Vescrutia: Legacy

Subori waded through the water to Dalazar's backside, popping up with a strong splash to test his focus, patting him on the back with a strong thump.

"Haha, you don't know tricky yet! That droplet of light is barely scratching the surface of what we can do!" He hung over Dalazar's shoulder like a lifelong friend would, putting most of his pressure on the arm Dalazar maintained his Cordo with, trying his composure on purpose. Even if the light disappeared, all it would take is another round of focus and Subori was sure he'd be able to bring it back. if not, then he needed more work anyway.

Jaq nodded patiently. the next part was indeed the truly tricky part. Manifesting the Force of Will was a first step into the whole discipline the Acolytes of Lucis dedicated their life's work to cultivating. It was a malleable force, a dynamic energy that they even said that some people made use of without knowing they were doing so, but mastery eluded so many practitioners they forsook their homes and lives for pilgrimage to the various temples like Sol Gamera to understand. The Conservatory didn't ask this of anyone who came to their doors, they offered a different approach to the Force of Will. Given the current circumstances and the impending invasion of B'halia, if they found value in protecting Jaida as a frontline of Madeira's defense, The Conservatory offered them tools and skills to join the cause.

"So, who's gonna take him in? You or me?" Subori asked Jaq, grinning from one side of his wide face to the other, eyes squinting with any number of ideas flying through his round head. Jaq closed her eyes and shrugged, knowing full well that Subori could take the reins and get them into te Vermeil Realm. Though his mastery of some of the finer points of the Cordo's Arbiters were lacking, Subori definitely had the advantage over her when stepping into the Vermeil Realm.

"Got it, let's go!" Subori said as a bright, silvery-white light engulfed his hands. He dipped into the water beneath Dalazar and reappeared right in front of him with his bright eyes glowing with the same energy. He inhaled a giant gulp of air and opened both webbed palms in front of him. Subori grabbed Dalazar's hand with the Cordo and put a firm palm into his chest with another, sending a pulse of the silvery-white energy rippling through his body. The waves coursed through to his arms and legs and back before converging in Dalazar's head and eyes, igniting them in a light that matched Subori's. They both glowed the same silvery-white, bathed in Vermeil, and seemed to disappear behind the veil of light from the coast. Jaq took a full seat in the ocean, resting in the gentle waves until they were finished.

Within the aura of light, it was just Subori and Dalazar and an endless expanse of white, a translucent floor dancing around their ankles like the sea they were standing in, and faint, grey tinted background accents like a sheet of white cast over the landscape of the Jaida Coast. The floor moved, the waves crashed, but they didn't hear anything but muffled ambience and the faint sound of the energy pervading the space all around them.

"How you feeling?" Subori asked with the same giant smile painted on his face.

"Oh crap"

Subori's gesture knocked his concentration out of whack breaking his connection to his Cordo. He didn't despair though. He was familiar with the feeling, though it was definitely going to take him practice to maintain it let alone increasing it's output. He could understand now how it could take some a lifetime seeking mastery of it. It was not only the mastery of the self, but the mastery of how the self intersected."Got it, let's go!" Subori said as a bright, silvery-white light engulfed his hands. He dipped into the water beneath Dalazar and reappeared right in front of him with his bright eyes glowing with the same energy.

He inhaled a giant gulp of air and opened both webbed palms in front of him. Subori grabbed Dalazar's hand with the Cordo and put a firm palm into his chest with another, sending a pulse of the silvery-white energy rippling through his body. The waves coursed through to his arms and legs and back before converging in Dalazar's head and eyes, igniting them in a light that matched Subori's. They both glowed the same silvery-white, bathed in Vermeil, and seemed to disappear behind the veil of light from the coast. Jaq took a full seat in the ocean, resting in the gentle waves until they were finished. Just as he went to open his eyes Subori was hoping into the waters.

"Got it, let's go!" Subori said as a bright, silvery-white light engulfed his hands. He dipped into the water beneath Dalazar and reappeared right in front of him with his bright eyes glowing with the same energy. He inhaled a giant gulp of air and opened both webbed palms in front of him. Subori grabbed Dalazar's hand with the Cordo and put a firm palm into his chest with another, sending a pulse of the silvery-white energy rippling through his body. The waves coursed through to his arms and legs and back before converging in Dalazar's head and eyes, igniting them in a light that matched Subori's. They both glowed the same silvery-white, bathed in Vermeil, and seemed to disappear behind the veil of light from the coast. Jaq took a full seat in the ocean, resting in the gentle waves until they were finished.

