There may also be some inaccuracies, since English is not my native language.
Essentially, TBATE is first translated from English into my native language — and in that process, some details are already altered to make it more understandable for us. Now I'm taking that adapted (and somewhat distorted) version, revising it, rewriting it, and then translating it back into English.
I hope you'll point out any mistakes in the text that I might have missed.
× × × × ×
The room narrowed to the size of a trap. His father's voice, like rolling thunder, turned into an indistinct hum in his ears.
"Oh, you..." The dark-haired man stepped forward. He smelled of alcohol, then something sour and unpleasant. His movements were sharp but imprecise-his body swayed, but his anger, on the contrary, was crystal clear. His fist flew up, heavy as a rock.
The boy pressed himself against the wall, feeling the cold, rough pattern of the wallpaper on his back. His legs trembled and his heart pounded like crazy. The blow did not come as pain, but as a sudden loss of balance. The world tilted, and everything around him swam. He felt the floor slip away from under his feet, and everything went dark before his eyes.
But after a few seconds, he was able to collect his thoughts again. He wiped the blood from his nose that was running down his lips and staggered to his feet. His gaze was lowered, as if he was afraid to meet his father's eyes.
It was impossible to look at his father. Never.
Screaming was useless.
Crying was dangerous.
Begging was the worst.
There were no screams, no tears. It was like a routine that repeated itself over and over again. The boy knew it was useless, that any resistance would only make his situation worse.
The reason?
There was no need for a reason.
His father drank. Sometimes a lot, sometimes "just a little." But it was always enough. Any little thing-a sound, a glance, a breath-became a reason. His own failures, humiliations, and fears found an outlet in his fists. He didn't hit because he was angry.
He hit because he could.
Today's reason was particularly pathetic. The middle child, a four-year-old girl, didn't finish her dinner. She left food on her plate. Simply because she was a child.
Only the father and three children were at home. A seven-year-old boy and twins, his brother and sister, who were four years old. The mother was not at home, and the entire burden of responsibility for protecting the younger children fell on the shoulders of the eldest son.
Bam.
The air rushed out of his lungs when the drunk man's foot slammed into his own son's stomach. His stomach contracted in a painful spasm, and everything he had eaten came rushing back up. He vomited right onto the floor. His throat burned, and his eyes began to water against his will.
"Brother sniff... sniff" the girl sobbed.
She cried quietly, almost silently. Tears and snot mixed on her face. She covered her mouth with her hands, trying not to make a sound. She already knew that if she cried louder, it would be worse for her brother.
Seeing his younger sister choking on her tears and snot, the boy wiped his mouth and smiled calmly, ignoring the pain.
He couldn't show his pain and scare the already frightened children even more. Their mother was not at home to stop their father, and he knew that the only way to end this chaos was to swallow his pain and smile calmly.
A smile that would accompany him for the rest of his life.
Even if it hurt, he could not scream, cry, or ask his father to stop; he knew that it would have the opposite effect.
His father was a loser, a cruel loser who often got drunk and took his anger out on him from the age of five. Before, he used to cry, scream, and beg him to stop, but now he knew that he just had to not give him what he came here for.
And as he thought, the effect manifested itself after a couple of blows.
"Damn trash, why were you even born?!" the man shouted and, enraged, hit his son a couple of times with great force.
"Brother, hic hic," the little girl continued to quietly wipe her nose and mumble apologies, knowing that if she raised her voice, it would only make things worse for her brother.
"Shut up, and you... wash the floor, you bastard," the man spat at the child, ignoring her words and sobs, and, irritated, staggered off to his room to sleep.
Slam!
"Brother, I sniff I'm," as soon as the door closed, the little girl rushed to the blue-eyed boy who hugged her with a calm smile.
"It's okay," he said, gently stroking her back at a soothing pace. Scarlet blood flowed from his broken lip. "It's not your fault. Don't cry, don't cry."
"Are you... are you hurt?" she asked, choking back tears and looking at the blood dripping from her brother's lip and his battered condition.
Her face buried itself in his shoulder. The fabric was instantly soaked.
"No," he replied too quickly, "It doesn't hurt at all."
He pulled her away so she could look at him. The smile was still there, steady, calm, reassuring.
"See? It doesn't hurt at all. So relax." He continued to smile, although a shadow of fatigue flashed in his eyes. "Relax and wipe your nose, or you'll flood our house with your tears. Who's going to pay for the repairs?"
Despite the precarious situation and the silly words, they had an effect. The girl smiled against her will. Her smile was weak but sincere.
And seeing his sister smile through her tears and snot, Lucius's calm smile became a little more genuine.
× × × × ×
3 years later
The sounds of gurgling water drowned out all other sounds. The huge river was so long and wide that it practically divided the continent. The speed of the current was simply incredible. The current could carry away an adult bull as easily as an adult human could lift a kitten, without resistance.
