48

Sion watches as Hyrtan falls backwards, off the edge of the spire. He begins to plummet. A fall from so great a height must be certain death. Sion dives off the edge of the spire after him. The motes of light, watching over Sion from the stairway, surge forth. They fly after Sion, hoping to protect him however they might.

Sion falls faster than Hyrtan, taking a more aerodynamic angle, his body held vertical as he falls head first. Hyrtan can only watch baffled as the large body of Sion appears in the air over the edge, the dozens, hundreds of lights following after him. Sion passes Hyrtan, as does the swarm of lights. Now beneath him, Sion spreads his body wide so he can maneuver more deftly. Sion floats around until, grasping right above himself, reaching out towards Hyrtan.

Sion grabs hold of Hyrtan and pulls him closer. Hyrtan finally finds his words once more.

“What are you doing, you brat! How stupid are you!?”

“If there’s somebody I can save, then I should save them.”

“Hah! Even if you know they’ll just keep on destroying whatever they can? Truly a fool!”

“You won’t. I won’t let you. I told you that I would end this. But there’s no reason that putting an end to this violence should end with more death.” Hyrtan has nothing to say in response. The motes of light, meanwhile, begin to push against Sion’s back with their weightless body, trying fruitlessly to slow Sion and Hyrtan’s fall.

“Sion!”

“Sion!”

“Why did you jump!?”

“Why aren’t you teleporting!?” Sion can barely follow the chorus of small voices calling his name.

“Teleport?”

“You’re just like Cenit, aren’t you!?”

“I told you that I’m not. But… I’ll try!”

Sion does not have the time to leisurely check the status of his space magic. Whether he can access even the smallest fraction of that power, the power earned by defeating gods, is something he cannot know. He simply must do it. It’s do or die. Sion knows that his effort will not go wasted, that there is nothing beyond him remaining idle now.

Sion does not know the spell, not even its most basic principles. Even just the rudimentary magic people were once able to use, that which Cenit tapped into at the end of the bout, has long been lost to humanity. Sion has no choice but to rediscover that magic right now, from less than first principles. To recreate a legend in a single moment.

Sion, as a user of soul magic and nothing else, has no familiarity with normal magic’s functions. His knowledge is limited to when he helped Anima in her training, and even then the casting of a spell was barely at issue. All he can do is try to will the spell into being. He recites his wish again and again inside his heart, to stop himself and Hyrtan before they die from the fall.

He begins to feel something strange, as though the air around him is wavering. However, no matter how much the world seems to be shaking, Sion does not feel himself slowing to safety, nor appearing somewhere else. If he has some power, it is not enough to save himself now.

Sion approaches the ground quickly, his body prepared to cushion Hyrtan right above. However, before they collide with ground, Hyrtan casts a spell. Rather than the firm ground, Sion and Hyrtan sink inside of the gelatinous body of a massive slime. Sion crawls out of the side, dragging Hyrtan out behind him. They fall onto the grass covered in the goo.

Sion takes a deep breath, relieved to have somehow come out of that okay. Sion smiles to himself about how foolishly he acted. He understands it logically, that he shouldn’t throw his life away like that, but at the same time, he’s sure he’d do the same thing, and he’s sure he’ll do similar things again.

Before he can get too relaxed however, he sees something that sends a chill down his spine. The same menacing mass of magic power that he saw in his vision. However, the quality is different somehow. There was an air of calm when it was just an old man, the one named Ausus, but now it’s somehow jagged as though all it knows is violence. Sion can’t stop shivering.

Rather than an old man, the magic power is emanating from a large suit of dark purple armor, a purple mist spilling out from the small gaps. The armor is trimmed with gold, all that remains of the man it once was. On the armor’s back is a giant axe, bigger than even Kreteo’s sword, black in color and chipped at its edge. The ground seems to rumble where it steps, so imposing the armor is. Sion can only remain frozen as he watches the approach.

When the armor reaches Sion and Hyrtan, it stands right in front of Sion and takes the axe from its back and holds it over its head. Sion can tell that the target is Hyrtan behind him, rather than himself. Before the armor can swing, Sion reaches out to grab the axe’s shaft. As he grabs hold, he can feel the immense strength animating the armor. It would be far too much for Sion to bear, and yet he keeps his hold.

“Please, don’t hurt him! I’ll take care of him myself! Don’t make him die!” The armor wavers for a moment. The motes of light, flickering fearfully, flood the armor, blotting out the dark mist.

“That’s right, Ausus!”

“Don’t be mean, Ausus!”

“Don’t bully him!”

“Don’t bully Sion!”

Though it does not respond, it can’t, the armor does stop. The weight bearing down on Sion, that incredible pressure, falls away. Hyrtan, meanwhile, is still on the ground. He begins to speak, and Sion turns to face him.

“My boy, you truly are a fool. I have failed in my task! I have failed to serve my lord! There’s nothing left for me without him! All that’s left for this life… is destruction!”

Hyrtan’s body begins to glow with a familiar spell. It’s the same explosion used by Gitsung. Caught off-guard, Sion does not have enough time to avoid it. The armor steps forward, putting itself between Hyrtan and Sion. A loud boom sounds out as light flashes beyond the dark armor. Even with some sort of barrier created by the armor to surround him, Sion feels the heat off the explosion.

When it is safe to move once more, Sion pokes his head past the armor to look at the site of the explosion. There is no sign of Hyrtan, only the burnt and blackened grass where he once stood. It was complete destruction, his life no more than ash.

The armor falls to its knees, though unscathed from the explosion. There’s a loud rattling reverberating from inside of the metal shell, as though the armor were weeping. Sion as well falls to his knees. He falls to the grass and can only pound his fist uselessly against the ground.

“Damn it! I’m too weak! Too weak to protect myself! Too weak to protect the people right in front of me! Too weak to do anything! What’s the point of having all these powers if I can’t even use them! I couldn’t talk to Cenit! I can’t do anything for Ausus! I’m so weak!”

Like that, Sion can only cry, bashing his fist against the grass as the large metal heaves nearby and the swarm of lights flit around him.