Chapter 82: Oxymoron.
Lloyd had found a curious function of the chosen’s mark.
It wasn’t something he discovered immediately, nor a spectacular revelation accompanied by lights or intense sensations. In fact, it happened quite simply, almost trivially. At some point, while observing his own hand under the faint light of the moons, he thought about making it disappear... and it did.
The mark vanished.
It left no trace, no heat, no visible residual energy. It simply stopped being there, as if it had never existed. And then, with another thought, it appeared again. Not necessarily in the same place. He could move it, shift it across his body like an obedient shadow, adjusting it at will.
It was... curious.
Useful, in a way, though not in the way one would expect from something related to a hero. It wasn’t a destructive power, nor defensive, not even something that provided a direct advantage in combat. Rather it seemed a secondary characteristic, almost decorative. An aesthetic tool, if you wanted to see it that way.
Still, Lloyd didn’t dismiss it.
In his experience, apparently insignificant things often hid deeper functions.
However, the true revelation didn’t come from there.
It came that same night, before Belial awakened.
It was a brief moment, driven more by curiosity than a defined plan. Lloyd, sitting in front of the chained sword, decided to use Leviathan’s pupil to analyze it in detail. He didn’t expect much. Maybe some superficial information, some useful data.
But what he found was something else.
Something that didn’t fit.
The sword... had been sealed.
And not just any way.
It had been closed by Siegfried.
The information appeared fragmented at first, like loose pieces that didn’t quite fit. But the more he concentrated, the clearer the pattern became. The seal’s structure, the metal’s nature, the way the chains interacted with the blade... everything pointed to the same thing.
Siegfried.
And not just that.
He remembered Gleipnir’s mythic artifact description, and remembered that indeed, those chains were a legendary artifact that had been forged by Siegfried.
That was what really made Lloyd frown.
Because then, something that until that moment had been just a theory began to take shape.
Siegfried’s ability... was related to forging.
Not with common forging, of course. Not with hammers and anvils in the traditional sense. It was something more abstract, more conceptual. But still, the basic idea was there: create, mold, construct artifacts with a specific purpose.
Lloyd had considered that possibility before.
But he had also dismissed it.
There were too many inconsistencies.
The main one was the mark itself.
Its form didn’t evoke tools, nor weapons, nor anything that could be easily associated with creating objects. It was a symbol linked to the Sun and Moon... or more exactly, to the eclipse. An image charged with meaning, yes, but not one that fit with the idea of forging artifacts.
It was strange.
Too much.
However, now he had another piece of the puzzle.
The mark wasn’t just a decorative symbol nor simple proof of having passed a trial.
It was the stigma of a pact.
The bond between Siegfried and Fenrir.
An ancient contract, made to be inherited. The mark was nothing more than the visible manifestation of that agreement, a sign that someone had been accepted as successor, as bearer of that connection.
The one chosen by a Fenrir tribe priestess who passed Siegfried’s trial would be that hero’s heir.
It wasn’t exactly the same, but it wasn’t different either. It preserved the original essence, Siegfried’s authority, as if a part of him remained imprinted on each bearer.
An inheritance.
Or perhaps a reward.
And most important of all was that power didn’t depend on an external source.
It didn’t require divine power. It didn’t need intermediaries. It was his.
That simple idea changed many things.
Because now the question was obvious.
What did Siegfried’s power really consist of?
And more important still... how could he use it?
As far as Lloyd knew, Siegfried had created artifacts designed to contain evils. Objects capable of sealing dangerous entities, of restricting forces that normally would be impossible to control.
But that was too specific.
Too limited to be considered a heroic authority in itself.
It didn’t fit.
Abilities of that level were usually broader, more fundamental. They weren’t reduced to a single concrete application. They were concepts that could adapt to multiple situations.
So there had to be something more.
Something simpler... but at the same time deeper.
And to discover it, Lloyd only saw one clear option.
Absorb the mark.
He didn’t like the idea.
Not completely.
