Mythshaper
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Mythshaper - Chapter 62, 63, and 64
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 16:04:46 +0000 UTCA/N: Sorry for the delay... Lost a lot of patrons these days, but I can only blame myself. I'll deliver all the chapters I owe as soon as I can.
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Chapter 62: Crude Attacks
Before the two instructors clashed, I yanked Diana and another kid nearby to withdraw towards the institution building.
"Everyone, get back!"
The cheers stopped as soon as I cried, but it wasn’t my warning that interrupted them, but the aura blasted outwards from the two fighters. With thier anger clouding thier judgment, the two Noble classes awakened failed to keep their aura in check.
The luckier ones were at the back, but a few students, close to their aura onslaught, froze on the spot before their legs gave way, their expression aghast with terror.
It took a moment for Instructor Delric to note this and employ all his might to neutralise Shaper Ao’s wild aura, which seemed to be spreading wherever his Influence reached.
He tried to stop the shaper, “Wait! We can’t do this here.”
“Are you afraid now?” Ao’s face held a grin of satisfaction, mistaking Instructor Delric’s waver for his own achievement.
Delric cursed under his breath, his face fuming with anger. He breathed heavily, inching forward to accommodate all the aura onslaught onto himself. “Everyone,” he shouted at the kids, “get into the institution!”
I was already helping a few to get back to their feet, but that shout from Instructor Delric seemed to break the spell. All the students got up and scurried to the rest near the building.
Relieved, Delric put his entire focus on the fight at hand. As he contended fully with the aura onslaught, Ao sneered, fishing out a metal wand from his waist. Rune marks lit up on the metal surface, as a blast of kinetic force surged forth, aiming straight at Delric. Instead of evading, the instructor put his body on the line of attack, enduring the brunt of the forceful blast to close in on the Shaper.
Instructor Ao, naturally, wasn’t about to let him draw near. Every combat-class Shaper was taught how advantageous it was to maintain distance in a fight, as thier fragile body was their only weakness.
With a solid dozen paces between them, it was only a matter of time before victory fell into the shaper’s hands. Against another awakened of the same class, it was the only assumption to make.
Much as I disliked the man, I couldn’t deny that truth.
Perhaps it would have been a different story if they were of common classes, since Shapers required deep mastery to be of any use in the beginning. But Ao was already a grown man and had likely trained his shaping ability for dozens of seasons.
As soon as Delric managed to cut the distance, Ao waved the wand down, as a gust of force carried him several metres away. Now that Delric was withstanding the kinetic force with uncommon physicality with little difficulty, Ao changed his battle stance and brought out another wand—the one especially for augmenting his firepower.
His figure hadn’t even landed completely on the ground before deep blue essence threads bloomed out from the wand, forming a fireball twice as large as anything I was capable of weaving. And it seemed to be the only beginning.
Delric had no choice but to dodge, ducking under the hurling fireball. He hadn’t yet exhaled a breath of relief when more fireballs formed from his opponent’s wand. His battle strategy didn’t change much. Delric evaded whatever he could, neutralised some with his sword aura, which was clearly not as effective as a good shield would be. He pushed through whatever the shaper threw at him, though not completely unscathed.
A few fireballs struck him directly, flames licking across his arms and torso, but he didn’t even falter. His sheer grit blazed hotter than the fire scorching his skin, as his form scurried through the field in a masterful display of acrobatics.
By then, most of the students had already scrambled to the back. Some of the courageous ones remained to watch the battle at its full glory and had to change their mind for fear of becoming collateral in the clash. Surprisingly, Eran was among the few, along with Priam.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Delric roared as he sidestepped a fireball aimed at his head, his sword sweeping through the air in a strike. Reddish aura pulsed from the blade, disrupting the arrows of fire streaking towards him in waves.
"Wow, Instructor Delric has the upper hand!" Diana exclaimed, excitement lighting up her voice as she rooted for the local instructor. Well, the choice was obvious when compared to the patrician lordling who rarely spared the students a glance.
I shook my head slightly, unconvinced. Eran, who had edged closer, said nothing, his gaze fixed on the fight, hands clenched around his shield. He’d fought me enough to understand how difficult it was to bring down a shaper.
"Can he win?" he asked, his voice low and unsure.
