Oliviala Le’Cruex

As usual, her father’s palace felt empty, especially after their recent adventures. His aura was everywhere, a heavy blanket as comforting as it was stifling. Her steps echoed off the pristine marble flooring and walls. The sounds were softened by the numerous, life-sized paintings hanging every meter on either wall—the only decorations in the long hallway. The portraits showed far too many faces that looked indistinguishable from her own. The judging gazes of her deceased siblings bore down on her, a depressing reminder of the fate that awaited all royalty.

Wish I could have met some of them.

Cameron walked by her side as they made their way toward the gilded, double doors of the Starfall Hall—a meeting space Dominus always used with family. “I’m surprised he called for us already. Do you think something happened, or is he anxious to get us out of here before we cause trouble?”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Olive mumbled, her gaze locked on one of her few living siblings. Like many of the young women in the paintings lining the hallway, Malaniea had Olive’s blond hair and striking blue eyes. Her face was more youthful than Olive’s, even though she was two years older, the effects of ascension having separated them physically. The girl known across the empire as being a master of divination was staring vacantly at a beautiful frame with no painting in it. Olive called out to her softly, knowing she was easily startled, “Malaniea, how are you?”

Her sister failed to respond, her posture so stiff it was impossible to tell if she was breathing. The only thing keeping her from looking like a living statue was her lips moving as though she were mumbling to herself. Olive tried again, a little louder, “Malaniea, are you well?” Still, she failed to respond and Dominus’s aura tapped on Olive’s, the intent behind his message clear, ‘leave her be.’ She shared a look with Cameron, her brows drawing down in concern while he could only shrug helplessly.

As they walked past Malaniea, the girl’s mumbling, so quiet it was on the verge of being undetectable, reached their ears, “It’s gone. It’s all gone. Everything is gone.”

A chill crept up Olive’s spine as her sister repeated the same words until they were too far away to hear her. She looked over her shoulder and upon seeing the completely crestfallen expression on Malaniea’s face, Olive tried to return and hug the girl, only to be stopped by her father’s aura. The doors before them opened, revealing a long, thin red carpet. The rest of the huge hall was impossible to see as every square meter was obfuscated by inky, undulating darkness. Dominus’s aura pulled them inside as Olive struggled to return to her sister, only giving up when the doors slammed shut behind her.

Olive’s jaw ached with how hard she gnashed her teeth while staring daggers at the massive man. He was sitting cross-legged on a large pillow at the far end of the hall with his eyes closed. His breathing was even, his posture perfectly straight as he patiently awaited their arrival. Cameron whistled beside her as he tried to peer into the darkness of Dominus’s aspect that was all around them. Olive refused to look away from Dominus as she marched down the red carpet.

“Father, what is the meaning of this? What happened to Malaniea?”

“Sit, please. We have much to discuss,” His deep voice rumbled through his aura and aspect, causing the void element suffusing the hall to undulate in churning patterns that used to make her stomach roil.

Olive huffed but complied, plopping down on another cushion, Cameron taking his own place beside and slightly behind her.

“Thank you. Malaniea is reacting poorly to the loss of divination across the empire. I am keeping her near to comfort her, she will recover in time.”

“Loss of divination?” Olive’s features scrunched in confusion.

“Indeed, a most peculiar and ominous portent. But not what I have called you here to discuss.” Olive’s concern and confusion only grew as her father continued to speak in a distant, serious tone that was nothing like its usual joking and loving. “Only twice in your life have you been outside the protection of my aura, and both times you met Jiran of Feylon. Oft I have scoffed at destiny, knowing we make our own with each step. Yet again, I am reminded that some fates are unavoidable.”

His eyes finally opened, revealing two cerulean lakes of purest blue that instantly banished his aspect. The darkness was sucked into a dozen black holes that danced in and out of reality, shifting restlessly through the Starfall Hall which was now revealed in all its beautifully decorated glory. Olive paid the room no mind, having seen its splendor many times and far more interested in Dominus admitting he knew Jiran’s identity.

