Forester’s punch knocked him far into the air. Jerome marveled at the increase in strength and speed he just displayed. He watched as Forester became a blazing sun in the night sky. Light beamed off him for almost a mile in every direction around him.
“Now this… is the power of the Sovereign,” Jerome muttered.
He expected the light to die down but the unexpected happened. The light beaming off Forested curved around him. It took shape, framing him with the visage of an armored warrior riding a dragon!
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Impressive…”
You don’t sound impressed, Achilleia.
The rider of the dragon was larger than a regular human but the dragon looked the size of the ones he’d seen in Terra Praeta. Jerome could see though, that they weren’t very solid in their physical state. He could see Forester through the ethereal visage of the rider, in the center of its chest — it was like seeing the Argonaut of the Alvrics again; the small one they created themselves, not the big Transcendent wind spirit. This armored warrior was at least as big — if not bigger than — the Argonaut the Alvric Sprout’s had created.
How the fuck did he do that, Achilleia? Is this some kind of technique or something? Jerome asked.
“It’s a technique but not his. He probably has access to some insane echo of the Sovereign’s Authority.”
You have got to be kidding me!
Jerome shot downward toward the ground. Forester’s blow had sent him far away from camp. With a slightly long string of incantation, he stamped the ground with his booted foot and it shook. The ground started to spew dirt into the air. Forester’s dragon was almost upon him now. The dirt took on the shape of a dragon from his imagination — a large six-limbed dragon — and with his ring, he imbued a sympathetic spell into the golem-like dragon. The spell frame carried with it an immensely dense amount of essence that would have worried him in the past, but now it was like spending a penny.
Achilleia huffed in annoyance. “I didn’t help you with that ring just so you can give your toys a semblance of life, Xerae.”
Relax, Achilleia.
The outer shell of the newly created golem turned to lava and Forester’s dragon crashed into it, destroying the half completed spell. The force of the crash sent Jerome crashing into a nearby tree and destroying plant life everywhere around them.
“I know not where you got the power to do things like that,” Forester said from within the safety of his magically constructed avatar of light. He looked all high and mighty, ready to conquer the world. “But you’re not going to run around acting like a peacock! You. Are. Nothing!”
Jerome extricated himself from the remains of the destroyed tree. He looked up at the giant with disdain in his eyes. This close, the giant dragonrider looked just like Forester, only bigger and made completely of light. It was glowing brightly and illuminating the night with its light.
“You can choose to live life as it finds you, or prepare to find life yourself, Forester. But no one ever finds life the way they want to. You wanna know why?”
“Huh?”
“Because life does NOT revolve around you!”
Jerome’s molten dragon barreled into Forester’s ethereal form, separating it from its dragon. He shot forward, spell frames glowing around his computation ring, and punched the air in Forester’s direction. His lava dragon turned around midair to intercept Forester’s dragon as the spell work from his spell frame bombarded Forester with a fusillade of explosive spells.
~~~
Rihal
The battle between Jerome and Forester destroyed the surrounding forest as they watched. No one spoke as they watched the projection on the wall. They were all stunned by what they were seeing — well, maybe except for Ash. Rihal never in his wildest dream imagined that Jerome could do the things he was doing after only two years on alien soil. What kind of opportunity did he find? What mysteries had he uncovered?
“Your father wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was powerful,” Crystal said quietly from the other side of Ash who was seated between them. “I don’t even think I can defeat him in one-on-one combat.”
“He’s still Sprout, Crystal,” Rihal muttered. “With a proper domain, he’d be left powerless against you. Against any Pillar.”
But even he didn’t completely believe that. Artificers and warders have been known to find ways — artifacts and formations — around domains. If Jerome could do all this, what other tricks did he have up the sleeves of that strange garb he was wearing. He looked like a Judge in it — an Elite Judge for that matter. Rihal took a glance at Ash who was vibrating with excitement as she watched Jerome beat Forester like he was fighting a dummy. He smiled. Ash was so absorbed in what she was watching. Her whole world right now was the projection on the wall. Not even the viper, sitting a few arms length away from them and staring daggers at the projection, could pull her out of this moment.
How he wished he could be like her again; young and full of excitement, uncaring of the intricacies of war and trying to protect his disciple from his family. Seeing Jerome achieve these feats, it was no wonder Vorthe wanted to fleece him as much as possible. The Sovereign did approve his participation in the exploration of Terra Praeta after all.
Rihal felt like he needed air all of a sudden. The spare conference room they were occupying in one of the towers was beginning to feel too small for him. He was not a claustrophobic person, but he felt like he wasn’t in control of his circumstances anymore, and he didn’t know how to react to that. Life had always been simple, that is until Kia walked into his life and brought Jerome with her. But instead of remaining, she chose to name him and died for it. Now he was left defending the boy against his own family.