If it were a moment ago, I would have completely written off Instructor Delric, but from what I could see now, it wasn’t out of the question. Delric had managed to close the gap twice, only for Ao to summon an essence shield to block his attacks at the last second. If not for the amulet on his neck, which formed the shield, Delric would have had the upper hand.
For all his arrogance, Instructor Ao’s essence shaping was surprisingly basic. So far, all he’d shown were fireballs, fire arrows, a standard levitation spell, and a crude kinetic blast. Nothing complex, nothing refined. Even the fireballs lacked layers of condensation and empowerment. He had hundreds of essence threads at his disposal, yet he relied solely on the wands to amplify the entry-level weaves.
If I’d had even half his threads, I could have ended the fight in moments.
His influence control was adequate enough for someone ungifted in that aspect, but he thoroughly lacked in Weight distribution.
“Perhaps Instructor Delric really can win,” I muttered. Still, it won’t be an easy victory. If Delric had a couple of defensive fabricators to rely upon, he wouldn’t have to hopelessly put his body on the line.
My gaze landed on the shield in Eran’s hands, and my eyes lit up.
“Eran, give me your shield.”
He blinked, confused, but passed it over without hesitation. The octagonal shield should be enough to give him an edge.
Delric’s clothes were already in tatters, burned and clinging in strips. His skin was flushed and raw, blistered in places, but he hadn’t suffered anything truly debilitating yet. I waited for an opportunity which wouldn’t cause chaos in his rhythm, and hurled the shield through the air.
“Instructor Delric,” I shouted. “Catch!”
His head turned at the sound of his name, and instinct took over. He caught the shield mid-air, reacting before he had time to question it. No sooner had it settled on his arm, six fire arrows launched at him, the air crackling with their heat.
With no room to evade them all, Delric braced himself, raised the shield, and charged. He managed to sidestep two of the arrows, dispersed one with his sword aura, but the remaining three slammed into the shield in rapid succession. To his utter surprise, the octagonal shield held firm. His eyes widened as he stared at it, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face.
“You think a mere wooden shield can save you from me?” Ao bellowed, his voice laced with disdain as more fire arrows formed at the tip of his firewand and shot forth.
Delric fell into a steady rhythm, wielding the shield like a veteran of countless battles. He moved as if a missing piece had finally clicked into place. The switch on the shield’s strap didn’t escape his notice, though he was uncertain what it was for. He waited until arrows swarmed him before activating it.
A sudden burst of kinetic force erupted, intercepting every arrow with a sweeping surge that startled not only Delric but also his opponent. Ao’s eyes snapped to the shield, and then to me—the one who had thrown it—and that proved to be his greatest error in the fight.
Taking advantage of a split-second lapse in his opponent, Delric courageously threw the octagonal shield like a disc. Foolish as the move might have seemed, it caught Ao completely off guard and didn’t give him enough time to trigger his protective amulet.
A violent thrust slammed into Ao’s chest, flinging him backwards. The augmenter hadn’t held back his strength after suffering from the fire attacks.
The lordling let out a twisted cry of half snarl and half scream, but before he could gather another weave, Delric was already on him, blade ready for a strike. Mustering his essence threads, Ao hastily summoned a crude barrier, brittle and incomplete. It shattered on first contact, sending him crashing to the ground.
Delric slammed the thick body of the sword onto his arms in a swift arc, disarming him of the wands. Ao had barely put in any physical training, causing blood to swell and gush out from his arms. He flung his arm and body, struggling like a fish out of water. Delric seized him, a foot pressing on his chest and holding his sword at his throat.
"You are older than me,” he said, his voice frosty, “and only the Oracle knows how much your family spent on you to reach this point, and yet you cannot defeat me."
“NO!” Ao growled. His face darkened as he clutched his arms close to his chest. But he still refused to concede defeat. "If not for your underhanded means, do you still think you can defeat me?"
"Underhanded means?" Instructor Delric laughed. "Are you just—"
His words cut short as a brutal force slammed into him, hurling him several metres away.
Instructor Ao rose shakily, still gripping his chest. Dragging himself forward, he caught his firewand with a telekinetic weave and prepared to strike again. With a wave of his wand, two fire arrows materialised, smouldering with all their intensity. He was prepared to unleash them—even now, even after the duel had ended in his defeat.
