The snow had piled up over the past few day, now reaching the knees of two figures making their way into the forest.
Step, step.
Seven followed Eden's footsteps.
Though the cold bit at his skin, he used the sensation to sharpen his focus, watching the way the wind died whenever it neared his sister.
Step.
Eden halted at the very edge of a jagged precipice.
"We have arrived, youngest."
"...Here?"
Eden simply nodded.
Seven looked down and his pulse immediately quickened, below them lay a vertical drop into a white abyss— there was a flowing river below, though he could barely make out how wide it was.
'That river must be special. It's not freezing at all despite the winter snow.'
He then looked behind, to the furthest treeline his vision could reach, where several hulking Yetis lurked among the trunks.
Strangely enough, none of those Yetis moved nor did they dare to approach them as if recognizing Eden as someone far above their reach.
Eden followed his gaze.
"Hm. Do not worry about those cute and furry nuisances, youngest. They would not dare interrupt a moment this private."
Eden returned her gaze back to him.
"Take off your outer clothes and sit at the center. The air is biting cold, but this sister of yours will not let a single falling snowflake touch you."
"Yes."
Seven hesitated for a moment before fumbling with his buttons.
"Achoo!"
He sneezed, his pale frame began to turn pale from the cold and holwing gale.
Yet, as he sat, he realized the snowflakes were indeed veering away from him, diverted by the sheer pressure of Eden's presence.
'...A gift, eh. This is truly the best gift I could hope for.'
After all, Seven now knew exactly what this gift was.
That is—
[Imposition of the Higher]
The third method to be an ascendant, a path where a transcendent of above would aid another. But that still did not explain why Eden had chosen a place like this.
"Achoo!"
Seven sneezed again, a frown forming on his face.
'For some reason, I couldn't shake off this uneasy feeling as if something bad's going to happen. Damn it. That wouldn't be the case, right?'
This method, although the mortality rate is not as bad as the path of meditation, there was still a possibility of failure.
"You look frightened. Is it the height, or do you fear that I might lead you to your demise?"
"If my demise is the price for this kind of power, oldest sister, then the price is fair. I am only curious if I can hold enough of what you're about to give me."
"Hm."
Eden's expression remained the same, but she, for sure, was taken aback on how the youngest predicted the gift she was about to give him.
"You're quite the sharp one, youngest."
"I read a lot of books."
"..."
Eden stared at him for a few seconds, then finally smiled, that same luminous and the spring-like smile.
"That makes things better. Give me your hands."
"Here."
Eden took both of his hands and held them firmly, their gazes met and remained unmoving for a whole minute.
Shing!
Eden unsheathed her sword.
The blade gleamed like a glacier, forged from a translucent silver alloy that matched the platinum of her hair. Even the scabbard was adorned with a design of frozen souls.
"This may sound like a heavy request, youngest, but will you trust your older sister for just this moment?"
"I… always trust you, oldest sister."
"In that case, close your eyes, and keep them closed no matter what happens. Can you promise me that?"
Seven clenched his hands into a fist, then raised his pinky finger; Eden stared at the pinky finger, the concept entirely foreign to her.
"What are you doing?"
"It's a pinky promise."
Eden only tilted her head in silence; Seven added,
"Should I ever dare to open my eyes and break this vow, I will sever the finger myself. Consider it collateral, oldest sister."
It took a long moment of hesitation, but finally, Eden raised her hand. Their pinky fingers interlocked.
"Is that so? Then you'd best keep your word. I have no desire to see my youngest brother lose a finger over a lapse in loyalty."
"Yes."
Seven gave a solemn nod before he closed his eyes.
Beside him, Eden drew her palm across the blade, and a thin line of viscous blood bloomed instantly.
"Open your mouth."
He did as he was told. Frothy red blood slid from her hand, falling in heavy drops onto his tongue.
Because he knew exactly what this ritual was from the original story, he did not question anything and just swallowed everything.
Gulp.
