Afterimage 6

In the veil of the night, the Archon floated towards the place of solace and quiet; where it all started, it would all finish as well.

But he did not intend to dabble in the matters of Arcane as much, not right now, no; in his approach, the winds, the gale began to gather around his form. Much like the Tempest itself that was threatening to crash down upon anything and everything that was surrounding Zaruma, those winds howled amidst the forest with the sound resonating for miles.

But it was not his intention to destroy. Soon, the gale began to draw in, moving closer to the Archon's body, much like turning him into embodiment of the wind, leaving naught but a silhouette.

It was the matter of practice. The gift bestowed upon him by sudden breakthrough had to be developed and honed, if he wished to truly make use of it. He had to truly master the wind, to become one with it - to defy correspondence and time in his swiftness.

"This would make me unstoppable..."

Thinking outloud, Zaruma could not help but ponder at all of the possibilities that would unfold before him, should he succeed with this practice.

But enough of that, enough of pointless, idle thinking. Zaruma had prepared himself for yet another test of speed, of swiftness, of drive.

He took upon the stance, one that much resembled a predator about to pounce it's prey.

The winds were howling.
(Zaruma)

Push. Accelerate.

Two words that defined this movement. Much like the wind itself, he moved at impossible speed, dashing and weaving around the trees, if only to suddenly fly in the air and defy the correspondence; gravity and distance were non-existent to him, much akin to the time when he moved this fast.

A quick glance of crimson hues was thrown at the ground. Nothing moved in his sight - the leaves on the trees seemed still despite the gathering gale, the butterflies he often spectated were moveless, the critters frozen in their attempts to escape the Fell Wind.

Nothing moved. Only he did.

And this world of speed could not be invaded, for as long as Zaruma stayed focused. The winds caressed his form as if he were an Elemental, yet combined with the raw strength of an Archon, that hurricane was something else, something otherworldly. No human could potentially move so fast, and Zaruma defied such laws of reality.

Was it the power of the Archon? Perhaps. It was meant to only keep growing, after all.

But the testing was not yet done. He continued to fly, moving within particles of the time itself, everything being slowed to the point of nearly halting entirely. It was an odd feeling - to defy time without even knowing a thing about time magic.

'That's few more seconds longer than last time.'

A note to self within Zaruma's mind, and the training continued.

Question is, for how long he could keep this up?
(Zaruma)

His time was running out.

As much as he'd wish to keep this up, he felt a slight change to the winds that surrounded him, that carried and graced him like a safeguard against the world outside. The leaves on the trees were beginning to slowly move once more, the critters resumed their run, and butterflies were fluttering their wings.

His world was invaded, the world of stopped time. He could not keep it up forever, after all, and his speed was only enough for so long to move between the particles of time.

Deciding to play a dangerous game, Zaruma pushed himself to extents not known before; the winds were still howling, the embodiment of Tempest moving at the speed unmatched, but it did not come without a cost.

His body was burning up. Naturally, the resistance of atmosphere, a force of friction would get to him; the longer he kept going, the more drastic it's effects were, and they were escalating all together, fast.

What started as mere sensation of heat sparkling against his body soon turned into scorching, lacerations and cuts that were driven against his body. He tried to resist, to push through pain, but even the tough being that he was, it was not enough - eventually, the winds gave out, resuming the movement of Archon at normal.

'Too much...'

A silent whisper escaped his lips, and the Archon flew down from the skies, landing without a grace, almost crashing even; he took a moment to reflect upon his wounds, to observe and check on them. It could not be allowed that he'd die to something like that, but gladly, they were nothing too serious.

True, perhaps he was hurt, but it was worth it. Today, he defied something greater than even he is, something more important.

The world. He defied correspondence and time, and this time around, he pushed it to extremes that were not possible before.

That much was enough. Zaruma decided to return to Aetherius.
(Zaruma)