The Universe Is Innately Just 322 Unfurling Past Part Three

He stood motionless in the middle of the vast arena, and continued looking at the void as he savored the after-taste of that flash of history.

"I fought here…", he muttered slowly. He couldn't be wrong about his own face and blood essence signature. A face could mature, and change with the pa.s.sing of time, but blood essence would always keep the same origin. Even if one's strength rose, and broke through the barrier of cultivation, the source of one's cultivation wouldn't change unless a drastic event happened.

Fell might have faced a drastic event, but the hidden bestowal he had gotten had changed his sou, and only strengthened his blood essence, leaving its exact origin and quintessence unchanged.

A few seconds pa.s.sed, and the young cultivator continued looking at the arena, marking every speck of it in his mind with a golden inscription that consolidated the bits of the past he had looked at. And before long, he decided to leave the underground arena as he could sense something calling him inside of Gladiator's Heaven.

His interest toward the bribes of the past hidden inside of the arena lessened after confirming that Sifiso's word had been correct. Especially when he could sense chilling intent laying in the distance.

He stopped looking at the candled ceiling of the underground arena, and disappeared with a spatial step that made him go through the void. The young cultivator's figure reappeared under a naked tree that lonely stood in a small courtyard.

Fell's eyes were immediately attracted to the small house laying in front of the little tree. He had currently reappeared in the middle of the gladiator's barracks, and the falling sun in the sky was retracting its warm luminescent touch from New Casablanca.

By the time, Fell finally stepped toward the small house, the sun had mostly disappeared as the last ray from the burning celestial star left the courtyard, basking it in a cool atmosphere. As he moved, the wind followed his actions as the naked branches of the solitary tree rustled dryly with its sudden movement. By the time the youth stepped through the door of the small house, the wind had turned swift as it screeched and made the tree's branch wiggle hazardously.

The fragile branches of the tree twisted in strange ways that threatened to make their small tensile strength fail them. Yet none of that happened as Fell entered inside of the room where he had meditated during his gladiator's career.

"This…", he muttered slowly as Soldier's Fortune appeared out of the void in front of him. He extended his hand as the sword dropped in his soft yet firm grasp, while his sight was instantly attracted toward the hundreds of cold chilling fissure stretching everywhere in the small closed door area where he had lived.

Soldier's Fortune released a small screech as its glinting blade sharply vibrated. And in the same way, a bird would chirp, his sword released a low ringing noise that reverberated through the room.

At first, nothing happened, but that didn't make his sword stop as the semi-conscious bladed weapon continued communicating. The sound it releases weren't produced with the intent to communicate with its master, as it had always been able to communicate with Fell in a thoughtless manner. And that, ever since he had been able to fuse with his sword into one ent.i.ty.

Ever since he had awakened, and had regained his body. The first thing that appeared in front of his eyes was the sword he was holding in his hand. And strangely, at the moment where its master's memory disappeared, and his soul reborn anew, Fell's sword had also awakened a nascent consciousness.

Both newborn, and both a decisive result of Fell's relentless pursuit toward greater strength. But even as both of the two ent.i.ties seemed to have just appeared in the world, both, master and weapon, seemed to have been molded to be together.

That sensation had appeared ever since Soldier's Fortune's cooling metallic grip had made contact with his palm. The muscle memory of years of training reacted to his fated weapon as he instinctively remade contact with his dormant sword technique, but most importantly, his intact sword intent.

After the rebirth of his soul, his sword intent hadn't weakened but had instead magnified as a touch of life and death seemed to have materialized in its core property. Added to the upgrade Soldier's Fortune had received due to the powerful connection it had made with the b.e.s.t.i.a.l Formation- absorbing slaughter aura during a seizable amount of time from the near limitless resource of the b.e.s.t.i.a.l army- even his sword path had ended up growing due to his loss of memory.

Without any past constraint from a bias of knowledge, Fell fully trusted the instinctive sword style that seemed to have been ingrained in every string of muscle. He moved, and his hand turned into a ghostly whip that lashes dozens of times in the eight directions surrounding him.

The metallic ringing released by Soldier's Fortune intensified during Fell's lightning fast motion, and even when he came to a stop, his blade continued vibrating in the same frequencies of the dozens of slashing techniques he had executed in one instant motion. His movements were absurdly fast to the point where his body seemed as though it had grown two other heads, and four other arms.

He stopped for a few seconds, as his soul sense stretched across the room and felt every small sword mark he had left in these walls. It was in this very room that he had made his first steps in his sword training. The origin of his sword path could be traced back to this very place.

Every mark existing in the walls seemed to confirm that to the entranced cultivator. He reconnected an old facet of Fell's old consciousness and rekindled a dormant pa.s.sion for swordsmanship.