In what felt like a flash he was before Dalazar gripping his hand that held his Cordo and one on his chest. In that moment Dalazar felt his body flushed with the sliver gleam of Vermeil. It rippled through his body less like a wave and more like an echo before convening around his head and eyes the latter of which became endowed with he same silver glare. Everything else around them seemed to be painted over with white. The waves continued to crash, the winds swirl and dance and yet, it was all silent, save for the faint thrum of energy buzzing around them. It was both tranquil and eerie.

"I-I'm not sure, it's different than anything I've ever felt before. Comforting, inviting, and a bit creepy."

“Aha, yeah, that’s how I described it the first time too. Similar to how I’d describe the Lucis Acolytes in general. But, welcome to The reaaaaaalm” Subori said, waving his webbed fingers in the air in front of his eyes to highlight the mysterious and mystical nature of the Vermeil Realm they stepped into. The expanse of white that vaguely resembled the world that washed away from them was a place where the Cordo could be given life. Across the expanse of silvery white drowning out the previously beautiful landscape of the Jaida Coast, small white orbs danced gently in every direction, randomly phasing into and out of view, barely visible on the pale background. Subori couldn’t help but let out amused laughter.

“Here, we can work with the Cordo directly and bring some real shape to it. Summoning a Cordo is like sourcing clay, it’s ready to be molded. Being here, it’s more like you’re sculpting that clay into something recognizable. The Force of Will has a potent influence here and you can work on giving your Cordo shape without trying to manifest it out in the Seen. Why don’t you give it a try?”

Subori crossed his arms and waited for Dalazar to do his thing, make something out of nothing, out of his own nothing, but almost nothing indeed. Dalazar caught on to finding the source of the energy within himself fairly quickly, so maybe bringing it a form would come just as easily. He waited with his hands clenched, wide mouth tight with almost giddy expectation. He bobbed up and down in the white water waiting to see what the new student could come up with.

"Ok...here goes."

Dalazar murmured the words, a quiet promise to himself as he centered his being. The unfamiliar yet strangely welcoming emptiness of the realm enveloped him. Being here, within this foundational space, made the task of pooling the energy of his Cordo significantly easier, almost intuitive.

It began as a faint flutter, a nervous palpitation deep within his chest, but quickly settled into a steady, rushing current that flowed down his arm, gathering and manifesting in the palm of his outstretched hand. An orb of shimmering energy pulsed there, slightly larger and more vibrant than the initial, exploratory one he had conjured moments ago.

This luminous sphere was his clay, raw and potent, born from the very core of his being. But finding a shape, let alone an actual form for it? That was the daunting part. He'd wielded countless weapons, discovered forgotten artifacts, mastered magical items of intricate design throughout his brief, intense lifetime. He'd pored over texts detailing the most esoteric creations known across the Mother realms, all in a desperate attempt to distill the essence of his experiences, his triumphs, failures, and purpose, into a single, tangible thing. Trying to pinpoint the breadth of that experience into a single form seemed almost impossible.

He sighed, the sound barely disturbing the serene quiet of the realm. Then, as his eyes scanned the realm once more, something began to sort itself together for him. Dalazar took a deep, bracing breath, his body already tingling with the familiar, subtle flow of energy that permeated this space. This realm, this 'template for the Seen,' was stripped bare, its structure present but devoid of the riot of color and fine detail that characterized the waking world. It was like looking at a master drawing whose elaborate shading and texture had been erased, leaving only the foundational lines that created it. It was odd, yes, but also rather soothing. It took the edge off the pressure to produce something extravagant, instead quietly urging him to focus not on the finished masterpiece, but on the blueprint itself. It wasn't about the many different things this clay could be molded into; it was about that which connected closest to him, something intrinsic to his path.

"Something... recognizable," he whispered, the thought solidifying.

As a swordsman through training and necessity, his first instinct was, naturally, to try and brandish a type of blade. He focused on the image of honed steel, the feel of a familiar hilt, picturing the flow of Cordo energy shaping into an elegant edge. But as he concentrated on that line of thought, something about it felt... not quite authentic, not wholly true to his deepest self. While it was true he had a great love and respect for the sword, he was first and foremost, above all other things, a student of magic.