And despite the danger of the water, it was fertile, with animals, birds, insects, and of course fish. There was a huge amount of fish in this huge river, and all fishermen wanted to fish here at least once, but as mentioned, fishing here was associated with enormous risk.
"Damn, damn, damn rock," the middle-aged man cursed loudly as he rowed with all his might.
Lucius and his father went fishing on one of the good days. In fact, it was Lucius's father who wanted to go fishing, and Lucius simply had no way to refuse. But that's not the point. Right now, the dark-haired man was rowing toward a small island in the very center of the huge, turbulent river.
Why was he doing it with oars?
Due to carelessness and a few cans of beer, the man did not notice how he was approaching a rocky shoal at high speed. The motor blades took a heavy blow, putting it out of commission, and the strong current immediately swept the boat away. Only because there was a small island directly ahead and they had oars did they ultimately survive.
"So what?" the irritated man shouted at his son.
"It's not working at all, Dad," came the reply from the 10-year-old boy who had climbed high up a tree.
Bam
"Damn it," the man angrily punched the tree, looking at his son who had climbed the tree in an attempt to get a signal. "Try climbing higher and then spend half an hour walking around this island, it's not that big anyway."
"Okay!" Lucius shouted, climbing even higher, holding the phone in one hand.
After a couple of dozen seconds, the man sighed heavily and trudged back to the boat, muttering irritably, "Don't count on getting a signal. The river is huge, and it's unlikely we'll be able to call anyone... Better to check our supplies for now."
"So," the man took a drag on his cigarette, his voice tense. His eyes darted from the supplies to his son and to the shore closest to the island. "Two fishing rods, one meal for two, two hundred meters of rope, a flint, and a hunting knife. Food supplies for one day, no communication, and three or four hundred meters to the nearest shore. Wonderful."
What the man didn't notice was the faint smile that appeared on his son's face for a moment.
A couple of hours later
"So," the man began, wrapping the rope around his body, "the plan is simple. Since we're unlikely to get any communication and it's unlikely that anyone else will show up here within a week, we'll have to swim."
The plan was frighteningly simple: the man would wrap himself in rope and then wrap that rope around a tree so that his son could slowly loosen the tension.
"I'm swimming to that rock over there," the man pointed to a rock about 220 meters away from them. "You'll have to hold the rope until the end, and as soon as it runs out, you'll just let go. It's barely 30 meters to the rock, and I can manage from there. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father, hold the rope very tightly but let go slowly so as not to stop you. As soon as it ends, don't try to hold on, just let go and wait for you to swim over. Is that right?" Lucius replied, his face expressing sincere seriousness.
The man looked at Lucius's face for a couple of seconds, then nodded weakly and, taking a deep breath, began to lower himself into the water. It was a dangerous venture; the man might not have enough strength, and the water could easily carry his body away, but there was no way out. This place was too remote from anywhere on the map, a secret fishing spot, so to speak.
Therefore, he chose the only option: to swim across this dangerous river. Even if he couldn't swim across, the rope was there for a reason; he could return, with difficulty, but he could.
The man's body sank deeper and deeper into the dangerous, turbulent current of the river.
"Phew!" The cold water and strong current enveloped his body, making the task more difficult than he had expected. But gritting his teeth, the man rowed with all his might, the rope sinking deeper and deeper into the water, 5 meters, 10 meters, 30 meters, 50 meters. The man's eyes became like steel, his arms began to row slower and slower, but gritting his teeth, he continued to swim.
Although the current had already begun to pull him down, a little further than where he had originally thought he would swim, his arms and legs felt like lead, but he continued to swim with all his might. His consciousness began to cloud, but there was no panic; his son was holding the rope, and he could always go back, right?
"Hmm, about 70 meters from the island and about 150 meters to the rock. The strongest current is right here," little Lucius muttered under his breath, his blue eyes sparkling like precious stones.
Slowly, a familiar calm, anxious smile appeared on his face. "Enough."
His fingers tightened around the knife in his hand and quickly brought it to the rope. The blade flashed and the rope was instantly cut. The calm smile on Lucius's face slowly changed, slowly stretching into an anxiously joyful one.
At that moment, Lucius was overwhelmed with incredible joy and relief as he watched his father's figure veer further and further off course, a clear sign that his strength was leaving him faster than it should, but quite expected.
His lips parted slightly, and merciless words full of venom and hatred burst out faster than he could think them through. "Go on, die already!"
"Hah... hahaha...Hehehehehe..." Loud, disturbing laughter rang out on the small island, but after a few moments, the laughter began to subside as a familiar calm flooded his mind. "... Phew... Enough of enjoying this so much. It's time to move on to the final part of the performance."
