Path of the Extra Chapter 453: The Pebble at the Cliff’s Edge

"You remind me of a story I once read when I was younger. It was about a small pebble perched at the edge of a cliff, and each and every day something or someone would try to topple it over at last, to let it fall into a pit of darkness below. Yet each and every day, whether it was the harsh winds or the man who attempted to kick it in and instead slipped into the pit himself, the pebble always managed to survive. Through sheer stubbornness alone."

"I feel quite insulted being compared to a piece of rock, Lioren."

Azriel scratched the back of his head and looked at Lioren with reproach as the two of them stood opposite each other at the cliff’s edge.

At that same moment, blood trickled from the corners of Azriel’s lips, seeping upward from somewhere deep within him.

"...Looking at you now, I find that rather an accurate comparison. Too stubborn to die. Too stubborn to yield."

Azriel scoffed, then coughed up blood, the mana core syndrome making itself known once more as the wind tore past them with merciless force, driven by the sheer and immense height on which they stood.

"Right... I may not be ready to surrender or die just yet, but let us not pretend it is my own willpower alone keeping me upright. You, my friend, are strong enough to send me over that edge. And yet you do not. Why? Is it a matter of honor? We both know how seriously you regard such things. Or perhaps you are finally developing a conscience. Do not tell me you have actually begun to feel something for me. Have you?"

That perpetually expressionless facade of Lioren’s did not crack.

Azriel heaved a sigh.

"Fine. Let us have at it."

He let out a sharp whistle.

Lioren’s eyes opened a fraction wider as he turned swiftly, and something came hurtling at him with tremendous speed. He parried it to the left, only for it to change trajectory immediately, and at another whistle it came again, forcing him to parry once more. When he finally caught a proper look at it, the thing was, remarkably enough, a feather. A breathtakingly gorgeous one, at that.

A sharp feather.

An extraordinarily sharp feather.

Lioren would have caught or destroyed it outright, but its speed and its uncanny capacity to evade and redirect with every strike left him no such opening. A gunshot rang out and Lioren was forced to leap back as Azriel, without moving a single inch from his spot, did everything within his deteriorating power to overwhelm him, driving Lioren into a relentless and exhausting waltz until Azriel’s body gave out beneath him. He dropped to one knee, coughed up more blood, and drew in several labored and heavy breaths.

Lioren, by contrast, looked as though he had not broken a single drop of sweat. He gazed back at Azriel with his customary cold and quiet composure.

The feather, insufferable as ever, drifted back to Azriel and circled above his head. Azriel glanced at it, then fixed his eyes on Lioren.

"Come on, then..." His voice came out raw and hoarse. "Now is your chance."

Lioren moved toward him slowly. Azriel’s back was pressed to the very edge now, the drop behind him absolute and final, and his vision was flickering with increasing frequency as his body failed him in increments. The pain pulsed and beat like a second heartbeat everywhere at once, relentless and consuming.

"I promise to make it swift and painless."

Lioren crouched down to Azriel’s level. Azriel watched him with his lips curled upward in that arrogant way of his, as though not a single part of him feared what was coming. But then something shifted. As their eyes met, his expression changed by quiet degrees, the arrogance receding and giving way to something more earnest and searching, and after a moment he asked, barely above a whisper:

"...If by some chance you were the one to make the wish, Lioren... what would you wish for?"

Lioren looked at him in silence, then let his gaze drop just slightly, as though weighing the question with genuine consideration. Whether it was a desperate bid to buy himself another breath or not, Lioren did not dwell on the possibility. He took the question seriously.

"Be selfish," Azriel said, while Lioren thought. "Give me... the most selfish wish... you have ever wanted."

Lioren looked back at him. He parted his lips, and then, a few quiet seconds later, in a voice as low as Azriel’s own, he answered.

"...I wish to be rid of my envy."

The smile on Azriel’s face widened as he let out a slow breath, and Lioren spoke.

"Are those your final words?"

"...No."

Azriel shook his head.

"I think it is time for me to... gamble once more."

"..."

"A gamble on myself, perhaps."

Lioren tilted his head in quiet confusion as Azriel coughed again and pressed both palms flat against the ground.

"You may want to try and kill me now, or flee. If you choose the first, I promise... I will do what I can to prevent that."

The words came out raw and hoarse. Lioren shook his head.

"I find myself more curious than anything, really."

Azriel chuckled softly.

"Always the same..."

The smile left his face. He turned his attention inward, concentrating on the mana he was threading through the soul veins running the length of his arms, feeling it travel through the veins of his palms and toward the very tips of his fingers. In his current state, even that much demanded a considerable and deliberate effort.

"...What about you?"

Lioren asked it suddenly. Azriel kept his gaze fixed on the ground, still concentrating, yet he grasped the question without a moment’s delay.

"What is it you wish for, Azriel?"

Azriel’s lips pressed together.

"...I-"

"Azriel!"

"...!"

His body jerked. He froze entirely. The voice that had called his name was unmistakable, and Lioren turned swiftly while Azriel looked up in open shock, the mana seeping from his hands cutting off at once.

"Celestina...?"

She had stopped at the mouth of the cave she had emerged from, her expression flooding with relief at the sight of him and Lioren both. She wore her Sublime Silver Armor. And she had not come alone. A few steps behind her, Lumine and Yelena stepped out of the dark passage as well, and more surprising still was Jasmine, who lay unconscious on Yelena’s back, secured there by sturdy rope tied carefully between them for support.

"What is happening here?" Lioren asked, his brow creasing as Azriel clenched his teeth, fixed his eyes on his sister, and tried to push himself upright. He swayed at once, nearly toppling, before catching himself against Lioren’s arm. Lioren glanced at him but said nothing, which was rather remarkable given that he had been attempting to kill Azriel not minutes before, and Azriel himself did not appear particularly wary of that fact either.

"We need your help," Celestina said, looking at Lioren first before shifting her gaze sharply to Azriel. The worry beneath that sharpness was also unmistakable. "And to stop you from trying to bring this cliff down with yourself still on it."

"...What?"

Azriel blinked at her in genuine bewilderment several times over.

How did she know what he had been about to do?

"You and I have a long overdue conversation."

Azriel blinked again. Lioren inclined his head slightly and, with the rare good sense to lower his voice, murmured:

"What has her in such a feisty mood?"

"...I may have accidentally left the responsibility of telling Jasmine that I lied and will die entirely on her shoulders."

"Is that all?"

"Well, actu-"

The ground lurched violently beneath them. The tremor was deep and immediate, and it came from precisely the direction Celestina and the others had arrived from. Every head turned at once, and the expressions on Yelena’s, Celestina’s, and Lumine’s faces communicated the rest without a single word needing to be spoken.

"What is happening in there?"

Lioren asked as Azriel was forced once again to use him as an anchor just to keep himself upright.

"A void creature we barely managed to escape," Yelena said. "We lured it here."

"So they truly do exist in this world," Lioren observed, his composure entirely unruffled. "What rank is it?"

The question visibly darkened all three of their faces. Azriel, for his part, was doing his best to avoid Celestina’s sharp gaze and, if he was being honest, feeling a small but genuine measure of guilt about it. A measure of discomfort he would not have admitted to anyone. Lumine answered Lioren’s question, though his eyes kept drifting toward Azriel with a worried frequency that Azriel found both baffling and quietly irritating, as though he were the one on the verge of doing something reckless.

"...A Grade 3 Monarch."