"The strategist insignia, and of such clarity."
"What do you mean?" Kaia cried out, perturbed by the god sphere's remark.
"Look at the design, young hero."
The grimoire's glow had ceased at this point, its shape a more cohesive rectangular prism.
The grimoire's spine stuck out to contrast the hard covers, the protrusion revealing an accumulation of vines or ivy that extended from one end to the other.
Almost as if the ivy were clinging onto the cover's claws with all its strength—the powerless struggle evidenced through a conglomerate of ivy where the spine and cover met—they came together to form a green, humanoid yet whimsical figure.
It stood on its own two legs, hands stretched out to hold what looked like black ink splattered onto the page.
Beyond the weird design, what most stuck out was how much aura was oozing from the grimoire, its presence so dense that it was almost an ooze like trekking through muddy waters.
"That insignia, young heroes, represents a strategist," the god sphere continued, its deep growl tinged with amusement. "It's been generations since such an insignia has graced this chamber."
"Strategist? What exactly does that mean for Lucien?" Elias asked, stepping forward cautiously as he glanced down at the unconscious Lucien, who was just now beginning to awaken.
"It means," the sphere's pulsing voice reverberated throughout the throne room, "that your friend is viewed by the gods as exemplifying the strategist archetype, whether that be planning, adapting, and exerting influence over battlefields and situations alike. It is an incredibly rare insignia indicative of his innate talents."
Lucien groaned, the muscles along his arms visibly spasming as he rolled over onto his back, slowly regaining consciousness. His eyes wriggled open, pupils dilating as he looked up at the grimoire floating serenely just above him.
"Is... is that mine?" Lucien muttered weakly, his voice strained from lingering pain.
"Indeed, strategist," Viral interjected with a reassuring smile. "Your grimoire will help you harness your unique resonance with the Ways, guiding you as you learn to wield your gifts."
"What about us?" Kaia blurted impatiently, stepping forward with arms crossed tightly, clearly uncomfortable with the suspense.
"Patience, fiery one," the god sphere's mocking tone returned. "Your turn is soon, though whether your insignia—if you receive one—will match your... temperament remains to be seen."
Kaia scoffed, rolling her eyes while quietly muttering something undoubtedly crude under her breath. Liora placed a calming hand on Kaia's shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze.
As Lucien shakily rose to his feet, he reached out towards the floating grimoire. With cautious reverence, his fingers wrapped around its edges, immediately jolting his entire body upright. The pages flashed open, their empty surfaces rapidly filling with intricate symbols, diagrams, and inscriptions that were barely visible from where Rowan stood, ones that seemed oddly familiar.
"Whoa!" Lucien gasped, staggering back slightly from the sheer influx of information now surging into his mind. "This... it's incredible!"
A switch flipped in Lucien, his face neutral yet his stance strong. As if Lucien had been born able to tap into the Way, a large tendril of dark mass shot out from his open palm, the force of such an outburst creating enough disturbance in the air to knock Rowan off balance just a little.
The others looked on, their eyes wide with envy and wonder, realizing for the first time the true weight and potential of these grimoires.
"Good," the god sphere growled with evident satisfaction. "Now that the first hero has received his grimoire, who shall be next?"
With a sharp breath and determined eyes, Kaia stepped forward, her fiery aura reigniting as she met the god sphere's challenge head-on.
"Alright," she declared boldly, thrusting her palm forward as the tether of light began to form, "let's get this over with."
When the tether's thrums indicated its own completeness, the god sphere lit up, a second source of light whirring in the air adjacent to Kaia's shoulder.
"Ah, the beast insignia. Fitting for one as... overzealous as yourself," the god sphere mused, its flashes of light lighter and its tone airy.
Kaia looked on at the still-bright grimoire with wide-eyed astonishment, her expression a steeled tenacity as she gripped the grimoire along its spine, surely tearing it at the seams with brute force had its material not been otherworldly.
The design was rather simple, a fiery red bull etched on its front cover almost as if it were branded, the line work singed into ash and the disposition revealing an all-encompassing red.
Kaia's grimoire ripped open, the same inscriptions dashing through the air as they imprinted into the pages. However, Kaia's impatience seemed to run thin as she instantly got to work, pointing her finger forward.
"You work at my pace, grimoire!"
The flames that jetted through the throne room at atom-splitting speed matched Kaia's fiery red hair, bristles of hell-incarnate flying off as superheated sparks that burnt through the surrounding material.
Stray tinges were enough to evaporate ends of Rowan's hair and incinerate patches of his clothes, intrusive thoughts of himself being at the end of her full attack almost drawing a fight-or-flight response within him.
Swoosh!
Something flashed through the air faster than Rowan could personally track, its left-behind after-image more visible than it was in real time.
Like the roaring of thunder, air whipped back to lash Rowan's torso seconds after he'd already taken his leave, putting himself between the flame and the wall, a glowing bright blue blade in his right hand.
With a single fell swoop, the fireball was reduced to striating heat waves in the air, its leftover heat still choking out the remaining oxygen in Rowan's lungs.
Coughing his guts out, Rowan's eyes drifted again to the now stationary man, his stony-faced expression wringing out the humor in the otherwise hilarious oversight Kaia had made.
"Hero Kaia, while I understand that exact rush you're feeling: one where your limbs are exuberant, almost unable to sit still. But you need to learn that to survive in this world and protect those you love, you must exercise absolute caution, especially when you possess power as destructive as yours."
The source of the voice was King Viral, his face profuse with sweat and the tips of his fingers broiling with bubbles of air that rose from within his muscle and popped out through his skin.
Yet, despite the grotesqueness of his injury, he maintained his composure, his expression as still as an undisturbed pond.
"I... I'm sorry," Kaia murmured, her face riddled with guilt.