Crimson Ascension

The training arena was a massive compound of stone and reinforced metal. No ceiling restrained Draven's sight as he gazed at the thin line of smoke that wafted from the destruction of surrounding buildings.

I'll never get used to this. He sighed at the dancing clouds in the air, at the multitude of torches lighting the horizon with light. Everyone should get to see this. Not just Sovrans.

Sometimes he thought about going back to the Catalyst District and setting the miners free—dangerous, reckless ideas that would certainly lead nowhere good. Miners in Elysium would become nothing more than catalysts for a random lord's Heightening. Draven did not want that, but he refused to accept their slavery forever.

One day. He vowed. When I'm strong enough that no one would dare lay a hand on us.

He took hold of his surroundings. The floor itself was crafted from metal, rough to generate enough attrition not to disrupt combat. The room was windowless, enclosed to give the people inside privacy. No spires or tall building soared over the arena complex.

"I did not call you here for musings," Corvanis said, bringing his attention to the matter at hand. "There are two rules for this, Draven. Listen well. First, no hexion is to be emitted. Second, this might be a spar, but do not be afraid of going for the kill. It is not like you are strong enough to achieve it, anyway."

Afraid?

Draven fumed. He had been waiting for this day for so long, fantasizing about it ever since Corvanis took his father's life. Years later, the circumstances of Will's death had assuaged his fury, but not his hatred. Not the resentment born of years spent in oppression.

No emitting hexion? Draven let a current of the refined liquid pour into his veins, strengthening his flesh, augmenting his prowess beyond the limits of nature. I'm glad you didn't say no Providence.

Draven pounced forward, leveraging his hexion-enhanced strength into a punch straight at Corvanis's face. With a roar, he feinted full commitment, but quickly gathered his balance as the strike missed.

Corvanis weaved to the side, ducking the punch with a raised eyebrow. He back stepped and dashed forward with deceptive speed, throwing a jab at his ribs. The blow knocked the wind out of his lungs, but Draven did not falter.

Instead of leaning away to regain momentum for another engagement, he closed in the distance and drove a punch straight to Corvanis's stomach. Eat this, you fucker. The Overseer did not flinch, wince, or stagger. He only stared, unimpressed.

Draven turned the punch into a grab, pulling him close and kneeling the Transmuter in the same spot, before a blow to the side of his head knocked him aside.

"Fully committing to an attack without knowing your opponent's capabilities is a bad idea," Corvanis lowered his stance, raising his arms into closed fists. "Do not allow your emotions to guide your strikes, but use the rage as fuel to empower your attacks."

He's tough, but the gap is not huge. Draven thought, wiping the blood from his lips. He wished to follow the man's advice—it was a good one; he understood as much—but the miner boy that still lived inside of him refused to heed the words of his father's killer.

The current of hexion that had been strengthening his body increased. Draven had enough of playing around. He willed the refined liquid to rage within his body, to augment it to the very limit. No use in worrying about the consumption, he had hexion to spare.

With a grunt, Draven dashed forward in the blink of an eye. He pivoted his body, using the momentum to send a kick to the Overseer's waist. A raised knee rose to block it, but this time, Corvanis frowned.

Not relenting, unwilling to let his surprise spoil, Draven closed the distance with a punch not at his stomach, but at his arm—at his unclothed arm. Dyad Vessel exploded out of him the moment skin touched skin, emptying all the pain absorbed from the reckless opening of a meridian.

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Corvanis stumbled, roaring as blood erupted from his mouth, "You little—"

Draven broke his nose with a punch, pursuing the advantage with rage-fueled adrenaline. Another jab to the temple sent the Overseer reeling on his knees. A kick to the shoulder cracked bone.

Fury might consume his intent. Draven could not deny that, but his reasoning was clear. He would make Corvanis pay for what he had done to his family. Draven would dismantle the man so thoroughly that he would understand that his actions had consequences.