The dozens of moves he had executed landed on their respective marks. A few seconds pa.s.sed, as the sword cry intensified, causing a change on the fissure Fell's sword had targeted.

Suddenly, a strange vaporous energy emerged out of the cracked stone, as a remnant- nascent stage- sword intent appeared out of Fell's past habitation.

The moment the small wisps of intent appeared. Soldier's Fortune cry rose in pitch as the ringing intensified and caused the remnant wisps of sword intent's to fly toward the metallic weapon.

His face blanked as he was smitten by the vibrant pa.s.sion hidden inside of those wisps of small intent. Each and every shred of sword intent- imprisoned inside of the walls of his past habitation- resonate with Fell's past relentless intent. After Soldier's Fortune absorbed that sword intent and transmitted what they hid from Fell's mind.

He found himself unable to refrain his body, as he once again moved, and began a long training session. In some sense, there existed no apparent benefit for him to reproduce every move he had produced during the first weeks of his sword path. But the sword intent that escaped through the wall was enough reason to go through that long process.

Thankfully, with the instinctual sword technique ingrained in his body, he didn't find it difficult at all to a.n.a.lyze the marks and deduce the move that had produced them. Adding to that, his current cultivation bases, he didn't find it difficult at all to unleash dozens of different slashes and cuts in one fluid motion.

Then, he would come to a stop, and let his sword cry at the same 'frequency' as the attacks he unfurled. Following that would comes the small wisps of sword intent that would immediately dart toward Soldier's Fortune after leaving the cracks in the walls.

Each cycle took less and less time to execute for young cultivator, and under his current level, he soon ended up reproducing every single move he had executed inside of the small room. Less than ten minutes of constant movement and stillness had been spent ever since he had entered the room, but his body didn't even break a sweat.

He only felt himself his limb warm up lightly under his movements, and his constant dampened mood was brightened as he cleansed the darkness he had acc.u.mulated through his sword practice.

A sigh escaped his lips, as he sensed his overall mood brighten after sensing the pa.s.sion that had- once- embodied his body. The unstoppable youthful drive caused his hair to rise slightly, and even his muscles twitched from excitation as he entered a zone similar to Fell during his training.

Inside of the small house where he had lived during his career, he hadn't only learned more about his sword techniques, but had learned more about his old consciousness, about his past life as he could sense the hopes and emotion Fell had held during his first steps as a cultivator.

To the new consciousness of Fell, the sword intent that were imprisoned inside of the hundreds of fissures became cheerful encouragement from his past—rekindling the candle of the conscious that had dangerously threaded toward a hidden danger for every soul cultivator.

For those who developed their soul through cultivation. For those who dealt with the matters of mind, the consciousness, and the ego. Losing oneself's ident.i.ty was the same as losing one's path.

Thankfully, the recent events in Gladiator's Heaven were the same as Fell linking himself back to the past karma of his life. And in the end, had made him take a dramatic choice, one to accept it rather than to severe.

He turned around, and began leaving the small house with satisfied steps. Time had slowly flowed ever since he entered his old habitation, and the night had already replaced the long nightmarish day New Casablanca had pa.s.sed.

The soft moonlight basked the small courtyard, and even infiltrated a small window hidden in a corner of the room. The moon's soft touch caressed the fissure of the walls, before disappearing inside of the sword intent hidden inside of it; Leaving the room in permanent obscurity.

"I can only go forward in this life…", he muttered as he got to understand more about himself. Even if one could say that living was only composed in the present, and the potential future, some would say that it was through the many layers of an individual's past that a persona could indeed be found.

The wind seemed to be granted life under Fell's presence, as he began slowly moving toward the area near the naked tree. His calm walk was contrasted by the fast-moving air around him.

The changes in the atmosphere weren't precisely caused by him, but by the weapon he was still holding in his hand.

Soldier's Fortune began producing a strong reaction after absorbing the small traces of will he had produced during his early days of training. And for the weapon that had absorbed an unG.o.dly amount of slaughter aura and dark energy, this type of pure, positive, will caused a strange balance to happen inside of the semi-conscious metallic weapon.

The red hue it had acquired after the ma.s.s absorption of sword intent lessened, and the air surrounding it turned warmer as the metallic weapon silently ringed as it slowly morphed into a higher state of existence. Threading upon its own sword path, one that was tightly interlinked with Fell's own life.

Sensing that changes were happening to the weapon he held in high esteem. The young cultivator decided to a.s.sist it, as he softly laid cross legged on the bare ground. Before long, he connected with his soul palace and released the strength hidden inside of the mysterious sapling.

The next moment, a ma.s.sive change happened to the small courtyard, as it soon hosted another tree. Albeit this one was bared with hundreds of sharp leaves that seemed to ring at the same frequency as Soldier's Fortune.