Chapter 179: What Is Love?

Awenn did not expect things to unfold this way. “Fine, honestly, I didn’t see this coming. But now that I’m here, what else do you have to worry about? At the very least, no one around here can hurt you now.”

The words were meant to sound mighty noble, yet the girl’s anxious gaze didn’t soften a bit. Instead, she slowly shook her head and took a step back.

Awenn sighed helplessly. “You fear me?”

She nodded at once.

He stretched his arms out toward her, smiling bitterly. “Just look, where else will you find a half-demon like me—kind and capable, and willing to help? What’s the cause for worry now?”

“I fear… you.” The girl simply replied.

Awenn grabbed his hair fiercely as if ready to tear his mane off. He desperately struggled for words, but she rendered him powerless. Finally, he said, “Fine, perhaps, let’s say I’m somewhat strong. But my strength? It’s meant to guard and defend you! The stronger I am, the safer you should feel. And that must be reason enough for you to celebrate.”

He glanced at her, searching for joy in her eyes—but found none.

Sighing deeply, Awenn raised his hands in defeat. “Fine. Whatever makes you happy, do whichever pleases you best. But could you tell me now, please, what on earth compelled you to travel here so recklessly and alone? Without me, this place could spell grave danger for someone of your nature… not full of ‘our people’ anyway…”

Awenn spoke cautiously to keep her from upset, being overly considerate with every word.

“It was you I sought.”

“Me?” Awenn’s face instantly beamed with surprise and joy that failed entirely at being hidden. Thrilled, he rubbed his hands gleefully at first, but suddenly faltered. His enthusiasm died on his tongue. Eventually mustering his courage for his next sentence through teeth grit tight enough to crack, “You’re okay with being with me…?”

Awe and expectation bloomed in her silent, wide-eyed gaze, lingering until Awenn started visibly squirming inside. Her look held confusion until she lowered her gaze, then moved with fluid grace to untie the buttons of her cloak.

Awenn hovered between ecstasy and unease. As his natural instinct urged him forward instinctfully—he held himself in mid-gesture, letting his arms simply draw back half-way out.

Discarding the heavy cloak at last, the pale gown beneath came into view—an eternal favorite it seemed. Yet, surprisingly, she didn’t stop there; rather she unwrapped a large blade strapped across her back, and now standing ready within an arm’s distance, adopting the posture of the hunter; poised and alert.

Totally stunned, Awenn reflexively stepped back, just as instinct prompted—aware of the sharp potential within her hand. That colossal cleaver in her grip possessed a destructive energy only too familiar by now to him.

“For what reason would you bring this?! If your will opposes mine, just tell me so! There’s no need to draw blood…”

There was hesitation flickering across the blade, and with it some measure faded the bloodthirst. Slow she said, “Too many made the proposition. Confused, I simply stated oppositions, yet each one leaped into battle.”

Awenn sighed with more compassion than rage, shaking his foot angrily. “Do I strike anyone here as one of those bastards? I, heir of demons’ royalty! Names like theirs I carry not a jot of resemblance with! Name them. Tell me, and one by one—I’ll see them sliced.”

Though the tone chilled and flared, a deeper fury simmered underneath his words.

But the girl calmly shook her head. “All already perished by my blade—no longer your burden.”

A strange ease settled in Awenn’s chest at the words. And as if on cue, another pang of hatred gripped him tight.

“You mean to tell none of them laid a hand on you?” He asked, tension slipping momentarily into gentleness.

The girl paused reflectively after that. “Yes… one made contact.”

Awenn’s expression snapped to thunder instantly.

“He was powerful,” She elaborated without a hint of panic. I bore a wound—just one—for the strike that ultimately silenced him.”

Awenn exhaled at last, albeit gritted with resentment, the internal emotional whiplash difficult even for a demigod like him to ride through unscathed.

Raising both palms outward in sign of peace, he calmly asked her, “Listen. See? I am unlike them. When—and if you deny me, just tell me and not another motion shall be forced from me. The choice always stays yours. I promise.”

