The four elders of Dokkuun’s Rising Sky Faction scattered and two tier sevens from the Divine Faction chased each of them. The fogs of the Land of the Lost were a mere twenty meters below him, and from within, he could feel the greedy eyes of deadly beasts watching his every move. The fading light of Second Father edged toward the horizon, silhouetting his two opponents who dashed toward him before splitting in opposite directions at the last second.

A spear and a long, jagged sword flashed. A flurry of sharp gusts ripped through the air toward Dokkuun. He snorted derisively, spotting the shallow weaknesses in their techniques. He unsheathed his shortsword in a blinding-quick sweep of Bladewind that intercepted the attacks at their weakest points, easily scattering the sharp energy. His vision noted the way the winds dispersed after his counter and he narrowed his eyes in grudging respect; his opponents this time were not as weak as they appeared. He recognized the wielder of the jagged longsword, Flakka, of the Resplendent Heavenly Serrated Tooth Clan. The much younger spear wielder wore the livery of the Storm Claw Clan, so he assumed he was one of their hidden masters.

The youth shot him a wicked smirk that revealed the cruelty behind his otherwise attractive features, “Give up old worm. Your fate is sealed! Not even the crown of the forebears could save your wrinkled hide.”

Something’s wrong. I refuse to believe the Storm Claw would secretly raise someone so flippant. They’ve obviously put an incredible amount of resources into him. He’s trying to distract me, but from what?

Dokkuun tsked, shaking his head, “Even the greatest beast understands it must give its all to every hunt, lest he grow complacent and die when his prey is cornered. Gnashing Terror of the Sixth Storm!” He swung his sword three times in rapid succession, releasing six, ten-meter-wide Bladewinds with each slash. His mana dropped precipitously from the highly skilled technique but it was worth it to see the two youngins scrambling before him. Their eyes widened with fright before they threw themselves to the sides while swinging frantically; neither escaped unscathed.

Even more importantly, Dokkuun tracked the movements of the rushing winds, finding what had been hidden from his eyes. Circling behind him was a third figure that was completely invisible. The young storm claw pulled an amulet from his pocket and crushed it in his palm. Healing Winds exploded from the diamond dust, surrounding his arm and rapidly regenerating the deep gash from Dokkuun’s bladewinds. The man with the sword similarly activated a ring, healing his nearly severed leg.

“Ho-ho-ho, I think I hear your nest nurses calling. Feel free to fly home if you’re scared, little ones,” Dokkuun’s taunting was met with a growl and a scream of rage.

Dokkuun flapped one of his wings, turning sideways in an instant and causing the invisible spear thrust from behind to slide through thin air. He continued his movement, his leg lashing out to smash into the assassin. She grunted in pain as the force of his blow threw her a dozen meters. The sheen of invisibility wrapped around her faded, revealing a young woman with similar features to the storm claw youth.

“Die, you ancient bastard! Raging Claw!” She raised her spear high before swinging down with all her might. The image of a massive claw coalesced, superimposed over the spear. It raced toward him, crashing through the air and creating a massive howl like the center of a storm.

Dokkuun sheathed his sword and bent his knees, entering the stance for the twelfth slash of his sword style. He folded his wings so the buffeting winds wouldn’t throw off his focus. Held aloft by only his aura, he gathered mana into his blade and sheath. Just before he released, a horrific scream blasted through the air. It was so loud that his body began to go numb as waves of sound battered his old bones. His attention was drawn to the side where Flakka and the boy were gathering elemental aura into their blades, which was rapidly sucking in a tremendous amount of air.

So they’ve already claimed their aspects. This might not be as easy as I thought.

With mana flooding his legs, Dokkuun jumped off solidified aura directly toward the ephemeral claw flying in his direction. The mana in his sheath propelled his blade outward in a reckless swing containing all his strength and power. The spear technique was shattered as the mana in his blade ripped through it. He tilted his head to the side and lifted his left foot, narrowly evading the two errant currents of sharp wind from the dispersing explosion. Not even trying to stop his momentum, he spun in a full circle and his blade came around for a second swing just as he reached the girl.

Her inexperience showed as she brought her spear up to block his fully powered attack. The expected impact never occurred as Dokkuun bent his wrist, allowing his gently curved blade to pass a hair’s breadth from the shaft of her spear. His other hand grabbed the weapon and he grinned wickedly as his foot slammed into her stomach. She flew backward, directly toward Flakka and his charging aspect. Just in case Flakka was willing to sacrifice her, Dokkuun kept his guard up, already charging elemental mana into his aura and focusing it in his sword.

While he waited to see what they would do next, he quickly surveyed the battlefield. His brothers were in similar positions, holding their own but being slowly pushed into a corner. Meanwhile, Raahak and his three closest allies watched the fights from on high with imperious expressions.

The spearwoman recovered and flapped her wings for all she was worth while blasting winds from her feathers. The moment she was out of the line of fire, Flakka and the boy unleashed their aspects. Unlike a regular, transparent bladewind, the swings created thick, green crescents of energy that distorted space as they barreled forward. The screaming wind was deafening as the attack neared and Dokkuun’s hastily created aspect could only barely redirect them.