Taking the phone out of his pocket, which was actually catching a signal, he quickly dialed his mother's number and, placing the phone nearby, reached for the remains of the rope. Wrapping the rope around his index and middle fingers, Lucius took a deep breath and, clenching his teeth, pulled sharply.
CRACK CRACK
"Argh!" A sharp cry escaped Lucius's mouth, and as he exhaled sharply, tears of pure pain began to well up in his eyes.
Summoning all his courage and biting his lip hard, he dialed his mother's number. A few seconds later, a soft, inviting voice came from the phone, making everyone want to exhale and just listen to it. "What is it, Luci? You don't often call me when you're fishing with your father."
"Sniff! Sniff! Mom! Dad, he's in the river! Sniff... the river is carrying him away! I tried, I really held the rope like he wanted me to, but sniff, my fingers! My fingers!" Lucius howled into the phone, his sincere crying, tears, and snot doing their job.
Lucius came up with this idiotic plan on the fly, seeing an opportunity the moment he climbed the tree and assessed the situation fully. It was his chance, a chance to make his life and the lives of his younger siblings a little easier, a little less painful. He knew that with his father's death, their finances would have to be tightened up a bit, but it was better than living with this monster who could kill him, his brother or sister, or even his mother in a fit of rage.
But he also knew that his mother would easily recognize his fake crying, and if the police checked the call, his sincere crying and two broken fingers would play their part.
No one would suspect a 10-year-old child of deliberately killing his father after sincere tears and two broken fingers while "trying to hold his father back in a strong current."
No one
× × × × ×
The sudden heat brought Lucius back to his senses, and without even looking back at the last second, he flew sharply to the right and slightly downward. Because he was so immersed in his memories, Lucius did not have time to fully strengthen his body with aether, and as a result...
SHHHHH
The jet of fire still hit the left side of Lucius's body, severely disfiguring his face. The skin stretched over his skeleton, and his hair, like liquid glass, clung to his wounded skin, making the sight even more painful. But the worst thing was his left eye, which instantly burned shut from the intense heat.
The strong attraction he first experienced when he met the djinn resumed with tenfold force. Following these feelings, Lucius closed his remaining eye and activated the God Step.
But what is the God Step? It is a god rune related to the edict of spatial-etheric arts, Spatium. At first, it allows one to see the threads of space along which one can walk, as it were, but in the end, with the help of Fate, Arthur deepened his understanding of this god rune and used Aroa's Requiem on these spatial threads to "heal" the torn space of the etheric sea.
And Lucius knew this very well. Suddenly, a bright golden light flashed from Lucius's disfigured back, casting rays onto the polished white bones around him.
The tingling sensation on his back turned into a pleasant warmth, and a vast amount of knowledge that deepened his understanding of the aether appeared in Lucius's mind. Without wasting a second, Lucius focused on the God Rune of Space, and in this strange thread-like dimension, he saw, or rather felt, the etheric trace of the wyvern.
Following God Step, Lucius stretched out his hand, made a grabbing motion, and activated the new God Rune that adorned his back.
In that same second, the huge body of the bone wyvern shuddered, and in an instant, the consciousness in the wyvern's eyes faded as all the aether that sustained the boss's existence was forcibly taken away and absorbed into Lucius's body.
In less than an instant, Lucius stole and appropriated the aether that sustained the wyvern's life!
The bone bird's wings spread out and began to carry Lucius much more calmly.
"The God Rune of theft, huh? Haha," Lucius laughed mentally, not looking back at the body of the wyvern, which, having lost all its aether, its very life, began to fall rapidly downward. "How interesting."
[Do you want the system to absorb the 11th rank God Rune of theft?]
"Eleventh rank? Yes, I do," Lucius replied mentally, and once again felt the connection with the rune and the knowledge disappear, but a second later they returned, and another golden-purple rune appeared on his soul.
"Since everything is going so well," he thought, taking out the cracked tracking relic, 13th rank Aroa's Requiem flashed in his soul.
Sighing gently, he watched for a couple of seconds as the aetheral dust particles clung to and restored the relic, then surrendered to the alluring sensation. His consciousness dimmed slightly, and a second later, a familiar voice rang out.
"Who do you want to see?"
Without hesitation, he mentally replied with a voice full of determination, already calling up the communication system. "Cecilia... Cecilia Sever."
× × × × ×
Well, that's all about the white bone zone. I know it's pretty short and not fully explained, but I came up with it completely by accident after reading some manhua.
This pseudo-artifact will still play a role in the plot, but for now they'll fade into the background and be used extremely rarely, until Lucius figures out how to create such pseudo-artifacts with only the effects and abilities he needs.
I understand that these pseudo-artifacts don't quite fit into the concept of TBATE, but this is fanfiction, and if I don't change or add anything, the point of the fanfiction will be lost.
Finally, throw some power stones at me