Her tone wavered a trace at first as she inquired, “You… mean this truth fully?”

“Certainly,” he replied without blinking.

She lowered the great blade at long last.

Awenn heaved in quiet relief—truth is, there wasn’t one bone in his body daring to taunt someone still holding a great sword like that.

Then curiosity replaced relief. “Why… exactly then did you find me again?”

She slowly pointed towards the horizon—the ancient ruins of the Sacred Mountain stood distant yet imposing. Awenn squinted instinctively.

“To that whirlpool vortex you spoke?” He asked, half-question, wholly stunned.

Affirmed with solemn nod—she then jabbed a soft finger his way.

“I knew. Knew you’d stay near that place. That is why. Come forth with me. Strike as allies.”

For a long blink or two, Awenn was silent entirely too bewildered for wit. “You mean…together now…? Just like that?”

“As it came. Yes. Yes.”

“And why, I wonder,” with growing exasperation, “are we crashing it in battle?”

“The instinct sings,” she said plainly yet with unwavering certainty. “Therein lays an awakening—that of true strength. For it, I come.”

“You’re after this… strength—that led you here? Including it for a chance I might too benefit?” A wry smile pulled his cheeks.

Nodding yet again—her expression never altered.

“R-idiculous!” he exhaled—caught between laughter and soft astonishment at heart “A silly, reckless plan… yet all I ever had to do was you ask—truly! No need for swords; together we could enter it in ease. We’d walk straight—no slashing, no breaking.”

She listened, raised her sheathed sword and thrashed it gently. From out of the chamber slid a thin slender blade, glintless at first, delicate—naked as it flew from its hollow—and she offered it gently in Awenn’s direction.

It was not the cheapest make either—a rare Class Seven magical weapon! Yet faced with it slender enough to resemble chopsticks… Awenn just simply couldn’t return the smile. “I suppose it’s a gift for me…”

She nodded without further remark.

Awenn, though possessing one truly awe-worthy treasure within his dimension: a colossal blade of radiant energy two full meters in sheer blade-length—Level Nine artifact, exuding terror and might. Holding now something the equivalent to that of decorative silver toothpick, unease began crawling deep beneath the surface. But worse than looks… was doubt: could she truly believe that Awenn deserved nothing more impressive than such a delicate blade?

“My choice… I picked you this after winning several fights,” she said proudly.

Awenn’s heart swayed, soft then sternly serious. Stroked the weapon fondly then tucked it carefully into pocket and declared, “For you—I shall wield this. However, for our entrance, brute force is not our call. Leave the orchestration to me. Come now. Let’s turn back.”

“Without breaking in by arms?” the girl questioned.

“All shall clamor and try to cut one another… yes, yes. Still, what’s there worth fighting that others might not simply fall short against… what I can command? My way… all that power opens freely when with me. You only had to say it. Now come… follow. We go back, and rest, yes… It is so cold here, isn’t it?”

Side-by-side they descended just like any pair of common folks would. Off from the hill—talking in low murmurs as their path took them toward Tidehearth City. Mostly, Awenn shared little glimpses into his past while she simply listened, attentive to even the smallest story.

At one point down the stretch, Awenn suddenly asked, voice quiet with a peculiar tone of expectation in his voice: “How do you suppose it might be—when you would follow me, stay?”

She slowly turned her face down and thought briefly as before finally murmuring softly, “I have heard if ever one is loved, the will shall follow willingly… but what is love again?”

Upon her words—Awenn burst proudly, lifting his voice into heavens wide.

“Perfect!” he crowed. “Exactly what I was hoping for. Then leave it to me… I will make you fall in love—for surely I shall be the reason of your choice!”

A small, genuine frown touched across the girl’s gaze. She couldn’t fathom… what he saw as something cause for such happiness.

As they marched forward, Awenn, with each laugh brighter at heart and eyes more vivid in their light—he brought her all the way past the city’s edge where he paused, raising just one single index upward. From horizon above dropped the shadow of a magnificent floating galleon—descending in majestic arrival like falling star.

As the massive hatchway unfurled open, an armored squad leapt out with a perfect synchronized bow: “Our Young Lord.”

