Oliviala Le’Cruex

From her peripheral vision, Olive realized the numerous shadows were not just converging on her. Her heart leapt into her throat as every one of her precious tier five soldiers and tier six mercenaries were being targeted. She leaped to the side as the first winged figure reached her. It blasted right past, barreling into the advancing line of Graymin. A cry of alarm rang loud in her ears as the exhausted, ragged lines of her soldiers scrambled for cover that was nowhere to be found. Before her brain could catch up with what was happening, she saw them. Not a mere few dozen as she first thought, but hundreds of the winged beasts filled the sky.

For a mere handful of heartbeats, terror seized her ability to think or move as the new arrivals released thunderous, alien cries brimming with hatred. They dove down from high in the sky until they glided three meters above the ground. Their wings created explosive gusts of wind that scattered the stench of the filth as they raced right by her defenseless soldiers and into her enemies. Olive’s hair blew wildly in the kicked-up wind as they passed, her eyes wide as saucers.

A-are they Mayalyn’s People? I don’t remember seeing any of them with wings!

Wings flared wide to slow their incredible momentum, kicking up gusts strong enough to tear apart the tough membrane of the filth and send it splattering amidst the pawns. Keeon had chosen the most skilled and high tier for the vanguard and they proved their worth with lightning-quick swings of their spears and thick, curved swords. Crescent-shaped Bladewinds tore forth, eviscerating pawns and turning their rushing mass into a mountain of gore.

Olive tore her eyes away from the slaughter to find the strange people descending from a particular direction. There, she noticed a shimmering green portal that spewed more of them with every passing second.

There could only be one explanation for something that made absolutely no sense: Jiran.

Father definitely knew they were coming and didn’t warn me at all! Always making me learn the hard way.

She silently cursed Jiran’s name even as she leaped to her feet and bellowed with all her might, “Fall back! Do not engage! They are allies! I repeat, do not engage!”

Unfortunately, her warning had come far too late, the surprise of their sudden appearance and her lack of experience having cost her precious seconds. Several of her soldiers had already tried to attack the newcomers, only to be smashed into the ground by fresh, fully-powered auras from higher-tier warriors. The Forkara were quick to release her people the moment they stopped struggling, their attention dedicated to annihilating the pawns. They spread out rapidly creating a solid formation.

The hundred odd imperials withdrew in a ragged, disordered jumble, more than happy to bequeath the responsibility of holding back the beasts. Olive stayed, unable to tear her gaze away from the majestic Forkara as they completely shut down the Graymin advance. A river of flowing blood and torn bodies five meters wide separated the two armies. On one side, a single row of tier five and six experts swung their weapons without rest; on the other, an unending press of bodies eagerly threw themselves into death's embrace.

Unable to merely stand by and watch as some unknown force cleaned up her mess, Olive leaped back into the fray. She tried to speak with the nearest woman, but the response she received was a clicking caw that made no sense. Despite not understanding, the woman beat her wings once, carrying her a few paces to the side and allowing Olive’s sword enough space to send a rushing wave of fire into the horde. Pawns melted, their blood boiling and releasing a wretched gas into the air. Another beat of the woman’s wings dispersed the smell and they shared a knowing grin that needed no translation.

By now, the new allies outnumbered her retreating troops a hundred to one and Olive could only shake her head ruefully, wondering how Jiran had pulled off recruiting such a powerful force. She continued trying to talk with the nearest of the bird-people to no avail. But that was fine since they were holding back the beasts without losing a centimeter of ground.

So long as the Graymin don’t throw anything new at us in the next few minutes, Master Lostrifar and Master Lenton will be done.

Olive’s arm began to furiously itch; a phantom pain reminiscent of when it had been ripped off by a tier five Graymin near Mortan. Trusting her instincts, she leaped backward and focused the last of her mana into Channeling fire into her blade. From within the press of bodies, hundreds of knights burst forth with silent screams. They crossed the divide in an instant, slashing wicked claws that glistened with compressed mana.

The Forkara reacted quickly, flapping wings to blast the new threats back. Five at a time, they concentrated their attacks like the experienced experts they were. The knights were riddled with compressed blades of wind that quickly tore them apart. Considering her own inadequate response when they arrived, Olive was shocked to see that only a handful of the winged warriors had been injured before the surprise threat was dealt with. Her impression of them rose even higher as she leaped out of the fray. Without mana, there was little else she could do but watch.

Over the next fifteen minutes, several thousand knights launched themselves from the horde in an attempt to claim a life. Although several Forkara were injured, there was not a single death and by now, their numbers had swelled to well over ten thousand. Suddenly, a crushing pressure descended on the Graymin, bringing their entire force to a halt.

From directly behind Olive, a disinterested, childish voice spoke, “The formations are complete.”

Olive spun around and saluted, “Thank you, Master Lostri—” She faltered when there was no one behind her. She looked left and right, but the woman had long since vanished. The oppressive aura that blanketed the battlefield dissipated and the horde once more rumbled to life.

