Chapter 45: Enlightenment
Armored Dragon Calendar Year 417 – Claude, Age 12
[Claude POV]
"ROAAAAAAR!"
The sound tore from my throat with unnatural power. Mana channeled through vocal cords that shouldn't have been capable of such output.
The sonic wave struck the beast-tribe warriors like a physical force.
Bodies fell to the muddy ground, groaning and disoriented.
I stood over them, breathing hard.
"Pathetic."
Gyes, who had avoided the worst of the attack, glared at me from the edge of the training ground. "We are warriors, not targets for your experiments."
"You're targets for anyone who bothers to exploit your weaknesses." I dismissed the fallen fighters with a gesture.
"A weakling will always do their best to improve. You lot have grown complacent."
"Believe yourselves apex predators."
"We are—"
"You were." I cut him off. "Now you're refugees. Survivors. The world doesn't care about your heritage. It cares about results."
Gustav watched from the sidelines. His expression was unreadable, but he made no move to intervene.
"I can see that even you are lacking," I told Gyes directly. "The mentality of someone who thinks they're already at the top."
"That mentality gets people killed."
The silence stretched. Rain continued to fall around us.
Finally, Gyes lowered his head. Not in surrender. In acknowledgment.
"Request that Ruijerd train me," he said quietly. "Alongside the others."
I nodded. "Good. At least you can recognize your limitations."
Two months had passed since our arrival.
Learning the additional languages had been a priority. The Beast God's tongue came naturally, three days of intensive study. The patterns felt familiar, as if echoing linguistic structures I had encountered in other lives.
The Demon Language followed, with Ruijerd providing conversation practice during our sparring sessions. His ancient knowledge filled gaps that modern texts couldn't cover.
The Fighting God's language proved most challenging. Two full weeks of concentrated effort, with Rudeus serving as my primary instructor.
The writing system alone took days to decode.
But I persisted. Languages were tools.
Tools I needed.
The smithing breakthrough came unexpectedly.
I had been working on a blade for weeks, testing different alloys and experimenting with tempering techniques. Pushing against the limits of what my available materials could achieve.
When I finally finished, I presented it to Ruijerd for evaluation.
His eyes widened.
"Test it," I said.
He brought the blade against his spear. The legendary weapon that had been strengthened over four centuries of use.
Clang. Metal rang against metal.
A scratch appeared on the spear's surface.
"This is something else," Ruijerd said, genuine surprise in his voice. "For a weapon to damage a Superd's spear, even slightly..."
The blade shattered a moment later. The stress had been too much.
But the nick remained.
"A successful invention!" I declared, raising the broken pieces triumphantly.
My apprentices cheered. Their excitement was genuine.
Unlike the warriors who resented my harsh methods. These smiths understood the value of incremental progress.
"You are better than those warriors," I told them. "Remember that."
Their faces glowed with pride.
I felt satisfied.
The nightmares wouldn't stop.
Every night, I closed my eyes and found myself back in the dungeon. Dark corridors filled with poison and death.
Monsters that couldn't be killed. Traps that couldn't be avoided.
And mixed with my own memories were fragments from other lives. Other deaths.
The taste of copper blood. The burning of venom in veins that weren't mine.
Kuro's final moments played on repeat. A version of myself who had died screaming in that lightless hell.
His terror, his pain—they had become mine.
I woke clutching whatever weapon was nearest, heart pounding.
Convinced I was still trapped underground.
The fear was poisoning everything—making me harsh when I should have been patient.
Cruel when I should have been kind.
Ruijerd noticed. Of course he did.
"Your bloodthirst grows worse," he observed after training one morning. "It surrounds you like a storm cloud."
"I'm aware."
"Awareness without action is useless." He met my eyes with steadiness.
"You need to find peace. Or the thing inside you will consume everything you're trying to protect."
I knew he was right. But how did one find peace with memories that weren't their own, with deaths they hadn't died yet still felt in their bones?
That night, I walked to a quiet spot outside the village.
