Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 35: Veil Shaper

It's been a week since that night with Cecilia, a week of restless sleep and endless mental noise.

Her words echo in my head every damn day. You could become a living God, Ayato.

I keep replaying it, wondering if the world has gone mad or if it's just me slowly losing my mind. The Inquisitors are talking about me like I'm their savior... It's too big, too insane to even process. I've thought about telling Cain. I've come so close. But I don't my mind always flashes back to that conversation he had with Awakened Manahar, telling him that I'm not a threat, so dragging him into this feels wrong. He has enough to deal with, so it's my problem, and I keep it to myself.

Now I stand in the castle courtyard, sweat already beading down my neck. The sun's warm but not oppressive, the breeze carrying the faint smell of blooming nightshade from the garden walls. Howard lounges on a bench nearby, watching with lazy interest as Cain faces me.

"Focus," Cain says, sword hanging casually at his side. His expression is calm but stern, his tone carrying that tone of command that demands obedience. "We have made great progress, but you can't let it control you ever. Call on it now—direct it. Make it yours."

I nod, swallowing hard.

I close my eyes and let the memories come. My parents hanging, the laughing, jeering crowd.

Hate bubbles up in me, dark and hot, and the whispers answer, eager and delighted.

Finally.

Their cackling fills my head like static. But this time, I don't let them drown me. I force my will into them. I don't care about Cain's sins, I tell them in my mind; I don't need to know. I just want you to do what I say.

The clash starts simple, blade against blade, Cain and I circling each other in the courtyard. His blade flashes fast, sharp as always, but I've gotten faster myself, so I keep up. I parry, the force of it rattling up my arm, but I don't falter. His sword whistles through the air. I duck and slide behind him, and that's when I go all out. The whispers stir, laughing low and gleeful in the corners of my mind.

I take a breath.

Obey me, I command them in my mind. Assault him. Confuse him.

The world around me ripples. The air distorts.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the first one—another me stepping into existence, then another. And another. My own illusions materializing, stepping forward from shadows that weren't there a second ago. I can see them now, crystal clear, because they are mine.

Cain freezes, eyes flicking from one to the next. His brow furrows. Confusion.

Then they attack.

One lunges at him from the right, blade flashing. Cain turns to meet it, only to find another version of me already striking from the left. He parries, but the swords pass through him like smoke—yet he staggers, pain flickering across his face as though he's actually been struck.

They swarm him, dozens of Ayatos, blades glinting, grins twisted. The illusions don't leave marks—but every hit feels real, at least to him. The pain is his alone, invisible and cruel.

Cain curses under his breath, eyes wide in disbelief. He spins, slashing through another me, but the illusion vanishes before Cain's blade can intercept it, reforming behind him and aiming a brutal strike at his leg that Cain dodges, but they keep coming.

I keep circling him slowly, watching with fascination and a bit of terror. Cain is going all out, twisting his body, parrying phantom strikes, sweat beading on his forehead as he ducks and spins away from attacks that aren't really there but are at the same time.

Howard, sitting casually on the stone bench, jolts upright. "What the hell..." he breathes, staring at Cain in confusion.

Cain lets out a sharp growl and suddenly summons a burst of wind around him, slicing through several illusions at once, or at least he tries to. Each time he 'gets hit,' he flinches, muscles tensing, reacting as though steel actually cut him.

I watch him fight like a cornered animal, his full skill and power on display, using gusts of wind to slip between strikes only he can feel.

I can't help but smirk.

Then, timing my moment, I move in—closing the distance in a flash and aiming a hard kick right into the back of his leg.

Or at least, I try.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

Cain's instincts are too fast. The moment I get close, it's like he knows that I'm the real one; he propels himself into the air with a violent blast of wind that nearly knocks me off my feet.

I barely have time to turn around before he flips mid-air, shoving both hands forward. A massive force slams into my chest, flattening me to the ground.

The courtyard spins. My ears pop from the pressure.

Cain lands beside me, panting slightly, his hand extended in peace. "Alright, Ayato. That's enough. Release them."

I exhale shakily, the rush still buzzing in my veins, and let go of the illusions. The whispers fade back into the corners of my mind, still giggling but retreating as I order.

Cain bends over, resting his hands on his knees, then throws his head back and laughs. "That was insane, man! Holy shit!"

