Jiran lashed out with a bolt of lightning that used a full twenty percent of his mana. The attack flew true, not impacting the Tier four, but the final Tier three instead. The man was blasted backward. He flew through the air and crashed into a tent fifteen meters away.

Jiran didn’t have time to inspect if his blast had killed the man, or just disabled him.

The enraged Tier four was moving far too quickly to allow for even a second’s distraction. Jiran didn’t see the punch coming. The ripple in his mana body warned him a fraction of a second too late.

Even though he tried to dodge, the fist still connected with the top of his shoulder spinning him wildly through the air.

A kick moving at the speed of a bullet struck Jiran in midair. Again his mana body saved him as he condensed his aura into a cushion of pure pressure. The blow sent him flying, flipping end over end in an uncontrollable rotation.

Jiran’s turn to crash into a tent had come. He landed amidst ropes and cloth, instantly tangled. He thrashed wildly in an attempt to free himself, to no avail. A thin hand gripped him by the hair and pulled him from the wreckage.

The next punch wasn’t blocked or cushioned. It traveled through the air sixteen times faster than any human from Earth could punch and landed square on Jiran’s nose.

White consumed his world, then blackness.

When consciousness returned, pain overwhelmed his physical senses. Those of his mana body remained coherent enough to feel the sinewy man standing above him. He wasn’t moving as he stared down at the groaning boy beneath him.

Jiran knew he didn't have time to waste, he used the senses of his mana body to direct mana into the worst damaged parts of his broken nose, mending nerves and sealing blood vessels.

Less than thirty percent of my mana left. Around sixty percent aura as well. I just need one clean hit. I have to buy myself some time somehow.

He tried to speak but blood flooded his mouth. After spitting out the offending liquid he tried again.

“If you kill me, Markhiss won’t let you live.”

It’s a gamble but I have to try something!

“What in the sea’s embrace do you know about a damn thing, huh!?” He punctuated his curse with a kick to Jiran’s side.

Amidst the pain of being kicked in his ribs, Jiran noted the blow was much softer than the man was capable of.

A glimmer of hope sprouted in his heart.

“I’m the mystery, right? No idea where I came from, how I got out here, or who my master is. Who do you think is fighting Markhiss right now?”

Jiran looked up at the man to see if his ploy had any effect.

A thoughtful, concerned look was spread across his features. It was shortly replaced by anger as he reached down and grabbed Jiran by the hair again, hoisting him into the air to look him in the face.

“Out with it boy, before I rip your head off! Who is your master and what Tier is he?”

Jiran flexed his entire body in preparation. He forced the last of his mana into his right fist.

He tried his best not to scream in pain as tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked behind the bandit with a bright smile on his face.

“Master, I knew you could beat that filth.”

The Tier four bandits' eyes widened in shock, he turned his head to look behind him, finding nothing but an empty camp.

Jiran’s strike held nothing back. He used his mana body to hold the released gas in a cone shape, pointed directly at the deadly man's chest. With a scream of primal fury, the blue flames were released.

The force that pushed against him from his own attack ripped his hair out as the bandit's grip proved stronger than his flimsy scalp.

The explosive energy blasted the two away from each other. Jiran landed on all fours refusing to look away from where he had last seen the man fly.

Screams of agony split the air as the bandit thrashed on the ground. His clothes were gone, along with one of his arms. The skin all over his body had been burnt to a black crisp. The smoke coming off of him smelled of an acrid wrongness that Jiran would never be able to forget.

Jiran stood on shaky legs, he stumbled to catch his balance several times as he watched the man flail and scream.

Don’t get up, please, don’t get up!

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Jiran barely took note as the last of the bandits in the camp retreated after seeing one of their leaders burned, disarmed, and screaming on the ground.

A flicker in the distance was all the warning Jiran got as another black-clothed bandit landed near the screaming man.

Jiran’s brain stuttered as a memory played out against his will. A memory of Markihss, walking away from him, with two Tier four bandits in his wake.

The tiny ember of hope, that had dared to seed and grow in his heart, began to wither.

Jiran refused to let it perish.

I will never give up. This is my second chance at life. Nothing, short of overwhelming power, will stop me. I’ve already beaten one Tier four and I’ll beat this one too. I just needed a little bit of time.

The second bandit stood over his brother-in-arms, a neutral expression on his face as he looked down at the charred hysterical man.

“Useless filth,” He mumbled as he raised his foot and brought it down on the charred man’s head.

