Hero Of Broken History

The mental landscape was a perfect recreation of the arena - if the arena existed in a dimension where physics was more suggestion than law. Sand that shifted between solid and liquid, air that had weight and color, gravity that couldn't decide which way was down.

Avian faced himself across this impossible space. Not the twelve-year-old body he currently inhabited, but himself as he'd been at his peak. Eleventh Tier Aether Core blazing like a captive sun, dual-path cultivation making reality negotiate rather than dictate, every movement backed by the weight of five hundred years of survival.

"Again," his mental self said, voice carrying the exhaustion of repetition.

"Again," his peak self agreed, raising a blade that had drunk the blood of gods.

The clash lasted twelve seconds.

Avian knew every move that was coming - they were the same person, after all. He knew the feint to the left would become an earth-reinforced strike. He knew the high guard would drop into a thrust backed by contracted fire magic. He knew because he'd created these techniques, perfected them through countless battles.

It didn't matter.

His Sixth Tier Core simply couldn't match Eleventh Tier output. His young muscles couldn't move fast enough to block strikes he saw coming. His mana channels, still developing, couldn't handle the volume of power needed for the devastating combinations he remembered performing. And most crucially - he had no Spirit Kings to call upon. Where his peak self seamlessly blended six elements through divine contracts, Avian had only gravity magic that his past self had never possessed.

It was like trying to paint a masterpiece with a broken brush, or play a symphony on an instrument missing half its strings. The knowledge was there, perfect and complete, but the body simply couldn't execute.

The end came as it always did. Fargrim - the true Fargrim, fully awakened and singing songs of slaughter - carved through every defense like they were made of good intentions and tissue paper. Avian hit the mental sand hard enough to crater it, his own blade at his throat.

"Still trying to force it," his peak self critiqued, not even breathing hard because mental projections didn't need to. "You're attempting Eleventh Tier techniques with a Sixth Tier core. That's not adaptation, that's stupidity."

"I'm working with what I have," Avian gasped, tasting blood that existed only in his mind.

"No. You're trying to be what you were." His peak self dismissed the blade, offering a hand up. "That's the path that leads to arrows in hearts and historical revision. You need to become something different."

Avian accepted the help, standing in the shifting space. "Different how? I am you. Same memories, same techniques, same instincts."

"Same mind, different body. Different era. Different enemies." His peak self crossed arms that had torn demons apart barehanded. "Stop trying to recreate peak Dex. That man is dead. Build something new with what you have now."

"Like what?"

"Fuck if I know. That's your puzzle to solve."

The mental landscape shattered like glass made of thoughts. Avian gasped back to consciousness in his training room, body aching from phantom wounds. Another loss. Another reminder that his current power was a pale shadow of what he'd been.

"Shit," he muttered, checking his cultivation progress.

The news was uniformly depressing. His Aether Core remained locked at Sixth Tier - whatever had slammed down during the tournament still holding firm like a magical chastity belt. Some transcendent asshole was cock-blocking his cultivation, and he had a growing list of suspects.

His mana channels had actually contracted slightly since he'd started using gravity magic exclusively. Fucking typical. Find one thing that works and your body decides to specialize like an idiot savant who forgot the savant part.

The condensed aura techniques were sharper but not stronger. Like sharpening a butter knife - sure, it cuts better, but it's still a fucking butter knife.

He was plateauing. Hard.

In his past life, this would have been when he turned to the Spirit Kings. Fire for overwhelming force, Water for adaptation, Earth for foundations, Wind for movement, Light for revelation, Dark for subtlety. Not true mastery of elements - he'd only ever been naturally attuned to Earth - but spirit-granted access that made him functionally omnipotent with enough preparation.

But the Spirit Kings were gone. Vanished when he died, taking their power with them. All he had now was gravity and whatever scraps of strength this body could hold.

Not enough. Not nearly enough. Like trying to fight a war with strongly worded letters instead of swords.

A knock interrupted his brooding. "Come in."

Kai entered, taking in Avian's sweat-soaked state with knowing eyes. "Mind training again?"

How the fuck does everyone always know? Do I have 'fighting myself and losing' stamped on my forehead?

"How did you—"

"You get this particular flavor of frustrated afterward. Like someone who keeps losing to themselves." Kai settled against the wall. "Any progress?"

