Strovn looked ahead with dread as he saw ships appear before him. Two, three, thirty ships. As many as they had. Flying the flags of Morum and Garot, they were what was left of the three great pirate groups of this continent.

Had the three groups allied to deal with the fleet? Why? Was the food really that valuable?

"Raise the defenses! Conserve your mana!" he ordered, calling on mana to answer him as he desperately tried to fill his reserves. The battle with Fringe had consumed far too much of it, and he was sure most of the others were in a similar situation.

The pirates had played their hand well. The fleet had wasted far too much mana and ammunition on the Fringe, expecting one group of pirates to be the only ones they would be facing. Now there were two more appearing before him.

"Verde Islar Elvorum Giarnal Moeri."

A voice echoed across the fleet as Strovn stumbled. Tha-taht was the slogan of the old Empire. The very words the Elder lived by. If he was saying this, than it meant-

"Attack!" he ordered recklessly, calling on his mana even though he knew it was a waste.

Water answered his call faster than it ever had before. But he wasn't quick enough. Or powerful enough. Of course not. How could he, a mere Master, be powerful enough to sink a fleet of ships from so far away. That was the realm of an Adept. And for the first time in a very long time, he really wanted to be one.

Mana gathered in the sky as a streak of light launched towards the enemy fleet. Strovn could feel it. The instability of the mana. The vibration of power. A power that he was sure the Elder could not sustain. The Elder's health was an open secret among his kind. A secret that no one spoke off.

Three figures met the Elder in the air as lights began flashing in the sky. Strovn closed his eyes, feeling tears flow from them even before the Elder was dead.

"Master," the sailor he had from before interrupted. "The ships are approaching."

"I know." Strovn replied, memories flashing across his mind as he opened his eyes again. A red-hot rage flashed through him as he looked towards the fleet. A third of it had sunk in the attacks before, but he had lost two thirds of his mana.

A quick sense told him that most of the others were not faring any better. There wasn't a half-Elf in the fleet that hadn't attacked the ships in a desperate attempt to take them out before the Elder went berserk. Even the Journeyman stage ones that could barely have sensed what was happening had attacked.

"Raise the defenses, we prepare." he ordered, gathering mana.

The sailor nodded as the humans poured their mana into the ships. The enemy ships shot out volleys of arrows towards them, clearly intent on killing them. The air solidified wherever the arrows came in contact with the ship's periphery.

Just another one of the ships advanced shielding mechanisms. This would force the enemy to spend as much as twenty times the mana to even have a hope of breaking their shields. And they would use this time to gather as much mana as they could.

The cold rage still filled Strovn even as he might attempt to dismiss it. A cold rage that brought forth memories of his childhood.

The image of the Elder carrying him in his arms after he fell and twisted his ankle while they had been on the run. Strovn had expected to be abandoned. That was what happened if you fell behind as a worthless slave.

The slavers would only wait for the precious ones. The beautiful girls and talented workers. The rest could be replaced at any point. But the Elder had personally stepped back, and taken him into his arms, carrying him to safety.

Had he not been there, then he would still be slaving away in some dark mine. Or perhaps already dead as many of his kind, A half-elf could live for as long as two hundred years, but his kind rarely survived more than twenty. The older they got, the more likely that they would awaken their bloodline and pose a threat to their masters.

The Elder put a stop to that. Now that same Elder, the first and only person to ever believe in him, was dying before his very eyes. And as usual, he couldn't do anything.

Strovn desperately pulled at the mana, shoving it into his core. The bloody thing had reached its peak long ago. Just a step away from Adept. A genius, the Elder had called him. A person that was sure to be a pillar of their society. Why was it then that he had been stuck at this stage for the better part of a decade? Did he really not know himself well enough?

What exactly did mana want? How could he become the vaunted Master of Self?

The ship shook as something struck its side. Strovn nearly reacted, but he stopped himself in time.

"Have patience." The Elder's words echoed in his head, drawing him back to when he used to hold classes for every one of the thousand children he rescued under his Mage tower.

"A battle isn't just decided by a series of flashy moves or by the first person to attack. At times, the prudent move is to wait, to let the other exhaust their tricks first. To let yourself learn enough about your enemy to fight them."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Strovn had absorbed these words into himself. This had become his entire way of battle. That was something he was very proud of. Even now, he could see it working. The Master stages on his side were gaining mana back, while the enemy was exhausting themselves. The attacks grew less frequent. The enemy ships had finally caught on to what was going on.

Strovn let the stalemate continue. There was some benefit in attacking now, when the enemy had just wasted a lot of their mana. But they would be ready now. A few minutes later, they would begin to drop their guard, presuming that they too had run out of mana. That was when he would strike.

Mana swirled around him as he stood up from his sitting position, and into a position of attack.

The Elder's voice once more echoed in his mind.