And then, something clicked. Not a weapon, not a tool of honed metal, but tools nonetheless, intimately connected to his magical practice. His House Hold treasures. Fulgear. He wore them so often, relying on their subtle power, that he nearly forgot about them in the grand scheme of his magical arsenal. A pair of gloves, crafted from Kingsthread, a miraculous material woven from Illuminite saturated in the hidden oasis beneath their kingdom. Its form had been altered into pliable thread by the delicate, powerful transfiguration magic utilized by the Gamallow artisans. Commissioned specifically for him by Evant. By design, they amplified and allowed him to wield electrical current with surgical precision, taming the wild energy he struggled with in his youth. Of all his weaponry and gadgets, they were among his most favored and profoundly treasured, a gift from the one he loved and idolized.

"Something... bolder... stronger," he murmured again, a new layer added to the vision.

Though Fulgear was an exceptional and deeply meaningful part of his armament, it had also been given to him as a means of assisting him in making the most out of the meager amount of magic he was able to muster back then. Now, having received the full breadth of his inheritance, the torrent of the Emerald King's power that coursed through his veins, what he needed was something fundamentally different. Something that assisted not in amplifying a trickle, but in managing, focusing, compressing a flood, channeling its raw force into potent, deliberate acts. He needed an implement of sheer power, distilled and controlled.

The image settled in his mind, not just as a form, but as a feeling, nestled deep within his heart and soul. The power of the Emerald King. It wasn't just magic; it was a legacy, passed down from King to King, inheritor to inheritor. It was the embodiment of a will rooted in the fierce protection of family, in the unwavering shouldering of the immense weight that came with such power. It was the duty of one who would wear its mantle and hold dear its creed. It was a light in the deepest darkness, a flash of defiant bravery in the cloudy dusk of despair, striking its foes with the swiftness of lightning and the grounded, undeniable thrum of thunder that followed. As the fourth inheritor of this ancient, vital legacy, it was that will, the burning furnace and torch of purpose, that was now truly within his hands.

"I..." he began, pausing as the sheer weight of that realization settled upon him.

As he pondered all that had transpired up until this very moment – the trials overcome, the desperate struggles, even the failures that had taught him more than any victory – he felt his convictions solidify, grow, and harden into unyielding resolve. Each challenge faced was another spark of flint against steel, another dash of desperate hope that immolated the blistering desire to keep going, to succeed where others faltered. Each was another thread in the needle that wove together the rich, complex tapestry of his journey, of his ambition not just for himself, but for his home.

His Cordo began to respond to this internal appraisal of purpose, this surge of profound duty. It reacted to the overwhelming need, want, and will to forge a pedestal of prosperity for his people, to deliver them from the smog of hatred and conflict that enveloped their home. The shimmering orb of energy didn't just pulse; it expanded. It grew larger and larger, swelling with the magnitude of his resolve, until it was the size of a large ball.

"am the only one who can..." The final, quiet affirmation escaped his lips, the weight of the Cordo in his hand mirroring the weight in his soul.

He began to calm himself, the intense, almost overwhelming lightning storm brewing in his chest – that flux of emotions, duty, past, and future – didn't consume him. Instead, he held his ground within its eye. The engorged Cordo, vibrating with contained power, began paradoxically to shrink. Though it got smaller, consolidating inward, it retained and amplified the immense "weight" of its surmounting presence. He continued to envision, with a fierce, unyielding focus, the ultimate form that his resolve, his legacy, and his nascent power needed to take.

It was a daunting process, requiring an awe-inspiring level of concentration, a total commitment of mind and spirit. But something about being here, in the white realm, made the process feel more seamless, more possible. The bare canvas of the realm itself seemed to respond, slowly becoming inscribed with the outline of his vision, his will. The raw Cordo energy was the paint, vibrant and alive, scribbling the blueprint into reality, manifesting the distillation of his purpose into a physical form. The creation had begun.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Subori said shooting finger guns at Dalazar. He himself learned the basics of the Cordo in the Vermeil Realm and a few times woke up from his slumber in the Vermeil Realm itself. Zero once told him the same thing happened to him when he trained with the Lucis Acolytes directly, the Vermeil Realm responds to the Force of Will even in sleep.

Even with his setbacks, Dalazar worked the energy into a tangible form and now just needed to drive it home. Subori didn’t exactly recognize the form Dalazar’s Cordo took, but he didn’t need to, as long as Dalazar could manifest it here, the next stage of its development would come naturally.