A sickening wet squelch rang out through the still air. The second bandit's face remained impassive, completely expressionless as he turned to regard Jiran.

“You, on the other hand, are quite impressive. I’ll give you a single chance to join us and replace this useless sack of excrement,” He motioned with his head toward all that remained of the burnt Tier four.

“After this mission, we’ll finally be full members of The Silence. This entire babysitting charade was just a test, our final test, to join the most powerful organization in the empire.”

The bandit’s arms spread wide, as the first real emotion flickered across his face. A mix of blissful joy and fanatical zealotry.

Jiran’s skin crawled at the sight of the deranged murderer.

I’m out of mana. I have maybe half of my aura left, but I barely understand how to use it. I can form pressure waves with it, sure, but controlling them is like using hands five times larger than I’m used to. Great for brute force but terrible for the kind of control I need to make a real attack.

The crazy man began walking toward him, one slow and steady step at a time. He reached behind his back and pulled out a large crooked dagger in each hand.

“Poor little critter, has the bringrol clogged your lungs? Nothing to say?

“So be it,” He murmured with finality.

He took one more step before a cloud in the sky expanded and dispersed into chaotic Density. The bandit looked toward the sky before bracing himself for the coming wave.

Considering how strong the pressure is for me at Tier two, I imagine the waves must be unbearable at Tier four.

Jiran didn’t waste another second as he dropped into a seated position. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused more than he ever had in his life. Using the meager mana he had claimed from breathing over the last minute he coated his skin in preparation for the coming wave.

The Density arrived as it always did, in a jumble of distorted surges. He could feel them undulating and snaking through the air.

He strained, pushed, pulled, and coaxed the Density into himself, greedily converting it to usable mana.

Perhaps it was his extreme focus born from desperation, or the addition of his mana body’s senses, but something was there that he had never noticed before. A connection, like the gentle tugging of a spider's silk web in the breeze.

It ran from Jiran’s neck to his brain and quivered ever so gently as the chaotic Density washed over him. He had no idea what it was, but as soon as his awareness alighted on the string, the chaos of the storm stilled. Like shining a light into a dark room the movements of the Density became clear to him.

The wave ended and Jiran opened his eyes. The man remained still through the entire wave. Either unwilling or unable to move inside the crushing forces. When his dark eyes met Jiran's, the insane smile once more spread across his face.

He resumed his intimidating march as Jiran stood up.

Ten percent, more than double what I usually get from a wave. But not enough, how can I beat a Tier four with only ten percent?

I need something stronger, something more efficient than anything I’ve used so far. Not bigger, but more concentrated, it needs to be focused, like a razor’s edge.

A blade, I need a blade.

Jiran brought his hands together in a two-handed sword grip, holding empty air. The eyes of the bandit flicked to his hands then back to Jiran’s eyes. His smile never wavered.

Jiran raised his arms above his head. He focused almost all of his mana into his hands, leaving only a single percent to protect himself from what he was about to do.

I hope this doesn’t kill me.

It was Jiran’s turn to grin like an evil maniac as overwhelming excitement clouded his inhibitions.

The bandit froze for a split second as he saw the terrifying look on the child's face, a chill crept up his spine that he foolishly chose to ignore. After all, what could a Tier two child possibly do to harm him?

With a final release of breath, committing himself to the course, Jiran swung his arms down in a slash. The mana between his hands converted to gas that tried to rapidly expand away from him.

Jiran did not let it, he used his aura to compress the released gas as tightly as he could into the shape of a blade.

A sliver of smoking half-liquid half-gas ten centimeters long expanded into a brilliant detonation as a spark was added.

Jiran didn’t get to see the explosion, he was blasted back thirty meters where he slammed into the wooden wall behind him.

He tried to take in a breath of air but failed, his vision shrank as lack of oxygen starved his brain. The only part of Jiran thinking clearly was the senses of his mana body.

Fuelled by desperation he used his aura to form a tiny wave of pressure directly inside his lungs forcing them to expand.

His diaphragm resisted the unnatural intrusion but he pressed on, forcing air into his lungs three times before he could breathe naturally once more.

His vision refused to clear, every inch of his body ached, and he could feel several broken bones. Despite his blurred sight, he could still see the meter-wide crater that extended from halfway through the camp to the far wall.

Like the blade of a god had struck the ground and split it in two.

Only one thing moved through the entire camp. A red mist of Density that sped straight for him.