"You were just as I thought you were," sneered Delric, rolling aside as an arrow slammed into the spot he'd just occupied. The second grazed his back, drawing a sharp groan.
Ao formed more and unleashed them all, laughing maniacally. Delric used all his aura to arm his form while he rolled. Even with remarkable control over his body, he knew he couldn’t evade even half the attacks now that he was in a disadvantageous position. But before the spells could reach him, a streak of Influence crossed over, followed by braids of essence threads shimmering with force. They enveloped Delric, forming a translucent shield, taking most of the brunt from the attacks.
To my astonishment and relief, a lone figure flew from the other side and landed between the two fighters, her eyes locked on the Patrician lordling, essence threads sprang from her fingertips, ready to employ.
“You have gone too far,” said Shaper Tullia, her eyes blazing coldly.
Ao's face contorted with rage, power still gathering in his hands. But it wasn’t only Tullia who’d joined. From the crowd behind, a balding man stepped forward. The Headmaster’s expression was neutral, but his eyes burned with quiet fury.
Magus Larius barked, "You two, in my office, right now!"
With nothing more, he turned and strode away.
"Count yourself lucky," Ao snapped, turning his back and storming off after the headmaster.
Only when his figure disappeared did Shaper Tullia withdraw the shield and knelt beside her friend to check his wounds
"Are you alright?" she asked, helping him to his feet.
"I'm fine, barely a few scratches," Delric replied, gripping her hand as he stood.
Satisfied he was well enough, Tullia found her voice for an outburst. "Are you out of your mind?" she hissed. "Duelling him is one thing, but did you even consider where you were? What if one of those attacks had hit a child?"
Delric had been ready to snap back at her, but he restrained himself. He lowered his head, shame creeping over his features.
"Instructor Delric tried to stop him," I said, creeping closer to them with my friends, "but Ao didn't listen."
Delric seemed like a fellow who didn't want to explain himself, even if it was to his friend. So with my friends, I tried our best to defend ourselves, explaining everything.
Tulia narrowed her eyes and sighed. "Well, let’s not keep the Headmaster waiting. I’m sure Ao is already spinning the tale in his favour."
Delric nodded. As he turned to leave, his gaze drifted to the shield lying a few paces away. He walked over and retrieved it before returning to me.
"Here you go," he said, holding the shield out to me.
"It’s not mine," I said, pointing at Eran.
The instructor nodded, having already seen Eran practising with it many times, and passed it to him.
“Thanks for lending it to me. At first, I thought it wouldn’t hold up, but surprisingly, it’s sturdy.”
“Well, it looks to be an Uncommon piece, made out of good material,” Tullia said, surprising the instructor. After all, the sword he held was his only possession at that rank.
“It’s just common hardwood from the mountains,” I muttered, “but it can withstand simple fire shaping like those with ease.”
Instructor Delric shot a peculiar gaze and then turned his head to look towards the mountains, the sun still a couple of hours away from setting. "I suppose that means class is over for today. You’re all free to head home."
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Chapter 63: Body Forging
With our class suspending earlier than usual, we wasted no time in returning, already having a plan for our afternoon study. Eran and I crept down the familiar road, a narrow path that cut through the barren mountain fields. Summer was in its full splendour, with occasional ashen storms that had left the fields more desolate than they usually were.
While the ashes carried over by the storms made the land fertile for cultivation, no farmers were audacious enough to go against the natural order and plant crops during late summer and the entirety of fall, since a single ashen storm could raze all their hard work to waste in a mere night.
My thoughts, however, were not on the plight of the farmers. They kept returning to the wands Shaper Ao had utilised during the duel, especially the one which helped him with levitation and weaving kinetic force. Essentially, my bracelet dealt with similar enchantments; however, Mum had made it to be the ultimate defensive artifact. It was practically impossible to employ it for any other use.
Shaper Ao’s wand barely had a fraction of its complexity. Yes, its craftsmanship was different compared to conventional fabricators, but I felt like I could make something similar that would help me with levitation.
The few minutes of exercise with flying had proved exorbitant for me in my current state, whether in essence expenditure or Will. But that didn’t mean I would have to wait long to have my dream of flying fulfilled.
I could certainly craft something with a high essence cell, so that it wouldn’t burn my own essence at all. Gradually, a rough design began to form in my mind. My feet faltered on the path, eyes adrift, though looking at nothing in particular.