Dyad Vessel, empty as it was, responded to his feelings. Each punch released the pain absorbed upon contact. Each kick reflected the resistance and impact upon Corvanis. Draven did not ponder upon it. He let the sheer single-minded focus captured in that moment drive his attacks, push his Providence further.

Little by little, strike upon strike, Dyad Vessel began to adapt and release faster. Instantaneously. Each attack carried not only the force behind it, but the reaction to striking something, making one blow deliver the weight of two.

"Good, you started taking me seriously." Corvanis smiled. With a raised elbow, he blocked a kick, using the opening to plant an open-handed strike at Draven's chest. "I killed Korvax! I killed your father, and this is all you have?"

It was a provocation, something to shake his focus and reduce his battle prowess. But it worked. The moment Korvax's name left his mouth, Draven saw red.

Three steps took him face to face with Corvanis. Draven took a punch to the face, barreling through the pain, ignoring it to deliver a well-placed blow to the man's neck. His strikes carried not only the strength of a hexion-enhanced Empyrean body, but they also delivered the fury of Dyad Vessel.

Blood pooled on the floor as Draven exchanged blows with Corvanis, who took them with the resilience of a metal wall. However strong Draven had become, it was not enough to bring the Overseer down. But the invasive touch of his Providence was.

Draven had lost count of the time elapsed and the number of punches thrown, but enough hours had passed to fully drain his astra. He drove one last frail, powerless jab before collapsing to the floor, utterly spent.

"Abyss… take… me." Corvanis panted, his face swollen and riddled with bruises. "So that is how much… you hate… me."

"Shut up!" Draven gazed at the clouds. He had failed the test. Instead of controlling his emotions, he succumbed to them. He lost to the man he hated. He lost. "Just… shut up."

It took a few minutes before Corvanis gathered the strength to speak again, but when he did, his words surprised Draven.

"You did well. There is no such thing as suppressing one's emotions, Draven. The people who do it end up releasing it sooner or later, and the ensuing outburst is never pleasant. Rather than bury what you feel, acknowledge it."

"You hate me? Good. Remember it, remember the reason you do. You feel powerless? Good. Remember the losses being weak caused you." Corvanis wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Every shred of emotion you feel is a part of who you are. How can you give your everything in a fight if you deny your identity with every attack?"

"That's… the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Draven scoffed. "Aren't you paying attention? I'm stuck with you because I've been letting out my emotions. Because that thing is using it to get to me."

"Is that what you tell yourself?"

Without warning, Corvanis blasted him with his Presence, crushing him to the floor. Draven mustered his will, unfolding it into the world and effortlessly dispersing the oppressive veil of ethereal weight.

"Do you understand what you just did? I am a Greater Eminence, one closed meridian away from Ascendance, yet you can shrug my Presence aside without effort." Corvanis dispersed his Presence and took a seat on the ground. "The Hemomorph does not have the power to control you. It does so because you allow it."

"What?" His words stunned Draven more than a kick to the jaw.

"I know how close you were to Myra, though you might try to deny it." He raised a hand before Draven could protest. "Your family's loss must not have been easy to handle. I would not blame you for trying to escape it."

"It… was not pleasant when I lost the love of my life, so I understand it." Corvanis's voice sounded less commanding than he remembered. "Just know that allowing yourself to feel the way you do will never make you lesser, but denying those memories will."

Draven did not know what to say. He did not expect consolation from Corvanis—never from him. He hated the man, and from what he could tell, the sentiment went both ways. Why, then, did he feel as if the barrier between them was of his own making?

Because it is. I… never asked why he did what he did. Never so much as gave him the chance to explain himself.

"Why, Corvanis," Draven sighed, his voice trembling. "Why did you kill my dad?"

Sadness filled Corvanis's expression as if he remembered something painful. "I had no choice in it, Draven. None of us did. If your father did not die, you would not have lived."

Draven saw for the first time the look on the Overseer's face. It carried not the heaviness of a cruel killer, but the burden of a man who had lost everything in one night.