The spirits in Dyon’s Mind’s Eye shivered as the baby’s eyes fluttered. Its long, delicate and golden eyelashes trembled as the smallest crack was formed.
In just that instant, the world around Dyon shattered completely.
The piano was crushed to bits. The land spanning hundreds of miles around him blasted downward leaving a bottomless pit. Even the skies above his head seemed to blast apart, tearing through the canopy of the catacombs.
For hundreds of miles in every direction, there was only Dyon standing in the air with a completely dumbfounded expression as the baby once more closed its eyes.
The hearts of the spirits trembled. If it hadn’t been for The Seal acting at the last moment, they would have been incinerated to nothingness!
‘That was…’ Dyon looked down at his hands. ‘That was definitely a soul attack…’
Dyon soul began to grow. First it was a baby of no more than a few months old, but then its position began to change…
It soon became a toddler of about two years old, turning itself to sit upright in a position of meditation.
As Dyon’s soul shifted its position, one of the seemingly impossible to break crystalline chains shattered without resistance, sending Dyon’s chest into yet another violent pulse.
For the first time in more than a week, Dyon’s mind cleared.
He didn’t receive some magical answer, nor did he find some nonsensical boost in morale to push him past his thoughts. If he had to be realistic, he still felt that Chaos was inevitable, that there was no beauty to be found in it and that a tragic ending was all that lay in wait for them all.
The reason he had pulled out wasn’t because he thought things would get better, but because of one thing and one thing only: Responsibility.
In those moments, as he played his chaotic tunes, it was no longer about him and how he felt. There were suddenly millions of people resting their hopes on him, placing their future in his hands.
When this happened, he inadvertently triggered and succeeded in the most difficult hurdle in forming the initial Sovereign Heart…
Sovereignty wasn’t just about arrogance. It was about taking the hopes of your people and forging a path for their futures. Dragons didn’t continuously seek to form their own clans, factions and sects just because they disdained being ordered by others… It was also because they sought out the true sovereignty path! The path that Dyon had come to know was nothing more than an elaborate fake.
The formation of Dyon’s seed had little to do with himself and almost everything to do with those members of his mortal race that were willing to fight for survival.
Dyon clenched his fists. ‘If Dad was here… He’d kill me…’
A bitter chuckle escaped his lips.
His dad was one of the greatest generals to ever exist. Although the mortal realm seemed relatively peaceful, the truth was that wars were inevitable.
Not every person of the martial world followed the unspoken rule of conduct. Attacks from bandit and ragtag groups of bastards wasn’t too frequent, but it wasn’t infrequent either.
It was because Generals like Dyon’s father continuously displayed a strength far beyond their means that the weaker fringes of the martial world didn’t attack them willfully and with naked abandon.
Just how many times over the years had his dad faced situations where he could have despaired, yet pushed through anyway? Yet, he, who had access to power his father could only dream of gave up so easily.
Was it a case of ignorant bliss? Was his father just so weak that he couldn’t fathom the things that Dyon could?
‘Maybe…’ Dyon wasn’t in a state where he’d delude himself into believing that his father was some all-powerful, all-knowing, incredibly mentally tough individual that would never be fazed by anything. His view of the world had become too pragmatic and much less idealistic…
However, what Dyon did know was that his father would never show this fear and uncertainty if he was there. No matter what his father faced, he would always make sure that Dyon never forgot that there was a steady wall before him, ready to block whatever may come.
What Dyon’s father felt didn’t matter. So what if he felt fear? So what if he second guessed himself? So what if he sometimes felt helpless despair? For the sake of his son, he would shatter those feeling with an iron will ready to stand before anything.
Dyon coughed, spewing several mouthfuls of blood from his lips. In his selfless state, he had been able to suppress and ignore the severe injuries to his body, but it seemed he wouldn’t be able to anymore.
He wiped the blood away with his forearm, looking off at the distance hand hanging from the skies.
‘Whether there’s beauty in chaos or not, I don’t know… But it doesn’t really matter, now does it?’
Dyon stretched out his hand, causing a stream of black flames to jettison outward before solidifying into a flickering spear.
He suddenly felt as though his body was being torn apart as another mouthful of blood threatened to fly from his mouth.
In that moment, his eyes flashed as an overwhelming Emperor Presence blasted outward from him.
“Subdue…” Dyon said in a faint voice.