The rune formation should be easy to design. The problem would be grafting it into an object. Since it would need to carry my weight—which was only going to increase from now on—I would need a large rune formation, something I couldn’t carve on a small object with my current ability. Preferably, it needed to be something with a wide, flat surface of at least four or five square feet.
“... you hearing me?”
My thoughts were interrupted soon enough, as I found Eran waving his palm before my eyes.
“What?”
As usual, he didn’t carry any belongings other than his shield and duelling cane; his notebooks and other utensils were in my bag.
“What were you thinking so deeply about that you didn’t even hear me calling you a dozen times?”
“Nothing much,” I said, letting out a breath. “Just thinking of crafting myself a fabricator or two.”
Eran nodded and forgot to ask what kinds of fabricators, as he was too invested in his game of throwing his shield, running to pick it up, and throwing it again. Gods forbid, it seemed Instructor Delric’s move had inspired him in the wrong way.
“You know,” I couldn’t help but say, telekinetically picking up the shield to push it to him, “throwing your weapon during battle is one of the dumbest moves in the book.”
“I know,” Eran said, “But it's so fun, though.”
I shook my head. “Unless you can recall it instantly, it's better to try your luck with throwing knives.”
On that note, it should be possible to add some construct into the shield that would let the wielder recall it after throwing. I could easily see a solution for how to achieve that. The only problem was that I was unsure if it would work for an augmenter. Unless they awakened their aura, I saw no solution.
Reaching home, I found both my parents were out, which gave me enough spunk to disregard washing myself and fully engage in designing the fabricator that would help me fly. My traitorous stomach betrayed my enthusiasm, but I still followed through with a couple of schemas before shooting off to the kitchen to savour something.
There was more than enough food, only waiting for me to warm it up, but I left it untouched, deciding on an apple and a couple of bananas.
Picking up the designs again, I thought deeply about which accessories would be the most efficient. The choices were pretty straightforward—either full-plated armour or a pair of combat boots. Perhaps it was possible to make some gliding boards, but it would be a pain to balance myself on them. In the end, practicality won over everything, and I decided on a pair of high combat boots, which could be worn in most places.
Before either of my parents returned, Eran showed up for our afternoon study—not just swordsmanship or other physical training, as he had been learning all the other subjects taught at the academy.
“The little devil is sleeping,” he said, sighing exaggeratedly, as though a great weight had been lifted from his chest. “I managed to sneak out before she wakes up.”
Despite being barely a year old, Eran’s little sister, Lilia, had the liveliness of a dozen children her age and had been quite inseparable from her brother since she learned to walk. The cute little thing would bustle through the house as if she were the queen incarnate. On some days, even her unbounded cuteness couldn’t make up for the devastation she caused.
Unfortunately, it appeared my friend was celebrating a little too early. Not even a quarter of an hour had passed when my parents returned, accompanied by the very familiar cheerful voice of a toddler, calling after her brother.
“Eeeeran! Bwwaadder! Come play!” Lilia wasted no breath to jump down from Mum’s arms and shoot towards us. “Ariiii, you're drawing again!”
Lilia was at the age when she called everyone by their names, imitating others. Even my mum wasn’t spared. Only Father was addressed as ‘Lord’, since that was how Dalin Stonecutter and his wife always addressed him. Father had given up on correcting them long ago.
She picked up a couple of schemas, turning her head exuberantly to study them. I pinched her round cheeks and coaxed carefully to recover the papers from her little hands before she decided the drawing was not to her liking and did something about it.
“Where were you guys?” I asked, noting the basket on Mum’s back, filled with fresh and dried herbs.
“Joined your father on his patrols, and picked up some herbs on the way,” Mum said, resting the basket, which was almost full, indicating it was more than just some herbs she happened to pass by chance. Most didn’t seem like something she’d picked up from the mountains, but bought.
“Eran’s parents contributed half of them,” she explained, catching my inquisitive gaze. Making sure the little devil didn’t get her hands on them, she began to spread the stalks on the table and organise them. “I asked Dalin to keep a lookout for some of them, and it was only after a month that we had enough.”
I picked up a dried, shrivelled orange flower and sniffed it. There was no particular odour, though my high Arcane Affinity picked up on some of its essence qualities. “What do you need them for?”
