[Alright lad, the House of Reflection. First principle...]
Ibar stopped mid-sentence.
Naturally, Helix waited for the ghost’s immense guidance.
Ibar looked down at his own translucent hands, flickering slightly at the edges like a candle in the wind. He glanced at the sword in Helix’s hand, then back at his own.
[...Hm.]
"What?"
[The House of Reflection is a counterattacking style.] Ibar said slowly, as if working something out mid-sentence. [To counter, you must first understand how to receive an attack. To receive an attack, you must have someone to attack you. Now here’s the problem, lad...]
He reached out to grab Helix’s wrist to adjust his stance.
His hand passed straight through.
Ibar stared at where his hand had gone. Helix stared at where Ibar’s hand had gone. Neither of them said anything for a long moment.
Oh...Now that’s certainly a problem.
It truly was; how would one understand Reflection if their opponent cast no shadow? If they had no reflection?
Could you truly deflect something that didn’t happen? Was it possible to deflect an attack that couldn’t touch you? An attack you couldn’t touch?
Dozens of such questions swirled through Helix’s mind as he realized Ibar wouldn’t be able to teach him anything. The man couldn’t pick up a sword, much less fight with one.
[I see,] Ibar finally broke the silence with those two words, a troubled expression on his face.
They both fell silent, each of them deep in thought. While Helix was struggling to come up with a way where his grandfather could teach him properly, Ibar Abaddon was doing something else entirely.
Should I try and call ’Him’, but knowing that man and his personality...my grandson might just turn into an anarchist.
Ibar’s form flickered, his inability to decide physically appearing on his form. But in the end, no matter what he chose, Ibar would have to accept that he could do nothing for Helix, and as such, with a heavy heart, he sent a mental message to an old rival.
*
A tall man stood in the middle of a massive crater, the surrounding land devoid of life. Below him, two colors of the rainbow fought violently for dominance.
The right half was a deep violet, the color of crystal, while the left side was an icy blue, pale white spots dotting the land.
A small wind rose and lifted the man’s rose colored braid. Reaching for his head, the man adjusted the crown on his head and looked towards the sky.
The same phenomenon was happening high above, near the heavens.
"Those damn brats...they really did it this time. Should I just kill them?" The man spoke aloud, his attitude carefree, a cheerful smile on his face.
"No, but then Ibar would be mad at me."
[You’re damn right I would! That’s my son-in-law you’re talking about.]
The man smiled innocently and plucked his sword from the ground.
"Oh, Ibar! How’s it been being a ghost? HAHA."
[Go to hell Cyril.] Ibar barked in his head. [Anyway, I’m here for something much more important.]
Cyril snapped his fingers. What could a dead man want from him?
[Come to Kor, the 24th street, and hurry up; you have about an hour. I want you to train my grandson.]
"And why would I do that? You must surely know that I don’t take students anymore...especially since my last one turned you into a ghost..." He said, his voice containing an edge of hatred.
Ibar didn’t know whether it was directed at him or at the bastard who had turned him into a specter.
"I helped you kill Oy, and you still owe me that favor. Or are you not going to honor your word?"
Cyril stayed silent for a moment before sighing deeply.
"I’ll be there in thirty. If your brat isn’t there by then, I’ll kill Malachar."
Ibar didn’t linger, departing without another word. There may have been thousands of miles of distance between the two points, but he’d be a fool to think Cyril couldn’t travel that much in an instant.
*
What is happening to him...?
Helix couldn’t help but ask himself as he stared at his grandfather’s body. As if he was facing something of immense power, Ibar’s whole body was shaking violently.
His azure form kept flickering in and out of existence.
Then, with a shudder that ran through his entire translucent form like a wave, he snapped back into full presence.
A shadow passed over his spectral face.
[Go to the 24th street of Kor and start walking around it in circles,] he said, his form still shaking slightly. [Take your butler and hurry up.]
Helix blinked. "...Why?"
[Because I said so.]
"That’s not an answer."
[No, it isn’t.] Ibar stroked his beard, unbothered. [Now shut up or I’ll throw you there, lad.]
"Grandfather...sorry to inform you, but you’re not alive. You don’t even have a body anymore."
The old man has finally gone insane after all this time. Poor him.
Ibar snapped his fingers.
The air cracked, and something struck Helix on the head.
[Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean I can’t use it. Now shut up and disappear before I make good on my threat.]
The next second, a massive wind rose through the field, slamming into the glass pillars and raising a plume of sand.
A few moments later, it settled down.
"He’s gone," Helix noted.
Indeed, Ibar Abaddon the Steadfast had vanished without so much as a flicker, leaving behind no explanation, no instruction, and no acknowledgement whatsoever of anything.
Shaking his head with disappointment, Helix trudged out of the training field. His weapons hung near his leg, gun fastened safely in his pocket.
He needed to get to 24th Street before the 30 minutes were up. In his boundless experience of missing deadlines, Helix knew something bad would happen if he was late.
He stepped into his room and took a deep breath.
"ALIIIIIIIIIIIIII, COME HERE!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, then stepped into the bathroom to change his clothes.
His butler would be here soon.