Anthesis of Sadness
Chapter 52: What Pain Could Not Break

Chapter 52: What Pain Could Not Break

Standing above what was left of the giant slug, panting, my body splattered with mucus and blood, I heard a sound:

Ding!

You have defeated [Rift-Maw (Predator) – Level 111]!

Your class [Blood Warrior] has reached level 90!

Your class [Blood Warrior] has reached level 91!

I let myself fall onto my back.

Slowly.

Like an emptied body. A survivor without an immediate reason.

The ground was warm. Sticky.

But stable.

For the first time in... how long? I wasn’t in pain anymore.

I gasped, then gasped again.

Spasms of breathing, as if my lungs were rediscovering air.

— So this is... living?

I stared at the blurred, cracked, trembling ceiling of the cave.

— So this is... living without pain?

A smile formed on my cracked lips.

Then another.

Then a wave.

I started laughing.

First a breath.

Then a burst.

Then I howled with laughter.

A mad laugh. A freeing, fragile, desperate laugh.

— What a wonderful world...

How long had it been?

Since my last free breath?

Since the last moment I didn’t want to tear my skin off with every heartbeat?

Too long.

And then...

Like a punch to the chest...

I saw her.

Cassandre.

Her face appeared in my mind.

Soft.

Serene.

Her eyes, so clear.

Her smile, almost mocking, always a little ironic.

A shiver ran down my spine.

— Cassandre...

Her voice.

Her hands.

Her scent in my memories.

And just behind her, as if obvious...

Lysara.

Her impassive eyes.

Her small stiff figure.

Her hammer on her shoulder, and that screaming silence that became a language of its own.

— My daughter...

A bitter taste rose in my throat.

The joy faded.

A void replaced it.

My family.

It wasn’t over.

I couldn’t give up now.

Not even after crossing hell.

Not when they were waiting for me.

— I’m still here. I’m alive. For you.

I slowly got back up. Every bone protested, but none gave way.

I crawled out of that fleshy tomb.

I placed my hands on the ground, unable to stand.

My breath trembled. So did my voice.

And, in a hoarse whisper, the words came out.

— I’m alive...

I hadn’t said them for weeks. Not like that. Not without hatred. Not without screaming.

And yet, there they were.

True. Heavy. Real.

The light struck my face.

I was there.

Exactly where it had swallowed me.

The sky was the same.

The breath of the wind.

The lava below.

Everything was the same.

But I wasn’t.

It hadn’t moved.

Apparently, that beast stayed still during digestion.

A detail...

A miracle.

Or maybe I hadn’t been lucky.

Maybe I had died in there, and what was coming out now... was something else.

I found my satchel, half-buried under black ashes.

A little crumpled. Slightly burnt.

But intact.

Like a wink from fate.

I didn’t waste any time.

I left.

I didn’t know how long I had spent inside that beast.

Days? Weeks? Months? It didn’t matter. Too long.

I had to hurry.

I ran.

At full speed.

Faster than my legs.

Faster than my thoughts.

I blended with the wind.

My cape flapped.

My body, still partially covered in dried blood, raced across the ridges, slipped between rocks, cut through the air.

I didn’t stop.

Not for a second.

Not now.

The world around me blurred.

The ground no longer existed.

There was only the direction.

The peak.

An entire day passed in a breath.

I didn’t feel the fatigue.

Or maybe I just wasn’t listening to it anymore.

And then...

I reached it.

The summit.

The top of the rocky blade.

That black, sharp peak slicing through the sky.

And before me...

A cavern. Gaping. Dark.

A breath emanated from it. Light. Warm. Ancient.

I was there.

At the entrance.

I entered the gallery without any caution.

No more prudence. No more looking away.

I was ready.

The tunnel was wide, carved into dark, damp rock, marbled here and there with gleaming veins.

The air was warmer than it should have been.

Strangely alive.

I moved forward, each step resonating with a heavy echo, as if the corridor had a memory.

Then, the corridor suddenly opened up.