He just needed a break.
He already knew the outcome of the battle from the moment Jerome created a golem out of earth — a golem that was protected by strange lava-looking energy that would just put itself back together if it was destroyed, not that Forester’s dragon could achieve that alone. It seemed to be weakened with the increasing distance between it and its rider.
Rihal got up, put on his cloak, and left to get some fresh air. There was a lull in the battle here in Alvion, due in part to visibility constraints for the Messengers. But sacred artists had no such issues. Even right now, assassins were at work in the enemies camp, taking out their platoon commanders. Rihal would have busied himself with taking out the Judges he and his father had snatched Old Wen from but he had been instructed to stand down.
“Orders from the Sovereign,” his father had said. He had an idea why. Jerome would be pissed Old Wen took a blow to the head and isn’t waking up. He would want to serve justice himself — or vengeance.
“Can’t watch a Royal Sprout take a beating, can you?” Idrel said from behind him.
Rihal sat on the stone parapet of the tower and looked out over the city. He took his time before answering.
“Was it worth it?” he asked. “Setting him up to fail like that…”
“You know nothing about failing, Rihal!” Idrel hissed. Rihal could sense his aura become fierce and erratic. “You think the world revolves around your disciple? You think he is some kind of prize because of Adama’s gauntlets?”
“Is that why you wished to cripple my disciple?... back then and even now?” Rihal turned to face him, cloak billowing in the wind. “He took a chance, Idrel; took a risk no one did for twenty years! Adama’s gauntlets had been sitting in that cave for two decades and no Blank was crazy enough to try and get it.
“My disciple braved it. And you think this is reason enough to what?... cripple him because you didn’t get it?!”
“Those gauntlets should be mine!” Idrel roared. He sounded like a whiny bastard.
“Hmm,” Rihal responded sarcastically with a nod. “Kettle calling the pot black. You do realize Vorthe has a supply of weapons made of pure living steel now right?”
“Unstable weapons, you mean? None compares to Adama’s gauntlets. And I will get those gauntlets, Rihal.” He clenched his right fist in front of him. “Disciple or not! Even if I have to crush you to get to him!”
“You’re the one acting like the world revolves around you, Idrel. We don’t always get what we want. The sooner you get it through your thick skull,” — Rihal touched his index finger to the vipers temple but he shoved away his hand — “the better.”
Rihal walked away from him, not looking back. But he heard Idrel whisper in his direction, “I always get what I want.”
Rihal said nothing. He had learned much about Idrel to know that that was a bait. The viper had a way of getting under people’s skins. He wouldn’t take the bait, he’d wait until he had a clear chance to do some real damage. Because as it is, he’d had enough of the viper’s attempts to destroy Jerome.
~~~
Forester
He woke up to pain assaulting his senses. He tried to call for his maid’s assistance but his jaw hurt. A lot. He had never felt so sore in all the time he had trained or took a beating. Everyone had always held back but last night, Jerome didn’t. He lay still in bed wondering how to face the bastard.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Bed?
Forester forced himself into a sitting position. He found himself inside a tent that was just barely wide enough to contain his bathtub in the Royal Estate. The bare and functional look of it told him more about whose tent this was. But he was also torn in his emotions about the gesture. He pushed himself to stand and a piece of parchment paper fell off his body.
‘Bath by the side’, it read.
Forester scanned the room with his perception and noticed the depression in the ground filled with water. He walked up to it, complaining to himself about the distance. The pool was crystal clear and looked inviting, the basin big enough for two. He slowly stripped out of his robes, hissing momentarily at the pain it caused him. Dipping into the water was heavenly. His body lit up with a golden light wherever the water touched, startling him. There must be some kind of formation or potion at work inside the pool.
By the time he was done bathing, he wasn’t as sore as he was before. He felt a lot better, but not good enough to go another round with the cur.
Forester stood at the flap of the tent, dreading going outside. Since when had he become a coward? This wasn’t him. Yet his musings didn’t kindle the anger and motivation he had always depended on.
Sunlight seeped through the little opening in the flap, letting him know he had been unconscious for at least the whole night and two quarters of the day. The flap opened all of a sudden and Aidan walked in.
“How are you feeling?” the big muscular Sprout asked. His cuirass and bracers accentuated his muscular arms, making him a sight for the ladies. But Aidan wasn’t a rake, he was a romantic at heart who could never bring himself to indulge. His loss.
“I’m fine,” was his immediate response. There it was. That anger was what he needed right now. “More than fine, even. Where’s the cunt?”
“In a meeting of sorts. They’re trying to decide if they should include us in their plans or not. Elaine and Elina are with them.”
