Realm of Monsters Chapter 705: Archive

Chapter 705: Archive

Aurelia ran through the woods, the ashen trees blurring at the edge of her vision. She ran with every ounce of energy she had left in her body, even as she bled between her legs. Her muscles burned as needles stabbed them. The thought of her mother’s passing tore at her heart worse than any sword. And through it all, the baby in her arms cried incessantly.

Stryg watched from his mother and infant self from a distance. Aurelia’s tear-stricken eyes and gasping breath were like his own. He could feel her pain leeching through the mory.

A root hidden by fallen leaves caught Aurelia by surprise and she fell with a scream. Turning as best she could, she cushioned her son’s fall with her own body. Aurelia lay there on the ground, staring up at the moonless sky filled with stars.

“What are you crying for?” Aurelia whispered in a broken voice. “You’re alright, aren’t you? I’m the one who fell and hurt my back. I should be the one crying…”

The baby’s cries sohow grew louder at her words. His every breath was a small, ragged gasp. He was struggling just to breathe and still he cried.

“Why… Why can’t you just SHUT UP!!!” Aurelia scread, her voice breaking down into a hoarse cry. She curled up around her baby and wept for all she had lost.

Despite knowing his mother wasn’t in a sound state of mind, her words were still daggers of guilt slowly piercing his gut. He could do nothing but watch his mother struggle for her life.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry,” the older Stryg whispered in a choked voice.

An owl hooted in the distance. Stryg glanced up to see a massive white owl standing on a branch, high up in a tree. Its lilac eyes stared down at the goblin and her child.

It took Stryg a mont to recognize who he was looking at. His father had been there, though Aurelia did not notice him. Death’s focus wasn’t on her, but rather the baby. Stryg realized his father was evaluating him.

After a long mont, the owl leaped off the branch and flew silently into the night. And just like that, Stryg knew he was unworthy. Most hybrid offspring of titans did not inherit the blood of chaos; they were mortal. Stryg was ant to be no different. He was an anomaly.

Holo had told him that when they had t, Stryg had exhibited very little chaos. The chaos within his second heart had only grown since he had awakened his chromatic abilities, only growing faster after his experience at the Shadow Lake, and finally reaching maturity during his battle against the dragonbane.

But here, at this very mont in the dark forest of Vulture Woods, the blue infant in Aurelia’s arms was nothing more than a crying, mortal baby.

“This is all your fault,” Aurelia mumbled to her child.

Stryg grimaced at her words. He looked into her yellow eyes and saw the desperation and loss within. She was lost. And she was alone. “Is this why you never told the truth?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Because you didn’t want ?”

“This is not what you envisioned for your life, is it?” a deep voice rumbled.

Aurelia sat up in shock and looked around worriedly as frost-mist began to rise all around her. “W-Who’s there!?”

“You know who I am, child.” The frost-mist slowly lted away and revealed a giant frost wolf towering over her. The wolf had a snow-white coat and deep scarlet eyes that seed to bore right through her.

“Lunae,” Stryg whispered. She had been there? On the moonless night he was born, Lunae had been right there. Why?

The mory abruptly fell apart in shadows and Stryg found himself in the pitch-dark world of the book of mories once more.

“No!” he yelled. “Show what happened next!” he demanded the orb of light hanging above him. “I know you can understand . Take back to that mory.”

The keeper of mories floated down from the sky until it was standing at eye level. “Apologies, that was the last of the mories Aurelia Veres placed within my archives.” It spoke with Stryga’s, but it was slightly off.

Stryg jumped back a step. The voice reminded him of the mory spell infused within Krikolm and how the sword had spoken with the voice of his ancestors. “What are you?”

“I am a magical construct mory archive imbued with the partial essence of Stryga Veres. You may call Archive,” its voice echoed through the darkness.

“Her essence…? Is that why you sound like my great-grandmother?”

“Yes. I was created by Stryga Veres for the sole purpose of storing and accessing mories of the Veres bloodline regarding incidents related to Stjerne, god of the stars. Simply give the command, spoken or silent, and I will accede to your wishes.”

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“Okay, I think I can work with this— you, I an,” Stryg nodded to himself.

“Excellent. I am currently linked with your mind and will serve as your guide throughout your stay within the archive’s ntal space. Would you like to store mories regarding Stjerne within the archives?”

“No.”

“Would you like to show you the mories stored within the archives?”

“Yes. I want to see the rest of that last mory of my mother.”

“...Apologies, I cannot accede to your wish. There is no more left in that mory.”

“That can’t be,” he shook his head. “My mother wouldn’t have left half a mory in the book. Within you,” he corrected himself.

“Stryga Veres created to store mories regarding encounters with Stjerne.”

