Aemon looked in horror as his son's life was mercilessly taken from him; the person Aemon was started stripping away piece by piece. The joyous and cordial old man he had been began to disappear.
A cyclone of mana, fuelled by pure and uncharted hatred, began pouring from Aemon's body, eliminating any ounce of compassion he had held for his younger brother. He wasn't family anymore—he was simply an enemy whom he sought to kill.
Aemon broke past the shadows that were binding him, in a blinding rage as it flared violently.
Yves mockingly spoke, "This is it, this is finally who I recognise, you're becoming your former self. Thank me, tell me you thank me for killing your son!"
"First palm of Truth: Open."
A rotating axis of azure power that emerged from Aemon's feet, trailed across the floor in a radius of 50 metres. The binds of darkness that were laced across the floor shed with each passing touch of Aemon's power.
Yves had clouded memories of what this move entailed, and it was an offensive aspect of the Truth ability. Generally, from what he remembered and had seen, the truth power was a great defensive ability that heavily assisted the 'gods' in the Great War of Succession, but Aemon was no god. He could barely even be seen as an apostle anymore.
He scoffed at the power, "Path of Darkness, Corrosive spears"
From the shadows that filled the surrounding areas, spears of darkness, tipped with a forest green, rapidly tore through the air, all with the intention to impale Aemon.
However, when one entered the axis, a glowing white line would immediately sense the presence. Vast amounts of information poured into Aemon's mind. The trajectory, the velocity and where it would target on his body, so with a swift movement, Aemon easily evaded.
Yves' eyes widened at Aemon's speed. Not wanting Aemon to get into a comfortable rhythm, Yves darted forward, drawing his sword of darkness.
Like a crack of lightning, Aemon appeared in front of Yves, whilst dodging all the other spears that were approaching. Yves immediately slashed at him with his sword, amplifying the ferocity with his shadows.
Aemon slid under the attack and pointed his index and middle fingers upwards. The unrestrained danger Yves felt was palpable. Water sprang from Aemon's fingers as a concentrated beam of pressurised water cut through Yves' sword, shattering it.
Using wind to lift himself up, Aemon used the momentum to strike an elbow right across Yves' jaw. Aemon then opened his palm. "Blinding Light." Fire began eradicating the shadows, blinding Yves and weakening him.
Then, Aemon amplified his body with all the varieties of mana and expertise he had achieved through hundreds of years of living on the planet, and delivered a flurry of punches directly across Yves' body, causing blood to sprout from his mouth.
Knowing he couldn't let this last, Yves leapt back and created distance, landing outside of the axis. Then, he placed his hand on the floor. "Puppeteer tethers." From his body, strings of thousands of shadows began painting the floor black as they travelled from mana beasts to humans in the Truth Kingdom, controlling each and every one of them.
Then, he clenched his hands. Hundreds, if not thousands, of humans and mana beasts began rushing towards Aemon. The thought process was simple: Aemon could understand the movement of many objects, but when it came to thousands, he would be overwhelmed no matter how much he knew.
Aemon looked around and saw the oncoming threat. He would have to kill the mana beasts whilst sparing the lives of all those he had come to protect. Exhaling, Aemon's eyes traced across the battlefield. He would kill the beasts and subdue the humans.
But that would leave the children prone to Yves' attacks. Aemon had to weigh the lives of thousands against a few, but he didn't have to make that decision.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, he saw the Lieutenant, who had wrapped his legs in bandages, and was holding Conrad's sword in one hand, and had his axe on his back. "You save the kids, Aemon, I'll hold that horde back for a while, then I'll say hello to Conrad and M'wife for ya."
Mairon managed a weak smile and then pushed Aemon towards Yves and walked in the opposite direction. He roared with all of his might, "Any survivors from the outpost who are still out there, anyone who can raise a sword, who can fire mana, then, as my last order to you all, give the mana beasts everything we have!"
Activating all of his power, Mairon ran directly into the onslaught of beasts, readying to enter his final dance with death.
