The Path of the Aura: Intertwining Crossroads


Man of Bulwark. Pokémon of Prophecy. Two different and complicated stories from two individuals on two different worlds, meeting together into one shared story. (Note: Story exists on

Action / Adventure
Age Rating:

Prologue (Part I (1)): The Unique Boy

Immortality, what is it exactly? It is the capability of living forever, to have eternal life. To be able to survive what life expels towards you, no matter how dangerous or immeasurable.

With immortality, death is impossible.

This is what the gods have. This is why they have great power.

The life and times of a boy named Eduardo, born on January 1st, 33 A.D. I was born into a desert village that resides in Saudi Arabia, adjacent to the Red Sea, approximately 20°N and 40°E. Because of the coastline and the marine air, the area around my village is rarely seething with heat.

My family consists of one mother and one father, whom are nearly never around. Why? Because they are soldiers that are always off fighting in any form of confrontation, whether it's a civil war or a war betwixt nations. Even when I was only an infant, with no one to care for, they were forced to leave me in solitude at our home.

So, how did I live my first few years?

As shocking as it may seem, I lived them in the most unusual way possible. If I.Q tests existed in this present year, and I was eligible in taking one, my I.Q would be measured to be at about 10,000—a ludicrously high amount. My mind power was so great that I learned to walk upright in a week. I performed regular actions—such as bathing, drinking, eating, or talking—in only one month and I spoke flawless English in two months. The superior comprehensive abilities that were given unknowingly to me granted me incredible memory and learning capabilities.

If only my parents were around during my first year of life to see this firsthand.

They would only be around for a day in every year. A day that was unanimously greater than any other day in every year of my life. What made that day even more special was that it was always the day of my birthday. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday present, probably because there were so few present possibilities during the first century.

Now, about the other 364 days in every year I lived.

Because of the supercomputer that was my mind, I was able to perform tasks that were far distinct from whatever anyone else was able to do in this day and age.

I had the nonpareil ability to invent and manufacture incredible items—items that won't exist for another two millennia—, although I didn't invent them immediately. I only took precise notes and drew convoluted blueprints for them, out of the inferior resources that I had. Both of these came from odd dreams that I seemed to have almost every night, and it didn't take me long to figure out that these dreams appeared to be a gateway to the enigmatic and distant future. These vicarious dreams kept me sane and free of boredom during my first few years of life, this highly unusual and clairvoyant characteristic that I seemed to possess.

This was all that I seemed to dream about, I realized afterwards. Rarely, if ever, do I dream of something else.

Once I turned five years of age, I felt as if my body was strong enough—or at least somewhat stronger—to create a personal and secret underground laboratory that I was finally able to manufacture my first and future inventions in, away from the public. I felt as if they shouldn't know of my doing, because these inventions were far from their set time. They may try to force me to create for them and then there was a strong possibility that they would use them for evil deeds.

That was my greatest concern when I was manufacturing my inventions. I trusted no one with these blueprints and notes, not even if these people were unable to benefit from them.

I kept my collection of references away from my parents by burying them under the sand—behind my own house—during the night so that no one could see what I was doing, so as not to arouse suspicion and ingrain questions and attention. I wasn't one to downgrade or mistreat my belongings. I was the type of person who values whatever becomes my possession, a heavily-materialistic child.

That laboratory that I eventually created was built directly under the sand on the floor of the center of my room, protected by a secret door incorporated into the floor. It only cost me three months to shovel away the unneeded compressed sand that would be replaced by it. I used various devices that I finally manufactured to allow me to move away the sand, without causing a cave-in each time I did so.

Over the course of two years—meaning that I was now seven years old—, both my laboratory and my invention output grew exponentially, as well as the variety of my experiments. However, there were a few days that went by every once in a while, where I wished I had trustworthy friends to share my thoughts with.

What was completely unknown to me was that two people were spying on me ever since I became eight years old. These two people moved to this remote village out of their will, for both of their parents—different parents—died of natural causes, granting them both the encumbering title of orphanage.

Their names were Costas and Ian. Both boys were older than me by only a mere three months of age. They decided to move in to my home because they felt as if no one lived within its walls. Every other villager knew of my presence, and they also knew that I was able to fend for myself, despite my age.

Both of them were in for a surprise.

The instant that I went upstairs into my room, I was overwhelmed with surprise to their existence and vice versa from their points of view. However, what I actually felt more of was fear because my secret laboratory was now in jeopardy, as well as everything within it. Thankfully, much to my surprise, they weren't at all a hostile threat to me. In fact they were friendly to me and apologized to their intrusion of my property. They also told me about themselves and their tragic history.