The rain was relentless. Cold water soaking through my clothes, chilling my skin.
I barely noticed.
I sat cross-legged in the mud. Closed my eyes.
And went inward.
[Narrator]
A young man sat perfectly still in the village clearing.
The rain cascaded over his motionless form, pooling around him, running in streams down his face and arms. He didn't move.
He didn't eat. Didn't drink.
Didn't respond when villagers called his name.
One day passed. Then two.
"Should we move him..." one warrior asked.
Gustav shook his head slowly. "Leave him."
"But—"
"This is what they call convergence with the world," Ruijerd explained. His voice held reverence.
"An event that happens when a person achieves true unity with existence. In other words, he's being enlightened."
"Enlightened..."
"It's a state everyone wishes to attain but few can reach." Ruijerd's gaze was fixed on Claude's motionless form.
"I haven't seen this in four hundred years."
The villagers gathered to watch. They brought offerings.
Flowers, food, small tokens of respect for something they didn't fully understand.
Three days. Four.
On the fifth morning, Claude's eyes opened.
For one brilliant moment, they seemed to contain a universe. Endless depth, perfect clarity.
Then he collapsed.
The fever came immediately. His body burned with heat that should have killed him.
He thrashed in delirium, muttering names no one recognized. Places that didn't exist.
Battles no one had fought.
The village healer worked through the night. Poured cooling water over his skin.
Fed him what little his body would accept.
It took a full week for the fever to break.
[Claude POV]
The world looked different.
I stood at the edge of the smithy, watching my apprentices work. Their hammers rang against metal in familiar rhythms.
Sparks flew. Heat billowed from the forge.
But something had changed. Not in them.
In me.
The dungeon memories were still present. Kuro's death still echoed in some corner of my consciousness.
But the terror had faded. I could hold it now without being consumed.
I walked among the apprentices, correcting techniques and offering suggestions.
My voice was different. Softer, more patient.
"That's good," I told one struggling worker. "The angle needs adjustment, but the force is right."
He stared at me like I had grown a second head.
"What..." I asked.
"You... you gave me a compliment."
"I gave you accurate feedback."
"That's practically a compliment, coming from you."
I considered this. Realized he was right.
The harsh edge that had defined my teaching was still present. But dulled.
The desperate urgency that had driven every interaction had gentled into something more sustainable.
"I suppose I did," I said. "Don't let it go to your head."
The apprentice's face split into a grin.
Later, Rudeus found me by the village gate.
"So he became a mad dog because of his fear," he said quietly, watching me with new understanding.
Ruijerd appeared at his side. "Probably."
"The bloodthirst surrounding him has diminished considerably."
"What happened during the meditation..."
I considered the question. Searched for words that could explain what I had experienced.
"I stopped fighting," I said finally. "Against the memories. Against the fear. Against the parts of myself I was afraid to acknowledge."
"That's it..."
"That's everything." I looked up at the rain-heavy sky.
"For years, I've been running from what I carry. Trying to outpace the trauma."
"Outwork the terror. Using anger and purpose to keep the darkness at bay."
"And now..."
"Now I've accepted it." The words came easier than I expected.
"The memories. The deaths. The fragments of lives that weren't mine." I paused. "They're part of me. Fighting them only gave them power."
Rudeus was quiet for a long moment.
"You sound almost peaceful," he said.
"Almost." I smiled.
The expression felt strange on my face. Unfamiliar.
"There's still work to do. People to find. Disasters to prevent." I let out a breath. "But I don't have to be consumed by desperation anymore."
Eris appeared at the doorway of a nearby building. Her face fell when she saw me.
"I thought you'd be stronger," she complained. "Like that time at the manor."
"External strength didn't increase much." I acknowledged her disappointment with a slight nod.
"But internal strength... that's a different matter."
She didn't look convinced.
But Ruijerd did. And Rudeus did.
And that was enough.
The rain continued to fall.
I didn't feel like I was drowning.
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