Subori went on to explain ‘Gilting’ to his new student, a phrase Zero coined recently that they used almost exclusively in The Conservatory. Zero called it the mold, the cast, the imprint of will that each Cordo could take almost instinctively. Gilting took that ball of light and made it a tool to be used, a weapon in the coming battle against a great darkness encroaching. Vermeil, the Realm and the energy, the manifestation of one’s will, was undoubtedly the simple part, where Gilting took a more personal tone, but was a skill that couldn’t as easily be taught. Subori and Jaq, as instructed and entrusted by Zero, guided each new member through the steps to manifest the Cordo and then let them Gilt on their own, a process Zero believed and experience had proven to leave a more lasting impact on the members.

“Now if you can Gilt that right now, I’ll treat you to dinner,” Subori said, sure that Dal at this point could finish the task and have a brand new toy for himself by nightfall. If not, he has the tools to work with by himself and they could take on more advanced Arbiters when he was prepared.

Suboroi's word of confidence as well as his explanation of Gilting served only as further anchors for the wayward noble. Here, in the heart of the cauldron of creation he stood upon the precipice of solidifying the form of an ancient power, a legacy that once safeguarded the Emerald Ascension, something caprable of uniting the realms of the Denkou, Gafren and Titians. He remembered his purpose, the entire reason he had trekked upon this nearly impossible path. To learn, to know, to discover what it was that sparked his desire for greater strength, for what purpose did he pursue mastery?

"It's...been an incredible journey..."

The images of fleeing the kingdom, his mothers tearful face as he fled. He envisioned scouring the dunes with Zero traversing the molten caverns and facing off against the specter that guarded the passage to Ulran. Lambda grateful face when the Waves Of Horus were returned, the old story tellers face as lit up while he recanted the legends of the land. The love of the locals, the laughs shared amongst the Diamond dust gang.

"I...I've made a lot of mistake along the way."

When the hunters for Zero came, his cluelessness led to him being drugged and the lady o luck being hurt to defend him. HIs inexperience and panic leading to him falling to the illusion the thief's set up...his folly of fury awakening the cursed power of Azar's Sapphire flame. All the anger he had been bottling up and ignoring, the scathing hatred of his circumstances feeding the heinous heat. How he fell prey to it unleashing devastation against the building , how it could harmed those outside if it wasn't for Azul. The disappointed faces of the people when they witnessed their quaint home reduced to searing rubble.

"I've been arrogant, stubborn...and it has cost me dearly."

Reaching back to his discovery of the truth of the Denkou people. How they were originally natives of Edo who came to Madeira at the behest of Fulgora, Djynn of Lightning and ambition. It was there in that tomb he met the younger brother of Ains there founder, the First Emerald King and learned of his use of magic to wipe the memories of the Denkoushi he left Edo with. It was a fierce battle one he thought easily won now that he held his birthright in fullness. Arrogance that cost him his left arm.

"But I want to save them...I HAVE to save them..."

And then it came, finally the inspiration ofr his Cordo's form.

"I-I am The Emerald Sea..."


He said as he raised the glowing vermeal soaked hand. His body began ebbing with a faint emerald hue.

"Spark...behind the artist's eyes, L-Laugh that lightenes PAIN!"


His eyes grew bright with lightning

"I am the Union! My dream CONNECTS, not divides."


A realm that knew peace, a world that knew unity for these thigns did he oursue power. For this reason did he fight! The Cordo in repsonse to his growing resolve began ebb stronger.

"Words that flare, Inspire! The courage to resist desire."


The mantra passed from Ain, the first King, to Nalbina, the Second; Dracovis, his Father, The Third; and now he, the fourth.

"I am summer rain. Cloudburst onto the barren."


The Cordo began to unravel becoming a litnaty of threads that dug into the nub where his arm once was. The Cordo was the manifestation of ones will, the power to create something, from nothing. Of all the weapons and tools Dalazar has mastered, none of them equated to what he took for him to master his greatest assesst...

Himself...

"The Bud!"


Dalazar's understanding of human anatomy was prodigious. He knew every nerve, bone and vessel. The threads began to weave together the illusion of flesh and sinew becoming an intricate tapestry recalling the one thing he regretted most.

"The Seed!"


His forearm restored his body reveling in the charge of his anthem, sending ripple of Emerald energy streaking into the realm.

"The Hope I...!!!"


With that last proclamation did the glinting resolve and once it did Dalazar's Cordo fully manifested. It was a new arm, but one intricately constructed from his force of will. He held it upright in earnest, the pride settled in his heart. The intensity of the essence palpable, a mountainous tonnage, stronger than anything he might have imagined elsewise. He turned to face Subori, beads of seat dripping from him.

"I'll take steak please."

He said with a coy wink before everything went black, exhaustion causing him to collapse into a restful sleep.