Goddess, I’ll save the world. And for the Goddess, I’ll burn any worlds that stand in our way. The Outer Gods will meet their end, and Pangeal will continue to live, for I am still here. That is my promise.”

Instead of a cheer, instead of claps, the creatures of Pangeal let themselves bask under my aura with a blissful expression of total trust.

They wanted their world saved, and their greatest savior was here to do just that. Pangeal’s denizens placed their hope on the only beacon they had. I was no God, I didn’t get divinity from having faith placed on me, yet I felt a surge in my Soul Fire, meaning that the faith was simply that strong in the air.

…For a brief moment, basking in their hope, I felt a pang of guilt in my heart. I was far from the heroic spirit they thought I was. Not anymore, I was not a kind soul.

How would they react if one day they learned about the deepest shade of my many faces?

****

[Third Person Point of View]

The Demonic Phoenix God of Destructive Flames tapped his finger on his table with a deep scowl playing behind his mask.

“What the hell is going on?!” he shouted at the minion who was kneeling in front of him, trembling and sweating as if he were in a fire pit.

His connection with his Avatar was suddenly cut. At the same time, the Blood Tower received signals that the army his Avatar had taken with him all dispersed in the air at the same time.

Is this a false call? Or is there actually someone on this low-class planet capable enough to take that many Ahaiyute, and especially my Avatar, out together in a single attack? The Phoenix God couldn't understand.

“M-my lord, the signals aren’t false… This, ah…” the kneeling minion barely managed to mutter out. “We ran some tests, it was not an error! All of their energy signals were cut off in an instant! Although a bit before that, a few of their energies had vanished, but it was less than ten! H-however, afterwards-”

“Enough.” The Dark Phoenix growled, and the minion shut his jaw. Although he didn’t know how the Ahaiyutes were taken out, he had somewhat of an idea of how his Avatar died. After all, as the patron, he had a spiritual connection with his Avatar.

His Avatar couldn't even activate his True Form, which was a guaranteed victory against any enemy. No, he underestimated the enemy and didn't choose to use his true form. If he had, maybe the outcome would have been different. Definitely.

But he's not someone to underestimate his enemy too much. Moreover when he has information on them. Is it that woman, Sieran? Has she perhaps ascended to Demigod already, and my Avatar did not expect that? Perhaps she ascended during the battle by fulfilling some conditions? That was the only possible explanation.

While Sieran wasn't the strongest in the world, she was the greatest mage, and the one closest to Level 100. If she had managed to level up mid-battle, it would explain the situation.

“Dammit,” the Phoenix God slammed his fist into the table. He wanted to destroy it with a hit, but unlike the clown, he was more patient. What was the point in taking out his anger on a table? He growled, clutching on a sheet of paper. “I've nurtured that kid to be my avatar for centuries. He's served me for that long too. And now he's gone. Does that make sense?!”

Although he tried not to get too attached to people, an Avatar was still like a child to a God. He couldn't help but feel sheer anger, and a desire to visit the Elven Forest and complete his Avatar's mission. Leaving the Blood Tower wasn't smart, but there shouldn't be much of an issue as long as he returned within a day.

For a moment, he almost gave in to the rage and rushed out through the windows.

He managed to hold it in, grunting to himself, and sighed. “Let's talk to the Jester about this first,” he decided, looking at the minion. “There might be more than meets the eye. We should request some reinforcements if we're unable to find out the truth ourselves.”

There were some excellent scouts from his home world, and what was the point if they couldn't be used when needed?

“Contact the Northern Blood Tower, prepare a meeting with that clown.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

The Demonic Phoenix God of Destructive Flames did not want to take any chances with his World Pearl. He would succeed for sure, and consume the fruit of this labor to grow more powerful.

He wouldn't allow anything to stop him. Even if this world's fabled Hero rose from the grave, for example.

Besides, as an Extension of himself, the Dark Phoenix, his Avatar was immortal in every sense of the word. He would rise from his grave soon enough and return to the Blood Tower. He just needed to wait for a bit.

…Unfortunately, no matter how much he waited, his Avatar never rose from the ashes.

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Author Note: Woohoo! Well we're back?200-Chapters are done! How many more chapters do you think the story will go on for, in your head? I’m curious what a reader’s idea for this story’s progression rate is.

Editor Shortmotor Note: I’d give it 120 more chapters.