A cavern.

Immense.

About thirty meters long. Thirty meters wide.

And a ceiling so high it disappeared into a dark mist.

And there...

No treasure.

No creature.

No guardian.

But the entire ground... was a mine.

A field of crystals.

The ore spread everywhere, violet-black, with purplish reflections, slightly translucent, like living glass. Each crystal seemed to pulse gently, at the rhythm of a sleeping heart.

I approached.

The slightest of my movements caused a light shiver in the material.

A faint gleam.

A reaction.

As if these crystals... could see me.

Some were as high as my knee, others shot from the ground like twisted blades.

Their faces barely glowed, but beneath the surface... lights moved.

Slow. Worrying.

Filaments of light, oscillating like veins of energy, crossed through the crystals.

Sometimes, one would light up slightly as I approached, as if to greet me. Or to warn me.

Using Identification:

Identification (Adept) – Name: Malacite | Rank: ??? | A living ore, absorbing ambient heat and magic. Its density exceeds steel, its structure slowly repairs itself over time. Highly coveted.

— JACKPOT!!! I shouted, bursting into laughter.

The cry echoed throughout the cavern, bouncing off the walls like a victory echo.

A hoarse laugh, still a bit cracked from past sufferings, but terribly sincere.

I knelt before one of the first crystals, extending my hand... And immediately, I made my blood spring forth.

Thin red threads, manipulated like scalpels.

I cut the rock at their base with surgical precision, uprooting the violet-black ore without damaging it.

One by one.

Meticulously.

With the fervor of a madman, the greed of a thief.

I lifted them, observed them under the light of natural braziers.

The reflections danced, hypnotic, almost alive.

— You’re coming with me... you too... and you there, you were shining a bit too much to stay alone.

I slid them into my enchanted satchel, which filled visibly.

It almost protested, quivering under the accumulated magical weight.

But it held on.

Like me.

Hours passed.

The cavern floor emptied.

Well, not really.

I had enough to almost entirely fill my satchel, but it was only a fraction of the whole. Three... four percent, maybe.

Barely a handful in an ocean of crystals.

And yet, it was already colossal.

Bit by bit.

Crystal by crystal.

I dug, cut, absorbed, piled up.

A surgical operation in a desecrated sanctuary.

And after a while...

I looked up.

Looked around me.

Still the same amount. Unalterable. Inexhaustible. The Crystals.

While my satchel, it was filled to the brim.

Saturated with these shards of power.

These fragments of a forgotten world.

I exhaled, wiped my forehead with the back of my hand covered in dried blood.

— Okay. That’s done.

But deep down...

A shiver ran down my spine.

As if something, somewhere, had felt what I had just done.

But I didn’t pay attention to that shiver.

Not now.

Not yet.

I was too busy breathing.

My gaze slid over the walls, then fell on a detail I had almost forgotten.

There, in a recess.

An egg.

No more than thirty centimeters.

Smooth. Dark.

Veined with purplish lines, almost organic.

I approached slowly, frowning.

— What are you doing here, huh? I murmured.

I reached out, picked it up.

It was warm.

Alive.

An egg. A remnant. A survivor.

A future?

It pulsed slowly, to the rhythm of an uncertain life. Something slept inside. Something unknown. And maybe... dangerous.

I didn’t know what to do with it.

Break it? Leave it? Bury it?

Then a thought crossed my mind.

Soft. Subtle. A little foolish.

— Maybe... maybe it could help her...

Lysara.

She, the impassive one.

The child of slavery.

The silent student who knew neither laughter nor tears. And there, a crazy idea.

A seed of sweet madness in my burnt-out head.

— A companion. A bond. A fragile thing to protect. It would do her good, right?

I shrugged.

— And besides... being a grandfather isn’t so bad after all.

I started laughing.

A tired laugh.

Hollow.

But sincere.

I slipped the egg into the inner pocket of my kimono, miraculously intact despite the slug, worthy in my eyes of a national treasure.