Dominus read her expression, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “With the change in his mana, I wasn’t entirely convinced. It didn’t take much digging to discover the truth. His return heralds a great change, as you are no doubt aware. Only the most trusted have been taught his method. The truth must not reach Palo and Loro until we are ready. His leaving again was for the best, we are not yet ready. My precious Oliviala, I have a—”

Dominus suddenly cut off, his eyes closing in concentration which allowed his void aspect to flood the hall once more. This wasn’t the first time Olive had seen her father behave this way. Knowing someone was communicating with him through his aura, she patiently waited for him to continue. When his eyes opened again, once more banishing his aspect, his face held an expression far more serious than any she had seen before.

“The Graymin have retreated.”

“What?! From which front? Melathon? Rostario? Have they ever retreated before?” Olive leaned forward, her heartbeat wildly fluctuating between hammering and freezing.

“From every front. And no, the Graymin have not retreated since their appearance seven hundred years ago. They have always pushed deeper, consuming until eradicated. This… is something new.”

Jiran of Madra

"It's only a rumor, but I'm pretty sure the Land of the Lost has tier sevens or eights,” Chokkra squawked as they flew southwest out of the Timberlings crater.

“How far?” Jiran’s voice was tinged with equal parts excitement and anxiety.

“Maybe half a day,” he lifted the middle of his wings in what Jiran assumed was a shrug.

“We don’t have nearly that long. I doubt Niya will have any issues unless one of your clan heads shows up. The sooner we get this done, the better. Let’s pick up the pace,” Jiran’s aura tightened around Chokkra while simultaneously forming cones beneath his feet. An explosion of volatile gases rocketed them forward at a blistering pace that left Chokkra struggling to take a single breath. The scenery blurred beneath them and once they reached Jiran’s comfortable cruising speed, Chokkra recovered enough to speak.

“This is incredible! Father will be so jealous, if I live long enough to tell him,” He grinned and panted while looking over his shoulder at the fountain of blue flames right behind them.

“What’s with you and constantly talking about your own death?” Jiran shook his head, causing the blurring landscape to leap around in his vision.

“That’s just how my clan is. We understand that true power lies at the taloned foot of Mother Stormer, the lady of death. If you don’t look Stormer in her eye, you’ll never ride her winds to the great hollow.”

“That’s completely r-whatever, to each their own.”

“You can say it. I know it's foolish and most of us die at her whim. We pride ourselves on leaping into the face of adversity, seldom taking the easy path. Our clan might be small, but each of our members is an elite, far stronger than the average. Our head is considered the most powerful tier six in the lands, which is why I was allowed access to the valley in the first place. They think I’ll be his match someday. Fools, I’ll crush him,” Chokkra shot Jiran a wide grin that showed off his sharp teeth.

“Why are your clans only run by tier sevens? If there are really tier seven beasts in this Land of the Lost, why aren’t there tier eights in charge?”

“It wasn’t always like that. There used to be higher tiers a long time ago.”

When Jiran motioned for the boy to continue, he released a frustrated, growling sigh, “Ugh, I always hated history. I don’t really know the full story. Basically, there didn’t used to be any clans. We were ruled by ten or twelve or something all-powerful warriors called the Founders. Except they weren’t all-powerful, obviously. Madra sent a beast to challenge them and they all died. The beast, I think they called it a Teracourl, killed everyone above the eighth tier. I guess those below that weren’t tasty enough,” He laughed.

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Jiran rolled his eyes as Chokkra continued, “So anyway, the story goes that the tier eights were greedy and only wanted to rule, not interested in preserving the lands for the rest of us. Two factions formed and they split the skyrealm in two. But one side was weaker and kept losing air. They tried to raise more tier eights to fight back, but in response, the stronger side wiped out all the tier seven beasts. Fucking failures doomed themselves. Over time, Madra sent more challenges and the tier eights died, just like the Founders. When the last of them fell, the clans formed to protect themselves,” Chokkra shrugged his wings and picked a bit of meat out of his teeth, only to toss it back into his mouth and swallow.

It sounds like they had an empire like ours. Maybe because of their prideful nature, they didn’t cooperate. Luckily, the emperors are united and work together when Madra challenges them. Guess that's why the empire has survived the test of time. Is the empire really just one bad fight away from sharing a similar fate?

Jiran abandoned the uncomfortable thought and feelings it invoked in favor of asking another question, “If they wiped out all the tier seven beasts, why do you think there are some in the place we’re going?”

