*"I'll be frank, child."* The Titan's voice is cold, unyielding—a force that strips away pretense, leaving only truth behind. *"If I were to perform an ascended memory right here and now, it would take me less than a minute. But for you, as you are right now—even with the help of your flame—it would still take at least a week."*
Dawn's voice falters, confusion clouding his tone as he stammers, *"Why? I mean, I know I don't understand the basics, but why so long? It only took me around five minutes to make this spear."*
*"Yeah, that's true,"* the Titan replies, his words carrying a quiet finality. *"That spear—although technically both a weapon and a memory in every sense—has no enchantments. It's plain."*
A shift—barely perceptible, but there. The atmosphere tightens, the weight of impending knowledge pressing down.
**Alright, lesson number two: enchantments.**
*"An enchantment can, in essence, be anything. But unless you learn true divine sorcery, you won't be capable of doing whatever the hell you want. You won't be summoning black holes—that's not something realistically achievable unless you're a god."*
The Titan's tone sharpens, a thread of warning curling beneath his words. *"There are reasons why enchantments are normally very specific. If they aren't, one of two things will happen: either they simply won't work, or they'll go haywire, creating an effect that isn't exactly desirable."*
He pauses, letting the gravity of his words settle. *"So, from this moment on, I want you to think about what enchantments you want to place on your new weapon."*
He steps forward, gaze unwavering. *"The goal is for them to last. I have the materials necessary to teach you, but not to make the actual weapon, because there's no point in me doing this if you don't learn how to do it yourself."*
His voice darkens, a whisper of challenge curling at the edges. *"I want you to have the real experience of a forger—going out, finding your own materials, and creating something from them. It's going to be hard, especially since we're in a literal nightmare desert—but it's not impossible."*
Silence lingers. Dawn's voice wavers, fragile with uncertainty. *"My own sword… my own memory. What enchantments would I put on it?"*
The Titan watches, expression unreadable. Then, without hesitation, he lifts a hand—tearing a rift into the fabric of reality. From its depths, he pulls three books, each bearing the title **Enchantments**.
His voice lowers—wisdom laced with a quiet, unsettling caution. *"Within these books, you'll find different kinds of enchantments—ranging from simple charms to help mow the lawn, to devastating attacks capable of harming even the divine."*
A pause—a hesitation beneath his words, almost imperceptible. *"But I warn you—there are some in here that even I fear to look upon. I am giving these to you with the trust that you won't misuse them, that you won't allow them to corrupt your mind. Power comes at a price—stay safe, and don't pay that price."*
Dawn swallows hard, fingers tightening around the books. *"I promise not to break your trust."*
The Titan's gaze sharpens, cutting straight through him. *"Don't promise that to me. Promise it to yourself."*
*"I swear."*
A single nod. Approval. Then, without preamble, the Titan exhales sharply, smirking.
*"Now—let's move on to the next thing. Sword practice."*
A shift—so sudden it feels like the world itself tilts.
A **sadistic smile** spreads across the Titan's beautiful face, his eyes gleaming with a malevolent, twisted delight.
*"This… is where I shine."*
---
The throne room stands as it always has—a monument to war, carved into existence. Murals of bloodshed twist across the walls, each stroke frozen in battle, each carving an echo of treachery that still lingers in the stone.
The Titan watches. Dawn swings the Dawnbreaker.
His eyes flicker. **Not with admiration. Not with approval. But with sheer, undeniable disappointment.**
*"Okay, listen up, kid. Stop."*
A long, slow sigh seeps from the Titan's lips, the sound almost pitying. His voice, harmonic yet sharp, shifts—laced now with unfiltered wisdom.
*"Obviously, you don't even know how to wield a katana—or any sword, for that matter."*
Dawn stiffens, defiant yet shaken. *"I'm not **that** bad… right?"*
The Titan shakes his head, unwavering. *"I'm sorry to tell you this, kid—I've seen toddlers do better."*
Then, his voice turns razor-sharp. *"Tell me—what do you think is the essence of battle?"*
Dawn's expression changes. Something in him hardens, like steel tempered in fire. His voice drops, slow and measured, haunted by memories unseen.
*"To end things quickly, because no man nor creature willingly chooses their battles."*
A flicker. Surprise.
*"That's actually a good answer,"* the Titan admits. *"Though your thought process is a bit naïve, it carries the weight of experience—which speaks volumes. But you're wrong."*
He steps forward. Close. Unrelenting.
**"The essence of battle… is death. One truly wins only when their opponent is dead. Or when they themselves are dead."**
The words land like a final blow.
Dawn's breath catches in his throat. A tremor runs through him—not of fear, but of something deeper. Something raw.
A bitter taste lingers. His pulse pounds in his ears.
The truth—the one he has fought for so long to ignore—stands before him, laid bare.
A long, suffocating silence stretches between them.
Then, at last, Dawn exhales. The sound barely exists.
**"...Death."**
Author's thoughts: can somebody please give me a review like a actual one I need to know if I'm doing something good or bad feel free to tell me again this is my first attempt at writing anything. :)