Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

A week had passed since Clyde's departure, and still, there was no sign of his return. In the absence of new orders, Aurel and Kirin maintained their rigorous training schedule. Yet, for Aurel, one objective consumed him: defense.

The concept had taken root early in his career. As a bodyguard, safeguarding others was more than a duty; it was woven into his very identity. It was only natural, then, that his chaos divinity should mirror this purpose. The entire week was dedicated to experimentation, forging and refining shields and barriers, meticulously testing their durability and form. Initially, he attempted to manifest full-body armor—a construct designed to deflect blows. However, the sheer weight of maintaining such a creation proved impractical, demanding too much focus and hindering his movements. He dismissed the idea almost immediately.

Instead, he channeled his efforts into perfecting the forcefield that enveloped him, striving to keep his defenses active without impeding his combat ability. A new problem emerged: "I can't attack while fully reinforcing my defense." There was no middle ground; defending left him vulnerable offensively, and shifting to offense caused his barriers to falter.

Was it possible to seamlessly toggle his defenses, switching between offense and protection? Multitasking would be too demanding. "No—I need to master the timing."

This realization led him to his anomalous instinct—the unique gift that sharpened his battle awareness, allowing him to process combat situations with absolute clarity. "I need to refine it further," he decided. "Not just for fighting, but for control. For precision."

He began simulating battles, training not only his weapon constructs but also the fluid transitions between offense and defense. He focused on the precise moment of an incoming strike, willing his forcefield into existence, then dissolving it just in time to counter. Weapon constructs materialized instantly in his grasp, slicing through the air before vanishing as his next defense materialized.

He repeated the exercise relentlessly, refining his transitions, sharpening the instinctual rhythm of his divinity. Kirin, observing nearby, witnessed the intensity in his master's movements. "Perfect execution," Kirin thought, fascinated. "Master is shaping chaos like an art."

A Master's Insight

By the session's end, Aurel felt the tangible improvements—his control, his timing, his efficiency. Satisfied, he exhaled sharply. He had taken another significant step toward mastering the balance between protection and destruction.

Allowing the lingering chaos energy to settle, Aurel exhaled deeply. His timing had improved, his control sharpened; each creation, each transition between offense and defense, was now instinctual, no longer forced. For the first time, he felt as though his divinity wasn't merely something he wielded, but something he was becoming.

As his mind drifted from his own progress, his gaze inevitably settled on Kirin, who remained deeply immersed in his own training, pushing himself with quiet determination. Aurel crossed his arms, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I shouldn't neglect my obligation as his master."

Kirin possessed immense potential, but his divinity—his ability to heal—remained largely untapped in combat. He hadn't been trained for war like Aurel. His gift had been shaped by an instinct to protect, to mend, to preserve life rather than take it. But could it be honed? Could Kirin wield it with intention rather than simply letting it happen?

Aurel narrowed his eyes. "I need to find ways for him to use his divinity with intention." If Kirin could consciously control his healing, manipulating it to bolster his endurance or even using it strategically in the heat of battle, he would gain far greater versatility.

Stepping forward, Aurel called out, his voice cutting through the wind. "Kirin. Come here."

Kirin wiped sweat from his brow, snapping to attention before jogging over. He met Aurel's gaze expectantly, but his master's expression wasn't one of critique—it was that calculating look he always had before pushing Kirin beyond his limits.

Aurel smirked. "We're going to change how you use that power of yours."

The Nature of Divinity

Aurel crossed his arms, observing Kirin with quiet thoughtfulness. "I won't pretend I know how to teach you how to use your divinity properly," he admitted, his voice level. "But I do know what I've learned from my own abilities and from watching other divinants. And you—you're a Nomad Healer type. That much is clear."

He paused, a flicker of thought in his eyes. "Nomad Healers are usually travelers, you know. There's so much mystery surrounding them, like how they manage to journey so extensively. But I think you're a variant of the healer, not strictly the Nomad type. It's safe to say there are rare, different variants to each divinant type. Who knows?"

They had previously tested Kirin's abilities, attempting to see if he could extend his healing to others. Yet, despite their methods, the result remained unchanged: it never worked. His divinity wasn't something that could be given to another, at least not in the way traditional healing abilities functioned. Instead, it operated passively, turning inward, repairing his own wounds instinctively rather than consciously.

Aurel glanced at him again, watching his reaction closely. "I can't teach you about your ability directly, but I can help you understand it." He tilted his head slightly. "Through what I know, through what I've learned about divinants and their nature."

