Chapter 2077: Training 2 |
This was the final stage of her training cycle: scythe, then bow, then spear. Close-quarters control, mid-range precision, and single-target annihilation. She repeated this cycle for what felt like an eternity within the timeless Crucible. She moved through the hellish landscapes—across plains of ash, through caverns of weeping stone, over bridges of sinew—her every step a testament to her evolving mastery. She was not merely fighting; she was conducting a symphony of destruction, with each form of her gift representing a different movement, a different instrument of ruin.
Her expression throughout remained one of focused dispassion, a stark contrast to the roaring fury of her draconic form. This was work. Necessary, grueling, and ultimately, enlightening. With each demon felled, with each skill refined, she could feel her control over the fundamental forces of fire becoming more absolute, more instinctual. The loneliness and ambition that fueled her were not diminished, but were instead being forged in this relentless crucible into a weapon as sharp and deadly as the scythe she so elegantly wielded.
The endless waves of demons were not just enemies to defeat; they were the building blocks she would use to transform herself into the ultimate weapon of battle. Her training had entered a new, deeper stage, focusing on refining her instincts and movements, like an artist perfecting their craft.
She found herself navigating a new area of the Crucible, a vast underground maze called the Screaming Vaults. The air around her was thick with a sinister energy that seemed to attack her mind, offering whispers of hopelessness and visions of an endless, sunless void. Yet Gracier stood firm, her two differently colored eyes—one shining gold, the other icy blue—clear of any doubt. The dark whispers could not break her concentration.
Starting in her human form, she summoned her scythe, the Reaper’s Dawn, but her approach had changed. No longer was it just a tool for wide, sweeping destruction. Instead, she began to practice with precision. She allowed groups of swift, blade-armed creatures known as Stalkers to close in, and at the center of their attack, she became a whirlwind of movement. The blade of her scythe would whiz past her, just barely avoiding her, as she effortlessly struck down a demon’s limb without disturbing her perfectly styled hair. She used the handle to block blows, the bottom to strike sensitive spots on larger enemies, and the curve of the blade to deflect attacks onto other demons. It was a lethal dance, where each movement was deliberate, using as little energy as possible to create maximum impact. She learned to perceive the battlefield not as individual threats but as a chaotic wave she could flow with and control.
When a new type of enemy appeared—floating, blob-like creatures that split into smaller versions when struck—she adapted with ease. The scythe vanished, replaced by a golden bow. This was no longer standard target practice. She unleashed a flurry of arrows, three, four, or even five, each aiming for different targets. As one blob prepared to split, a second arrow would strike it just as the first hit, causing it to explode rather than multiply. She fired as she moved, shooting over her shoulder while dodging attacks or planting her feet for a powerful shot that could pierce through several demons at once. She was training her reflexes to work on multiple levels at a time.
As she progressed, her ultimate weapon became the Lance of the Promised Sun, glowing with blue-white flames. She began to use it not just for single enemies but as a tool for precision. She would identify key threats in the enemy ranks—like a spellcaster or a beast enhancing its allies—and eliminate them swiftly. Her throws were not only powerful, they were incredibly accurate. The lance would strike the weak points in a creature’s armor, obliterating it with a focused burst of energy, leaving nothing behind. It was the perfect expression of efficiency—destroying a threat with one flawless strike.
This cycle of using her scythe, bow, and lance repeated for what felt like days. Instead of tiring, she thrived on the darkness of the Crucible, using it to fuel her focus rather than drain her. She moved through various regions, from the Screaming Vaults to the Plains of Broken Sigils and into the Churning Deeps, where even the very ground seemed alive and hungry.
In this chaotic landscape, she had to blend her abilities rapidly. The earth would suddenly erupt to swallow her, forcing her to jump into the air with explosive flames; her bow ready to strike down at the emerging threat below. As she landed, she would grab her scythe to clear her space, only to switch to her lance to take down a distant giant throwing boulders. These transitions became seamless, as if her weapons were extensions of herself responding naturally to the demands of battle.
This continued for a moment before she decided to rest.
’’Huff! Huff! This is too taxing. Switching forms sure drain a lot of stamina and consume much of my mana.’’ Gracier sat in meditation, doing so she tried to contact her big brother through their telepathic link once again but as usual it didn’t work, forcing her to sigh. She dearly missed her big brother and wished to meet her brother quickly as possible. She had sent people to look for him giving them various portraits but all ended in failure, they couldn’t find none looking like him. With the Red dragon clan prestige in the middle realm they could easily anyone they wished to find but unfortunately nothing was found which hinting at the fact this person wasn’t in the middle realm, probably the lower realm, at the moment she couldn’t go there and could only wait.