Seeing her returning to the city, a sweat-coated General Reifvus and two couriers teleported before her. Olive wasted no time in issuing her next order, “General, hold the west flank between the mountain and the new wardwall, I’ll take the east. It’s time to begin operation Shearing Divide. Oh, one more thing, ignore our surprise allies. We have no way to communicate with them for now so stay out of their way. Understood?”

“Understood, Commander.” The General saluted and then flew to the west, bellowing orders the moment he was within range of his troops.

Looking back at the Forkara, Olive pursed her lips, unsure of what to do.

I’m sure Jiran told them to hold this position. Without a way to communicate with them, how can I get them to fall back? I have to at least try or they’ll exhaust themselves, regardless of their numbers.

Olive had long since spotted the Forkara that appeared to be in charge as he constantly spewed cries in their unfamiliar language. She drew her aura inside her body and dashed toward him. Upon arriving, she dipped her head respectfully. The sharp-featured man returned her salutation. When she had his full attention, she raised the heels of her palms until they connected. Her hands formed the shape of a cup that vaguely resembled their current battle formation. She then slowly spread her hands apart before pointing in opposite directions.

He examined her hand signals closely before nodding. With a single, powerful flap of his wings, he lifted himself into the air and then snapped out orders in a high-pitched screech that easily cut through the racket of the raging battle. Some of the forces responded instantly to his words, backing away toward the nearest flank that Olive had indicated. Most were far slower, not responding until another leader screeched at them.

So they aren’t as cohesive as they first appeared. Interesting. Jiran, you sure have some explaining to do this time!

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Jiran of Madra

As soon as the mana entered the bodies of the gathered tier nine and ten legends, Jiran realized something was wrong. The energies he was attempting to release conflicted with their existing mana, the two like opposite sides of the same coin; they were similar, yet refused to coexist as one unified whole.

Jiran swiftly reconnected with the freed mana and held up his hand in apology, “There is something wrong, your bodies are rejecting the unaspected mana. I’ve never encountered this issue before.”

Sagrinar hummed noncommittally, “Of course, it’s impossible to supply mana to those above tier seven. If my memory serves, you were Filibree’s disciple. Did he not supply you with a basic education?”

“We were only together for a few weeks and he made a point to have me figure out most things on my own. So far, his methods have saved my life too many times to count. Anyway, let me think for a second, I’m sure I can figure this out.”

Several of the powerful figures expressed their displeasure and lack of confidence in Jiran’s statement through hushed whispers and undisguised chuckles but he paid them no mind, his thoughts already racing along multiple avenues simultaneously.

Just from a casual glance, I can tell their mana is too different from this unaspected mana. The faint colorations in some of my mana are nothing compared to the thick stains that have completely overtaken theirs. Not only that, the compression from their higher concentration attributes makes their mana as dense as a star. I don’t think the concentration is the issue, I’ve seen time and again how newly injected mana will automatically adjust once it's inside the manapool. It must be the coloration.

It’s different for each of them, and the colors are especially vibrant in Sagrinar and Pierro—the only tier tens. That means whatever those colors represent, it has something to do with our tier. And since everyone has slightly different shades, our individual nature must also come into play. But does the why really matter? All I have to do is match the colors, right?

Besides, isn’t it just mana? Shouldn’t it do… what I tell it to do?

With a single thought, accompanied by a domineering demand to acquiesce, Jiran forced the stream of mana leading to Sagrinar to conform to his intent. The mana folded in on itself, spending nearly a fifth of its mass to change hue until it matched the swirling, sparkling lavender and amethyst within the tier ten. Sagrinar threw his head back and his booming laughter accompanied the mana as it entered his body and smoothly combined with the existing energies of his manapool.

Enthralling Touch: + 8

Mana Confluence: + 6

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

Jiran completed draining the fifth densoon cloud of its energy before calling for a break. His brain was tapped out from matching the intricate movements of the chaotic density on such a wide scale. He fingered the white crystal in his pocket, lamenting that he couldn’t afford to fill it before first topping off his seniors. The shameless mana-leeches grumbled about the pause but they had no choice other than to accept it.

A moment later, two new arrivals teleported into the group. The tier nines immediately bowed to one of them: A diminutive girl whose manapool was nearly as blinding as the emperors’. Jiran’s addled thoughts were drawn to her manapool like a starving beast to a steak. It took him several seconds to realize what Mana Omnis was revealing when he peered inside her. A thick, twisted rope of mana wound around her manapool several times before stretching to her navel where it vanished.

Is that… an artificial extension of her manapool that’s connected to her soulwall? It’s not the same as the solid connection the emperors use for their aspects. Somehow, she’s storing an additional thirty percent of her mana capacity inside it. What she’s done is like a beginner's version of how that Remalon’s mana was woven into intricate cords that created an entire tapestry. It must take incredible focus to maintain it. Maybe she has an acclamation for her brain like I did.

The girl suddenly appeared before him, snapping him from his contemplations. Her arm moved far too quickly for Jiran to track, and without warning, he was sent flying backward from a powerful blast that smashed into his forehead. He snapped out his aura, grabbing onto the framework and ripping several synapses before stopping himself. The dark holes in reality that appeared with the destruction of the synapses sealed themselves as his vision swam.