"I'm getting very good at dying in new and creative ways."

At least my sarcasm is still sharp. Small fucking victories.

"Cheerful." Kai studied him for a moment. "You need a break. When's the last time you left the compound?"

Avian had to think about it. The tournament, before that the forest trial, before that... "Months?"

"Right. You're going to burn out or break through, and my money's on burning." Kai pushed off the wall. "There's a whole capital out there. Markets, monuments, libraries. Places that might have answers to whatever questions are eating you."

The idea sparked something. Sitting here grinding against artificial limits wasn't working. Like repeatedly headbutting a brick wall - satisfying for about two seconds before the concussion sets in.

But out there, in the world where his past life had actually happened...

"You're right," Avian said slowly. "I need perspective. Different sources of information."

"Great! When do we leave?"

"We?"

Oh look, the strategic remora wants to attach himself for the ride. Though credit where it's due - at least he's obvious about it.

"You think I'm letting you wander around alone? You've got that look - the one that says you're planning something inadvisable." Kai grinned. "Besides, someone needs to keep you from getting stabbed in seedy taverns while searching for mysterious artifacts."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"I don't search for artifacts in taverns."

"Yet."

Despite himself, Avian smiled. It would be good to have backup. And Kai had proven himself clever enough to be useful, survivor enough to not be a liability. Plus, having someone to talk to might keep him from going completely fucking insane from his own thoughts.

"Tomorrow morning," he decided. "Early. Before anyone can object."

"Perfect. I'll handle provisions." Kai headed for the door, then paused. "Oh, and Avian? Maybe change first. You look like you've been wrestling ghosts."

After he left, Avian remained in the empty training room. Wrestling ghosts. More accurate than Kai knew.

He cleaned up, changed into fresh clothes, and began planning. The capital held secrets - had to hold secrets. Five hundred years couldn't erase everything. There would be cracks in the official story, places where truth leaked through.

He just had to find them.

The Previous Evening

Aedric Veritas stood in his study, observing his son through means that bent space to his will. The boy was destroying training dummies with barely controlled frustration, power leaking through his restraint like blood through bandages.

"He'll break or he'll leave," the Patriarch murmured to himself. "And breaking would be such a waste."

A knock at his door - expected, scheduled, precisely on time. "Enter."

Kai walked in, shoulders tense with the awareness of being summoned by power incarnate. He bowed precisely. "Lord Patriarch. You requested my presence?"

"Young Kai." Aedric turned from his observation, giving the boy his full attention. It was like being studied by a force of nature. "You've been spending considerable time with my son."

"Lord Avian has been generous with his friendship."

"Has he?" Aedric moved to his desk, each step deliberate. "And you've been equally generous with your support. Deliberately losing in the tournament to avoid attention. Providing information. Being... useful."

Kai's face remained neutral, but sweat beaded on his forehead. "I seek to serve the family's interests."

"Your family's interests, you mean." Aedric smiled, and it was sharp as winter. "The seventh son of a minor branch, seeing opportunity in chaos. I approve. Initiative should be rewarded."

"My lord?"

"Avian will want to leave the compound soon. The tournament victory grants him that freedom, but he'll need... guidance. Someone who knows the capital's less savory districts. Someone loyal enough to watch his back but clever enough to not ask uncomfortable questions."

Understanding dawned in Kai's eyes. "You want me to accompany him."

"I want you to volunteer to accompany him. There's a difference." Aedric leaned back in his chair. "Of course, such service would be remembered. Your family's standing, your siblings' opportunities... many things become possible for those who prove useful to the main line."

The offer hung between them like a blade. Kai recognized it for what it was - opportunity wrapped in obligation, advancement bound to risk.

"What would you need to know?"

"Everything. Where he goes, who he meets, what he seeks." Aedric's eyes glinted. "My son hides depths I'm only beginning to fathom. I would know their extent."

"And if those depths prove... dangerous?"

"Then I'll deal with them. But first, I must understand them." The Patriarch stood, power rolling off him in waves. "Do this, and your family rises. Fail..."

"I won't fail."

"See that you don't." Aedric waved dismissal. "Go. Be a good friend. Volunteer your company with enthusiasm. And remember - I'm very interested in what stones my son chooses to overturn."