“Yes, you told that. And my father left that mory already, I get that. But not all the mories I’ve seen have my father in them.”

“...The past owners of this book stored only mories related to Stjerne.”

Stryg sighed. “I understand, Archive, but what about the mory of my grandmother? She spoke to . That wasn’t about my father, right?”

“Past owners can choose what to store within my archives.”

“So you’re not technically limited to only mories of Stjerne. Okay. I want to see the rest of my mother’s last mory. The part I didn’t see.”

“...Apologies, I cannot accede to your wish. There is no more left in that mory.”

“I don’t believe you. Why would my mother only place half a mory within you? It doesn’t make sense. Show the rest.”

“...Apologies, I cannot accede to your wish. There is no more left in that mory.”

Stryg glared at the keeper and began to channel Purple and Brown. He placed his hands on the orb and cast a mind spell upon it. If this place was built from brown and purple magic, then he could influence it just the sa. “Archive, I am your owner, right?”

“Correct.”

“Then I order you to show the rest of my mother’s mory.”

The orb’s white light glowed slightly brighter. “...Apologies, I cannot accede to your wish. There is no more left in that mory.”

Stryg grit his teeth and pushed his magic further. “Show what my mother was hiding. Did she not want ?”

“...Apologies, I cannot accede to your wish. You have seen everything in these mories.”

“These? Are you implying there are mories I haven’t seen? What was my mother hiding? Tell .”

“...Apologies, there is nothing left in your mother’s archives—”

“—Are you sure about that?”

The orb remained silent for a long mont. “...Yes.”

“Damn you, show the mories I haven’t seen!”

“As you wish.” The orb flared brightly with violet light.

Needles of agony stabbed into his head. Stryg released the orb and fell to his knees, clutching his head while roaring in pain. The orb of light abruptly flickered out and vanished. The darkness lted away all around him and Stryg felt himself falling.

Lunae was looming above him in her wolfen form, re centiters away; fangs bared, silver eyes staring down at him. Aurelia’s cry sounded in the near distance. A small, chubby blue hand entered his vision as if it were his own, and touched Lunae’s nose. The goddess blinked in surprise.

The world faded back into darkness and Stryg was falling once more. He landed hard on his back. The pain stabbing into his head began to fade away and the darkness lted into a blue sunny sky and a red canopy of leaves. He was in Vulture Woods.

He felt the grass underneath his hands and sat up. Ashen trees surrounded him from all sides. He glanced around, searching for Aurelia, but he was alone.

A toddler ran and stumbled out of the trees and right in front of him. The little blue goblin lost his balance and tipped over, but caught himself at the last mont. Straightening back up, the young Stryg went right back to running through the trees as fast as his short legs could take him.

It was odd seeing his child self. Whatever frustration and pain he felt before was offset by the sight of the toddler; he looked so innocent with that bright look in his eyes. Stryg could not rember a ti he ever felt so free.

Accustod to the world of mories, Stryg stood and followed his toddler self, while keeping an eye out for Aurelia. She had to be close by.

The toddler kept walking in a beeline, cutting past trees and bushes, determined to get sowhere. Stryg didn’t recognize this part of the forest. He wondered if the child even knew where he was going.

Suddenly, the trees cleared and revealed a small, lush grove with a pristine pool at its center. It was startlingly calm, save for the giant white wolf lying beside the pool.

“Lunae?” Stryg whispered. What was she doing here? What was he doing here? How was this even possible? He had t Lunae before?

“Luma!” the toddler pointed at her.

The wolf cracked a silver eye open. “Ugh, the little pest has returned.”

The toddler laughed in delight, then ran to her and clambered up her fur. Lunae rolled her eyes and huffed, but she made no effort to stop him.

Stryg stared at the two in shock. Since when did a goddess allow a toddler to climb atop her like so sort of tree?

He frowned and looked around. Where was his mother? Was she watching her child from afar? Is that why he couldn’t see her?

Stryg glanced back at Lunae, only to find his child-self sitting atop her head, playing with her ears. Lunae would flap one ear and he would giggle and try to grab it, but she would lower the ear and raise the other. It was like a ga of cat and mouse and the toddler was losing terribly, though he clearly couldn’t be happier.

Lunae didn’t bother to get the child off her head; rather, she cracked a smile.

“Is she actually playing with him? With ?” Stryg wondered in disbelief.

He gave one last look around the small grove.

  My mother isn’t here, but this is her mory. Unless—

His eyes widened as an impossible thought began to take shape in his mind. He slowly looked back at the little Stryg laughing and playing with not a care in the world. “Archive, whose mory is this…?”

The orb of light appeared next to him. “Yours, as requested.”