Yves chuckled, "That human is supposed to hold them off for you? When will you realise that this battle is lost? Just give up already."
Aemon then entered a stance as a conversation with his former master entered his mind.
'Master, you have lived for thousands of years, what is it that could possibly keep you moving forward, does time not take its course on someone's ambitions, their desires?'
Seated in a chair, with his legs crossed, the god of truth spoke, 'Do I need a reason, young Aemon? Do I have to have some grand motivation to push forward? Some might say the only way to develop is by having such an ambitious goal, but goals and reasons to move on can be small, as delicate as a flower. It may seem unclear to you now, but when you are in a battle where life is equally balanced with death, search deep down and then your motivation will be realised.'
He grinned, 'It may be grand, or it may be insignificant to the woken realm, but once you see it vividly, indeed, you will come to realise that not even time can take its course on something that you hold dear.'
And in that moment, Aemon was reaching that deep within his body, within his mind.
His life was dancing with death, and the only vivid image ingrained in his mind was a vision of righting his wrongs, Leiya growing up to be an outstanding person, and Xerxes being by her side. That was all he could do, and even if it was that small, as his master once said, 'not even time can take its course on something that you hold dear'.
Exhaling, Aemon peered at Yves with malice, "Third palm open: Open"
Yves then looked down on Aemon, "You just won't give up."
Then a feather, a flaming one, began falling unnaturally rotating, and from behind Aemon, a rampant flame, roared from Airi's chest. Yves didn't have time to react and was engulfed by the blazing inferno.
Aemon pressed his palms together, and his body trembled as the mana storm around him coalesced. The ground cracked beneath his feet, frost tearing through the stone like veins of light.
The air grew thin, brittle, as if the world itself was being suffocated and deprived of any livelihood it had.
"Tier One: Ice Magic."
Though Aemon's words weren't shouted, they resounded louder than thunder. The mana in the atmosphere bent unwillingly, moisture condensed into crystallised shards before collapsing into a sphere of pale luminescence in the distant sky.
Beats of power surged through the battlefield, eradicating any buildings that were near. Anyone who was still alive witnessed tier one mana in awe. It wasn't just a spell; it was a promise of death.
The skies and clouds shook turbulently with thunder as the spell gathered power from the heavens, then erupted with an extreme and sudden burst.
A thick blade of ice descended from the sky, travelling at incredible speeds, turning anything near it to ice, then shattering it. It was nearing and nearing, with Yves' expression faltering with each moment.
The reflection shimmered across the entire battlefield, a display of finality. The mana beasts stilled, men and women stopped in their tracks, all paralysed beneath the certainty of extinction. The blade carried the inevitability of divine wrath, cold and unyielding.
Then—darkness.
A smudge, small, unremarkable, spread across the blade's radiant edge. At first a stain, then a wound, and finally a maw.
Shadows coiled, wrapping the frozen miracle, swallowing it piece by piece. There was no explosion, no thunderclap, only silence as the apocalypse was unmade.
When the light died, only Yves remained, his lips curling into a grin.
"You see now, Aemon? Even with your mana, even with the power of truth assisting you, it all meant nothing."
Turning the tables in an instant, Yves raised his hand towards Aemon, who was in a debilitated state, and spoke, "Reanimation."
Instead of a divine light, a wretched darkness then welcomed itself to the battlefield, stemming from Aemon's original power.
Airi muttered in awe, 'He absorbed your attack, Aemon..."
Aemon looked ahead weakly, as the giant blade of ice, which was now enveloped in darkness, was approaching him. Aemon held onto his sternum as his eyes released tears of crimson blood. He was reaching his limit.
All this time, for the last few months actually, Aemon had been losing his vision piece by piece, but in his right eye it had increased exponentially, making him nearly blind. And without a world to see the truth in, it was becoming increasingly difficult to predict attacks, understand movements and see the path to winning.
It was truly ironic, Aemon thought, that the one who would forever darken his world and his truth would be his very own brother.
An incarnation of that putrid darkness.