Oww! What was that?

Jiran rubbed the stinging burn on his forehead, his eyes widening in disbelief when he finally noticed the extended middle finger on her outstretched hand.

Did she just… flick me?!

A voice that perfectly matched her childish appearance flowed smoothly from her lips, “It’s rude to stare at a woman’s chest. Next time, you’ll get more than a tap!” Lostrifar crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“I-I wasn’t-okay maybe I was staring but it’s only because what you’ve done with your manapool is amazing!” Jiran exclaimed, his exuberant praise unmistakable, “I didn’t know it was possible to—”

Lostrifar vanished and appeared right in front of him again. Her hand slammed over his mouth to muffle his words. Her nose was centimeters from his when she hissed, “Not. Another. Word!” Her aura constricted around them, easily crushing Jiran’s into his skin where it finally gained enough concentration for him to at least put up a struggle. “I don’t know who told you to say that, but we’ll be having a very thorough conversation later, so look forward to it!”

She released him and appeared at the front of the group next to Pierro and Sagrinar. Jiran could still feel where her hand had pressed against his face and he smelled her light fragrance when he took a deep breath. He released it with a sigh of relief as the overwhelming pressure from her aura vanished. Whispers and chuckles filled the air as the others laughed at his bumbling, causing embarrassment to warm his cheeks. Despite his discomfort, he couldn’t help but glance at her manapool one more time with respectful awe. In response, Lostrifar lifted her chin to the side with a huff.

So this is Lostrifar. Wait, why does she look like a little girl? It’s definitely not an illusion like Mesalay. Must be a side effect of what she did with the connection to her soul. Or maybe it’s the nature of her aspect itself. Did she try to embody the concept of youth into her aura instead of an element? The only other aspects I’ve seen that changed the physical body were Palo's and Loro's but theirs were highly unstable. How did she do it?

Too bad I made such a bad impression, I doubt she’d be willing to answer any of my questions now…

Dejected by his foolishness born from an exhausted mind, Jiran turned toward the other new arrival, only for his eyes to bulge once more. It wasn’t surprising he hadn’t immediately recognized his old acquaintance; not only was there the distraction of Lostrifar’s unique manapool, but the last time he had seen the old wizard was well before he could distinguish auras and the colors of peoples’ mana.

“Finally noticed me, eh?” Lenton’s hands were tucked into his sleeves and he stood on the air with his back straight and his head held high.

Jiran was momentarily stunned speechless as a cascade of thoughts and emotions tumbled through his mind. His last memory of Lenton was when the man had lost his fingers trying to pry open the portal that took Jiran to his first challenger arena. Before that, Lenton had saved his life multiple times and taught him how to see beyond classical knowledge to peer into the truths of mana. He had even gifted the ancient training cube which unlocked dual minds and eventually Jiran’s manabody. It was safe to say, that without Lenton, Jiran would not only be long dead but nowhere near as powerful as he was today.

Gratitude and warmth won the emotional tug-of-war and the two heady emotions swirled within him, binding his tongue and burning his eyes, “A-apologies, Master. It’s uhm, good to see you?” Jiran scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling more nervous than he could ever remember.

“What?! What kind of greeting is that, you ungrateful brat?” Lenton’s peers snickered again at the unusual reactions from both of them and a tinge of crimson crawled up the old man’s neck. “Why am I surprised? Other than getting a little taller, you haven’t changed a bit in the last year.”

“Is that really his disciple?” One of the tier nines that stood together with the rest of his party mumbled, his words just loud and slow enough for Jiran to hear.

“Maybe they’re not as close as the rumors suggest.”

“Leader would never treat him so rudely. Perhaps he’ll be seeking a new mentor soon…”

Wow, first I make a fool of myself with Lostrifar and now I’m giving them a bad impression of Lenton. Why am I acting like a schoolgirl with a crush today? I gotta get it together!

Jiran slapped his cheeks then bent fully in half, bowing with complete sincerity. His voice was unwavering and full of conviction as he shouted a true greeting, “Master. I didn’t get to say goodbye to you last time nor express my gratitude for everything you did for me. Truly, thank you Master Filibree, for teaching me and for saving my life. I will always be in your debt.”

“Hmph, that’s more like it,” Lenton stroked his long beard idly, the corner of his lips pulling up in a smirk as he shot a gloating glance at the noisy party.

A dozen powerful sets of eyes glared daggers at his lack of response to Jiran’s sincerity, and suddenly, Lenton was patting him on the shoulder with a half-hearted, nervous chuckle, “It’s so good to have you back, favored disciple. Fun fact: Did you know I haven’t taken another disciple since we parted? It’s because you're irreplaceable in this old man’s heart. Now, what were you up to a minute ago? Did you properly explain how you were draining these clouds? I’m sure everyone’s ears are itching to hear the story of how you learned that trick when we first met...”

Lenton continued to babble as he pulled Jiran toward the next cloud and the old man’s voice was music to his ears.