No More Pain For This Villain.

Chapter 367 An Ugly Scar

Chapter 367  An Ugly Scar

I stared at Aron before letting out a small sigh. "You can stop now. That's enough."

I had asked him to tap into this new power so I could observe the surface-level changes up close. And I did learn a few things.

Tapping into the Archon Form grants them more than twice their usual power, which is... terrifying. Especially when I consider that Adam, Vexa, and Amelia are either on their way to receiving this power or already have it.

Well, not Adam—not yet. I know he'll get the power and his sword simultaneously. The only thing that's changed is the location of his elusive trial. It's going to be the dungeon Falco wants to conquer. Honestly, it's painfully obvious.

They're all converging there for one reason: to ensure one person reaches their level. Why? Because that guy is the bearer of this world's fate.

And yet, even knowing this, it all feels... empty.

Out of breath and drenched in sweat, Aron struggled to stand. He looked like he might collapse at any moment. The downside of the Archon Form was its absurd mana consumption. It drained mana like a starving beast in a desert. Even in the game, that form was only usable for thirty to forty seconds, depending on the situation.

"So, what do you think?" Aron asked, his voice wary.

"Terrible." The word left my mouth before I could stop it, and Aron immediately dropped his head in dejection.

"It's that bad, huh..." he muttered, shuffling over to one of the chairs in the corner of the room. I followed and sat down as well.

After a moment of silence, two questions nagged at my mind. The first one came out without much thought.

"Why were you even chosen?"

Aron looked at me, but he didn't seem offended. Instead, he sighed, running a hand over his masked face—or, well, his mask. I'd seen both his healed face and the scarred one, so the mask didn't make much difference to me.

After a long pause, Aron met my gaze. "I don't know. But it seems Goddess Hera thinks I'm essential for this task."

Isn't that just what bosses say when they don't want to handle something and dump it on their subordinates? This situation didn't feel any different. The gods weren't sufficient on their own, so they needed these so-called chosen ones. Whatever criteria they used to pick them was a mystery only they understood. I didn't have much to add to that.

We sat in silence for what felt like ten, maybe twenty minutes. Neither of us spoke, not because we didn't have things to say but because neither of us seemed to be in the mood.

Eventually, Aron leaned back and removed his mask. The hideous burn scars on one side of his face stood out starkly against the beautiful, unmarred half. Yeah, I'd call him more beautiful than handsome. His face leaned more toward elegance than ruggedness.

The auburn-haired prince glanced at his mask, turning it over in his hands, occasionally polishing its surface with a handkerchief.

As for me? I was lost in thought, like trying to solve a problem when you don't even know what the question is.

My second question finally surfaced in my mind. The first one—why Aron was chosen when he clearly couldn't manage his power—was still unanswered. Surely the gods knew he couldn't handle this? Then why him? But that wasn't something I could ever know or even speculate about without more to go on.

Instead, my thoughts shifted to the process itself. What was hindering him? Why couldn't the Archon Form manifest properly?

And then I remembered something. During that battle with Vexa, I saw Aron's face heal for a split second. Just a second, but it happened. After that, nothing. He hadn't been able to do it again.

It was as if something inside him was blocking the process. Something internal.

And then it clicked.

"Crap," I muttered, straightening my back as realization hit me.

Aron didn't seem to notice my sudden shift. He remained seated, fondly wiping the already spotless porcelain mask. A strange expression, almost nostalgic, played across his features.

I, without saying anything, activated Mana Vision. It had been a while, so the once-familiar feeling seemed a bit alien.

The world shifted colors as well as the silhouettes seemed to fade. Everything was azure, and in front of me was a humanoid outline sitting—Aron.

Mana Vision helps me peer into the fabric of reality and observe mana on a very close level, so I could see Aron's mana core.

It seemed... normal, or to be exact, it was full of energy. It was like a beacon in the middle of the night—it shone brightly near his heart.

Nothing seemed different, so I activated Elemental Vision simultaneously. This gave me a look at a network of small streams running all around his body like a web. The neuro system-like streams were the mana vessels in his body.

It seemed fine until it didn't—because there was a huge chunk of mana vessels missing from half of his face, the burned side. From there, as if running down from that particular side, the absence of vessels grew until it reached the place where his mana core was.

If the mana core was a substitute for the heart—as it is in mages—the former depends on the latter. The same could be said for vessels; mana vessels were like blood vessels, pumping mana from the core to the body.

Only the flow of mana in the body could be controlled. As for the radiating mana core, it was not pumping mana to that specific direction, as if there was a blockage in the... whatever could be termed as mana arteries.

Was that why his scar didn't heal?

But why?

As if noticing how intensely I was staring at him, he spoke, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I stepped back from my thoughts, blinking away the azure haze of mana vision. Aron's voice cut through, pulling me back to the present.

"Not you too..." His tone was low, almost defeated. He paused, then added, "I thought you'd be used to it... or at least not look at me like that."

'What? Oh...'

I realized I must've been staring at the burned side of his face again. His words carried a sharp edge, but there was no anger in them, just weariness. The kind of weariness that only years of judgment and isolation could bring.

"It's not what you think," I said quickly, trying to soothe the misunderstanding. "I wasn't looking at your scars—I mean, not like that. I was looking at something else."

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his expression. "Something else? Like what? My charm?"

I ignored the bitterness in his voice. Instead, I sat back down, my mind racing. The absence of mana vessels. That's what was wrong. The burned side of his face wasn't just scarred in the physical sense—it was like a dead zone in his mana flow. The damage wasn't skin-deep; it went deeper, into the very fabric of his mana system.

I had to phrase this carefully. "Aron, your scar... it's not just a scar, is it?" I asked, watching him closely.

His gaze darkened as his hand instinctively brushed the ruined side of his face. "What do you mean?"

I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. "Your mana flow. It's blocked. Half of your face doesn't have mana vessels, and the damage extends down to your core. That's why the Archon Form isn't manifesting properly. Your body can't handle the strain because it's missing... well, vital pathways."

For a moment, Aron didn't say anything. He just stared at me, his porcelain mask forgotten in his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hollow. "You're saying... the scar is the reason?"

I nodded. "That's my theory. When you activated the Archon Form earlier, it was like your core was pushing mana into a broken pipe. It couldn't circulate properly, and that's why you're getting drained so fast. Your body's fighting itself."

Aron laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "So what you're saying is... I'm defective. Great. Just what I needed to hear."

"That's not what I said," I replied firmly. "It's not about being defective. It's about finding a way to fix it."

"Fix it?" He scoffed, placing the mask back on his face. "You think this can be fixed? Do you have any idea how long I've lived with this?"

"I don't," I admitted, "but I've seen enough to know there's always a way. If mana can be redirected or augmented, there's a chance we can bypass the damage. Maybe even heal it."

Aron's eyes widened to their fullest. The uglier one seemed... creepy, but I didn't let it show on my face. "Really!?"

"Well, at least we can try... can't say for sure, though."

With that, I had him use the Archon Form manifestation three more times. It was gruesome to watch, to say the least.