And I left the cavern.

My step lighter.

My heart... a little fuller.

I activated my stealth ability.

My body blended into the air, the shadows covering me like a cloak.

I raced down the peak at full speed, running through wind, rock, gusts, and ashes.

Each stride took me further from the sanctuary.

From the cavern.

I was nothing but fleeing silence.

And then, once I reached the bottom...

The scream.

Shrill.

Tearing.

A howl of pure rage.

Ancient. Visceral.

It resonated through the entire valley, making the stones vibrate, making the echoes tremble.

I turned my head slightly, a sly smile on my lips, still invisible to the world.

And I murmured:

— Yeah, buddy... your treasure... your child... it’s all mine now.

Then I disappeared.

Like a ghost.

Like a legend.

Like a thief of blood and fate.

Several days later, I finally arrived at the mountain where I had left her.

The wind blew hard, but the air was lighter here.

I recognized the place.

The improvised camp. The blackened rocks. The scent of a past fire.

And then... I saw her.

Lysara.

Sitting peacefully, legs crossed, nibbling on dried beef and drinking from a gourd.

Calm. Silent. In perfect shape.

Her face showed nothing, as always.

But her aura...

Stable. Serene.

She was fine.

A brief pang in my chest.

Maybe she would be better off without me, I thought.

Maybe I would bring her nothing but misfortune and distress.

Maybe she would end up dying by my side... or worse, by my hand.

Then I brushed aside those thoughts.

And with a wicked smile, I formed a ball of blood in my palm.

She hadn’t heard me.

I threw it.

Silently.

From behind.

She shivered.

A twitch. An alert.

She turned her head, sensing the danger...

But too late.

The ball exploded, splashing her face with a red rain.

I materialized next to her in a breath.

— So, happy with my little prank? I said with a wide grin.

She remained frozen, her face soaked in blood, her expression impassive.

Nothing.

Not even a frown.

I recalled the blood with a gesture, making it flow back into my skin like a river in reverse.

The surface of my skin shivered. My heart beat a little faster.

Then I looked at her more gently.

— I missed you, Lysara.

I hugged her.

Without warning.

She stiffened.

Surprised.

But she didn’t dodge.

She accepted.

The embrace was brief. But it was worth more than a thousand words.

I breathed softly into her hair.

— Wasn’t too hard, was it? You ate well? Slept? ...You didn’t fight a giant slug, at least?

She didn’t answer.

But she stayed against me a few seconds longer.

And in that simple contact, something in me anchored.

A tenuous, invisible thread between her and me.

She didn’t speak.

But she allowed me to exist again. Not as a monster. Not as a legend. As a man.

Maybe I didn’t deserve it. But she didn’t hold it against me.

And that was more than I ever dared ask for.

We stayed there, for a while.

Silent. Connected. Whole.

Then I straightened up and asked her:

— How long was I gone?

She answered, in a neutral tone, without hesitation:

— A little over a month.

I smiled.

— Missed me enough to start making full sentences now?

Nothing.

No reaction.

Not even a sigh.

— Just kidding. Well... half-kidding.

I rummaged inside my kimono.

Still in one piece.

Still clean despite the hell endured.

Impeccable.

I passed a hand over the fabric, admiring the slightly silky texture, still warm from my blood despite its evaporation.

Auto-washing and regeneration capacity... I whispered, smiling. You’re well worth your price, old brother.

Even the slug’s acid hadn’t beaten it.

It had held strong, like me.

I gently pulled an inner fold, and my fingers met the egg.

I took it out.

Warm. Stable. Fragile.

I turned it briefly in my palm, then looked up at Lysara.

— Here. I have something for you.

I puffed out my chest, theatrical, proud as a rooster.

— Your dear master stole the treasure of a mythical creature, risking his life... and is giving it to you.

I placed it in her hands.

— Take care of it, Lysara. It might be... just as lost as you.

She didn’t answer.

But she held the egg in her arms.

And lowered her gaze to it.

For a long time.