’Bearing.’

Ilyshkara had told him what she knew about Bourn’s will, and now he was witnessing it firsthand.

Bearing.

The power to bear any burden.

Right now, he was bearing every bit of damage Atticus had inflicted upon him, even his will, and turning it into fuel. Every attack he received made him faster. Stronger.

The more his burdens accumulated, the more powerful he became. In a prolonged battle, Atticus was at a disadvantage.

"Shared Burden."

Atticus’ eyes narrowed. A sudden weakness washed over him. His strength, his speed... everything. It felt as though it was being dragged away.

Bourn appeared above him, his weapon descending. Atticus’ blade flashed upward to meet it.

Boom!

The impact sent Atticus skidding backward, two trenches tearing across the wasteland in his wake. He eventually came to a stop and looked up at the slowly descending Bourn.

There was something different in those previously unmoved eyes. Contempt. He was looking down on him.

Atticus exhaled slowly, the breath seeming to carry away the lingering tension in his body. What Bourn thought of him wasn’t important. Instead, something else occupied his thoughts. Bourn himself.

A person’s will was the reflection of their life. Who they were at their deepest level. In a way, the nature of a person’s will revealed more about them than any words ever could.

Bearing.

To bear the burdens of oneself and others. What sort of life had his cousin lived?

Atticus watched him, suddenly curious.

"You haven’t used Solvath’s power. Why?"

He only half expected an answer, but surprisingly, one came.

"This fight is to determine who is better. Borrowed power has no place in it."

"Hm."

Atticus tilted his head slightly.

"Most people would call Solvath’s power a blessing. If it’s ours to use, doesn’t it count as our power?"

"I’m not most people."

Bourn frowned, irritation finally touching his expression.

"A blessing remains borrowed. A curse remains borrowed. What belongs to Solvath belongs to Solvath."

"And you think you’re better than me?"

"I am."

Atticus raised a brow.

"You think you can beat me with your own power?"

"I know I can."

Atticus laughed.

He wasn’t sure why he was being so talkative. He was rarely one to speak during battle. He suspected it was because Bourn was his cousin. Family.

He couldn’t help but compare him to Caldor. How different he was from the lively Caldor. He honestly wished there was another way for this to end. Unfortunately, there wasn’t.

"Alright then." Atticus spoke calmly. "I hope you don’t regret that."

"I won’t."

Bourn raised an arm.

"Give it all to me."

Atticus felt an overwhelming force crash into him. He staggered back, clutching his head. His mind spun. His flames flickered. This...

What is this?

Images from his life flashed through his mind. His rebirth. His climb. His suffering. His pain. Then realization struck.

’He’s trying to take everything.’

His burdens, his powers... everything. But his burdens were what gave him purpose. What kept him moving forward. Without them, what would remain?

Atticus fought back, but Bourn’s hold on reality was stronger. He was losing.

The memories flashed faster and faster. Bourn’s aura seemed to swell as the burden surged.

Then suddenly, he recoiled as though struck and spat out a mouthful of blood.

Atticus stumbled back, drawing ragged breaths. What happened? He lifted his gaze toward Bourn and froze.

His cousin was staring at him with wide, trembling eyes. The expressionless mask had cracked, and the contempt gone. In its place was fear, and... pity.

"You’ve been through so much...?"

Atticus immediately understood. Bourn had tried to carry all of his burdens, but it had simply been too much. The fear came from the realization that despite everything Atticus had endured, he still stood here, face calm and eyes steady.

"I have."

Atticus exhaled and gave a slow nod.

’It’s time to finish this.’

He had wanted to do so earlier, but Bourn’s unexpected attack had interrupted him.

The world around him seemed to still.

"Fuel."

Atticus’ flames brightened, then they erupted. An inferno swept across the plane, expanding without end. Thousands of kilometers, then millions.

Atticus stood at its center like a deity of fire.

All of this...

It was the power he had gained from consuming the entirety of the Middle Planes, along with the Crown and Span. An entire plane, along with two Ascendant beings. The power felt endless.

Yet, Atticus forced it all into his blade. It hissed, the surrounding air warping and caving inward around its edge.

Atticus met Bourn’s eyes, and the latter’s widened.

"Vorpal Nova."

Atticus’ form dissolved into afterimages. An endless barrage of slashes erupted around him, converging into a single massive crescent.

Bourn gritted his teeth and raised his blade as the attack descended upon him.

"Bear!"

His weapon erupted with violent blue light the moment the attacks collided.

Booooom!

A catastrophic explosion shook the land. The shockwave spread outward with such force that it reached the watching court, rippling the air around them. A flash of white swallowed the battlefield. Across the Sanctum, countless people held their breath. Waiting.

High above, the Duke’s expression had turned ugly, while Ilyshkara and Attimax merely watched with calm faces.

People of their level had already seen the outcome.

Soon, the light began to fade, and the aftermath was revealed.

Atticus stood before a grievously scorched Bourn, his blade resting against the man’s neck. Bourn’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Surrender."

The blade edged closer.

Atticus quite liked his cousin. He didn’t want to kill him. Yet his goal was far too important to abandon. When Bourn had tried to take away his burdens, Atticus had realized something. He hadn’t been afraid of losing, nor had he been afraid of dying.

What had frightened him was the thought of failing to reach his goal.

Atticus’ gaze turned cold. If Bourn refused to yield, he would not hesitate.

However, what happened next came as a complete surprise.

As the shock gradually faded from Bourn’s eyes, he let out a slow breath. Then he looked at Atticus. There was no pain in his gaze, only calm acceptance.

"You were stronger than me." Bourn’s voice was calm. "So this burden belongs to you."

His eyes ignited with purple light. In the next moment, he plunged a hand into his chest and pulled out a radiant purple fragment.

"Here."

Atticus was speechless. Still, he wasted no time and accepted the fragment. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

The world turned purple.

...

A week passed since the battle between Atticus and Bourn. The entire Rion Sanctum was still reeling from Atticus’ victory and Bourn’s defeat.

Atticus had truly underestimated just how highly Bourn was regarded. His loss had shaken the Sanctum to its core. Many had believed him to be the greatest genius of the generation. Now that mantle had passed to Atticus, and his name spread throughout the Sanctum.

Countless invitations and requests for meetings flooded in, but Atticus refused every single one. Instead, he spent the week consolidating Solvath’s power.

Now with about 70% of the fragments absorbed, the tattoos had spread further across his body, eventually reaching his legs. Now, only the left side of his face remained untouched.

The day after the battle, he had asked about Bourn and was relieved to learn that he had recovered from his injuries.

His cousin had simply resumed his daily affairs, seemingly unconcerned by the uproar surrounding his defeat.

Atticus had wanted to meet him. Unfortunately, his uncle, still dissatisfied with the outcome, had taken Bourn away from the palace.

So Atticus turned his attention back to Solvath’s power. Soon, on the seventh day, his father entered his room.

"Come with me," he said.

"Where?"

Attimax answered without breaking stride.

"We’re going to see Asmerion."

Atticus’ eyes widened.

The Primordial Star of Ascension... the one worshiped by the entire Rion Sanctum.