Howard bolts over, practically yelling, "What the hell was that? Were you fighting ghosts, Cain?!" His eyes are wide, flicking between me and Cain as if we were in on some prank.

Cain just laughs and shakes his head, still catching his breath. "I don't even know where to start," he says, wiping sweat off his brow. "Out of nowhere, dozens of him showed up. All around me. Hitting from every angle. And the worst part?" He points at me with a half-grin, half-grimace. "Every time one of them landed a strike slipping through my guard, it hurt. Not real damage clearly, but real enough to screw with my head and make me react."

He sighs and slouches a bit, shaking his head again. "It's hard to defend against enemies that pop in and out of reality, striking at you before you can even fully process that they're there and disappearing before you hit them.

Cain looks at me then, eyes serious but impressed. "That's exactly how you need to use your power. Illusions are a game changer in a fight, but only if you stay in control of them. Do not let that power rule over your emotions, or it will go crazy on anyone and everyone, including allies.

I wipe some dirt off my face and groan, smirking despite myself. "Yeah, sure. Easy for you to say, Mr. Human Tornado. Next time, maybe you get flattened into the dirt by an invisible ass-kicking."

Cain barks out a laugh; he pounds on my back and nearly knocks me over again.

Cain stretches his arms over his head and exhales. "I'm cutting training short for today," he says, glancing between us. "I'm skipping our normal classroom work too. I've got a meeting with Count Ashland...and then an errand to run."

Howard's brow furrows. "Wait, my father's meeting with you? He hasn't said anything to me about that."

Cain just grins, clearly amused. "That's because it's need-to-know. And, well—clearly, you're not need-to-know."

Howard scowls while Cain claps him on the shoulder. "You two are free to do whatever you want, but be ready for training tomorrow. No excuses." His tone shifts, becoming serious. "You've only got two and a half months left before you're in Lusa. I expect the Academy summons to arrive within the next few weeks. So... best behavior, ok?"

With that, he turns and strolls off, whistling cheerfully, not a care in the world.

Howard lets out a long breath, then looks at me. "I think I'm gonna go hang out with one of my friends from the city. You wanna tag along?"

I shrug. "Nah. I'll probably just walk around outside later... enjoy the night air. But first..." I rub the back of my neck, sore from Cain's wind blast. "I'm going to take a bath."

Howard laughs. "Fair enough, my good man. See ya later."

***************************************************************************************************

The castle baths are tucked deep within the eastern wing—a sprawling chamber of polished marble and ornate columns, with golden fixtures carved into twisting serpents. Steam curls lazily through the air, perfumed with lavender and something faintly citrus. The massive pool of water glistens under soft lantern light, the surface rippling ever so slightly from the warmth radiating beneath it.

I step onto the smooth stone edge, strip off my sweat-soaked training clothes, and lower myself into the water with a slow, drawn-out groan of relief. The heat seeps into my muscles, banishing tension and exhaustion all at once. For a moment, I just sit there, submerged up to my chest, eyes closed. My illusions... I'm finally starting to bend them to my will instead of the other way around. But any spike of anger or hate when I'm using the power, even a flicker of it, and they surge forward like rabid animals, tearing at the edges of my mind, taking over and running wild, doing whatever they please. The mental strain to keep them in check is headache-inducing to say the least.

I tilt my head back, letting the heat sink into my skin, and smile just a little. Cain cutting us loose for the afternoon is the best thing that's happened all week. The thought of walking around outside the castle later sounds nice—the open air, maybe a bit of distance from all these ridiculous gold-plated halls. I still can't get used to the suffocating wealth here.

Then her face slips into my mind. Cecilia. Her smile, the way her eyes gleam like she knows something no one else does. The memory of her kiss, soft and dangerous and maddening, rushes back far too easily. I exhale hard, sloshing water against the sides of the bath. Part of me hopes I run into her.

I sit up abruptly and curse under my breath. "Have some self-respect," I mutter, disgusted at myself. She's an inquisitor. It can't work. It won't work.

And worse—I grit my teeth, the memory of her voice still curling around my thoughts—she's clearly fucking insane. Telling me I can change the world? Who the hell says things like that? What normal person practically whispers treason with a smile on their face and calls it destiny?

I sink lower into the water, sighing. The worst part? I still want to see her again.