“Like I said, that was a long time ago. Not sure this place existed back then. All I know is whenever anyone talks about the strongest of the heads working together to ascend, this place eventually comes up in the conversation. Then, everyone laughs and says it’s impossible and that’s that.”

“Why would they think it’s impossible?” The corner of Jiran’s mouth pulled back quizzically.

“Probably because nobody has ever gone in there and lived. If there was even a single tier eight among the clans, they would have taken over already. There are stories of the head clans working together a few times. They send their best into the Land of the Lost to die. Weakened from the loss, those clans get absorbed or killed off. My guess is the Land of the Lost is full of tier eights. You’re certainly showing your bravery going there, you might as well be flying directly into Stormer’s buxom embrace,” Chokkra’s eyes lit up with childish excitement as he pointed toward the horizon.

Jiran saw it immediately: a forest very unlike the surrounding lands. The woods were choked with fog so thick it was impossible to see even a meter below the canopy. They slowed and stopped far above the abrupt edge of the woods. The forest was deadly silent; Jiran couldn’t hear birdsong, chittering from small animals, or any of the telltale sounds of insects. The fog was unnaturally still, unmoving even when fierce winds blew at the treetops.

“Head back and help the others scout the edges of the valley. You won’t survive if you stick around here. There are indeed tier sevens down there.

“A-are you sure? I-I’m no coward. I can stay, I want to k-know,” Chokkra’s instinct to flee had caused his eyes to dilate. His breaths were short and raspy while his wing beats came fast and unsteady the moment Jiran released him from his aura.

Jiran nodded, never taking his eyes from the creature he was looking down at. “Mhm, I can already tell why your clan heads have a hard time here. Your people are a bad match against these beasts. I'll be fine. Now go, I don’t want to have to worry about accidentally killing you.”

“R-right. May you see Stormer and ride her winds to victory,” He then raced away with frantic intensity, not daring to look back and especially unwilling to look down at the beast hiding in the fog, observing his every move with a hungry intensity.

If not for Mana Omnis lighting the creature up like a beacon, Jiran wouldn't have noticed it at all. It had no physical form that he could discern. It looked like nothing more than a clump of mana shifting through the dense fog. He knew it was watching him, somehow. Every time its gaze ran over him, prickles crept up his arms and back, leaving his hair standing on end.

It might as well be invisible from the sky. The Forkara would have to actually go into the trees, which I doubt is how they prefer to hunt. The fog throughout the entire forest is laced with mana, probably full of traps and It seems resistant to being blown away.

Jiran lowered himself closer to the forest until Identify was able to get a read on the beast.

[Rapacious Murker: (Tier 7) (0/0) Highly intelligent stalking predator.]

Identify: + 1

Zero of zero? What does that mean? Otherwise, this might be the best description of a higher tier beast I've ever seen. Another level, too. Identify is such a useful skill. Trying to ascend without it would be so much more dangerous, and terrifying. Imagine going in there to face these things without even knowing their tier. Well, if it’s not going to come up here and fight me…

Jiran maintained his altitude, carefully observing the clump of thick mana that zipped from tree to tree, eagerly awaiting its chance to dine on his flesh. “Not today,” Jiran grinned and Elemental Castigation formed a chakram of rapidly spinning elemental energy. His mental image consisted of differences in heat created by land masses holding and reflecting incredible amounts of energy. Specifically, exothermic energy that poured from the incredibly vast and powerful furnaces circling around Madra in the vastness of space. He held back nothing, imagining the air being composed of every gas he knew the molecular composition of.

A full five percent of his mana rotated in a tight circle, picking up speed even as he compressed the elemental wind tighter and tighter. He reinforced the nearby synapses with his will, which in turn enhanced and empowered his control, allowing him to further compress the element. A fleeting thought of attempting to weave his mana as he had seen the remalon do was discarded. Now wasn’t the time to experiment with entirely new concepts.

He unleashed his wind upon the shifting creature. A torrential blast of howling winds threatened to rupture his eardrums and shred his graphene-reinforced clothing. Aura and mana protected his body as he directed the forces he had summoned downward. Hundreds of trees were ripped from the ground. Wood splintered and dirt flew as a huge chunk of the forest was annihilated in the blink of an eye. Jiran’s gaze remained on the clump of mana which danced wildly through the fog—fog which remained completely unaffected by his attack. When he didn’t see any damage numbers appearing in his interface, he clicked his tongue.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You don’t have any health after all. The question is, wh—” Jiran’s pondering was cut off as the entire forest shifted and bent. His eyes flew open in disbelief as every square centimeter of destruction he had caused was remade just as quickly as he had destroyed it. A moment later, all was exactly as it had been when he arrived, except his mana was five percent emptier.

