……….
Zilan continued with his desperate struggle. Up in ‘space’ his feet never stopped, he was using sheer will to force himself through marking after marking. Each time he did, a sensation unlike pain but without a doubt much more damaging would envelope him. It was hell but Zilan understood that he needed to fight through it.
His body above the mountain on the other hand was going through a very different experience. The physical force pushing down on him was growing seemingly with every step. In the beginning right after activating his Divine ability his movement was basically unhindered however, upon crossing a few markings it was already a great outcome if he could travel five steps in thirty seconds. And now he was approaching the fifth marking, the halfway point, and needless to say he was expecting things to get worse.
Groaning and grunting his way to the fifth marking, Zilan finally knew what it felt like to be powerless. Even with the activation of his Divine ability, the moment he encountered the fifth marking it was like he had no strength. No matter how hard he pushed or how much he tried to gather his power it was impossible to move. The pressure had clamped him in place and he could do nothing about it.
“ROAAAR….”
The confused spectators were watching Zilan thinking it was the end of the road for him when all of a sudden, the Roar of an Ancient Beast accompanied by an aura unparalleled in the Beast world of this plane suddenly burst out from his position. All eyes were on him however, none could believe their eyes. Horror, fright, adoration, respect and a host of many other emotions painted the hearts of the audience. The cold eyes, the beautiful, awe inspiring scales, this was the pinnacle of Beast bloodlines….the Dragon.
Zilan stood straight up and not caring about the shocked people beneath, he began moving forward once again. This time with his Dragon body, Prana, and [Spring’s Embrace] Zilan could once again manage to walk through the crushing pressure.
Meanwhile in space, Zilan was no longer running. Half of him was gone and more pieces of himself were being shed off as time ticked away. He was swaying from left to right, like a drunkard he was doing everything he could to stay on his feet and still walk. Sometimes he stumbled and for brief instances he would regain clarity only to lose it an instant later. This was torture for Zilan but it was also a road he literally had to walk to get to what he wanted.
“One step…one step at a time….one step at a time…” He thought to himself. It was the only thing he could think of as everything was either already hazy or getting there.
Three more markings remained for him to reach the white mirror…
…..
Zilan’s body above the mountain was not much better. After crossing the seventh marking, despite all of his advantages it still was not enough for him to proceed. He was once again clamped in place with no way of pushing onwards. If he even attempted to force his way even a step more, blood would immediately burst out from his orifices causing more harm than good.
Watching his blood drip onto the ground, the dizzy Zilan shakily extended his finger and began writing down a set of inscriptions. With every stroke he drew, his vision would grow bloodier and bloodier until eventually his eyes had turned all red. A hazy image of a reaper like entity was forming above his head however, Zilan simply took one look at it before pointing at the walkway. The indistinct red reaper suddenly charged at the walkway and in a shocking turn of events fazed into it.
“A spirit wraith….” Little Red was shocked seeing it. It was extremely weak but nevertheless it was a summoned spirit wraith.
As if infected by some type of virus the previously all-powerful walkway was weakening. It was just enough for Zilan to bare and thus the spectators below watched as he hobbled towards the end of the walkway. It was a strange, painful sight to bear witness to as the image of Dragons some of them had was one of unprecedented majesty and unbelievable power. If only they knew what he was going through.
Fujo despite his disbelief was still praying alongside Kifo for his well-being. Even if others didn’t know, they knew how strong and mysterious Zilan could be, especially Kifo, he knew all too well how resourceful a person Zilan was. For him to be brought to such a state, it was telling of the kind of pain he was going through.
…………
In ‘space’ Zilan’s soul was on the brink of breakdown when the walkway’s power abruptly weakened thus affording him the time to cross through the remaining marking and come face to face with the white mirror. Well, at this point most of him had disappeared and all that was currently left was his left eye.
Lost and unaware Zilan only had one thought left,..”one step at a time….just keep moving forward.” And forward into the white mirror he went. Like a baptism of white light, he went in broken only to come out the other side good as new. Everything he’d lost was completely restored.
“You’re finally here.” An aged, ancient voice welcomed Zilan.
“You are?”
“We no, I believe you already know who I am?” replied the Ancient voice.
“No, I truly don’t. You have Gnagus’ life’s work and your control over the soul….who are you really?” asked Zilan. The man had yet to show himself but he was already so intimidated.
“I am the Chairman of the Alchemy Association. That is all I am now, before in a time that passed long ago I was part of something bigger but that is all gone.”
“You remind me of him.” Said the Chairman.
“Who?” wondered Zilan.
“Akili….my benefactor and a great friend.”
