Oliviala Le’Cruex

Olive scrunched her nose and shook her head slowly, unable to comprehend her eldest brother's words, “What do you mean, ‘The end?’ Elder Brother Ardon, please explain yourself properly!”

“Sorry, Oliviala. There’s no time. I must speak with the emperors immediately,” Ardon began walking toward the tent’s exit and his party moved to follow him. Their movements would normally be far beyond what the others could perceive, but they followed etiquette and slowed themselves. Still, the air groaned and the ground rumbled as the four moved in unison—the weight and pressure on the space around them nearly enough to break reality.

Olive wasn’t the least bit phased, she leaped in front of her brother with her hands on her hips, “The emperors? Not Father? That means… Wait, we shall accompany you. Our mission was to deliver your most recent report with all haste, since it was so late.” She raised her brows inquisitively.

Ardon’s voice turned hard, “You’re taking missions already? What is Father thinking? Is he so eager to see your portrait in the Hall of Remembrance? You’ve an entire year until you become of age and your conscription begins. You should be in the academy, enjoying… the time you have left.” He deflated with a weary sigh, shaking his head in a blur with a touch of sadness on his face, “I suppose none of that matters now. Very well, I will relay my report to you and we will remain here, where we can do the most good.” His piercing blue eyes narrowed, boring into her, “My report is classified as romesta firovo, are you absolutely positive you wish to shoulder this responsibility?”

Olive’s fist smashed into her chest as her heels clicked together. Her voice was crisp as she repeated the age-old declaration sworn by every imperial scion upon their coming of age—when they picked up the mantle of responsibility handed down by their forefathers, “The people are in need and I am fit to serve.”

Ardon nodded proudly, “My apologies for questioning your resolve, soldier. It is clear that your being here was your decision and had nothing to do with Father. He adores you, after all.” Before revealing the contents of his report, Ardon turned to the other people in the tent, eyeing them each in turn. He settled on the young woman standing beside her two guards, “If my memory holds, you are Princess Vironia?”

“It is an honor to be remembered, Lord Ardon,” Her fist gently tapped her breast as she dipped into a military curtsy.

Cameron released a snorting laugh, “As if he’s ever forgotten the name of a girl in his life.”

“Cameron, good to see you surviving Oliviala’s recklessness.” Ardon turned back to the desert princess and her entourage, “Oliviala and Cameron I can understand, what are you doing here, Vironia?”

She lifted her chin proudly, her voice mature beyond her seasons, “Mother requested that I… introduce myself to a certain individual who happens to be the leader of Oliviala’s party.” Olive and Cameron chortled which elicited a scowl from Vironia.

Ardon stroked his jawline and addressed Olive once more, “How mysterious. You’ve joined a party rather than forming one yourself. That alone is unusual, and Father has clearly accepted the situation, which means this leader is someone powerful enough to earn the approval of not one, but two emperors.”

Olive coughed into her fist, her neck flushing a light rose, “Enough stalling, Elder Brother. Please, share your report. Each of us have taken the oaths and we now understand this information is for the emperors’ ears only.”

Ardon swept his eyes across each of them once more, apparently satisfied with what he saw. He took a final moment to compose himself before beginning, “All three invasion forces withdrew to the same location, effectively combining their forces into a single army ten million strong. They now march through the Miroah Pass and will arrive at dawn.” Olive inhaled sharply, having suspected as much but having her fears confirmed was another thing entirely. However, Prince Ardon was far from done, “They were reinforced by another army of at least equal size.”

Olive cut her hand to the side, her voice shook as her features twisted in disbelief, “What?! T-that’s not possible. How can they outnumber us twenty to one?”

With a weary sigh and defeated eyes, Ardon continued, “We counted over one hundred bishops before we were discovered and forced to flee, three of them were ascended to the tenth tier.”

Cameron’s voice was strained as he spoke through a clenched jaw, “The emperors will be forced to intervene. With how unstable Palo and Loro are, this is certainly the worst-case scenario.”

Surprisingly, it was Vironia who had the calmest demeanor as she interjected, “Tell us the rest. This alone is not enough to sap the will of the Skyward Blaze. Mother once told me your spine is as thick as the Crags of Caldarra are wide. What have you not told us, Prince Ardon?”

Ardon nodded gravely, his gaze turning distant as he remembered something none of them could possibly fathom, “We saw it on the horizon as we fled. A Graymin the size of a mountain. It matched the description of a King.”