“What?! Without my consent?”
“Forester…” Aidan said hesitantly. “They’re our protectors. They can decide what they want to do. You can’t stop them. You never could. They just did as you said in Terra Praeta because you were the appointed head of our team. Here though…”
Forester heard his unspoken words. He had no say in the twin’s decisions. The platinum-colored haired twins would do as they pleased from now on. Giving how they had questioned his judgment in Terra Praeta, they would fight his every move now.
“Is he awake?” Idrienne asked as he walked into the tent. The speedster wasn’t one of Forester’s favorite people, but he had never challenged his words so he was okay.
“I am,” Forester replied. “I heard the twins are planning on joining these loons here.”
“They asked to join, yes.” Idrienne nodded. “What would you do?”
That was the question wasn’t it? What would he do? He didn’t know. For the first time in a while he had no course of action; no plans. His one plan when he came here was to beat Senior Rihal’s disciple, not because Senior Idrel asked him, but because he wanted to. Now that that plan had fallen flat on its face though, he had no idea how to proceed.
“Forester?” Aidan broke him out of his musings.
“I’m leaving. I won’t be joining them.” He looked them both in the eyes. “I suggest you come with me.” He had come with eleven Sprouts and it would be embarrassing not to leave with all of them.
Aidan nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
He could always count on the big brute. Idrienne on the other hand…
“I’ll be staying, Forester. Whatever they’re trying to achieve, it’s going to make a big difference in the war. All the Scions of the Great Clans are here after all—”
“Fuck the Great Clans!” Forester barked in anger. “I will become Sovereign someday, Idrienne, and when I do, they will all cease to exist in our lands!”
“Well, these were their lands first. We only annexed them when we came into power.”
“Not my fucking problem!”
He pushed his way out of the tent and scanned the camp, ready to confront the twins and the cur again. Sunlight assaulted his eyes and he had to blink out the stars he couldn’t help but see to adjust to the intensity of the light.
“It would take the Sovereign to make me work with you, cunt!” he roared, heading for the tent where he sensed they were holding their meeting. It was a different tent, larger and with soundproofing scripts to keep their voices in and those outside, out. Which only marked it as being of great importance to these loons. “You dare lay hands on me? On Forester Vorthe!?”
Someone caught him by the arm and pulled him aside before he could enter the tent. Forester almost attacked only to find Solon shaking his head slowly at him, with as little movement as possible. “Fuck! How the fuck did you sneak up on me like that?”
“Don’t go in there,” the masked Sprout said in a whisper. He was putting on his signature cloth mask that covered his lower face, from his nose downward which gave him the air of a veteran assassin.
“And why shouldn’t I?” Forester ground out.
“Because they’re discussing you,” the wannabe assassin said, barely making any movement.
He pulled his arm free from Solon’s grasp and adjusted his robes. “Go play pretend assassin with someone else, Solon. I’m busy.”
Forester barged into the tent like he owned it and everything in it.
~~~
“You should be respectful when entering someone else’s domain, Forester,” one of the twins said, facing the entrance of the Fei tent they were occupying and currently holding their meeting.
“Whose domain!?” the arrogant bastard shot back. “This flimsy excuse for a soundproof tent? All of the land you see belongs to Vorthe…!” He went on to brag about the glory of Vorthe and of his forefathers.
Jerome shut him out almost immediately. He couldn’t be bothered about the arrogant Sprout. Achilleia had delivered some very disturbing news to him last night and he dreaded what they might be walking into today… or tonight, depending when they decide to launch their assault.
“How many of your teammates are you sure will be willing to join?” he asked solemnly.
“None!” Forester barked. “The Royal Sprouts will not be—”
“Thirty,” one of the twins said and Forester cursed.
“And that’s if we are very convincing,” the other completed her sister’s statement.
Forester opened his mouth to speak again and Jerome leveled a stone-cold gaze at him. Whatever he wanted to say got stuck in his throat as he saw Jerome’s eyes for probably the first time. Jerome knew the effect his eyes had on people, and Forester must have not seen them the night before.
He turned his attention back on the beautiful twin sisters sitting across from him. Jerome found them an interesting pair. Even more interesting was the fact that they seemed like the same person to his senses. They could complete each other’s sentences consistently, which was probably a strategy of theirs to put people off guard during discussions or dealings with threats. He scanned them stealthily once again to try and decipher who was Elina and who was Elaine. The result was the same as the ten previous times he had tried. Their heartbeats were also synchronized, as if they shared one heart, or life force.
There was probably a technique to it all, some esoteric knowledge only they knew or something.
“Thirty is great,” he said. “But I doubt it would be enough. I have a bad feeling about launching this attack now.”
Forester turned his attention to the twins again. “What the fuck is he talking about?”
