Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 72: Hatred

Rhydian could feel it. Something was finally shifting inside Jonan, whether for better or ruin, he could not tell, but the air itself grew sharp, as if tasting blood, and a strange, heavy tension clung to the moment like a storm yet to break.

Meanwhile, inside Jonan’s head, the thoughts came unbidden, there was darkness, thick and viscous, that surged from somewhere he didn’t know existed within him, "I’ve had enough. Why don’t I kick Rhydian in the face? Why do I have to stay quiet? Who are they to control me?"

These weren’t foreign illusions, unlike the Steps, where the illusions were clawing at him, this was something worse, these were his own thoughts, they were raw, unfiltered, and pure.

Though he didn’t even know he was capable of such hatred, but now it was rising to the surface like a long-forgotten corpse, which was dragged up from the depths of an ocean.

Jonan clenched his teeth, fighting it, but when Rhydian reached out again, placing a firm palm against his chest and injecting a dense stream of his own suppressive malicious aura into him, the dam finally cracked, the only belief Jonan could muster, the only thing that remained in him beneath the suffocating pressure was ’Hatred’, it was unyielding, desperate, and unforgiving hatred.

And with that hatred, something happened.

He felt it first in his limbs, a faint tingle, then a prickling sensation across his spine, his skin grew hot, then cold, as something uncoiled inside him, an invisible current stirred, restless and coiling, like a serpent in a cage.

His own aura—one that had refused to budge for so long—now moved better, It was weak, thin, but undeniably alive.

Jonan’s breathing turned ragged, his vision a dark blur around the edges. His fingers trembled as the aura spread, slick and black, like ink in water. It started to slide over his bones again, through his muscles, burning and freezing all at once, and the more he hated it, the more it stirred.

Rhydian’s brows furrowed, feeling the change, he knew this moment would come, but had not expected it to happen so soon, or with such intensity.

Jonan’s gaze lifted, his eyes were darkened and feral, and his eyes no longer held the sheen of his own; they were the eyes of something darker.

Without warning, Jonan lashed out.

A fist shot forward, catching Rhydian clean across his masked face.

A normal strike would have been swatted aside, but this wasn’t normal; the force behind it was fueled by a raw, desperate hatred, enough to make even Rhydian’s head turn slightly with the impact.

Rhydian grunted, blood was teasing around the corner of his mouth, not from pain, but from acknowledgment.

"So this is your belief, huh".

Jonan didn’t stop.

He roared, and made a sound, which was more beastial than man, and charged at Rhydian, with his fists swinging with reckless abandon. Each strike was wild, without form or technique, just sheer brutality; his aura, which was now a jagged black mist, trailed each movement like smoke.

Rhydian moved, he was effortlessly, dodging, sidestepping, and weaving around the attacks with a calm grace that made Jonan’s ferocity look almost laughable.

A hook came for his temple, and he ducked.

An elbow came for his ribs, he slid aside.

A desperate kick aimed for his chest. He caught it with one hand, twisting it and sending Jonan sprawling across the ground.

But Jonan rose again, his blood trickled from his nose, and a line of saliva hung from his lips, his eyes shone with utmost intensity.

"Come on!" he spat, aura flaring. "I’ll kill you, I will kill everyone and everything!!"

Rhydian didn’t speak, he could see what was happening, the boy’s mind was slipping, submerged in a darkness, about which he hadn’t known, and it lurked inside him, but why was such a type of darkness hidden in his mind, Rhydian was sure that being born in The Starfall Family might be demanding and with it’s risks, but it was not life threatening.

Rhydian was pondering why could a kid of a great family, without any real life and death experience, has so much repressed inside him, even his recent encounter, while deadly wasn’t a true life and death experience, but the intensity of Jonan’s attacks showed as if he had multiple life and death situations, that too for quite a long time.

Jonan then lunged again at him.

A barrage of punches, claws, knees, whatever his body could muster, the world around them seemed to darken, the earth beneath Jonan’s feet cracking under each step. The trees shuddered, as if recoiling from the hatred spilling into the air.