“No delay. Prepare the ship. I seek His Princely Grace’s audience.”

The squad cast curious furtive glances upon the young girl but said nothing—neither dared to ask about the unknown girl accompanying the young lord of demon kin.

As the boarding was about to commence, the girl halted slightly mid-step on the threshold, looking back. Doubt, just briefly flashing, gripped her in that instance. From behind, where nobody saw, the shadow beneath her pale gaze glimmered, steely and resolute for a fleeting heartbeat.

Sitting mid-heart of the sky vortex, a withered ancient sat cross-legged, but not upon any earthly cushion—rather he balanced on the edges of a vast polyhedral lattice forged solely of radiant, black-colored beams—lighting the void in an impossibly intricate geometrical design. On careful observation, each single one of the edges were not wires—they were pure concentrated radiance… but of an inky-black flame.

He was entirely swathed head to heel in layers of dark robes. His very form appeared as if bent and rippling, wreathed by unseen yet burning flames ever shifting.

The airship rose slowly, paused a mere hundred meters from the figure above.

Awenn stood upon the vessel’s open deck, grounding himself in the very laws of gravity that the girl did not quite yet. Bowing deeply upward toward the dark spectre: “Your Highness!”

The girl took a playful small jump. Only half a head off the floor she lingered—then like any ordinary human, landed as though tethering the law herself.

Without movement still, an indescribable pressure fell over and around the ship—the very gaze of His Highness had descended fully over them.

Even he—an arrogant heir—could barely hide trembling at the weight. Yet the sight of her sent warmth flowing back like embers into his heart, lending the needed resolve. With finality, “Great One, I wish to escort her toward the Maw’s threshold. She endures not as we do in the blood. With your grace, I ask that you gift a safeguard charm.”

“Such a request, but you’ve spoken your intent?” came the calm, gravelly voice echoing from within voidfire itself.

“Another, this girl,” the aged one murmured, fixing its attention to the child below. Slowly, the air wavered with more flickering dark fire, surrounding him like a breathing inferno without heat.

“A name.”

The girl replied with certainty, “Pakonjo.”

“The True Name?” The void fire around him surged outward with the question.

“The one and only.” Her voice did not shake.

And without further utterance, one thin jet of deep black lanced suddenly outward, unweaved and weaved in mid-fantasy motion as it spiraled down—and landed with elegance and finality around the lower left ankle of the girl: a delicate chain-like shackle shimmered in place with a strange harmony of oppressive might and grace that seemed impossibly at peace with one another.

“And thus,” rang from the eternal flicker, now a decree spoken like wind against flame: “As twilight breaks the path to the Vortex tonight—I shall grant passage. At dusk… I permit you both, Awenn, lead your companion to the threshold. Do not delay.”

He hadn’t expected the elder demon so agreeable! And that all was… well—it all worked out better than his dream. He whispered urgently, excited, “Are you thinking gratitude? Hurry, quickly—a proper expression of appreciation is in order before He decides otherwise!”

Her lips pressed thin together then she gave just barely enough of a bow. It wouldn’t qualify to most as formal—yet… the action was deliberate enough. Done with. Final. A promise had fallen into place with that motion—because with a being as revered and as feared as the Ever-Burning Flame, words spoken could not be taken back—not in disgrace anyway.

Awenn released the breath with soft content—gratitude sealed, agreement sealed.

But even then… a part in the young man wavered again.

Too easy…? Almost surreal.

From deep above the vortex palace came the old, low murmur. It caught him unaware yet again.

“Oh youth! And youthful trials… let your attempts flow free and often. Do not fear what comes with them.”

And the words fell, abrupt, then silence again. Not again a single movement. No sound. No change.

Awenn barked rapid orders. “Take us down!”

Away before that decision might… be reversed.

The lingering gaze though still haunted his spirit.

For at the bottom of a faraway ridge, beneath a quiet twilight now forming, stood two youths across from each another in the midst of standoff—where peace… was nowhere near a mutual sentiment on either side.

Far from it.