Lief quickly took off from the floor, leaving the beast still attacking the shield. As he positioned himself a few feet away from the beast, a sickening crack echoed the air. The shield had cracked, and the Beast's attention had turned toward him.
"Shit," Lief cursed. Nevertheless, he grit his teeth and charged the beast. It pounced onto him, disgusting teeth spinning in a whirlwind, preparing to shred through his flesh like a chainsaw through wood.
Lief swiftly ducked, barely avoiding the beast's attack. Its shiny, metallic armor scraped against his dagger as it jumped past him. Lief speedily stood back up, readying an attack.
With a clean, crisp slice, the beast's head was gone. The only evidence of its existence was the open wound, which constantly leaked gushes of green, glass-like blood. A cracked bone poked out from the cut. Disgusting. Lief thought. He sat down on the floor, prodding the lifeless corpse. Liquid oozed back, causing him to recoil. As he ignored the distraction and cleared his mind, mixed feelings surged through him. Awe at the power he now had, nausea that he had taken a life--even one of a beast, and flicker of pride in himself. He realized that this wasn't survival anymore. This was something else. Something divine... or damned.
"Pride would be a good primary sin," Rhysa suddenly remarked, her voice echoing within Lief's head.
"A primary sin?" Lief inquired. He had never been taught what a "primary sin" was. Then again, his parents had regarded only skills to survive important.
Rhysa replied to Lief, "There are two mainstream ways for Psykers to gain more raw power. The first, and most common one, is simply age. Psykers gain exponentially more raw power as they age. Not all Psykers are immortal though. The second way is Sins and Virtues. Followers of Sins and Virtues adhere to a specific sin or virtue out of these fourteen: pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, sloth, humility, charity, kindness, patience, chastity, temperance, and diligence. The power of "emotion" from adhering to the values of these Sins and Virtues increase the raw power of Psykers who use it." She paused. "However, not following these values, or following the opposing one, will result in a quick, and permanent power loss. For example, a follower of Lust who practices Charity will lose their power."
"So your recommending I practice Pride as a sin?" Lief asked. He wondered if following a Sin would dye his energy crimson red. Perhaps black as the void? That would be cool. But then he thought further. So... I follow a Sin to grow stronger? Sounds messed up, even deranged. But then again... maybe power always comes at a steep price.
"Yes, Pride is quite a reliable sin compared to others." Rhysa continued. "As long as you believe in your own strength, Pride will make you stronger." Lief was skeptical, but Rhysa had always told him the truth before.
"Alright, I'll follow Pride!" Lief was determined to become stronger, even if it meant following a sin. Besides, Pride didn't make him have to do amoral acts, unlike Lust, Envy, or the other sins.
But then Lief thought a bit further. "Could I have... perhaps chosen a Virtue instead of a Sin?" He inquired, curious.
"You could've, but that would've meant surrendering great strength to virtues such as Patience. Virtues tend to give lower strength compared to Sins," Rhysa replied, her soft, soothing voice, vibrating through Lief's head.
"I... see." Lief understood, knowing that Pride was the best way to gain power in this accursed world. Before he could ask more questions to Rhysa, his mind was pulled into a vision, or was it a memory?
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The sky was dark and murky, grey with ash and smoke. Flashes of lightning spasmed through the clouds. Downpours of acidic rain assaulted the site. Lief's incorporeal body hovered above the scene. The ground could not be seen, for it was covered in the corpses of countless soldiers. Metal monuments jutted out from the bodies of the dead. Blood mixed with wet dirt and the incoming rain to form an aberrant mixture.
"Why have you done this, Joan?" Lief pivoted toward the voice. A pale man, dressed in a tattered black suit, was kneeling under a pillar. He held a limp form in his arms. Lief observed that it was the body of another man, tall and broad shouldered, with tanned skin. The body was dressed in a ripped gray bodysuit and silky robes. The pale man turned his head to another man, Joan, perhaps? He stared at Joan, hatred evident in his crimson eyes.
"For mankind, Kieran. For the Seraphic Path, this must be done." Joan motioned to the countless corpses that surrounded them. Joan, similar to the dead man, wore a scaled bodysuit and pristine purple cloths.
"YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE AYERS LINE!" Kieran cried to Joan, his chapped lips rasping out a sound. "Look at what you have done to your father!" He showed Joan the body of the dead man he was holding earlier. "LOOK!"
"I know, Kieran. I know." Looking closer, Lief could see tears forming in Joan's light blue eyes, before quickly being snuffed out. "But the moment I set down this path, I was prepared to sacrifice everything. Even you and Dad." Joan pointed a bloody blade at Kieran's neck.
Before Lief could hear Kieran's response, he was pulled out of the vision.
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Lief gasped as he returned to the present, his breath rapid and heartbeat fast. The blood-stained battlefield still lingered in his mind. Joan's words echoed louder than Rhysa's calm explanations.
Prepared to sacrifice everything.
He pressed a palm to his chest, as if to check if his heart was still there. "Was that… a memory? Someone else's? Or... a future I might become?"
"Who the hell were those people," Lief panicked, quickly resorting to Rhysa for help.
"Joan Ayers. Saint of the First Cycle, Founder of the Seraphic Path, and eventually, God of the Empira Galactica. Bloodline match: 87.5% confirmed." Rhysa spoke with uncanny reverence.
Lief's breath caught in his throat. "Ayers?"
"Yes, Saint. The Saint you saw was... an Ayers from over four thousand years ago. A great Seer who founded the Seraphic Path, in fact."
A long silence. Then, Lief whispered, "Then the men he killed... were my ancestors?"
"Not Kieran, he was Joan's mentor. Just the father," Rhysa replied softly.
"Will I... become like them?"
"It depends on your decisions."