His voice had lost the heat it contained only a moment ago, which was kind of surprising. He never knew Forester as the sort to back down.
“Take a seat, Forester,” Jerome said, gesturing at the round table at the center of the tent and surprising him. “You might think this” — he gestured with a hand at everyone and everything — “is beneath you, and maybe it is. But it’s our reality right now.”
He could almost hear the grounding of Forester’s teeth as he glared at him.
“Unfortunately, last night’s… ‘escapade’ prevented a major assault on the enemy’s portal. I had plans to shut the portal.”
“Shut the portal!?” Hedon laughed. “Now I know you’re crazy. Only Sages and those in higher Realms can attempt something like that.”
Jerome gave him a nod of agreement. “Well, I’m not a Sage, but I can still shut the portal. I’m not saying I’ll try… I’m saying I can. And that’s a fact, not me stroking my own ego.”
“Let’s agree for a moment that you can,” Forester said in a mocking tone as he took a seat at the table. He was really enjoying himself, Jerome could tell. “How in all that brings light to Vorthe do you plan on doing that?”
“We’ll come to that. But first, the enemy most likely spotted us fighting… and called for reinforcements.”
“So this is a losing battle, then.” Forester smirked.
“You don’t exactly think they’d sit back and watch us slaughter their clones for sport, do you?” Lang said. “If you’re incapable of taking this seriously, Forester, I suggest you leave.”
“Not without them,” Forester said, pointing at the twins.
They smiled sweetly at him, infuriating him in the process. Jerome smiled to himself. He could see now that his worries were unfounded. Forester had no control over them, he had no say in whatever decisions they made. But it didn’t mean he didn’t have influence. Fifty Royal Sprouts went to Terra Praeta. If he could get them all to join the attack on the portal, their chances would rise significantly.
“Let’s not be too hasty,” he said. “There’s a possibility that more than one Judge has joined the fray. In that case we have to plan for the eventuality of more aiding the Messengers. Now, I have killed a Judge before—”
“Ah!” the arrogant young master interrupted him. Again. He laughed and laughed until he was almost wheezing.
Jerome sat back and folded his arms, waiting for him to calm down. When no one else joined him in the mockery, his laughter subsided. But he still had the mirth and mockery in his eyes.
“It was an almost impossible thing to do but I did it. And I can do it again. I would just need some form of distraction for every other enemy. Nyx can take them on too” — Ajax stirred uncomfortably in his seat and Selene put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down — “heck, she could probably take two on her own.
“Csala can work with Sheela and Ms. Tara to take another. That makes three. I don’t believe they’d send that much to take out mere Sprouts though. As far as they are concerned, most of you are sons and daughters of noble homes that should be kept away so as to destabilize Vorthe from within.”
“Csala says you hurt her feelings, Xerae,” Achilleia said in his head. “She says she can take one on now by herself.”
Not now, Achilleia. I’ll talk things out with her later.
“The rest of us would work as a team to keep the Messengers busy,” Selene said. “But who would destroy the portal? If it’s you then when would that be? How would you get away from the Judges long enough to do it?”
Jerome smiled. Selene already knew his plans, she was just asking for the benefit of Forester and the twins. He held out his right hand and Charybdis manifested as he wrapped his palm around it. The spear pulsed with power and induced weightlessness.
Everyone and everything inside the tent began to rise into the air almost immediately. The twins gasped in surprise as they tilted and turned in the air. Forester couldn’t keep his gaze in one direction, looking everywhere, and trying to get his bearings as his arms reached to grasp something but found nothing.
“Calm down,” Selene said, smiling sheepishly. “It’s like flying but in this case, you’re not the one doing the work.”
“It’s floating, Selene,” Ajax grumbled, floating about with his arms folded and his legs crossed in the air.
Jerome sent his intentions into the spear again and the furniture were first returned back to their positions before everyone else floated downward into their seats.
“This is no normal spear,” he began. “It can open rifts in the fabric of space… and close them.”
“Fabric?” both twin sisters asked at once.
“Space is… beyond us as Sprouts. But we can glean its nature from the effects it has on everything around us. It is able to curve under the influence of massive objects— like planets — and is a continuous and cohesive entity.
“The curvature of space is what causes the effect of weightiness we feel when we leave the surface of the earth; even birds need to flap their wings to stay afloat. You could say that space is the woven fabric of reality that links all points, objects, and events. It is this same principle that the folding of space and the theory of entanglement is founded on.”
Jerome tapped the butt of the spear on the ground and the ceiling of the tent glowed a deep blue, drawing everyone’s attention. A tear appeared in the air, opening up like a hole in the world, surrounded by a swirling blue cloud to reveal the air above their camp.
Everyone gasped in awe.