Strongest Among the Heavens
Chapter 517: Bringing the Myth of Dream

Chapter 517: Bringing the Myth of Dream

A flurry of red mana appeared and rapidly materialized into the same wooden chair that Xander sat on. Dasha took the freshly created seat quickly.

"I’ve never met a Transmutator of his level," said Xander. "It is remarkably fun."

"Mm, I agree. Although nothing comes close to the soul, wouldn’t you agree?"

"Oh? The soul?"

"This instrument I hold..." As Myth, Dasha carried his fancy lyre everywhere. It was equally as symbolic and important as his mask. "It is an item that cannot be replicated by magic."

"You truly believe so? I disagree. Anything can be recreated with magic. Anything. Perhaps it would drain a man to his death but it is possible."

"No, it is not, for nothing is made by just one man. This was made in the great city of Aphaea, a relic from the worlds in the Heaven Tower. The wood was mixed with blessed wood and mortal wood. It is helped with magic and made with the touch of the artisan and his child or maybe a student. A young one whose youth brought in a stronger depth to the piece, tempered by his mentor. Do you see now?"

Xander cocked his head. "Apologies. I do not."

"Perspective. Circumstances. The coming together of this lyre was a miracle. It travelled from another world, held by the hands of a mighty player, sold to a merchant, sent off in a blip, and then brought here to me. This lyre had no master before me. It had been used and tested: taken care of like a child. Yet when it found me, it knew. It just knew. I could feel its soul."

Myth played light strokes and then pointedly gestured at his chair.

"It experienced the inexperience and respect of its creator, the strength of a player, the air of many worlds, and the soul of a master. Tell me, Xander, that chair of yours." Myth pointed with a lazy arm. "Do you know how it came to be?"

"I do. I had it specially built for myself."

"You sit on it everyday. You know its little creaks. Yet Alastair was able to duplicate it in an instant."

"He did."

"And? Do you wish to change seats?"

"...no."

"Why?"

"Because it’s mine. Because...well, I suppose I’ve laid my mark on it. My soul. My little quirks."

"You don’t realize it yet, do you? Your souls have come together. That chair may not have a strong soul, it may not commune with you, it may even let others sit on it. Yet only you know its creaks and angles. You squirm when another dares to touch it. Use it. Because it is yours. Because your souls have seen value in one another."

"Value, hm?" Xander’s fingers drummed. "Sometimes, I fail to see value in anything we do."

"Everything in some way is a miracle of creation. Everything holds value."

"But at the end of it, we all fall to dust. An equal value."

"No," Dasha insisted. "Not equal. Never equal. In this world, there are those that can pervert deaths. The gods."

"You believe in their omnipotence?"

"I do."

"You make bold claims and spew bold pieces of wisdom." Xander was quiet. "Where did you get that lyre?"

"It was a gift."

"Is that right?" Xander snickered. It was a sound and an expression that Myth had never seen. "I find that quite curious. Some time ago, that lyre was in my possession. I was the one that had come from the heavens. This lyre was supposedly once owned by the Heavenly Demon: The Geezer. A thief managed to break in and steal it from me."

Myth lightly strummed the nearly black lyre.

Xander’s snickers and arrogance dripped with his voice and his soul. "I remember when I first saw you and that lyre. I considered deeply on whether to kill you right then and there. To do the deed at the Symposium would end any and all alliances, so I listened. I gave an offer."

"You believe I fear you. You believe this is an apology?"

"Is it not?"

"I am a man with many faces. I do not have the mask of a thief. My interest has never been in the material of man but their souls. Like this lyre. Like you."

"Oh? And what do you see in me, my conniving friend?"

"I see weary ambition. I see a desire to go to the heavens. I see...a man who wishes to go to Earth."

Xander had never allowed himself too much emotion, until now. "You...are truly fascinating. How did you know?"

"I said it before: I can see your soul."

"So you can. Yes, that is my ambition. I want to reach the heavens. I want to buy a ticket and manifest in that great world. You’ve heard the whispers: waters that spread more vast than the Underground itself and a world where the gods do not judge or watch or interfere. A utopia. A true utopia of humanity."

"Yes," Dasha said. "A world of peace and of love."

"No gods to test us. No gods to...cage us in," Xander continued. "It sounds too good to be true, if I am being frank."

"Do not give up, my friend. Dreams are to be chased no matter how childish they sound. The greats and the gods are not so by limiting their imaginations. Zeus did not overthrow his father by thinking of just battling him. He overthrew him by believing in his victory. By believing in the impossible."

Xander was quiet again. "But...does it exist? A utopia like that?"

"It must. If we live in the darkness, then there must be a light for the darkness to live under—and a sun even greater than that."

"The heavens," Xander murmured. "And then Earth..."

The light and the sun.

"Man journeyed to the moon without the aid of the gods." Myth’s proclamation had Xander’s head whip up. "So can you, Xander."

"To the moon...to the heavens..."

He looked at his fists and his chair. His world suddenly seemed smaller and larger; as though he saw it for what it was.

"It is your resolve. Yours to take," said Myth. "Will you take the first step?"

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