I told them that I didn't mind their intrusion to my shelter, and I showed concern and lament for their loss. After that, I did something that I would've never thought I would ever do in my life: I gave them a tour of my underground laboratory.

As I showed them every floor of my laboratory, describing most inventions along the way, they were easily—and predictably—impressed. I told them that they had to respect my only wish: to keep my laboratory a secret to all. To the nearby villagers, to people halfway across the Earth, to even my own parents, they couldn't tell anyone. They agreed to my only wish, as long as their wish was granted.

And what was their wish?

Their wish was to live with me in this home. They were instantly drawn to both me and my inventions. Or maybe they just liked my home. I wasn't entirely sure at first.

My thoughts to this: I finally made friends whom respected and appreciated my hobby without questioning it.

Once my parents came soon after, I introduced Costas and Ian to them. Both my parents kindly greeted back. Once that was out of the way, I told them about their tragic history and how they needed a home to stay in. To my hopes, they both allowed Costas and Ian to live here as adopted children—family. The reactions of us three were untainted happiness.

And to that day, all three of us were now brothers.

For the next five years, we spent almost all of our time in my—or as it should be known now: our—laboratory, enjoying each other's company.

Date: January 1, 46 A.D.

Eduardo's Age: 13 years old

Costas's Age: 13 years, 3 months old

Ian's Age: 13 years, 3 months old

All three of us were teenagers now, once I turned thirteen today.

My work with technology grew advanced with my age. I learned how to experiment with plant life. Through this skill, I successfully created sixty-four different plant specimens, each harboring Berries—with a capital "B", so as to distinguish them from the regular plant life—of different types and capabilities. These Berries, unlike normal fruit, are imbued with unusual powers that allow them to assist the user in various ways. To what extent and range, I've yet to analyze.

Then again, that's what testing is for.

Once I turned fourteen years of age—and Costas and Ian entered their third month of their fourteenth year of life—, something out-of-the-ordinary occurred: our parents failed to show up.

Before any emotions and inquiries relating to this event could surge, the only thing that actually showed up was a letter to our doorstep. I was the first to notice it and I constantly pondered about the identity of the sender of this letter.

I searched the entire village for a trace of the person who could've possibly sent this letter. Unfortunately, my search ended in vain.

Once I brought the letter to my two adopted brothers, we read the letter together, absorbing whatever was written on the sheet into our minds.

Dear offspring (Eduardo, Costas, and Ian):

I am sorry to inform you that your parents perished in the field of battle. Their last service to the military was on November of 46 A.D., where they valiantly fought trying to prevent a Roman army invasion from succeeding. Their deaths were in vain, for the Roman Army invasion was unfortunately successful in their plans.

I hope you enjoy the remainder of your lives as happy orphans.


A kind-hearted soul.


If you three believed that pitiful shit of a letter, and cried at the same time, then you three are pathetic and imbecilic naturally. I loved slaughtering them before conquering with my invasion of highly-trained and organized subordinates. I would love to go into the details on how much blood I saw them all shed and how satisfying it was to slaughter them both—and I actually can because of my nature—but I'm busy at this particular moment and must stop writing this letter as it is.

Yours truly:

Mercury, the Roman General in charge of the invasion.

Both Costas and Ian took the news with great anguish and cried for hours, especially since they had lost their parents years ago.

As for me, well for some reason that I can't explain, I did feel anguish, but it was only mild anguish. As hard as I could try to feel more sadness as to what occurred, I couldn't. In fact, I actually felt a lot more confusion and rage than sadness. Why? Because how did that Roman General know where I lived, who my parents were, and how many children they had and adopted?

This letter formed a goal in my life: to avenge the death of my parents and kill the Roman General Mercury, wherever this monster may reside.

I thought multiple vindictive thoughts for weeks after the letter was received by us three. I thought of killing him via poison, or perhaps torture. Or I could go a bit unorthodox and gradual, as in I could forcibly fight him one-on-one and slash at his flesh until he dies of blood loss. However, I stopped with these immaterial thoughts because of one primary reason:

What was the point if I don't know this person's identity, or location for that matter? How could I defeat someone who had experience in military strategy and hand-to-hand combat?

Time will tell.

"That's how war is fought, (...). You don't fight with minimum force, you fight with maximum force at endurable cost. You don't just pink your enemy, you don't even bloody him, you destroy his capability to fight back. (...) You have to kill a hundred percent." —Orson Scott Card (340-341) ("Children of the Mind")

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