“Obviously, for you two to prepare for your body forging,” Father said.
Eran craned his neck, keeping the little girl from making a spectacle of herself. “Me too?”
Father nodded.
Eran still looked unsure.
“Don’t worry,” Father patted his shoulder, “I’ve already talked with your parents about this.”
With his worry put to rest, Eran was elated, but then a look of profound confusion crossed his face. “What is body forging?”
“It’s a simple process of nourishing your physique with rigorous exercise and medicinal baths and intakes,” I said, and turned to Mum to see if I’d missed anything.
Mum inclined her head. "There are ways other than medicinal baths, but it is mostly what you go through before you advance to a higher class."
“Even in its elementary success, body forging is highly beneficial,” Father said, “especially to augmenters.”
“Will it open a new Way?” Eran’s eyes gleamed.
“It would,” I said, pumped. “Not only that, it’s a ten-layer Way and grants great benefit.”
“In truth,” Father continued, stooping down to Lilia, who was trying her best to wiggle out from her brother’s arms, “I would have liked to wait for another year before getting you started with it, but you’re already putting your body through such rigorous conditioning that it would be a waste not to go through the forging. But I warn you two, only the initial few layers are comfortable. Only a genuine masochist could complete the last couple of layers.”
I couldn’t help but smile, exchanging a look with Eran. When had hardship ever stopped us? Not to mention, I feared my best friend might just have developed masochistic tendencies with how gruesomely he trained his enigmatic gift.
Honestly, with the amount of relentless training and pain he put himself through, I wouldn’t even be surprised if he managed to form his third and fourth aether root. But for reasons unknown, Eran’s growth had been dreadfully slow. Augmenters were supposed to advance as their physical capacity improved, but that hadn’t been the case with him, not entirely.
Hopefully, this body forging could solve, or at least alleviate, the problem somewhat for him.
“When can we begin?” I asked.
“Tomorrow morning, if I can finish the preparations by then,” Mum answered.
“Can I help?”
“Maybe,” Mum smiled, then her eyes drifted to the schemas I’d drawn. “But I see you have your hands full with levitation.”
Collecting a couple of them, I quickly held them before her eyes. “Are they any good?”
“They can be,” Mum said after a passing glance, “though not high-functioning. I fear you’ll end up wasting all your earnings on something you won’t have any use for a year later.”
If it lets me fly in the end, I wouldn’t even mind losing twice my current wealth.
“I think I have some old designs somewhere in the workshop. Look for them if you need references.”
****
Body forging wasn’t as comfortable as Father had made it out to be. The process was simple enough. After going through the rigorous morning practice, Mum handed us both a glass of thick, greenish mix. A strong medicinal scent wafted from it. I watched Eran make a face while taking a sip.
“Bitter!” he cried, though he didn’t need to be asked a second time before he gulped it all down.
I didn’t waste time either and drank mine. The green medicinal mix was as bitter as it looked. Even after finishing, the harsh taste lingered on my tongue. However, the more uncomfortable part was the rising temperature of my body. Noting Eran’s flushed face, I found it wasn’t just me.
“Now, onto the bath I prepared for you.” Mum led us both to the stone bath, asked us to remove our clothes, and jump into the warm medicinal water. The temperature was far too warm to be comfortable, warm enough that both of us would go to the institution today with tanned skin.
“Circulate your essence,” Mum said, stooping next to us. “But not towards your core. Go the opposite way. Here, let me show you.”
The process wasn’t exactly the opposite of essence unification. Instead of focusing on the essence seed, it centred around the whole body—from bones and tendons to all muscle tissues. She asked to leave the inner organs for now.
Body forging was nothing more than letting the essence of the medicine wash over the body, letting it nourish our physique. I picked up the circulation process in one try, having extensive experience with essence unification. For Eran, it was closer to solving a hard maths problem.
Mum showed him a few times, but he couldn’t imagine the circulation path the way I could.
“Don’t be down on yourself,” Mum said. “Most augmenters couldn’t complete their forging without the help of shapers.”
“What about Master Jinn?” Eran asked, clenching his jaw. “Did he get help, too?”
“Yes, although his process was different from yours,” Mum said.