“What the shit?! How is that possible? Is this not actually a forest? Maybe it’s a giant beast that just regenerated itself.”

Jiran tried again, this time with fire and using significantly less mana. A crimson beam of deathly energies cut across the woods beneath him, turning wood and soil to ash in equal measure. Once more, his attack had no effect on the fog or the beast, and within seconds, the forest was pristine once more. Ice came next, then light, sound, lightning, and gravity, he even tried acid.

“Only two things left to try, if neither works, I’ll just have to call this plan a bust and go after the Graymin.”

Jiran lowered himself once more, approaching the pristine, utterly still forest. The tier seven clump of mana moved beneath him, practically vibrating with eagerness at his approach. Jiran shivered as another appeared nearby, then another.

“This forest sucks,” He grumbled when the third tier seven appeared. He moved just close enough that his aura could extend down to reach the fog. He pressed into it, feeling a powerful resistance. He lowered a bit more so he could concentrate enough of his soul-stuff to push against the fog. It gave way, moving for the first time. Suddenly, his aura rippled exactly as it would when picking up soundwaves, except there was no sound. The three immaterial beasts had begun to emit silent oscillations through the fog, clearly unhappy with him.

Well, aura worked. So that’s something. No reason not to try my other idea as well though.

Jiran’s eyes flashed like glowing emeralds as Enthralling Touch demanded the clumps of mana become his. Again, the creatures released howls that weren’t howls. He could feel their mana, see their mana, and knew he wasn’t strong enough to claim it.

Figures. I wasn’t strong enough to claim the tier seven graymin’s mana, so why would these be any different? Especially since Identify claimed they were intelligent and intelligence is the attribute that governs mana control. Okay, aura it is. Which means I need to get so close to three beasts, each three tiers above me, so that they’re inside my aura enough to push the fog back. Yeah, fuck this forest.

Three chakrams, one of each ice, fire, and lightning, spun around Jiran as he lowered himself to the ground at the edge of the woods. He would have made more, but with how close he was going to get, he didn’t dare use up all his mental processing power.

The beasts began to go absolutely wild with anticipation at his approach. They shot from one perch to another, never staying still and moving fast enough they may as well have been teleporting twice per second. At least his aura was having an effect on the fog, pushing it back more with each meter he approached. Tension wound Jiran’s muscles tighter with each step, the beasts so close and fast he knew it would be hard to react when they finally chose to attack. He had to concentrate his aura to nearly half of its usual size, but he was able to clear out the fog, revealing twisted, skinny trees.

The beasts refused to leave the fog and attack, crying out in frustration and anger as they flitted at the very edge of his range. When he experimentally crushed a tree no longer protected by the fog, it failed to regenerate. With the beasts so close, Jiran didn’t spare the brainpower to fully consider what that meant. He needed every ounce of his focus to respond. Sweat, which he didn’t dare wipe away, ran down his face, “What are you waiting for? I’m right here!” He goaded but they either didn’t hear him or didn't care, their strange behavior not faltering in the least.

He advanced cautiously, every step sending more beads of moisture down his back, the three deadly beasts only meters away. He could see the mana that made up their forms and knew it was far greater than his own. Not only was there more, it was significantly more condensed and moved with a speed he could only envy. He was not at all a match for these creatures, but that had never stopped him before.

Just as he stepped past the line of trees, he leaped toward one of them, moving part of his aura from behind to stretch forward and encircle it in an attempt to separate it from the fog. The moment his rear aura weakened, one that had circled to his side teleported behind him and struck. He didn’t need to turn around to perceive the creature as it finally materialized into the physical world.

It was the stuff of nightmares; its body made of shifting shadows and smoke come to life. Tendrils of mana-soaked flesh partially connected it with the fog it appeared from. Grasping, misshapen claws reached toward Jiran’s back as a mouth full of jagged teeth erupted with a cacophonous roar that was anything but silent.

image [https://i.imgur.com/U60jdZQ.png]