Chapter Ashborn 381: Narak the Mentor

Narak the Destroyer was… not what Vir had expected. While the giant Bairan was every bit as physically imposing as his legendary reputation suggested, it was his personality that threw Vir off.

Perhaps he should have guessed that the terrifyingly powerful Biaran king of old was a softie at heart, from the brief memory he’d shared of his predecessor fighting off the Narapazu in Rani. There, Vir had lived through the death of Narak’s wife, Reyi, and the grief and rage Narak had felt in equal parts.

It only had been a single moment, however, quickly painted over with the intensity of the life-or-death fight Vir was in at the time.

Looking back, the fight was a joke. Vir wouldn’t need a single one of his arts to end such a creature now, and he could do it within the span of a single breath.

Narak was a mystery. From the moment he emerged from Vir’s new home within his mindscape, the giant had sat by the stream, brooding silently as tears fell down his cheeks.

At a loss, Vir had attempted to console him, but to no avail. Without outright ignoring Vir, Narak made it clear he wished to be left alone.

Unsure of what else to do, Vir summoned Ekanai and Shardul, but neither were exactly bastions of empathy. One was a lifelong loner, and both were vicious killers.

“If only Maiya were here,” Vir muttered. Knowing her, she’d have Narak spilling his innermost secrets in less than a minute.

Alas, Maiya was realms away, and so the burden of getting Narak to open up fell on Vir’s shoulders.

Struck by sudden inspiration, Vir left the river to his house—one he’d not set foot in for years.

It was exactly as he remembered it, with the rickety old wood table and the thrice-mended chairs, all in the same place. The warm, cozy fireplace, and the sketch that Rudvik had commissioned—the single luxury he’d allowed himself his whole life. It even smelled of pine and musky fabric.

It was a nostalgic smell, and for a moment, Vir was whisked away to a small village in a forgotten region of an ailing country. To simpler days, when helping his father put food on the table was his top priority, rivaled only by his never-ending quest to avoid Camas and his goons on the way to the Godshollow and back.

To think he would look fondly upon those days… If he were to go back in time to chat with his older self, villager Vir might’ve been horrified upon knowing that his future self pined for those days.

It was true—there was something irresistibly appealing about that simplicity. Would there ever be a day when Vir tasted it? Perhaps settling in some remote corner of the world with Maiya? Maybe he’d take up lumberjacking, like Rudvik. Living out the rest of his days in peace.

Quaint delusion though it may be, Vir resolved to work for such a future. Where the world no longer needed him. He thought he’d like that. He liked that quite a lot.

These were the thoughts going through his head as he started the fire and heated the pot of water. It had been full when he’d found it, so all he needed was to boil it, mash the vegetables on the counter, add a few dashes of salt, pepper, and paprika, and the stew would be ready.

Maybe a stew wasn’t enough to heal whatever it was that Narak was going through, but it came from the heart. Vir hoped the giant would, at the very least, recognize that.

Stepping outside with the completed meal, Vir balanced both bowls with perfect precision as he leaped his way across the meadow. Perhaps more than any of his other abilities, this feat of superhuman grace spoke to his advancement.

Those years of effort and those thousands of fights had not, in fact, been without gain. They allowed Vir to carry a pair of bowls at breakneck speed. Was there truly any sweeter fruit?

“I… brought you something,” Vir said, setting Narak’s bowl down beside him. The bowl was the largest Vir could find, and the spoon was in fact a ladle, but given the giant’s stature—large even for a Bairan—he would likely find it too small. “It isn’t much, but food always cheered my father up.”

“Your father,” Narak said, his voice deep and rich. “You speak of the lumberjack…”

“That’s… right,” Vir replied. “You have my memories, then?”

“Some. Mixed with some of my own. It has been quite difficult sussing out past from present.”

Vir didn’t know why these manifestations of his predecessors had such a tough time grappling with the fact that they were mere figments of Vir’s imagination. The souls of his actual predecessors had been lost when they’d sacrificed themselves so he could survive Mahādi’s oppressive prana density.

Or had they?

It was a question Vir asked himself more these days. These manifestations of his prior self were so real, so sapient, that Vir questioned if they truly were just memories… Or something more.

“I thank you for bringing me here,” Narak said. “For giving me another lease on life. Strange and ephemeral, though it may be.”

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“It’s, er, nothing,” Vir said awkwardly. He wished he could grant them full autonomy, but as it was, they existed only within his mindscape now, and only when summoned. A small world for such impressive figures.

“Hearty,” Narak said, taking a sip. “Full of home.”

Vir sipped on his own soup. It was just the same soup he’d always had, and rather bland, if he was honest. Was it because Narak shared his memories that he recognized the flavor?

“Thank you, friend,” Narak said, after draining the last of the bowl. “I take it you wish to ask something of me?”

Vir nodded. “Balancer of Scales. I would like to learn how you mastered it.”

For the first time since his summoning, Narak cracked a small smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right demon.”

“My secret to Balancer of Scales was never in mastering prana flow,” Narak said as the two walked around the newly expanded meadow. It was now large enough to call it a field, and a rather vast one at that.

“That process takes decades, if not centuries, and there is no shortcut.”

“What is there to mastering the arts, if not for the prana control?” Vir asked. Everything he’d been taught said as much.

“For most demons, that is the case,” Narak said. “But we are Akh Nara. The rules of the game are different for us.”