"From the depth of the mind, call on the elements for aid. Do not demand, they are doing you the favor of answering, not the other way around."

Strovn cupped his hands, and then moved them upwards, as if raising water. A silent communication passed through the fleet as the others saw what was happening. The enemy could not sense it. But they could. This was one of their kind's most powerful ways. A part of the Elder's legacy.

"And then show it what you want it to do." the Elder said in his mind as Strovn twisted his hands, and then shot them forward, inciting them upward slightly.

The water shot towards the bottom of the ships, shooting towards the lowest portion. The enemy concentrated their mana on that point haphazardly, reacting in an urgent manner. And then Strovn acted once more.

The mana split into two parts, idling on the surface for a second, before he attacked. Two geysers of hot water shot into the ships’ side, making large holes that had the ship sinking within minutes.

The pirates started jumping out of the ships, eager to escape their sinking ships, only to find half of their remaining fleet to in a similar state.

And this time, he had only spent a tenth of his mana. This was still an amount of mana that he could recover.

The swirling collection of lights danced brighter in the sky as he saw a huge splash of light illuminate the sky. A purple light that had the clouds thunder and the rain fall onto the sea.

A purple light that he would recognize even in his sleep.

Strovn felt water flow down his face. Water that was far too salty to be rain.

Bel, guardian of the Mage tower, last blood of nature, Elder, and leader of his kind had breathed his last.

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Bel took a deep breath in as he felt man flow through his body, flowing into tired muscles, racing a heart weary of beating. The veins in his hand jerked, his hand tearing away from his body as it protested his movement.

A little by little, he felt his entire body fall apart under this force. But there was one part of his body that rejoiced. In the depths of his body, he felt his core begin to swirl, reaching towards the world as it attempted to reach higher stages.

The blood running through his veins thumped along, glowing under his skin as he felt his eyes change color. A shaking took over his arms, telling him that he could not afford a single physical conflict. The second even a leaf touched him, the mana would explode. The wind was barely within his ability to withstand.

Mana swirled around him as he shot forward.

Three figures stood before him. The man from before. A woman wearing a white dress and whiter mask, without a speck of hair on her head. And another man, a profoundly ugly one with one eye missing, with a stench of power obtained from eating someone of his kind. Perhaps several of them.

Bel scoffed, calling a lightning bolt onto his previous opponent. The shadowy man scoffed, calling on a shadow shield to stop it like he had previously. But this was not the same attack as before. The man lost his life as his body turned to dust under the attack.

The ugly cannibal started laughing, staring at Bel. "Oh my, were you holding back, old man? I wonder why would you do something as stupid as that?"

The woman shot towards him as the man looked at him with analytical eyes. Bel swatted the woman away, analyzing the man right back. The man had eaten a sapient recently. Bel could feel the roiling mana that refused to reconcile with the man's own. A powerful mana that put the man as his equal at least, if not more powerful than him.

Had it been a hundred years ago, he wouldn't have trouble fighting him, but he was not young anymore.

The stalemate continued, the man just observing as the woman tried, desperately, to reach him. Bel kept swatting her away, calling on the wind to do his bidding.

"Oh my." the man shot forward, probably trying for a surprise attack. Bel had fought many faster than him. Mana coiled in front of him, blocking the guy by slipping into this armor and warming up his opponent's delicate parts. Even the calmest knights would take a step back when their privates suddenly caught fire.

The pirate was furious.

Bel laughed as he waved his hand, swiping down at the woman that was once again attacking him. This time, he drew blood. The woman bled from her forehead, attempting to hide behind her colleague. A foolish idea. A pirate was not the kind of person you could depend on.

The man kicked the woman towards Bel, putting his mana into sending her spiraling onto him as he stabbed her with his sword, stealing her mana.

Bel expected it. The two of them were more powerful than the shadowy guy from before, but they were worse at fighting. That one had actually learned to fight before.

A surge of magic erupted from his staff as water shot towards the woman, laced with lightning. The woman burnt the water away with what mana remained in her, but missed the lightning. A foolish move. If used carefully, lightning could be used to absorb mana from fire and vice-versa.

The lightning bolt grew ten times its size, shooting right at the woman's face. As expected, the woman died.

The man looked scared now, fear wandering in his eyes as he shot attack after attack towards Bel as he made a hasty retreat.

Bel sighed, quenching the flames that shot towards him. What a waste to use such an attack on him. But if he didn't do it now, then he wouldn't ever have the chance.

After all, this attack was meant to take its caster's life from the beginning.

An attack that he should have used against an attacker many times more powerful than him. Not a random pirate that could barely use his power, a man that simply relied on brute force to get his way.

Purple light glowed around him as his core flashed, his body and consciousness giving way to his own will as mana shot forward, acting out his final will.

At least, he was able to protect his children.

At least, his kind would not have to suffer anymore.

At least, they now had a chance.