The Oracle Paths Chapter 1224: Torn Between Heart and Steel

As the three Radiant Lords, invoked by Eldrion, lifted their eyelids, three columns of inky-black Lumyst surged upward like omens of utter devastation. The heavens creaked as though stabbed by shadowy daggers, and the soil under their boots quivered in reply, as if fearing the doom ahead. Their presences were so thick and intimidating that the burden weighed not only on Jake and his allies—every recruit across the field recoiled from the intensity, with some crumpling to the ground, hands pressed to their ribs like they were choking.

The strain on the Dusken Throne's forces was already overwhelming, but it hit the Radiant Conclave even harder. Aside from the Saints and top officers, all Light Warriors at Paladin level or lower sank to one knee, their visages ashen, limbs shaking as if their vitality had been drained dry. The atmosphere felt tainted with hopelessness, every inhale short and icy, like the entire arena had turned into a premature tomb.

And that's precisely the case.

This dark Lumyst carried such profound ruin that the abundant life force pouring from those presences failed to counter it. Worse still, its essence hovered on the brink—threatening to invert into its total reverse. A corruption of existence, a counter-force that eroded the spirit like decay hidden under perfect flesh.

While Players close to Jake quickly assessed the arrivals through mental probes, a tense quiet descended. Though Twyluxia's hold on their abilities had eased, hardly anyone believed they could endure even a moment against that spirit-shattering force. A base urge stirred in their bellies:

Jake, leading his group into the initial clash with one of these Radiant Lords, appeared far from eager. Actually, his face was so somber it sparked waves of worry in Asfrid, Will, and the rest. His quiet spoke volumes, louder than any battle roar.

Fortunately—or perhaps not—his thoughts remained sealed away, beyond reach. Had they accessed his mind, embarrassment and powerlessness would have struck them hard... trailed swiftly by a surge of pure rage.

For Jake wasn't pondering plans or sudden maneuvers.

His mind raced, sharp and icy:

Yet he wasn't the one staking his existence.

They were.

And that... twisted the blade deeper.

Jake had faith in them. He realized four years could alter much. Still, his cynicism hadn't softened much. He relied fully on just one element—his personal might. And even that lacked the total assurance he craved. Self-assurance didn't guarantee outcomes.

He gauged others by his own standard. Will, his dragon-like guardian. Asfrid. Enya. Esya. Mani. Those haughty Great Generals. Even the Conclave's pair of Saints... None posed a real danger to him. Not remotely. They resembled sparks next to a sun.

It was tough, sure. But his rapid ascent had distanced him so vastly he couldn't even see the gap anymore. The divide between them and new trainees? Hardly discernible to him.

Of course, he reminded himself that others might conceal their true power as well. Yet even then, he felt no tension. No threat. Just... emptiness.

Mufasa possessed great strength. His feats were brutal and breathtaking. A fierce showcase of instinctual might that silenced both Players and locals alike. He embodied a catastrophe armed with talons and determination.

Everyone but Jake.

He hid it well, but inwardly, he was certain—he knew—he could pulverize the lion with a mere flick.

Perhaps he erred. Perhaps the King of Beasts wouldn't perish so readily. Perhaps his Nemean fur held enough enchantment to withstand the harshest blows.

But suppose one flick fell short? What of two? Or ten? What if Jake gave it his all? What if he deployed his arms, his enhancement spells, his Lumyst... his Soul Class?

In every scenario Jake's thoughts conjured, that lion lasted mere moments at best. It wasn't pride—it was cold, precise assessment.

Crunch held power too. The sly feline had caught him off guard repeatedly. Pinned down, the cat invariably unleashed surprises—more potent, quicker, more lethal than expected.

Perhaps another shift lurked in reserve. Who could say?

But would it change anything?

Jake hadn't engaged at full capacity, not by a long shot.

So distant from it, in truth, it bordered on absurd.

For if he truly unleashed himself, notions of victory or endurance in the Ordeal would lose all relevance. He could simply recline and allow the Blade Spirit to slaughter all. His abilities had swelled to a terrifying degree, unsuited for restraint.

The core problem: Jake feared for his comrades. Each harbored secret aces, concealed strengths, ambitions. But after all they'd endured... after at last reuniting, he refused to see any fall. Not at this point. Not so soon.

Juggling his duties as guide—with its required detached logic—and his genuine sentiments? It resembled traversing a wire above razor edges. And recently, gales had intensified.

[You won’t always be able to protect them.]

Xi's voice shattered the extended hush, mild yet burdened with a strange gravity. Her statement seemed kind, perhaps soothing at first glance. But of late, she'd guarded her ideas more tightly, and that change constricted Jake's throat.

He couldn't dispel the sense that she concealed matters. Her rare emotional flares might appear trivial, but since their psyches intertwined, she'd never permitted such sentiments to seep into their collaboration.

Jake responded, his tone rougher than planned, teeth gritted.

They served under him, yes. But no scheme—no matter its flawlessness—escaped the chance of collapse.

In his planning and tactics, he heeded odds. And amid the mounting disorder, securing a flawless result bordered on unattainable. Particularly with the foe's Oracle Hacker having wrecked their forecasting setup.

[A good leader, a good general, uses their people without hesitation,]

Xi noted, her voice chillier than normal, nearly deliberately aloof.

[You can’t beat a grandmaster at chess without sacrificing pieces. The world doesn’t bend just because you want it to. Just because you’ve managed until now doesn’t mean it’ll keep working.]

Jake frowned. He sensed her urging him toward something, and he disliked the direction.

[My point... is that you can’t control everything,]

she concluded.

[You have subordinates—use them. Zero risk doesn’t exist. And these aren’t children. Believe it or not, they what they signed up for. Or have you forgotten that the Fifth Ordeal has a survival rate of 1 to 3%? Do your part—and let them do theirs. Those who are meant to die will die, with or without your help. And those who are meant to live will grow stronger until their turn comes too.]

[And remember one last thing. Their lives aren’t more valuable than yours. In fact, it’s the opposite. If you die, the Myrtharian Nerds are finished. If all die, you alone can build another faction just as strong. That’s the brutal truth. You’re immortal now. That’s the reality. Bonds, emotions—they’re worthless in the scope of the endless life waiting for you. You’ve known them for a few years, but you’ll live through cosmic eras. Use them when needed, like pawns. And cherish the moments you share, while they last. Those are the only currencies that matter.]

She went quiet then, her declaration lingering like mist across a war zone. Jake remained rooted, a tempest of irritation and hopelessness tearing at his core.

She spoke truth. He knew it, but she spoke truth.

He'd believed himself more hardened. Evidently, he stayed too tender. Still haunted by isolation. Still dreading total loss.

At heart, he held onto those dreads. To him, they formed the final links to his slipping human side. Releasing them, turning into the soulless automaton he dreaded, might bar any return.

Yet as agonizing as it was to concede... Xi spoke truth.

What must occur, would occur.

That's why he'd stirred the Fate Slayer Aura over other Lumyst Auras. Yet another instance of his inner youth rebelling against destiny. A last stand of rebellion from a soul that refused to yield hope.

Jake whispered to himself, his face growing as dark as a storm cloud set to unleash.

Inhaling deeply, he pivoted toward his team.

"Who wants to fight?"