“No…” Olive’s vision spun as the ground fell out from beneath her feet. She felt herself tremble and tilt, though it was a distant feeling, as though it were happening to someone else. Her hand flailed for something to support her and Cameron was there in an instant, her ever-present, steadfast companion bracing her in that moment of weakness.

Seeing Olive’s extreme reaction, Vironia’s lips tightened into a scowl, “Please, excuse my ignorance, Prince Ardon. What is a Graymin King? I was taught that Bishops are the strongest Graymin.”

Ardon nodded, seemingly unsurprised by her admission of ignorance, “I myself did not learn of the Graymin King’s existence until I ascended to the ninth tier and took up the mantle of deepscout. In my foolishness, I may have used the story to scare my dearest little sister, who is most certainly not supposed to know either. The last King to attack the empire led their initial invasion seven hundred years ago. It was tier eleven, and the only recorded beast to ever defeat the emperors.”

Vironia’s mouth fell open as she staggered back a step, the idea of her all-powerful mother ever having tasted defeat was so foreign and terrifying that her mind failed to fathom the true depths of what they were about to face. Ardon spoke into the deathly silence, “The emperors were pushed back before, only surviving due to sacrificing half of the original empire’s boundaries. They will be too busy to save us this time. Somehow, we are going to have to deal with an army of twenty million, led by over a hundred tier nine and ten bishops.”

How are we going to survive?

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A hauntingly beautiful voice snapped Olive from her despair. She knew the voice well despite having only heard it twice. After her molding skill reached fifty, her divination technique had evolved and whenever she used it, she saw and heard a slender woman with eyes that shone like constellations. Now, unbidden, that same woman spoke into her mind, “I showed you the path that leads to victory for the empire. It is up to you to seize it. Remember, you are not alone.”

A vision of herself, helpless and trapped in a cage flashed within Olive’s memories. She heard her youthful voice, so full of naivete, proclaiming that she would never be so weak again.

I’m… not alone. Time and time again, I’ve proven I’m just as weak as back then. It’s only when we’re all together, with Jiran at our side, that I've ever felt like we can handle anything Madra could possibly throw at us. Perhaps I’ve had it wrong all along. It was never me who needed to be strong, it was us.

Olive stood, her features twisted in a grimace. Blue eyes blazed with crystalline focus, born from equal parts hatred for her enemies and determination to see her people survive, “Hope is not lost!” She spat the words, her voice firm, “There is a path to victory for the empire. We will seize it, together. The people are in need and we are fit to serve.”

Jiran of Madra

Jiran ran through a final check of his newest creation’s features. He moved every piece of his new armored suit, inspecting that the rivets drilled through the metal plates moved smoothly and the holes inside each rivet allowed mana to flow swiftly from one part of the suit to another. It had taken him several minutes of thought to come up with the idea and he grinned when he saw it was working great so far. Actual combat would be the ultimate test of their efficacy, of course.

The rivets varied in length, the longest matching the last bone in his pinky finger—the smallest not even a tenth that long. They were drilled into his suit along the joints at the elbows, shoulders, wrists, and along the fingers of his gloves. When he moved those joints into the correct angle, the rivets would be forced to move out of place, allowing the holes inside the rivets to align with specific pockets of stored mana and formations built into the suit. Mana would then be released from the storage formations and into the skill formations, triggering their effects.

The downsides are durability and power. A formation can’t perfectly match the power of a skill, or can it? Maybe, Lostrifar knows how to do that. I hope I get the chance to meet her someday. Anyway, if I take a blow that pierces through the armor, the formation will be ruined. This graphene-reinforced metal is pretty durable, I don’t think a tier seven could get through it without landing several attacks in the exact same spot, so it should be fine for now.

Satisfied with the results, Jiran donned the upgraded body suit. The cloth portions were now thicker, reinforced with several additional layers of graphene to protect their hollow innards which were currently stuffed with the processed beast mana stolen from the last murker. He had only made four separate formations, wanting to make sure they actually worked before wasting time making more.

Thick metal plates were buckled onto his limbs and he slid the helmet over his head. The visor was large—not restricting his peripheral vision—and made of glass with three dozen sheets of graphene layered inside it. Since they were only an atom thick, and therefore transparent, the reinforcing sheets didn’t impede his vision much. Dozens of small holes in the sides of the helmet would allow people to hear him. If there was noise around him, his aura would hear it long before his ears would, so he wasn’t concerned with how little sound would enter through the holes.

