Chapter 77: Meeting Rauk - The River of Battles
The moment Akasha cracked the first crystal between his fingers.
HUMMMM!!!
A pure white light burst outward, swallowing the frozen world in a radiance so dense and blinding it erased every contour, every shadow, every trace of the realm around him.
Only Akasha remained untouched at the center of it, his posture steady, his expression calm, his eyes narrowed with quiet, absolute focus as he set his mind on the singular goal before him: attaining Aura.
The light washed over him in a long, rolling wave, but it did not behave the way he expected.
There was no sudden rush of insight, no flood of clarity, no cascade of revelations pouring into his mind.
Instead, the light felt like a veil being lifted, a curtain being drawn back, a gentle but undeniable shift in the world that revealed not answers, but direction.
When the radiance finally faded, Akasha stood alone in the stillness, the frozen land settling around him as if nothing had happened at all.
He let out a slow breath, feeling a subtle shift within himself—not a grand achievement, but the undeniable awareness of a road opening ahead.
"Who would’ve thought I’d already met the requirements for Aura after all?" he murmured, recalling how he’d always felt something was missing—not in his skill with the scythe specifically, but in the step toward truly attaining Aura.
As it turned out, there was indeed one crucial step he had never even considered.
Now, all that remained was to step into the appropriate realms—to meditate, to immerse himself in the conceptual rivers that formed the very foundation of every Aura in existence.
A faint shimmer appeared before him, forming into a status window of pale white light.
[Battle Aura – 5000/5000 Battles]
[Scythe Aura – 5000/5000 Assassinations]
[Enter Conceptual Rivers?]
-----
Akasha stared at the display for a long moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, amused smile.
"Battle Aura, huh?" he muttered as he took it in.
Though he had started out honing his skills in hand-to-hand combat, he’d never really considered the idea of developing Aura in that particular way.
In fact, he hadn’t even been aware that such a path was possible. But now that he knew it existed, well... there was no reason for him not to pursue it too.
And while he hadn’t technically fought 5,000 battles, that was only if you didn’t count his true self sweeping through the battlefields of Dream Land, along with the skirmishes he took on purely for himself.
By that measure, the prerequisites had long since been fulfilled without him even realizing it—every fight, every victory, every fleeting instant of combat had steadily built up to meet the exact tally needed.
He lifted his hand and tapped the first option.
[Enter River of Battles]
The moment he made his selection, the world around him shifted.
He lowered himself into a cross‑legged position, his physical body remaining inside Dream Land, perfectly still, perfectly grounded, perfectly calm.
But his consciousness slipped free, drifting upward like a thread of light, passing through the fabric of the realm and descending into a vast, roaring expanse that stretched infinitely in all directions.
----
The River of Battles roared beneath him—a colossal, endless current stretching so far from side to side that even his divine perception couldn’t find its limits.
It wasn’t merely wide; it was boundless, a living tapestry of conflict woven into flowing water, each ripple carrying echoes of clashes happening across the entire verse of Pantheos.
He hovered above it for a heartbeat, taking in the sight.
The river wasn’t just water—it was movement, memory, violence, and history. It carried the distilled essence of every battle fought, every strike thrown, every war ever waged.
The surface shimmered with scenes—armies clashing, duels unfolding and even gods tearing through worlds.
Each image flickered and vanished, replaced by another, then another, then another, all of them alive, all of them happening right now somewhere in Pantheos.
Akasha exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him in a long, steady stream.
"So, this is the River of Battles..." he murmured, voice low, eyes narrowing with a mixture of awe and calculation.
He stepped forward, and the moment his foot touched the river’s surface, it held him—not sinking, not resisting, simply accepting him as though it had been waiting.
Then he glanced around....
And there were countless figures moved along the riverbank—some strolling at an easy pace, others standing still, and a few kneeling in quiet meditation.
All of them were blurry, indistinct silhouettes, their features impossible to discern.
Not because they were powerful, but because the mechanics of the realm refused to reveal identities.
Akasha’s eyes narrowed further.
"And I’m guessing that these are the ones who’ve walked the path of battle," he muttered.
"Hmm, users of the Aura... or those trying to reach it."
