Chapter 104 — Symbiosis
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'Save me...'
That whisper alone ignited every fiber of Socrates' body as his consciousness fully aligned with his body.
He got up at once — his glowing eyes turning toward the exit of the mountain and then toward the full moon climbing steadily toward its position in the sky.
'Amelia is in danger... I have to reach her before the moon takes its position.' The thought aligned naturally with everything else moving through him as he folded his fists, his long hair flowing back, his tattered clothes clinging to his frame.
If not for the tattered clothes, Sun Wukong — standing behind him — would have thought some kind of majestic king had descended on Earth.
'Just move fast and break the—'
SLAM~
PUNCH~
CRACK~
The Monkey King didn't need to finish the thought. Socrates had already moved. One punch — and the entire restriction shook heavily, the mountain groaning from the force of it. He threw his fist in and slashed down instantly, sending a ripple that cracked the mountain surface and destabilized the restriction completely. It gave way — and Socrates burst through.
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Outside, the Foundation Establishment experts had grown tired of waiting and were already discussing leaving — when the commotion reached them. Weapons came out instantly, bodies turning toward the mountain in alert.
A silhouette exploded out of it.
He bolted past them at a speed that left no room for reaction — just a blur of tattered red and the rush of displaced air against their faces.
"It's him — give chase!" One of the experts cried out as they launched after Socrates, closing the distance with the coordinated speed of trained cultivators.
Behind them, Sun Wukong stumbled out of the mountain.
He wasn't running. He was crying.
Standing at the entrance of the restriction field he had been trapped inside for hundreds of years — the open air of the dungeon around him, the cold of it real against his fur — and he couldn't help it. The tears came without permission, streaming down his face as the reality of it settled into him.
'I'm finally out... I can finally leave this place... I can finally leave this dungeon..'
The crying shifted — somewhere in the middle of it transforming into something else entirely. His paws came together and he straightened up, eyes squinting as the excitement replaced the grief.
"Master is preoccupied with something..." Sun Wukong muttered, dusting his paws against each other. "It's time for me to make my escape."
He turned. Took one step in the opposite direction.
An invisible force grabbed him and yanked him back — hard — pulling him in the exact direction Socrates had gone, with a persistence that left absolutely no room for negotiation.
"Oh damn you, Goddess of Death... Can I not have even a moment of freedom??" The Monkey King wailed as he was dragged forward against his will, his feet scrabbling uselessly against the dungeon floor.
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Meanwhile Socrates was running as if his life depended on it — because it did, and so did Amelia's.
He was racing the moon and avoiding the Foundation Establishment experts simultaneously, his eyes fixed ahead, the urgency of it pushing his body past the pace it wanted to maintain. The experts were gaining — their pressure building behind him like a wall closing in, heavy and consistent.
"You have nowhere to run." One of them cried out — and conjured swords from his energy, sending them screaming toward Socrates from behind.
Not one of them touched him.
They curved away — veering off at the last moment as if the air around him had quietly decided to redirect them. Socrates didn't even look back.
"This speed isn't enough." He bit his lip hard, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue.
He checked through his body quickly — scanning for anything he could use. Nothing. The Steam Burst was gone. What the Monkey King's spiritual energy had rebuilt was primarily his physical strength and his vitality. His agility had increased — but only slightly. Not enough.
"Energy Palm Strike — DIE—"
He felt the heat of it before he heard the words — a massive palm imprint of condensed energy slamming down toward his back. He turned mid-stride and launched a spinning kick into the air — the wave from it meeting the palm strike head on and tearing through it completely.
The experts behind him stopped.
"How — how did the wave from a kick destroy my attack?"
"Give chase — don't just stand there—" another shouted, already moving — matching off a tree trunk and launching himself directly at Socrates who was still in the air.
This one was holding Bloodsucker.
He had claimed it at some point during the wait — filling it with his own energy, the blade humming with it now as he brought it down toward Socrates in a slash that carried everything behind it.
Socrates turned in the air and punched.
His fist landed clean against the energy-charged blade — a crisp splitting sound cutting through the air — and the sword held for exactly one moment before the energy in it broke apart.
Before the expert could process what had happened, Socrates was already on him. One hand closed around the hilt of Bloodsucker and pulled it free. The other hand fired a blow directly into the man's ribs — short and total — the air leaving his body all at once as the force of it flung him sideways and away.
Bloodsucker was back where it belonged.
Socrates looked up as gravity pulled him back toward the ground.
The moon was there.
Already at its position — sitting at the horizon, full and silver and patient, its light falling directly and completely on whatever lay beneath it. A matter of moments now before it balanced perfectly.
His sea of consciousness trembled. The urgency moved through him like a current — and Sun Wukong felt every bit of it, the master-slave contract carrying the weight of Socrates' desperation directly into him whether he wanted it or not.
The Monkey King's very foundation shook from the force of what he was feeling through the bond.
He stopped moving.
'What kind of contract have I been bound into?' He nearly wept — and then something shifted in him. He clasped his hands together, golden light gathering between his palms with sudden purpose.
"SUMMONING BATTLE ARMOR.... ACTIVATING SYMBIOSIS..."
The chant left his mouth — and in the air around Socrates a golden diagram blazed into existence.
Out of it came two large golden gauntlets — descending onto Socrates' hands and locking into place from his knuckles to his elbows, the metal adjusting itself to fit him exactly, warm against his skin like something that had been waiting for this specific moment.
A second diagram flared — and large golden boots came down next, claiming his feet and legs, readjusting to his size with the same quiet certainty.
'This is—'
He didn't finish the thought.
His body moved — dodging an energy attack from behind without him consciously registering it, golden sparks flying where the attack grazed the air beside him. His body had simply known. Moved before his mind had caught up to the danger.
And then he was there.
The old temple materialized in front of him — torches burning at its edges, the air around it heavy with the smell of burning ash and something older underneath it. A line of people stood guard along its perimeter, weapons ready, the moonlight falling clean and silver across all of it.
Socrates looked up.
The moon sat perfectly at the horizon.
He leapt — launching himself upward toward the light, his eyes finding the reflection of it below — and then he saw her. Amelia. Laid out on the altar, still and open-eyed, the moonlight shining directly across her face.
And a white-bearded man driving a dagger toward her eyes.
Socrates descended.
Not a second of hesitation. Not a fraction of delay. His hand closed around the dagger with the gauntlet — the blade stopping with mere inches between its tip and her eye — and he snapped it. One motion. The pieces fell to the altar floor.
He looked up at the elder.
He knew this face.
This was the elder who had been present the day the Northern Gladiator came to claim him. He had stood in that room and watched and said nothing.
Elder Phenius.
Socrates looked at him — the broken dagger in pieces between them, Amelia still and breathing on the altar, the moonlight falling across everything.
"You dare hurt my sister." His voice was low. Steady. The kind of steady that doesn't need volume.
"You shall pay."
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Please note : Socrates didn't go through any awakening....the spiritual energy from the Monkey King only increased his physical strength and vitality... Raiding his physique from Ocean rank to Peak Sky Rank...