For a time, the fight blurred into a storm of movement. Jonan’s body was bruised and bloodied, but he wouldn’t stop. Each time Rhydian threw him down, each time he was met with another counter, he rose again, more savage than before.

Finally, Rhydian had enough.

As Jonan dove forward, Rhydian’s hand shot out like lightning, gripping Jonan’s throat mid-charge and slamming him into the earth hard enough to fracture stone. Dust and dirt erupted around them.

Jonan struggled, clawing at Rhydian’s arm, aura surging in chaotic waves.

Then, slowly, it faded.

His struggles weakened.

His vision cleared.

And he saw it.

A black mist, dense and cold, was pouring out from his body, it writhed and curled before sinking into his chest, like smoke being inhaled. It gathered in his heart, pulsing once, then vanishing.

Jonan coughed, his hatred ebbing like a tide retreating from shore, he stared at his trembling hands.

"What... what the hell was that...?"

His voice cracked, and hoarse.

Rhydian let him go, standing. He didn’t look angry. Only... satisfied.

"That," Rhydian began, brushing dust from his sleeve, "was the first manifestation of your aura. Your real aura. Born of your deepest, truest emotion."

Jonan sat up slowly, his chest heaving, skin clammy with sweat.

"But I... I wanted to kill you. I really... I felt like I meant it."

"You did," Rhydian answered coldly. "That’s what happens, when you let it consume you."

He knelt beside Jonan, pointing two fingers at the boy’s chest. "The secret technique I passed onto you isn’t a gentle one. The Domineering Baleful Aura calls upon the most extreme negative emotion in your heart—the one you’ve buried, ignored, or refused to admit. It takes root here," he tapped Jonan’s heart, "and from there, it entwines with your newly generated aura. It moves because your hatred wills it to move, fear stagnates, hope can falter, but hatred... hatred is a fire, that won’t stop."

Jonan listened, feeling the tremors still racing through his body. Even now, he could sense the black aura lingering inside his chest, coiled like a serpent waiting to strike.

"I didn’t even know I had such hatred hidden inside me, like that," he whispered.

"That was a surprise for me as well." Rhydian stood, looking toward the horizon where the sun bled over the land like a wound. "I have helped you with my mission, now wait for further orders."

Jonan tried to rise, nearly falling before catching himself. And yet, something felt... different. His limbs felt heavier, stronger. His senses sharper. The earth beneath his feet seemed to pulse in time with his heart.

"Your strength," Rhydian said without turning, "has elevated, and that too by a huge margin< I will explain it later. You may not notice it now, but the next time you face a beast, you’ll understand, you’ll move faster, hit harder. Endure more. And when you fight, that hatred will move your aura without hesitation."

Jonan clenched his fists.

"I am afraid that hatred will turn me into a monster. I don’t want to be a monster," he said.

"No," Rhydian agreed. "But if you wish to survive in this world... you’ll have to become one."

Silence stretched between them.

Jonan’s mind replayed every moment of the fight—the madness, the loathing, the clarity afterward. He hated it. Hated himself. But beneath that self-loathing, a dark exhilaration pulsed. A thrill.

"I... I will practice this technique as you have said," Jonan rasped.

Rhydian smiled faintly. "Good. Because this was just the threshold. The Domineering Baleful Aura must be nurtured, refined. You’ll need to learn to control it. Master it. Or it will consume you."

"I’ll do it," Jonan vowed, staring down at his trembling, bloodied hands.

The night came swiftly. The winds howled. The trees whispered of things long forgotten.

Jonan knelt before the silent earth, feeling the aura within him shift, heavy and alien. He understood now—this was no mere energy. It was a reflection of his soul.

And though it was steeped in hatred... it was his.

He would one day master it, and use it with more confidence, but for now he had to measure his strength before there was the matter of the nucleus, but now with this secret technique, he felt as if he had surpassed many realms.