But he didn't just take what was given. He tilted his head back with a sense of desperate hunger.
Gulp, gulp.
It tasted like a mix of ozone and copper, but he swallowed it all greedily.
'I bet this will hurt enough in a few seconds, but I need more. If this is the blood of a Transcendent, I will swallow every drop.'
Eden's arm began to turn pale, mainly from the loss of blood.
"I, Eden Hart, call upon he who scours the sky and strips the world bare, and he who is the Anemoi of the North, to descend."
The air around them turned violent as Eden's incantation tore through the silence.
"Boreas."
Cracka!
Thunder cracked overhead.
The wind also exploded outward, forming a massive raging cyclone. At the eye of the cyclone stood the two siblings, and are frozen in a macabre tableau.
'Uaagagh!'
The scream remained trapped in Seven's throat.
It felt as though his soul were being pulled like taffy toward the horizon, his very nerves being flayed and rewired from the inside out.
There was only a 25% chance that two siblings are a perfect tissue match (a/n human leukocyte antigens). If the markers don't match, the immune system would then treat the new blood like a hostile invader and attack it.
And that's exactly the case here: Eden's blood was getting rejected by his body!
Most would have been reduced to a heap of shattered bone and burst vessels instantly, but Seven clamped down on his consciousness and bolstered by his sheer stubborn refusal to remain weak.
'More. Give me more.'
Gulp.
Truth is, despite the pain, he was still gulping down Eden's blood like a damn drain.
The cyclone rose, dark blue lightning dancing on the surface of the storm.
This was the gamble of the third method.
Because a mortal body is a fragile thing, the third method requires a bridge to connect the body to the divine, and that bridge is someone from transcendent and above.
To put it simply, to survive the 'imposition,' one must call upon the deity of the recipient's birth month to act as a mold, holding the body together while the aide remakes the existence.
However.
Mists of snow swirled and curved, forming a coherent phrase mid-air.
[That is not my child…]
Fwoosh!
The cyclone then disappeared instantaneously, and that mist of snow unraveled.
Seven's body slumped forward, finally falling unconscious.
Eden caught him just in time, her own lips stained with her blood when she bit her tongue from frustration.
"Why…?"
Eden was certain this would work.
Every record dictated that the deities answered the call to shield their own children. Seven was born on the 53rd day of Bruma; by all laws of the heavens, Boreas had no right to turn a blind eye.
But when Eden pressed her hand to his chest to check his body's status—
Thump, thump, thump!
—to her surprise, his heart was still active. Thumping violently, even.
Checking his insides, her little brother's body was definitely getting ruptured by her own blood. But it was also getting repaired in that same exact moment by another blood that resembled the color of the deepest ocean.
"Abyssal Ichor…"
This blood was what saved the youngest on his death bed back then, and it seemed to have saved him one more time.
Truth be told, Eden had no idea about the true nature of that ichor sealed in a small vial.
The Archduke personally gave her that as a reward on her 16th birthday ceremony, and was provided with no definition of the thing back then except:
"...A fluid that flows in the veins of the deities."
It certainly did heal the gaping wound on his chest back then, and his body had gained a bit of mass and height in just a few days, but she had not expected this at all.
Luck?
No.
A body that is able to withstand three different kinds of blood all at once cannot be defied by luck alone.
Eden watched the way his skin regained its color, the mass of his muscles subtly shifting as they were remade, and then looked at his face.
Even if unconscious, he looked less like a victim and more like a young wolf that had just tasted its first kill.
"Youngest. You are terrifying."
Suddenly, a faint yet chilling laugh escaped from her lips.
Eden was certain that, by now, Seven must be fighting a battle inside his consciousness, doing his best not to get swallowed by the two foreign bloods fighting to take hold of his body.
"You might become something far more monstrous than I could ever hope to be…"
In that case, there was only one thing Eden could do in this moment, and that is—
"Is this the curse Foile and Abaddon had mentioned?"
—to take half of the curse that the youngest carries.