(The Time Stilled World, The Floating Island, Leo’s POV)
Moltherak watched him quietly for a moment, as if measuring whether Leo had truly understood the weight of the lesson, before lifting his claw slightly to signal the beginning of real training.
"The first step is simple," Moltherak instructed, his tone steady as the floating island hummed beneath him.
"You must unfurl your aura as wide as possible, spread it outward in every direction until it blankets a wide space, since only when it is fully extended can you begin to pull it back, layer by layer, wrapping it around your body until it forms a continuous shield."
Moltherak guided as Leo inhaled slowly at the instruction, already feeling the difficulty in executing the concept before he even attempted it, yet he nodded nonetheless, before stepping into a wide stance as he allowed his aura to stir within his chest.
*Whoom*
His killing intent surged outward in a deep crimson wave as he let it expand across the chamber walls, filling the room with an oppressive heaviness that made the air vibrate faintly.
However, the moment he attempted the second step, the problem became obvious—
For the moment he tried to pull the aura inward, gathering it around himself in thin layers like Moltherak had shown, he felt the first sign of resistance ripple through the crimson haze, as the aura refused to obey his will.
"Tsk–"
Leo clicked his tongue while narrowing his eyes, as he attempted again, pushing his will through the killing intent, but the aura only surged in a more chaotic manner, rising in spikes instead of settling into controlled bands, as though it would rather lash outward and tear the world apart than fold itself into anything remotely protective.
By the third attempt, his brows had furrowed deeply, the realization settling in like a stone sinking into water.
’I can unfold the aura freely. I can pull it into myself freely. But folding it around my body is... impossible?’
He thought, as he felt the killing intent recoil the moment he attempted to shape it, the aura twisting against the command with a stubbornness that made his temples pulse from the effort, since it was one thing to dominate, crush, or intimidate, but forcing killing intent to behave like a shield was something that went against its very essence.
"This... is much harder than I expected," he muttered under his breath, as Moltherak let out a soft rumble of amusement, his golden eyes lighting up as he chuckled.
"I already warned you boy, it takes a genius to learn how to perform this move even amongst advanced aura users.
Usually Kings try to learn this move as a defence against Emperors, however, you have potential to learn it at the Nascent Soul Stage based on how far you’ve already progressed in your aura mastery.
However, if it were anyone else but you, I would never dare teach them this move."
Moltherak said, as Leo bit his lips in understanding.
"It will take you a few months to grasp it, boy, but there is no other way to learn this aside from persistence. You must keep at it until something finally clicks, because aura control is not mastered through understanding or talent alone. It is mastered through patience, repetition, and the moment where instinct finally bends to your will."
Moltherak said, his tone firm yet not harsh, as he provided guidance on what needed to be done.
"I see..."
Leo replied before closing his eyes for a moment as he inhaled deeply, letting the air settle in his lungs while he processed the inevitability of the struggle ahead, knowing full well that the path ahead would be long, painful, and frustrating.
Yet when he opened them again, his gaze had steadied once more.
"Alright," he said quietly, nodding in acceptance as he rolled his shoulders, "if it takes months, it takes months. I’m not leaving until I get it right."
He claimed, as Moltherak watched him with a faint flicker of approval, the slightest shift of his tail betraying his satisfaction.
"Good," the ancient dragon said as he exhaled, "then begin again. From the start."
He instructed as Leo nodded without complaint, stepping forward as his aura stirred once more, as he prepared for another attempt at bending his killing intent into something it had never wished to become.
—----------
(Meanwhile Veyr)
After defying Raymond, Veyr once again found his freedom stripped away from him, as he was dragged back into chains and locked inside a dark cell deep within the Eternal Garden, where silence pressed against his ears like a living thing while he waited for the execution he knew was coming.
At first, he saw the isolation as a curse, since being left alone with nothing but his thoughts gnawed at the edges of his sanity while every hour stretched painfully into the next, as if the cell itself was designed to break his mind long before his body ever touched an execution platform.
Yet as the days bled together, something inside him shifted, because once he forced himself to let go of the belief that he could be saved, the crushing weight he carried began to dissolve, as if the moment he stopped expecting rescue, the world outside his cell stopped feeling like a source of torment.
At the beginning of his imprisonment he held onto hope with trembling hands, imagining that Leo or someone from the Cult would plow through armies or storm the Eternal Garden itself to pull him out of this nightmare, yet the longer he remained locked away, the more he realized that such hope was too selfish, too desperate, too blind to the reality of what the Cult faced.
The Cult did not need to risk everything for someone like him, and no matter how much he loved Leo as a brother, he did not want the Cult jeopardized for the sake of one single life, as the responsibility he carried as a Dragon weighed more heavily on him now than it ever had before.
If given the choice, he wanted no one to come for him rather than letting anyone from the Cult march into danger on his behalf, since he knew the risks of becoming a Dragon, he knew the consequences of remaining on a neutral planet when he chose that path, and he understood the price that came with living under a bloodline that invited both reverence and wrath.
Hence, now that his execution drew closer with each hour, Veyr found himself strangely calm, as though every regret he once feared had already been confronted and folded into the quiet acceptance of his fate, because beneath the fear and sorrow lay a clarity he had never possessed before, a clarity born from facing death without illusions or denial.
In a way, he felt as though he had lived a lifetime inside this short imprisonment, as though the few days he spent locked away had hardened him, refined him, sculpted him into someone who finally understood the weight of responsibility and the fragility of life, his perspective widening into something deeper than he ever imagined possible back when he still walked freely under the open sky.
As for the first time, Veyr felt truly unafraid.
He had no more delusions.
No more expectations.
No more regrets.
Only quiet acceptance, and the faint, distant hope that if the universe allowed Leo to live a long life, then perhaps someday he would avenge this rather meaningless death.