“Yes, I’ve had plenty of experience with that,” Vir mumbled, thinking of his early days as a Prana Scorned.

Narak nodded. “Akh Nara wield Ash Prana, and in addition to its potency, the primordial form of magic benefits from other positive traits as well. Such as the ability to better influence prana that has left the body.”

“I assume you mean with the assistance of tattoos,” Vir said with a frown. “Because I’ve tried for years to control prana on my own. Once it leaves my body, it refuses to obey, no matter what I do. The whole school of human magic is developed around the understanding that blood is required to make prana function.”

“Indeed, this is true,” Narak said. “Yet this is the purpose of tattoos. Their consolidation of prana and efficiency enhancements are nothing but side products. Beneficial, yes, but hardly the core purpose. Tattoos allow for control of prana outside the body, and we Akh Nara can control it better than the others. This is my ‘secret’, if you can call it that.”

“It does sound… rather basic,” Vir replied, scratching his head. “Yet the secret seems to have eluded me.”

“Then let us see where you are at. Show me your current technique.”

Vir stopped walking to concentrate on Balancer of Scales. Closing his eyes, he pulled some of the prana circling through his body, and wove it through the tattoo that snaked across his chest, over his shoulder, and part of his back.

Even that feat had taken him some doing, given the sheer complexity of the design. Its miniaturization certainly hadn’t helped, requiring exquisite prana control to follow the winding path.

And though Vir’s control was peerless, he’d still struggled for weeks on end to learn the pattern.

For it wasn’t enough to simply guide prana through the tattoo—one had to do it continuously and unconsciously, freeing up the mind for more important tasks. Like combat.

Some areas of the tattoos were easier than others, and Vir had memorized bits and pieces, but the whole pattern still eluded his subconscious mind, requiring far too much effort.

“Path mastery will come in time,” Narak consoled. “You have done well to come this far in so short a time. I’ve no doubt you’ll attain it.”

“Even if I do, it wouldn’t be enough, though,” Vir said as he finally completed the circuit.

The tattoo activated, laying down a suppression field in the area. On its own, the field was far too weak, so Vir compensated for his inefficiency by activating Prana Current and surging as much prana into the tattoo as possible.

Much of it was wasted—deviating from the path—but the sheer amount of prana in his body multiplied the ability’s power, nonetheless.

“Quite incredible for one as young as yourself to brim with this much prana,” Narak said. “Master Balancer of Scales, and you’ll be quite the terror. Now, I want you to focus on the art once it leaves you.”

Vir did so, splitting his attention between cycling Ash prana through the tattoo and the sensation of it pressing down on the world outside.

His sensation of the magic was far less potent outside his body, and so Vir had to concentrate heavily on the task. Doing so usually meant lapsing on keeping the tattoo active, resulting in a breakdown of the ability.

Narak stroked his chin, peering into Vir as he manipulated his magic. “While prana control is not the key, It would seem we need to improve your mastery over the tattoo. How long do you have?”

“Three full days,” Vir replied, causing Narak to smile.

“Then I hope you are as fast of a learner as you claim to be. Because for the next three days, we train.”

It was good that Vir was in his mindscape, for the sheer mental fatigue alone would have done him in on day one.

As it was, however, a short meditation session every few hours made him as good as new, and the training began again.

Mostly, it was Vir internalizing the tattoo’s path, with the occasional tip from Narak, who watched his progress in silence.

Vir memorized the tattoo a day later. The day after that, he’d quadrupled the prana flow.

“You truly are a prodigy,” Narak said. “Never have I met a being with such exquisite control.”

“Thanks,” Vir mumbled. “But my art still hasn’t grown any stronger…”

“You’ve laid the foundations. What is it you like to say? Brick by brick? Stone after stone? And I have to say, yours is solid. Now, we can focus on the fun part.”

And so, they practiced applications of the technique together, bending it and shaping it in different ways. Vir quickly learned that the way he’d been using the art—to lay down a single suppression field—was hardly the only way it could be used. Once he understood the secret to shaping it, several other forms manifested in quick succession. From targeting a single demon to laying down a wall of suppression, several new paths opened.

As Vir honed each one in turn, his understanding of the art grew. Narak’s guidance shaved weeks and months off the tedious process of trial and error, pointing Vir in the right direction and correcting his understanding where he went wrong.

Would Vir have gained more on his own, learning the lessons the hard way? Undoubtedly.

But time was a luxury Vir no longer had. He’d learn as much as he could now, and if all went well, he’d have centuries to perfect the craft.

By the end of the third day, Vir’s potency with Balancer of Scales was incomparable to before. The suppression field was nearly ten times its strength, and while Cirayus’ might’ve been ten times stronger than even that, its current level was more than enough to be useful against most demons.

Furthermore, according to Narak, Vir could shape and alter the ability on the same level as a Bairan with fifty years of experience. Not a bad feat for three days of continuous effort.

It would have to suffice. A distant alarm blared, and Vir knew his time had come to an end.

“Go and show the Ravager what you have learned,” Narak said, nodding with approval.

“Can’t wait to see his reaction,” Vir replied as he stood and dusted himself off. “And Narak? Thank you. Truly.”

“The pleasure is mine, friend,” he said wearily. “But now, I rest. Call upon me should you desire additional training. Or even a friend.”

Vir smiled up at the enormous demon. “I absolutely will.”

To think he’d not only recovered what remained of his predecessors’ fragments, but forged bonds with them, too… Vir couldn’t wait to meet the rest of them.