Absolute Cheater - Chapter 245

Chapter 245: Dark Past III
“Then prove you are worthy of the Rift’s final truth.”

The earth split.

The stars above darkened.

The ground around them rippled like disturbed water. Spires of ancient crystal rose from the obsidian floor, enclosing the three within a shifting arena. Light itself seemed to bend unnaturally inside, casting long, impossible shadows.

The Warden took its stance, both hands on the radiant staff. With each breath, it drew upon the Rift’s deepest laws—fate, memory, and soul.

“Your power brought you here,” the Warden said, its voice no longer echoing, but resonating inside their minds. “But power alone does not make you worthy.”

A sudden pulse.

The space warped.

Asher and Valeris were split—thrust into two separate mirrored zones.

****

Asher blinked—and the world shifted.

He stood in a realm that wasn’t real… yet felt more true than anything he had ever seen.

Endless dunes of blood-soaked sand stretched to the horizon, where jagged mountain peaks stabbed into a crimson sky. Black swords jutted from the ground like gravestones, each one a silent monument to some forgotten war. Thunder rolled across the heavens in slow, deliberate beats—like the pulsing of a giant heart. His heart. His memories.

And across from him stood himself.

But not as he was.

This Asher wore no cloak of warmth. No hint of compassion stirred behind his obsidian eyes. His aura was jagged, warped, like glass shattered then sharpened. Armor clung to him like a second skin, spiked and void-black. The blade in his hand wasn’t forged of soul and light—it was forged of grudge and wrath.

The reflection tilted his head, lips curling into a sneer. “Look at you. Pretending you’re above it all. Playing hero.”

Asher said nothing. He didn’t need to.

“You know what I am,” the mirror continued, walking slowly forward, dragging his blade across the sand. Sparks flew with each step. “I’m what was left when you cried yourself to sleep in silence. When you broke and no one came. I’m the one who survived without mercy.”

The wind screamed between them.

Then—they moved.

Their swords clashed with a force that cracked the air, sending shockwaves rippling across the battlefield. Sand lifted in waves, suspended midair before disintegrating into glowing embers.

Asher twisted his blade and stepped into the second strike, his soul energy surging along the edge. His movements were clean, honed by discipline. His reflection countered with brute efficiency—unrefined but devastating. Each blow aimed to cripple, not just defeat.

A downward slash forced Asher to block, the sheer weight of the impact digging his heels into the sand. The reflection’s eyes burned.

“Still holding back?” he spat. “Still hoping to redeem yourself?”

He lunged, disappearing in a blur. Asher barely dodged in time, ducking as the reflection’s blade grazed his cheek. Blood bloomed, and he responded with a spinning counter. His blade sang with light, striking sparks as it collided with darkness.

“You’re not real,” Asher growled through gritted teeth.

“I’m more real than the mask you wear.”

Lightning cracked above them as the sky wept embers. The world warped with every exchange, shaped by emotion as much as strength. Blades locked again and again—clashing like twin storms.

But Asher began to feel it.

The fear. The doubt. The echo of all those moments when he had stared at his own reflection and wondered if he had already become a monster.

His knees buckled as the reflection delivered a gut-punch of soul force. He staggered, barely blocking the follow-up strike. His blade wavered in his grip.

“You think killing the monster makes you free?” the reflection hissed. “You are the monster. You always were.”

Asher fell to one knee, blade dug into the sand, breath ragged.

But then… he looked up.

And smiled.

“You’re right,” he said. “I was a monster.”

The reflection blinked, confused.

Asher stood slowly. His blade no longer trembled. His soul flared—brilliant and defiant.

“But I chose to become something else. Not because I forgot you… but because I forgave you.”

His aura exploded outward—silver, astral, resolute. The reflection raised its blade—but hesitated. For the first time, hesitated.

And that was enough.

Asher dashed forward, soul blade gleaming. He didn’t roar. He didn’t scream. He moved like stillness given form—serene and unstoppable.

Their blades met once more.

Asher slipped inside the defense, twisted—and struck.

A clean, deep cut through the chest.

The reflection froze, eyes wide. His sword fell from his hand, clattering soundlessly against the sand.

“You were never my enemy,” Asher whispered, pressing a hand gently to the fading figure’s shoulder. “You were my pain. And I’ve carried you long enough.”

Light erupted from the reflection’s chest, unraveling him like a dying star. No scream. No resistance. Just peace.