A deep, rumbling voice answered him from behind.
"You catch on fast, kid."
Hearing someone respond to his words, Akasha turned.
There, A burly man stood a few paces away, towering over the river like a mountain given flesh.
His shoulders were broad enough to block the flow of the river behind him, his arms thick with corded muscle, his skin marked with scars that glowed faintly.
His beard was wild, his hair tied back, his eyes sharp and amused.
He wore armor that looked hammered from the bones of titans, each plate etched with scenes of war.
He arched a brow at Akasha.
"Well now... how in the hell did a mere God Emperor reach Aura requirements this fast?"
The man let out a booming laugh, slapping a hand against his thigh.
"Your parents must’ve had you fighting since birth!"
Akasha’s lips twitched at the notion of having parents.
"Yeah... right" he said simply.
The man looked at Akasha again arching his brow more.
"Am I wrong? While having five thousand battles is indeed nothing to praise... but actually being able to step into this place... that’s commendable."
Akasha shrugged lightly as he didn’t think such a thing was truly that rare... especially knowing that these silhouttes around were all beings with the same aura or trying to achieve it.
"Well, it doesn’t seem like much."
The man laughed again, louder this time, the sound rolling across the river like thunder.
"Haha, I like you kid. The name’s Rauk," he said, planting his massive spear into the river beside him.
"Guardian of the Battle River. I keep this place running, make sure idiots don’t drown in their own ambitions, and point newcomers in the right direction."
Akasha nodded once.
"Then... how about pointing me in the right direction?"
Rauk grinned, flashing sharp, white teeth.
"Eh... straight to the point, huh?" he said, giving Akasha another appraising look. With a nod, he continued, "Well, that’s a good trait, I suppose... so, listen up."
He swept an arm wide, gesturing to the endless expanse around them.
"Like I said, this is the River of Battles—one of many conceptual rivers you enter when trying to master an aspect in Pantheos.
Every Aura has its own river, guardian, and each comes with its own trials. Everyone you see here is either already a wielder of the Battle Aura or someone working to claim it."
Akasha’s gaze wandered over the indistinct shapes again—some rooted in place, others pacing forward, and a few simply peering into the flowing depths as if searching for answers.
Rauk’s finger traced the endless current ahead.
"You want your Aura? Then you keep walking. You walk until the river decides you’ve reached the first tier. And when that happens..." His lips curled into a knowing grin.
"There’ll be a battle waiting for you."
Akasha tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of curiosity threading through his otherwise calm expression, his eyes drifting toward the endless current ahead.
"That’s all it takes?" he asked truly surprised that... it seemed to be so simple.
Rauk opened his mouth to answer, but Akasha didn’t wait.
"Well, I appreciate you," he said simply, and then he stepped forward.
----
The first few strides were light, almost effortless, the river’s surface supporting him as though welcoming him into its flow.
But after those initial steps, the world changed.
Akasha’s foot descended—and the river pressed back.
HUMMMM!!!!
His stride faltered, his muscles tightening as an invisible weight slammed down onto his shoulders, not a physical burden but something conceptual.... something heavy enough to make even a God Emperor stagger.
It felt like entire worlds were being dropped onto him, like the accumulated weight of every battle he had ever fought was suddenly demanding acknowledgment, like the river itself was testing whether he truly belonged here.
Akasha inhaled sharply, the breath long and steady, his eyes narrowing as he adjusted his stance.
"Hm... so the pressure’s just gonna keep ramping up with every step, huh..." he muttered, his voice low, the strain lacing it but never quite snapping.
He pressed on, each step weighing more than the one before, every movement demanding sharper focus, stronger intent, and unshakable resolve.
Behind him, Rauk chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound.
"Well look at that," the Guardian said, folding his massive arms across his chest as he watched Akasha struggle against the conceptual weight.
"Most people collapse on the third step... Some get dragged under by the river and have to start over."
Akasha took another step, his jaw tightening, his breath steady.
Rauk’s smile widened, "Let’s see if he actually manages to achieve the Battle Aura today... That would be one hell of a story—a God Emperor walking into the river and grabbing Aura on his first try."
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