Kirin blinked, realization dawning on him like a slow tide. "I'm a divinant?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and quiet wonder.

Aurel scoffed lightly. "Isn't that obvious?" He motioned vaguely toward him. "Yours must've awakened at a young age. It's why you heal so unnaturally fast."

He let the words settle for a moment before adding, "When I awakened my own divinity, it didn't just give me strength—it changed me. My physical prowess skyrocketed, but that wasn't the only thing. I gained what I call an anomalous instinct—something that heightens everything. My senses, my thinking, my coordination, my ability to read battle in real-time. Everything sharpened."

His gaze flickered toward Kirin again, assessing. "Divinity isn't just a gift. It's a force that rewires you."

Innate Skills

"It seems that when a divinant first awakens, they don't just gain their primary ability—their innate skills awaken alongside it," Aurel mused, watching Kirin closely. "Yours must be self-healing and your unnatural durability."

He paused, considering his own discoveries. "From what I've found, an innate skill isn't just something random—it reflects your soul, your persona, your entire character. It isn't just a gift; it's a manifestation of who you are at your core."

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He let the words settle before continuing, his voice measured. "And from what I know of you, Kirin... you've always thought about survival. Not just for yourself, but for others. You may not even realize it, but when your divinity awakened, I bet your mind was already set on that—on protecting people. On enduring so you could continue to safeguard those around you."

Aurel folded his arms, his eyes sharp with assessment. "Your durability isn't just some passive trait—it's tied to sacrifice. It exists because, at some level, your body responds to your willingness to take the brunt of harm for others. And your healing? It's what makes sure you can keep doing it for as long as possible."

Kirin listened, his expression unreadable. But in his eyes, something shifted—a quiet realization, an understanding of himself that had never quite formed before.

A Shared Journey

Aurel exhaled, arms crossed as he observed Kirin. "I won't pretend I have all the answers," he admitted. "I'm still learning my own power. There's a lot I don't know. What I do know is that my divinity has always been shaped by battle—by war. That's the life I was raised in, so naturally, my chaos manifests as something suited for combat."

He looked at Kirin seriously. "I want to figure this out with you. We'll learn together. But no matter what, your warrior training won't be neglected. That's non-negotiable."

Kirin nodded attentively, but Aurel wasn't finished. "The way I see it, your divinity is yours to understand. You'll have to discover its depth on your own. But I can help guide you. I can share what I've learned, and maybe we can figure out some things together." He paused before adding, "I'm only your master when it comes to warrior training, not divinity training. My methods work for me—but they may not apply to you."

Kirin listened, absorbing the words, but Aurel could see the lingering uncertainty in his eyes. "If you want my advice," he continued, "then focus on what you have now. Figure out different ways to apply it instead of searching for something beyond reach."

Aurel lifted his hand, chaos swirling around his fingers before snapping outward in command. "My power is meant for battle. I create weapons—like swords." He stepped forward, activating his Chaos Field. The air around them thickened instantly, invisible yet suffocating. Kirin staggered, his breath shallow, his body weakening as if life was being drained from him.

It lasted only a few seconds before Aurel withdrew the energy, letting it dissipate. Kirin gasped, steadying himself, his eyes wide with stunned disbelief.

"Master... that was incredible," he admitted, still catching his breath. "But terrifying."

Aurel smirked slightly. "And that's exactly why I use it. You won't wield chaos like I do, but you will learn to wield your own power in a way that fits you."

Discovering Purpose

Aurel folded his arms, studying Kirin with quiet intensity. "I want you to take today and truly think about yourself—what is it that you want?" His voice was firm but not demanding. "You need to discover yourself. This is what I did, and it worked for me. I'm certain this is the first step for all divinants."

He let the words linger before continuing. "Now—are you ready for this? Will you help me help you?"

Kirin's eyes widened slightly, then, without hesitation, he nodded—once, then again, and again, his excitement barely contained. "Yes, Master!" he said, the energy in his voice rising.

Aurel smirked at his enthusiasm but didn't let it distract from the gravity of the task. "Good. Then today, you will do nothing else but reflect on that."

Kirin's expression shifted—determined, eager. The day's mission had been set, and now, it was up to him to find the answers within himself.

Kirin sat cross-legged on the training grounds, scratching his head, looking utterly lost. "Right... thinking. How do I even start?" he muttered to himself, eyes darting around as if expecting the answer to appear in the sky. He felt ridiculous, like a fool with no direction.

