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It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, this. The feeling of weakness. She was Ser Conaron Starblade, Warrior of Light and savior of countless lands and peoples. She was the First Paladin, Heritor of Azem, (former) Scion of the Seventh Dawn, and countless other titles that she has earned during her nearly seven years tenure as a hero.
And yet she couldn’t deny it. That she had reached her apex of power, of her strength to transcend and overcome any challenge that came in her way. The fight against Necron and Calyx was tough, far too tough for her to overcome like she did for everything before. If it hadn’t been for Lamaty’i and Sphene then Conaron would have fallen to the Primal of Death. Her, the famed primal slayer, falling to one after not having to fight one in almost two years! How could she let that happen?
How could she stop growing stronger? When did she stop becoming stronger? Was it when she defeated Zeromus alongside Zero? Was it when she stopped relying so much on her Echo and instead relied on Vtra’s Wards? Was it when she endured nearly a year of peace on her Island Sanctuary alongside her wife Yugiri Mistwalker?
…Or was it when she nearly died to Zenos, way back then at the edge of all known creation?
She never admitted to anyone, anyone at all, that when Zenos challenged her to that final duel back then she hadn’t even considered just leaving him. He had given her the offer to walk away, but she didn’t. She finally let him be right about her, about her desire to fight and defeat strong foes; to overcome challenges that would make anyone balk. She was the Warrior of Light, but in that moment she was that sproutling adventurer who was trying to make her fame of being the best there was.
And she loved it!
But now, nearly two years since that day, she never felt more powerful since that moment in time. If anything, it felt like she was being eclipsed by the others. The Twins continued to mount in strength as they grew older, their Elezen growth spurt right around the corner. G’raha was able to tap more and more into his old Exarch power as the days went by, so very close to being able to summon like he once did during that climatic battle against Emet Selch. The other Scions advanced in their studies, and by extension their skills, every day. Even her newfound niece, Maritima Lionsteele, was starting to outclass her in some aspects!
She was the only one who wasn’t growing, becoming stronger. She was failing everyone, and herself…
Even though she was struggling to become stronger, she was still one of the strongest in known creation. Strong enough to defeat the ever recurring Odin.
Odin… A being possessed by the cursed blade Zantetsuken, a primal in disguise. It was a unique primal, one that made Conaron nervous on occasion as it seemed like the cursed sword was capable of breaking through the Echo, the Traveler’s Ward that Venat blessed her oh so long ago, and resist all attempts to cure the Tempered of their tempering; leaving only death as the solution to Odin. Not only did it seem to be powerful enough to break through the Echo, but it was smart enough to seemingly target only Echo wielders lately. Of the last three Odins, all of them had been Echo blessed; and each one stronger than the last. It was as if the blade was empowered from the strength of its wielder's Echo!
But it mattered not for Conaron had been able to best Odin every time, coming out on top during every encounter. How could she not win? She was the Warrior of Light, the first and final bulwark against calamity. If she failed then, then misery and death for so many people would follow. That isn’t even mentioning that her successor to her role would undergo the rest of their life in misery and pain, and she would not inflict such suffering upon another being.
And so she must fight and win. And so she must become stronger.
But right now, she had to do her duty. A new Odin had been spotted in the forests of East Shroud once more. She has to defeat the being, possessed by Zantetsuken, and scatter the blade to darkness once more for a time. It was her duty, and her duty will always be fulfilled.
She found Odin, this time a Elezen man with a striking resemblance to a House Fortemps squire she had seen last time she visited Ishgard, on top of the dark steed Slepinir with the cursed blade in hand. Poor fellow. She had heard from Aymeric that he was a rising star in the latest generation of the reformed Temple Knights ever since the Knight Uprising a few years back. To see him under the sway of Zantetsuken was saddening as there was only one fate left for him.
And so she attacked once Odin had noticed her, rushing forward with her sword and shield and Paladin magicks to quickly overwhelm him. Yet, he answered every blow of hers with a skilled block, redirect, or counter of his own. For every step Conaron took during their duel, Odin forced that very same step to go back. Her lunges missed, her slashes blocked, her magicks dodged or redirected elsewhere; she could not land a clean, decisive hit upon him.
But neither could Odin. For every slash he aimed at her, she let slam against her shield. For every thrust he took, she moved to the side and avoided the deadly blade. For every moment that the spears of darkness fired at her, she let wash over her shield of protective magicks. For every step Odin took, she forced that very same step backwards.
This duel quickly became one of the toughest battles Conaron has ever done, almost like she was fighting Necron once again. This time, though, she was all alone. No Scions to distract the primal, no Lamaty’i to break her bones and spill her blood destroying a near indestructible barrier, no Sphene to make a heartfelt speech to her subjects that depowered the primal. It was only Conaron fighting, and she wasn’t winning.
She was losing.
She was losing against Odin, for the longer the battle went on the weaker she became. She could feel it. Her lungs burned from exertion, sweat and dirt covered her face, her mana reserves running on fumes, and her own weapons had begun to crack and chip from the constant punishment.
All the while Odin stood strong as ever, not a single hint of exhaustion or pain on his face. Then again, it’s not like the Odin could probably feel anything beyond what Zantetsuken let them. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was defeating Odin and ensuring that she saw the dawn of a new day!
And so she took a risky gamble, one that paid off. Discarding all notions of safety, she broke her sword upon Zantetsuken which threw it from Odin’s grasp, making her way through his defenses and plunged her broken blade into the being’s heart, forcing both her and Odin to fall to the ground.
She had done it, but at what cost? Another blade of hers had broken, an all too common occurrence for her sure, but it had broken for this . This battle had been nothing but simple cleanups for the longest time, duels where she had barely broken a sweat most times. But now? Now, here she was covered in dirt and sweat, a broken blade in her opponent’s chest as she struggled to stand on her own two feet!
She was weak! She was too weak! She had to get stronger! She had to! She had to-
Zantetsuken... She spotted it in the corner of her eye, stuck in the ground nearby. It hadn’t yet dissolved into darkness as it usually did upon Odin’s death. Instead, it remained as if it was waiting for something.
Or for someone...
…She had to become stronger. If she struggled against this iteration of Odin, then what of the next calamity? Calyx was simply the latest in the long line of foes that had sought to destroy her home, to kill her loved ones, to massacre Hope itself. What if the next foe she faced was simply too strong for her? What if she finally faltered and failed? What would happen to everyone then?
Zantetsuken was a primal, an ancient one at that. One that had the power to possess the Echo blessed and twist them into the new Odin. One that seemingly empowered the very Echo blessed beings that wielded it.
…Conaron had heard tales of wielders who managed to use Zantetsuken without being possessed. Beings who were said to be some of the most powerful warriors of their times. She was the Warrior of Light, savior of all of creation. If there was anyone who had enough power to resist Zantetsuken, it would be her. Right?
Right???
She felt her fingers twitch.
She approached the cursed blade.
She thought about her wife and their newborn son.
She grabbed its handle and pulled it out of the ground.
And she felt strong.