The bath only got more uncomfortable from then on. It wasn’t painful—more of a hot, prickling sensation on my skin. Even inside, it was no better, with the medicinal properties dispersing throughout my body, sizzling through my vessels at an excessively slow pace. If it wasn’t for the presence of my essence, it would have been more than those prickly sensations.
“There are many methods of body forging, as well as fortification,” Mum explained. “Some of them are even closely guarded secrets, large organisations use them to bag all the promising augmenters. The folk of Thera practically plant the awakeneds in hot sand, neck-deep, and let their shamans handle the rest of the process. Niyesse tribesmen use various animal bloods in tandem with herbs.
"And if you can get into the Oracle Academy, there is Tree of Life extracts, which can advance years of progress in mere days.”
“How much does it cost?” Eran asked, somewhat rejuvenated.
“Cost?” Mum laughed. “You couldn’t buy it with all the golden leafs in the world. It’s reserved only for the most outstanding students.”
Eran sighed, crestfallen.
“You’ll see when you get there. Right now, it would be a waste to use such a precious elixir on you.”
It took half an hour, and twelve slow cycles, and the Spell’s cheering voice finally rang in my mind:
[A new Way is available: Body Forging I (1/10)]
Looks like the way wasn't exactly counted on the time spent on it, much to my delight.
From then on, I took charge of helping Eran circulate the medicinal properties until he got the hang of it. And just like that, the week passed, and it was time for the duel between Father and Tribune Alexis.
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Chapter 64: The Duel
The sun was particularly bright on the morning of the duel, with stray clouds drifting aimlessly across the striking blue canvas. The institution compound was bustling with a crowd by the time we arrived. All the high-profile folks in town seemed to have got wind of the upcoming fight and couldn’t stop themselves from joining in the fun. From most of my classmates and instructors to Guildmaster Rowin, the Headmaster, and even the Millates, all were among the spectators.
On one side of the compound stood Tribune Alexis Denarys with a frosty expression, donning full-plated armour, a longsword slung across his back. A squad of legionaries stood behind him imposingly; only Immunis Lucien and Shaper Ao were familiar faces among them. The rest of the instructors were among the rest of the crowd.
In contrast, Father wore a simple grey tunic, the blade on his hip his only preparation for the event. A few people came to greet us, among them the old Guildmaster, Headmaster of the Institution, Shaper Tullia, Instructor Delric—mostly those Father had got acquainted with after joining the Militia.
Most of them weren’t aware that Father had reached Fabled class, but even so, they had high hopes for him after learning about some of his abilities during the expedition.
“Be careful,” said Oldman Rowin, patting Father on the shoulder. “That lad seems to have borrowed a rather powerful relic for the duel.”
Father perked up at that and turned to Mum, whose gaze swiftly darted to the golden sword Alexis Daenerys carried. Her Influence spread briefly and focused solely on the weapon.
“A powerful one indeed,” she said, withdrawing her power. “Likely Epic Class, with high fire and light aspects.”
A few gasps sounded from those who understood the calibre of the weapon. The Somnus's Bell was merely an entry-grade relic, and it held sixty-four essence threads. An Epic class Relic should have at least eight times the number. Yet Father merely nodded as if it mattered little to him.
“I’ll make sure not to get a get by it," he said.
Mum showed not the slightest worry, which quenched my restless heart too. My eyes drifted to the sword on my father's hip. Apparently, it was a relic as well, though Father never drew it into his essence seed. I wondered what its grade was. The sheath restricted any kind of inspection, but even after studying the blade thoroughly with Father's permission, I made out nothing about it save for its devouring capability.
Whenever I tried to infuse my essence threads for a check, it would devour the essence. Fractal Sight, too, was helpless, as all it saw was an impending darkness devouring my perception. I guess that implies its class to be higher. At least on the epic scale, right?
While I suppressed my drifting thoughts, Mum turned to face the two prestigious class elders. Guildmaster Rowin was to act as the official referee for the duel, while Headmaster was mostly to watch the fight and make sure of the safety of his people.
“Before the fight begins,” Mum said, “it’s preferable to move all the audience to one side and build up a barrier. There is no fear of a wild spell wreaking collateral damage, but since there was an epic class relic at play, it doesn’t hurt to be safe.”