But then, as he glanced toward his master, something grounded him. Aurel wasn't just giving him some pointless task—he truly cared. That realization settled deep within Kirin, straightening his posture, sharpening his focus. "What is it that I really want?"

His mind drifted back to his childhood—the pain, the loneliness. He had been branded a monster, an outcast, rejected by the very people he tried to protect. But amidst the darkness, there had been one light—the man who saved him. That healer, the nomadic wanderer, had shown him kindness when no one else did. Now, looking back, Kirin understood—he had been a Nomad Healer, traveling the world, healing, saving lives. And Kirin had always aspired to be just like him.

"That's why I am who I am now. But... my purpose has changed."

He looked around—the Royal Vanguard, his master, Clyde. Their missions weren't just about survival—they were about protecting humanity itself. He had chosen this path because he wanted to save people. He was in the right place. He was with the right people. And yet—"how can I contribute?" He could only heal himself. What good was that in a team?

His master was a warrior. Clyde was brilliant, always bringing knowledge and strategy to their missions. And him? Kirin clenched his fists. "I'm just a test dummy, aren't I?"

He acknowledged that he had grown stronger—Aurel's training had ensured that. But fighting had never been his goal, nor his instinct. He didn't want to battle, but he needed to if he wanted to protect others. Still, something didn't sit right.

Then, the thought clicked.

"Maybe I shouldn't focus on fighting itself. Instead, I should focus on defense. On shielding them."

Yes. That's it.

The Walking Boulder

The next morning, Kirin sprinted toward his master, excitement radiating from him like a flame. "Master! Master! I think I found my purpose!"

Aurel turned toward him, one brow raised in curiosity.

Kirin skidded to a halt, hands on his knees as he caught his breath, his eyes shining. "I know what I want to be! I want to be a shield for others, Master! A walking boulder!" He straightened up, a newfound conviction in his voice. "My strength isn't in striking, it's in enduring. To defend, that's it! I'm a defender!"

Aurel listened, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "A defender, huh?" He nodded, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "I can certainly see that. Your natural resilience has always been undeniable. Building upon that—making yourself an unbreakable wall—is a solid foundation." He paused, tapping his chin. "Of course, there are always ways to adapt even a defensive ability for offensive applications down the line, but becoming an unparalleled tank... that's where your true potential lies. It's a far more natural fit for you."

Endless Endurance

Aurel's grin widened, a devilish glint in his eyes as he spoke. "Starting today, half of your training will be focused on endurance. You will endure my every strike. No parrying, no dodging—you'll take it all head-on."

Kirin froze, his breath catching as the words sank in. Aurel's tone darkened, his grin turning almost sinister. "I will burn you, poison you, and break your bones. Are you up to it?"

A shiver ran down Kirin's spine, his body stiffening as he stared at his master. What have I done? he thought, panic creeping into his mind. It's like I've awakened the devil in him.

But there was no turning back now. Kirin swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he forced himself to respond. "Y-Yes, Master."

Aurel smirked, satisfied. "Good. Let's begin."

A week had passed without any word from Clyde, and in that time, Aurel had witnessed something remarkable—Kirin's endurance, his sheer resilience, had exceeded every expectation. He wasn't the fastest learner when it came to warrior training, but that didn't matter. What set Kirin apart was his tenacity, his refusal to give up no matter how many times he had to repeat a task. Aurel saw something familiar in him—the same relentless drive that had defined his own growth. He had never been a genius, but he had clawed his way forward through sheer willpower, pushing past his limits until his body and mind adapted. Kirin was exactly the same.

That realization brought an unexpected sense of pride.

As Aurel analyzed his student's progress, he noted that while Kirin still had much to learn in combat, he was no longer just another inexperienced fighter. He had surpassed most normal warriors in physical capability alone. And then there was the discovery that intrigued Aurel the most—Kirin wasn't just sturdy, he was growing stronger. His strength seemed to improve naturally, almost as though his body was adapting through battle stress.

Aurel suspected it was a combination of his innate healing and his durability merging into something new—something that allowed him to amplify his own physical prowess. Passive strength training suited him perfectly, and the results were undeniable. In just a week, his improvement had been staggering.

Aurel crossed his arms, deep in thought. "If this is what he's capable of in a week, then in a month..." He couldn't even begin to estimate the level of strength Kirin might reach. The boy was a monster in the making—whether he realized it or not.

There was no doubt anymore. Kirin wasn't just sturdy. He was a physical type through and through, and Aurel had every intention of refining that to its absolute peak.