Kai bowed deeply and left, mind already working through implications. He'd hitched his fortune to Avian's rise, but now the Patriarch himself was involved. The game had changed, become deeper, more dangerous.

But also more rewarding.

His family needed this. His siblings deserved better than obscurity. If that meant being a spy as well as a friend... well, he'd been balancing worse contradictions his whole life.

Besides, Avian probably expected it. Kid was too smart not to realize everyone had angles. The trick was being useful enough that the angles didn't matter.

Tomorrow morning, he'd volunteer with perfect sincerity. And if his reports to the Patriarch happened to omit certain details, if his loyalty proved more complex than simple obedience...

That was tomorrow's problem.

Tonight, he had provisions to prepare and a role to perfect.

The next morning came crisp and clear, the kind of dawn that made the world seem full of possibilities. Avian stood at the compound's main gate, travel pack secured, Fargrim hidden beneath a nondescript cloak. He'd left a note for Elira, claimed a training excursion to avoid immediate questions.

"You're actually doing this." Lysander appeared from nowhere, as was her habit. "Running off to play detective."

"Expanding my horizons."

"You're bored and plateauing." She studied him with those too-knowing eyes. "Good. Beating walls with your head only works so long. Sometimes you need to find a door."

Or blow a new fucking hole. But doors work too, I suppose.

"Any advice?"

"Don't die. I've put too much work into you to have you kebabbed by street thugs." She produced a small token from somewhere. "If you find real trouble - the kind that makes your trouble look peaceful - break this. I'll know."

"What will you do?"

"Laugh at your predicament. Then maybe help." She vanished between one blink and the next, leaving only the scent of ozone and questionable life choices.

At least she's honest about the laughing part.

"Your teacher's terrifying," Kai observed, arriving with travel supplies that looked suspiciously well-prepared for spontaneous volunteering.

No shit. Woman thinks 'throw explosives at students' is a valid teaching method. Effective, but terrifying.

"You have no idea." Avian pocketed the token. "Ready?"

"Been ready since yesterday." At Avian's look, Kai shrugged. "What? I know you. The brooding was reaching critical mass. It was either this or you'd start challenging training dummies to philosophical debates."

They passed through the gates, guards noting their departure but not challenging it. The privileges of making the final eight - freedom to come and go, to prepare however they saw fit.

The road to the capital stretched before them, winding through estates and farmland before reaching the urban sprawl. A day's walk if they pushed, two if they took their time.

"So," Kai said as they found their rhythm. "What are we really looking for?"

Avian considered how much to share. Kai had proven trustworthy, but some secrets were too large for casual conversation.

"Inconsistencies," he said finally. "Places where the official story doesn't quite fit. Old records, forgotten monuments, people who remember things differently."

"About the Demon War?"

"Among other things."

"You know Seren's been digging into that too. Says the timeline makes no sense."

Of course she has. Too clever for everyone's good.

"Then maybe we'll find something that helps her research," Avian said diplomatically.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, leaving the immediate reach of the compound. The road was well-traveled but not crowded this early, mostly merchants heading to market and farmers bringing goods to the capital.

"Can I ask you something?" Kai said eventually.

Here we go. Time for probing questions from the friendly spy.

"Sure."

"Why do you care so much about ancient history? Most people in your position would be focused on the trials, on securing their position."

Avian was quiet for a long moment, weighing words. Because I am ancient history, you well-meaning intelligence asset. Because every fucking statue is a lie with my friend's face on it.

"Because history shapes present. The stories we tell about the past determine who we think we are. And I think... I think we've been telling the wrong stories."

"About the Demon King?"

"About heroes. About villains. About who deserves to be remembered and why."

And about who gets arrows through the heart for the crime of saving everyone.

Kai nodded slowly. "My ancestor's journal... he painted a very different picture of that time. Less clear cut. More human."

"Exactly."

They crested a hill, and the capital spread before them in the morning light. Massive, ancient, built in layers like sediment of different eras. Somewhere in that maze of streets and secrets, answers waited.

Or more lies. But at least they'd be different lies. Variety is the spice of life and all that shit.

"Well then," Kai said, adjusting his pack. "Let's go find some uncomfortable truths."

"Just try not to get us killed in the process."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Smart-ass. I actually like this kid. Shame he's probably reporting everything to daddy dearest.