He didn’t know what it implied exactly. It could mean integrating the power into his own system... or destroying it in the process. It could facilitate its use... or make it disappear completely.
It was a risk.
A considerable one.
But that wasn’t what really bothered him.
There was something else.
Something more personal.
Lloyd didn’t want to depend solely on the system.
That was the truth.
Until now, many of his advantages came from there. Abilities, improvements, tools... all channeled through that structure that, though useful, was still a cage in a certain sense.
Depending on a single source of power was dangerous.
Limiting.
It made him something close to a slave.
And that... he didn’t like.
The mark was different.
He had obtained it himself.
With his own effort.
It was a power that hadn’t been granted to him without more, but earned. Something that truly belonged to him.
Giving that up, even with the possibility of obtaining something better in exchange... felt wrong.
Demoralizing.
Like losing a part of himself.
Still...
Maybe it wasn’t necessary to go to that extreme.
Maybe there was another way.
It was then that Lloyd began to notice the details.
Small things that, until that moment, had gone unnoticed.
The mark represented an eclipse.
Light and darkness.
Sun and moon.
Two opposites that, instead of canceling each other out, coexisted.
They overlapped.
They merged.
And it wasn’t the only example.
During the trial, the environment had been cold.
Frozen, even.
But that place was built to seal the primordial fire.
Another contrast.
Another duality.
Lloyd didn’t think about that by chance.
There was something pushing him in that direction.
An intuition difficult to ignore.
So he decided to verify it.
He delved more into Belial’s history, striving, using Leviathan’s pupil to its maximum. At first it was difficult, but with enough effort...
He found the answer.
The sword Siegfried had used to seal Belial... was originally a sacred sword.
That detail changed everything.
Because then he remembered something else.
Gleipnir.
The chains that now kept Belial contained hadn’t always been what they were.
In the past, they had been a legendary artifact.
Not cursed.
Not corrupted.
Legendary.
But with the passage of time, something had changed. The wear, the influence of what they contained, the accumulation of demonic energy... all that had altered their nature.
Until converting them into what they were now.
A cursed artifact of mythic rank.
But it wasn’t always like that.
And that was what was important.
Lloyd remained silent a few seconds.
Thinking.
Reorganizing ideas.
What if he was looking wrong?
What if the problem wasn’t lack of information, but perspective?
Until now, he had assumed those artifacts sealed evil because they were, in essence, malignant. Because their nature fit with what they contained.
But that didn’t have to be true.
Belial had been generating demonic energy for a long time.
Too long.
It was logical to think that energy had affected its environment.
The sword.
The chains.
Maybe what he saw now wasn’t the original state of those objects.
Maybe he was seeing the result of prolonged corruption.
"Oxymoron..."
The word escaped his lips without him realizing.
Almost like a reflex.
As if his mind had reached a conclusion before him and simply pronounced it.
An oxymoron.
A rhetorical figure that unites two opposite concepts. For example, "burning ice," or "dark light."
Something that violates the first Aristotelian axiom, the law of non-contradiction.
A logical paradox that can only exist in fantasy.
Lloyd narrowed his eyes slightly.
Yes.
That made sense.
Siegfried’s ability wasn’t simply creating artifacts.
It was something more.
Something that went beyond simple forging.
It consisted of fusing opposites.
In taking two things with contrary natures.
Parallel ontological attributes.
And combining them into one.
Into a single new functional object.
The boy didn’t know all the details, nor the limits, nor the exact conditions of the technique’s activation.
But he had an idea, and that was enough to start.
Now only one question remained.
How the hell was he supposed to use it?
The ability’s description spoke of a hidden power.
That meant something, and at the same time nothing. Like an oxymoron in itself.
Without doubt it wasn’t very obvious.
Could it be activated simply by wanting it?
Or maybe it required certain conditions.
Or maybe...
It only needed to be understood.
Lloyd wasn’t completely sure.
But he had come too far to stop now.
And, after all...
It was worth trying.
He would do it that night, with the sword... When he knew its name.