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The crescents roared past a meter to either side as he gently split them, using their own force against them. Parts of his robes were shredded while feathers were ripped from his wings. A full ten percent of his mana and aura were sacrificed to keep himself from being drawn into the sucking force of the two deadly attacks. They imploded behind him, the sudden lack of sound nearly as deafening as the screaming had been. Dokkuun desperately wanted to say something witty to further annoy the youngsters but his ears were ringing too loudly to hear his own voice so he just gave them a cheerful smile instead. He returned his blade to its sheath and casually flew toward the center of the Land of the Lost while focusing on recovering his hearing.

Upon seeing him make his move, the other elders of the Rising Sky Faction flew to meet him and they were quickly surrounded by the nine warriors. Dokuun faced the twins he had been fighting, his brothers at his back, “Since you were raised in secret, can I also assume you never murdered any Timberlings to ascend?” The bizarre question was so outside of their expectations that everyone paused in confusion.

The brother scowled while the girl simply shook her head, “Is this some kind of last wish? Like I’d tell a dead man anything about us. Just die.”

image [https://i.imgur.com/hYMnmAF.jpg]

Dokuun smiled sadly, “I know the rest of you have murdered for ascension, so your fates are sealed. Young master and young miss, it’s not too late for you. If your hands are clean, fly as fast as you can and you may survive.” Something about his tone tipped off the more experienced warriors and they instantly turned to flee.

Dokuun turned as well, and he wasn't the only one. All four of the elders had faced each other and in a lightning-fast motion, stabbed their newest blades toward the center of their square formation. The tips of the long knives touched and the mana within the blades activated. It was a risk to trust the young guardian who had crafted the weapons in such a dangerous situation. Especially since his directions on how to use the small knives had sounded so completely ludicrous. But he had consistently shattered their expectations so they chose to believe in him.

The four blades shone with a brilliant red light that formed a small sphere just large enough to encompass the four elders. Beyond that sphere, a wave of impossibly powerful aura shattered the air, locking space and restricting the movement of the nine warriors. Even the three who had immediately fled failed to escape in time. Simultaneously, a wave of roiling fire a kilometer wide engulfed them all.

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

“By Stormer!” Raahak shouted as a massive, blazing ball of fire suddenly appeared where his allies had been a moment ago. He couldn’t see anyone through the conflagration and despite being so far away, he could clearly feel the blistering heat that raged from the unexpected attack. Deep within it, his allies were being burned alive. Though surprised, he wasn’t overly worried since they each had several pieces of jewelry packed with life-saving mana.

As quickly as it appeared, the flames were extinguished revealing a sight that grasped Raahak’s heart in an icy grip. The four elders of the lowly Rising Sky Faction stood together, completely unharmed. Meanwhile, his allies were struggling for their lives. Somehow, the flames had caused them to fall toward the fog. Raahak knew that regardless of how many of their feathers were burnt away, their auras should have kept them aloft. They struggled mightily to rise, but thick tentacles of fog had already wrapped around their limbs and were dragging them down.

Dozens of Bladewinds were unleashed from those captured, and even a fully charged aspect, but nothing worked against the fog. Within two seconds, nine of his most powerful supporters vanished, including the two offspring he had sunk so many resources into nurturing. Raahak screamed, fury igniting in him as his vision turned scarlet, “Dokkuun!” Just as he was about to throw himself bodily at the old conniving bastard, a figure in sleek, black and gold armor appeared before him. The new arrival’s aura crashed into him like a tidal wave, instantly sweeping aside his resistance.

The voice that echoed out of the armor was bored, but Raahak could feel a deadly dangerous gaze emanating from within the strangely designed helmet, “You’ve got the look of a petty tyrant, let me guess, you’re that storm claw guy?”

Raahak couldn’t understand what was happening. Not only was the mana concentration of the person before him well below his own, but it dared to speak to him in such a condescending tone. What had truly confused him was how quickly it had arrived. Its speed was possibly faster than his own and it had easily sheared through space, creating gaping wounds in the air that revealed the dark, empty hollow beyond their reality. On top of that, its aura was far superior to his own. The lack of congruence caused his brain to stutter for a split second.

He recovered almost instantly, mana rapidly building in his hands as he threw his head back and roared. Whoever this freak was, they had dared to get between him and venting his anger after losing his only promising offspring. The rest of his blood was trash. No matter how many whores he took and bred, they all produced such useless, untalented things. Finally, after years of effort, he had found two worthy of inheriting his techniques and now they were gone before producing even a single benefit to his clan.

Raahak drew his aura into his arms, converting his mana to wind and lacing it within his aura. Amongst all the clan heads, there were only two he knew of who could harness an aspect directly inside their limbs without blowing themselves up. The fact he had learned to do it on his own, without any support from a pre-existing clan showed his incredible talent.

He had been born to commoner parents in a rural hatchery, doomed to a life of toiling labor before his wings had even sprouted. His original clan wasn’t wealthy, nor did it have—

“You think I’ll give you time for a flashback?! Die!” As the stranger in the armor shouted, Raahak saw a flash of light and felt something quite strange.

Between his crown and the numerous pieces of jewelry he wore, he had nearly twenty treasures capable of bringing him back from the brink of death. Somehow, the mana powering each of them was drained away in an instant. At the same moment, his vision was split into two panes that slowly slid away from each other. Before he could realize he was cut in half, his two sides fell apart, releasing a fountain of gore.