Jiran pumped his fists and shook out his limbs, feeling the suit constrict and tighten across his muscles. He then leaped into the air. It was strange not feeling the wind on his skin as he flew, but the suit constricting against him wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He spotted his first victim, the teleporting cloud of mana a veritable beacon even in the light of all three suns. He took his time closing the distance, making sure there were no other murkers in sight. He dove after the beast, which unsurprisingly teleported a short distance away. Jiran pulled his aura in to appear vulnerable then angled his arms just right so all he would have to do to activate his first formation was lift either shoulder a single millimeter. The moment his boots touched the forest’s floor, the beast appeared behind him and struck with a roar.

In his previous encounters with the incredibly fast beasts, Jiran had gone in with three active chakrams of Elemental Castigation. Each one required him to focus on converting his mana to an element, spinning that element until it reached ridiculous speeds, while also compressing the element until it passed the typical limit of power for his tier. With three of them active, that was a tremendous amount of his focus dedicated to offense. Now, he had none of that. All five of his minds were wholly dedicated to the task of locating the beast and responding with a single, minuscule shift of one arm.

The murker appeared behind him to the right and Jiran’s right arm shifted up. The rivets in his joints moved, releasing a flood of mana into the formation that ran within the arm of his suit. The formation converted the mana into ice that exploded from the release valves along his arm. A crystalline lattice of ice in the shape of a circular shield appeared, covering his upper torso and head, intercepting the beast's claws with a thunderous crash. In the next instant, the formation's second function activated, turning mana into elemental light that refracted through the ice.

The beast screeched as it was blinded and Jiran’s aura wrapped around it, sealing its escape. His left hand blasted forward—mana, aura, and muscle working in perfect harmony. His hand formed the shape of a claw, releasing the rivets in his glove. Mana flooded into the formation, unleashing three elements at once.

Miniature cyclones of wind wrapped around each of his fingers. Along with the created wind, they carried deadly payloads of water and metal molecules. The point of each cyclone was a centimeter from the tip of each of his fingers—giving each digit the appearance of an emerald talon. His hand sunk into the murkers chest with little resistance; the beast’s skin was no match for the abrasive power of metal, water, and wind spinning at a speed that made them appear solid.

As it was struck, the murker smashed its arms and head into Jiran’s shield, forcing his feet into the ground and nearly breaking the bones in his shoulder. A single claw managed to reach over his ice, creating a horrific screech as it scraped along his helmet. It tried to jump away, but Jiran had already twisted his wrist and squeezed his extended hand into a fist, grasping the inside of its chest. The new position of his hand activated the final offensive formation of the suit.

Mana flowed and was turned into a powerful ball of gravity that wrapped around Jiran’s fist. Most of the mana entering this final formation was converted to a coating that protected him, the rest rapidly eviscerated the beast—forming a gaping chasm in its chest. Jiran ripped his hand free, pulling out the beast’s condensed innards which exploded like a grenade as the gravity formation ran its course. The murker collapsed, an acceptable damage number flashing in Jiran’s interface, [-108k]

They only have sixty thousand health, guess even shadow beasts are weak to having their insides turned to mush. Weaklings.

That went way better than expected. Not having to focus on converting mana to elements and forming them into offensive attacks frees up my minds so much. Why doesn’t everyone fight with formations? Hmm, I suppose the durability of the formation material would be the biggest obstacle. Maybe there’s other factors I don’t understand yet. Looks like I still have a lot of testing to do.

Enthralling Touch sucked the remaining mana from the downed beast. He compressed it into a ball and pushed it into the only non-combat formation of the suit; a hollow circle in his chestplate with dozens of layers of filters surrounding it in concentric rings. The beast-mana was pulled apart by the surrounding formations and sucked through the layers of filters by his mana. Each filter cleansed the mana a little more than the last. Within five seconds, the cleansed mana entered his body through specialized holes in the suit.

image [https://i.imgur.com/w7Dlu6y.png]

His mana was instantly topped off and his suit’s reserves filled. The excess mana and beast-goop were flushed through tubes that wrapped around his chest to splatter onto the ground behind him. Jiran’s grin split his face, the excitement bubbling in his chest propagated through his body in tiny tingles until he couldn’t hold it in for a moment longer. Feeling on top of the world, he threw his head back and cackled into the foggy surroundings.