He dissolved into glowing petals—soft, quiet—each one a memory finally laid to rest.

And then, silence.

Asher stood alone in the fading battlefield. The sky cleared, stars piercing through the crimson haze. The swords around him faded like morning fog.

He closed his eyes.

Not in sorrow.

But in peace.

He had not fought to win.

He had fought to accept.

And he had.

***

Her battlefield was unlike any war-torn wasteland or flaming arena.It was made of water and moonlight—serene, soft… and suffocating.

A silver sea stretched endlessly beneath her bare feet, reflecting a full, unblinking moon that hovered far too close. Its glow painted everything in pale blue, casting long shadows that felt too sharp, too knowing. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy, like the hush before the first tear falls. Like the breath you hold when you’re trying not to break.

And in the center of it all stood her.

A little girl.

Dressed in the ceremonial whites of her old clan, her hair brushed and tied perfectly, not a strand out of place. But her eyes—those wide, aching eyes—trembled with stormclouds of emotions long buried.

Valeris froze.

She knew this place. She knew this version of herself. The child who had walked on eggshells. Who had smiled too brightly, bowed too deeply, and spoke only when spoken to. The girl who’d learned that being perfect was safer than being herself.

The little girl’s voice was quiet, yet it echoed like thunder in the stillness.

“You abandoned me.”

Valeris opened her mouth—but no words came. Her throat tightened, her heart clenched. The girl’s expression twisted—anger, sorrow, betrayal.

“You forgot what it meant to feel,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You buried me so deep… you can’t even hear me scream anymore.”

Around them, the silver water began to stir.

Ripples turned into waves, and the glassy surface fractured, revealing glimpses beneath: memories. Her mother’s cold stare. The weight of expectation. The silence after her first tears were ignored. The pain she pretended not to feel. The shame of wanting to cry.

Valeris gasped as shards of those memories rose from the water, forming sharp, mirrored blades that circled the child—shields made of pain. The child’s presence grew more potent, wrapped in emotional force. She wasn’t just a memory. She was rejection, grief, and neglect incarnate.

The girl lifted her hands.

And the battlefield shattered.

Moonlight bent and twisted. The sea turned into crystal—a vast mirror of her inner world, and Valeris’s reflection appeared in every direction. Each one showed a different version of her. Smiling. Bowing. Cold. Beautiful. Perfect. Empty.

Then they moved.

Blades formed from reflections, and the mirror-Valerises lunged at her.

She fought instinctively. Her spirit energy surged, brilliant and violet-blue, clashing against the storm of mirrors. Her hands moved with elegance, forming sigils of flowing water and moonsteel. Blades shattered around her. Waves of light burst from her core.

But for every copy she destroyed, another took its place.

Each one whispered as it struck:

“Don’t speak unless spoken to.””Be quiet. Be still.””Your feelings are inconvenient.””You are only loved when you are useful.”

Her mind screamed with the weight of it.

Valeris dropped to one knee, arms trembling, her aura flickering.

Then—

A soft sob.

She looked up.

The child was crying.

But she wasn’t attacking.

She was reaching out, as if torn between fear and hope. Her lips trembled.

“Do you even remember what it felt like… to just be?”

Valeris’s power surged violently, threatening to lash out and destroy everything—but she held it back. This wasn’t an enemy she could cut down. This wasn’t a trial of strength. It was a trial of truth.

She exhaled—and stepped forward.

Each footstep sent a tremor through the battlefield. The water-glass beneath her turned from ice to glowing ripples. The illusions tried to stop her—blades whistled through the air, reflections screamed—but she moved through them without striking back.

The light around her changed.

Her aura calmed, deepened—becoming luminous and warm.

She reached the child.

Knelt down.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she let them fall.

“I didn’t forget you,” she whispered. “I was just… afraid. Of feeling. Of hurting. Of failing.”

The child’s bottom lip quivered. “Then why did you hide me?”

Valeris smiled—tired, sad, real.

“I didn’t hide you to erase you. I hid you… to protect you. Because no one else did.”

The child ran to her—angry, hurt, scared.

Valeris opened her arms.

And held her.

The mirrored battlefield trembled. Then cracked. Then collapsed in on itself.

Light poured through the seams. The fragments of past selves, expectations, silence, and sorrow dissolved into stardust. The child became light—joining with Valeris, not vanishing, but returning home.