Chapter 370 - 365 — Mark Two

Chapter 370: Chapter 365 — Mark Two

"...you don’t know what you’re talking about."

Zephyrion ignored the ancestor and settled cross-legged in the middle of the room.

"Of course I fucking do. You’re terrified of getting attached because you’re terrified of what happens when you lose someone. I understand that. What I don’t understand is why you’re making yourself miserable before you’ve even lost anyone." Demorian sighed. "You know you don’t have to do this, right? With your points, you could have Lumi transferred here tomorrow. You could reach out to Ingrid, stop being a stubborn little shit, and finall—"

"It’s better this way, Demorian." Zephyrion shut his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Leave it alone."

He could feel Demorian’s weary gaze lingering on him, but he ignored it. Eventually, the ancestor seemed to realize he wasn’t getting anywhere and disappeared back into the rod.

’It’s better this way.’

Zephyrion repeated the words to himself, almost as though trying to convince himself they were true. Lumi was sad that they were apart, but from everything he’d just read, all Zephyrion saw was a life where she was thriving. She was learning new things, making friends, experiencing things for herself and deciding what she wanted to do. She was living. She was free.

And though she was sad, that was only because of how deeply attached she had become to him, something he believed a little time apart would eventually fix.

If he did what Demorian suggested and brought her here, she would only be dragged back into his world of schemes, danger and manipulation. She wouldn’t truly be free or happy, but burdened by a fight that had never been hers to begin with.

Zephyrion knew allies would be necessary in the war to come, but he hated the feeling that came whenever he realized his actions had brought consequences upon someone he cared about. He wanted Lumi to be happy. He never wanted to see her hurt because of him.

And if keeping his distance was what it took to give her that life, then that was what he would do.

Ingrid’s case was no different. He had never expected to come to cherish his sister, but if they reconciled now, there was every chance she would be pulled into his war too. Worse, he couldn’t even trust himself not to manipulate her for his own benefit if the need ever arose. Then it would be Lumi’s case all over again.

At least with Ingrid, there would always be time to reconcile in the future.

’It’s better this way.’

Zephyrion repeated the words to himself once again, embracing the silence and solitude of his room.

...

It was only after several moments that he finally decided to carry on with his original objective.

"I can advance to Mark Two now without any problems, right?"

Demorian nodded with a small scoff. Over the past few minutes, the ancestor had made his dissatisfaction with Zephyrion’s decision abundantly clear. But he’d already made his choice, and he was sticking with it.

"Let’s just hope making me wait this long was worth it."

"Of course it’ll be!" Demorian sneered. "Everything that comes out of my mouth is divine wisdom. Your problem is you only listen to half of it."

Zephyrion ignored Demorian’s smug look and exhaled. A moment later, he entered his mindscape, and this time, he didn’t bother dwelling on the loneliness of the dark expanse.

’Not much different from outside anyway.’

He fixed his eyes on the free portion of the Herald rank and focused. Comprehending the second mark took significantly longer than the first, though that was mostly because his bastion duties constantly interrupted him. What he began just before noon was only completed when the moon had already risen into the night sky.

Then Zephyrion opened his eyes, and the air around him seemed to still as he dipped into the WorldPulse.

Mark One of the Herald rank was Infusion, allowing Ascendants to infuse their bodies with their element and permanently carry it within themselves.

Mark Two was Tempering. As the name suggested, this was where the element began reforging the body bit by bit, strengthening and transforming it as the Ascendant drew closer to truly becoming their element.

Zephyrion, however, had already undergone a complete reforging through Demorian’s technique.

But that didn’t mean this stage would simply be skipped because he had already achieved something similar. No. Tempering was the WorldPulse itself reforging and strengthening the body according to its current state, pushing it as far as that body could withstand.

Demorian’s reforging, on the other hand, had relied entirely on Demorian’s metal and power.

Which meant that, while there was little the WorldPulse could do to further improve the metallic state of his body, tempering and strengthening that body was another matter entirely.

In simple terms, he was getting reforged twice.

Zephyrion activated the Mark Two rune and immediately felt a violent tremor run through his body, followed by Metal essence surging towards him like a tide.

He gritted his teeth and braced himself as it flooded into every part of him—skin, muscles, bones, cardiovascular system, nervous system. Every part of his body that Demorian had reforged was affected.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t nearly as painful as he’d anticipated. Demorian’s reforging had felt like being shredded apart and put back together piece by piece. This was different. It felt as though countless hammers were pounding every inch of his body, repeatedly tempering him like molten metal against an anvil.

His entire body burned scorching hot, and before long, the carpet beneath him began to sizzle from the heat, filling the room with the acrid stench of something burning.

It was agonizing, but Zephyrion had experienced far worse. He gritted his teeth and endured it, somehow managing to maintain his dignity and remain seated upright throughout the ordeal.

The process took a while, but that was understandable considering he was practically undergoing, in a matter of hours, the same reforging process that had taken Demorian months to complete.

Eventually, after several grueling hours, Zephyrion felt the raging WorldPulse finally grow still.

He released a ragged breath, his chest rising and falling as his heart pounded against his ribs.

’Whoever designed this power progression was definitely a masochist.’

Why did every advancement have to come with a world of pain?

"There’s a price for everything in this world, protege, especially power."

Demorian gave him a pointed look that made it abundantly clear power wasn’t the only thing he was talking about, then studied him carefully. "Now then, how do you feel?"

Zephyrion ignored the look and focused inward.

"I feel... stronger."

His body still looked the same, carved and toned, and on the surface, he didn’t feel fundamentally different. But beneath that familiarity was an almost intoxicating sense of physical power, as though pure adrenaline had been injected directly into every part of his body.

Every aspect of his physical ability had been elevated significantly. Strength, speed, reflexes, durability—everything felt sharper, more powerful. He felt reforged, like a piece of metal that had been hammered, heated and tempered over and over until every last imperfection had been beaten out of it.

Zephyrion slowly clenched his fist, feeling the sheer power packed beneath his skin.

’I should be stronger than any normal Mark Two now, even without using my other elements.’

"So?" Demorian grinned smugly. "Do you finally understand the magnificence of my divine wisdom?"

Zephyrion scoffed. "...you were right once. Don’t get carried away."

"Once!? When have I ever been wrong!?"

"I’ll answer that when you finally produce this so-called divine art of yours."

"Huerk!"

"Speaking of which, you’re taking suspiciously long." Zephyrion glanced at him. "I’m starting to think you were just running your mouth. Divine wisdom my ass. You can barely keep your word."

"You...!" Demorian’s face reddened so fiercely it looked like he might explode. "I’ll show you! I’ll fucking show you what I’m capable of! Then we’ll see who was running his mouth!"

Zephyrion merely shook his head and headed towards the bathroom, intending to freshen up and prepare for the acceptance ceremony happening in a few hours.

"Sure. If you say so."

"You...! Fuck you!"

Zephyrion smiled as Demorian continued cursing before disappearing into the rod.

’At least this should get him to finish the art faster.’