Both men agreed and began the preparations at once, drawing the crowd towards the institution buildings. Once the two duelists and oldman Rowin marched to the centre of the field, Mum played her part, erecting a large transparent dome around them, giving enough space to fight to their heart’s content without worrying about others’ safety. The grand display earned a few gasps from the crowd--astonishment from the few who understood the complexity at play, fear from the rest at the blatant display of power they hardly understood.
“Madam Ashlyn’s spell is splendid,” praised Guildmaster Rowin.
“Indeed,” agreed Headmaster Larius. “Both the display of Essence and Aura working together to create such a brilliant resonance—I fear no prestigious class could break through it in a short time.”
Curious, I drew closer to the transparent wall of the barrier, raising my palm to touch it. Fractal Sight already enabled me to see how profound its creation was. Mum had woven not only a diabolical four thousand and ninety-six essence threads to form the barrier, she had also enforced it with her aura, creating a strange oscillating vibration on its surface.
Drawing my palm back, I tentatively formed a fire arrow containing about half of my power and shot it into the barrier. Of course, I had no hope of breaking through its defences. However, what occurred utterly confounded me.
As soon as the fire arrow struck the barrier, the oscillating force spread the power widely to lower the impact, dispersing the fire in no time.
I craned my neck to find Mum. Her lips held a smile as she pointed to the duel that was about to begin.
Inside the dome, Father and Alexis stood a good distance apart in complete silence. Alexis drew his sword first—even its edges were gilded in gold, making it appear more ornamental than practical. But all such misconceptions were obliterated as soon as Tribune Alexis ignited its power. Golden flames burst from the blade, the flaming sword enlarging by another foot, its edges hidden within the blinding flare.
A large grin spread across Alexis’s face as he felt the intoxicating force rush through his arms. He took his stance, sword hilt gripped to his left, pointing upwards.
“Draw your blade,” his voice boomed imperiously. “Or you won’t have a chance.”
Father’s eyes narrowed on the golden sword, his palm resting on his own blade, Ouroboros. But he didn’t unsheathe it.
“Not worth it,” he murmured.
“If both parties are ready,” announced Guildmaster Rowin, “begin!”
Alexis lurched into motion, his body springing forward, closing the distance between him and Father in the blink of an eye, his sword rushing in for a crippling blow.
Father was unfazed and finally lifted his arm from the pommel of his sword and moved.
His head ducked under the flaming sword, his left foot moving in a sinuous form, as though drifting through water, giving him enough elevation for his fist to strike below his opponent’s ribcage. The metal plate of his armour broke easily, and Alexis was flung away several metres, crashing into the barrier. The only consolation for him was that he managed to keep hold of the Epic Class relic.
With blood dripping from his lips, Alexis jumped to his feet, his face twisted in agony. Light rose from where Father’s fist had struck, and the injury there seemed to heal in no time.
“Regeneration?” Father asked, a little surprised, considering how rare the gift was among augmenters.
Alexis didn’t reply, his expression gloomy. The burning sword surged with more power, its light intensifying. Even his agility increased, as Alexis lurched forward once more. But the outcome hardly changed. A low sweep to his knee—then, before his body could fall, Father’s other leg struck him in the back, hurling him several metres away once again.
“Epic Class relic or not,” mumbled Headmaster Larius, “one has to learn how to use it properly.”
Mum shook her head. “He really borrowed it especially for this duel... Unfortunately, he can only draw out a fraction of its power with a mere eight threads binding.”
Alexis stood up, all his injuries healed. Unable to let go of the humiliation, he flared all his aura and formed a full-body armament, empowering both his offence and defence. At least he had learned other aura applications beyond coercion. Ignoring the prick Alexis was, the man was an elite.
But he wasn’t the only one who knew how to wield aura masterfully. A red oscillating glow covered Father’s fist as he waited for his opponent to make a move.
“You should have already figured out I’m far above your realm in both mastery and power,” Father said, eyes fixed on the approaching figure. “Why struggle needlessly?”
The golden sword fell, a sword-light hurling forward, aimed straight at Father. My heart lurched, but before my eyes could even follow, Father’s figure blurred, evading the sword-light with ease. The fiery beam crashed into the barrier and looked to bite through it, but the oscillating force multiplied at the impact point, dispersing the sharp edge of the attack.
“If you hadn’t threatened my family, I wouldn’t even have bothered to lower myself to duel you.”
Father blurred from his spot and in the next moment appeared on the young Augmenter’s left. Alexis swung his sword in an arc, but a fist broke through his helm and aura defence, smashing into his face. Splintered pieces of the helm hurled in all directions, his augmented cheekbones shattered, and even a couple of teeth flew out, blood bubbling up from his disfigured face.
Alexis withdrew. Regeneration triggered on its own, but before it could restructure his mangled face back to its original state, Father attacked again, smashing in a couple more punches and an elbow strike. The combo was too fast for my eyes to track, even with my heightened mental faculties. Only when it ended did I see the armour fractured in multiple places, blood gushing out from the cracks, with the smug tribune’s face now mutilated.
Even his Regeneration was struggling to keep up with the injuries, especially with the insidious aura impeding the recovery process. Alexis fell onto his back, his face a mask of tears and blood.
Father didn’t attack immediately—perhaps waiting for his opponent to admit defeat—but the patrician lordling rolled over and tried to stand back up. If nothing else, he had guts.
He armed his first with the menacing dark aura again when a loud, feminine voice reverberated:
“Had enough fun bullying a kid? How about someone your own size?”
Immediately, everyone’s gaze turned to the other side where the legionaries stood. A figure that had been hidden until now stepped forward, facing Father, her eyes glaring with battle lust.
“Selene?” Mother’s expression shifted. "Why are you here?"
“Ashlyn,” replied the woman with a curt nod, though her focus quickly returned to Father.
She was half a head shorter than Mum, appearing to be about the same age, with shoulder-length, trimmed hair. She wore thick leather trousers and a topcoat that appeared to be a blend of legionary uniform and magus robes. A black staff was strapped to her hips, a pouch hung from her belt, and the insignia of a sword and four stars on her chest revealed her rank—equal to Rosalyn’s father’s and only below that of a Legate.
“I haven’t seen you in a decade,” my mother said. “And you still haven’t changed a bit.”
Primus Selene sniffed, inspecting my mother. Her eyes soon found me and easily connected our relationship.
“I wish I could say the same,” she said. “If not for your exterior remaining the same, I’m afraid I wouldn’t even recognise you.”
Mum had no reply to that and finally dispersed the barrier she had erected for the duel.
“Well, this has gone on longer than it should have,” Selene said. “Ambrose?”
A stocky figure of a Myrmidon in full-plated armour stepped forward and saluted with his palm on his heart, ready to receive orders.
“Retrieve the relic and...” Her gaze paused on the struggling figure of Alexis. Though his wound was not crippling, the plated armour he wore was in complete disarray—its power unit had been splintered, the inner runes and essence veins had withered in places where Father struck, and even outwardly, cracks and damage marred the surface. Needless to say, the repairs would be a pain, especially considering it was an Elite Class piece.
But of course, the tribune felt he still hadn’t had enough. “Dominus,” rasped Alexis, clutching the hilt tightly as he stood up, “it isn’t over. I can still fight. I can…”
Selene waved her hand and had the golden sword drawn towards her. She handed it to Ambrose. “And put him to rest.”
“As you wish,” said the stocky man and immediately got to work. A couple of legionaries joined him as they put away the Epic Class relic into a long, luxurious hardwood box. Alexis had his complaints, but Ambrose looked very much like he’d ‘put him to rest’ for good if he created a scene.
They brought the box to Selene, who waved her palm over it as dozens of essence threads sprang into motion, sealing it with a peculiar essence lock.
Finally, Primus Plius Selene crept slowly towards Father, taking a stance where her underling had a moment ago. “Now, do you have the guts to fight me, Ashamen?”
Father arched an eyebrow, though his expression didn’t change.
“Wait, Selene,” it was Mum who spoke up. “You can’t be doing this here.”
The woman scowled at Mum. “All these years, and it seemed you’ve gone too soft. I was thinking of battling you after putting him down, but...” She clicked her tongue. “You disappoint me.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Mum glared at her old acquaintance. “If you want to fight, go to the mountains. Nobody would complain even if a piece of it goes missing. Let's not reduce this fine institution to rubble.”
Comments
myth
fixed thankk
funktorial
typo in ch 64: “I’ll make sure not to get a get with it," he said. (I'll make sure not to get hit with it? I'll make sure not to get hit by it?)
