“Promising.” The serpent muttered to itself, as it slithered through a tree like it was made of air, dissolving its bark, branch and root into grey ashes. “But nascent, yet to be tempered.”

It circled him once more, its thoughts nothing but a mystery, its gaze deep and unreal and overwhelming. “Unusual.” Then, as if deciding something, it stopped and rose even higher above the trees, doubling its own previous height, eclipsing the now round sun on the horizon.

It shook its head slightly, and the regenerate rune just shattered.

“Let’s see if the earth is fertile.”

The serpent opened its maw, fang and teeth sculpted for one purpose, numbing Avaln’s senses, freezing the blood running through his body, shrinking his heart under the pressure of a ghastly hand.

At that moment, he felt fear, thought-shattering fear, for the second time in his life.

An infinite breath passed as his focus wavered, and his every instinct urged him to stand up and run, that the risk was too big, that Sgithe’s words were a lie.

He inhaled.

A corner of his mouth twitched, and turned his expression into a smile. There was irony in that smile, and a deep sense of what laughing at oneself meant. That fear he felt was so overpowering, Avaln held no doubt in his heart that he would have run away if his legs had possessed even an ounce of strength to do so.

But they didn’t, and so he had no option but to steel himself.

There had never been an option to begin with, and if that was to be his end… he felt thankful for that lack of strength. If anything, his last moments would be through brave struggle, and not senseless fear.

There, inside his lake-like state of mind, a memory flashed.

He was a child, and fire licked the moonless air, consuming homes and corpses alike. In front of him, a man with a murderous smile pointed a glint of steel skywards, his arm now giving in to its weight, its future path cutting through his child self’s weak torso.

He saw the scene as if represented on a stage, standing in the gallery, knowing there was nothing he could do. In this memory, no one appeared to save him; It was a possibility he wondered, once, in the midst of frustration and yearning.

His child self glanced back at the audience of one person, pleading, his cheeks wet by tears, his lower lip trembling before the impossible situation.

But Avaln just shook his head.

“Stand up.” He voiced, not sure why. “Be worthy.”

His child self’s expression turned stern then, as only innocence knows how, and gave a quick nod.

The sword descended, and met blood.

It’s edge sunk into his shoulder, declaring his fate… but a couple of tiny hands were tightly wrapped around the hand wielding it, and exerted all of his will to survive. Such will took the form of a scream. There was rage in that scream, it flared and deafened as his life waned.

Avaln exhaled.

The serpent lunged itself at him, ready to prey.

Momentum met the sitting figure… and a scream rang. Dots of white, black and red plagued Avaln’s vision, his focus broken, that lake now a storm, as he felt how his torso was skinned raw, pierced by hundreds of fangs given shape by the world’s Essence will.

The scream gnashed his throat. There was rage in that scream, it flared and deafened as the pain threatened to wash his consciousness away, together with his life.

Faster. Was the thought that shone then, spurring his will and seventh sense. Faster.

It swirled, it rose, then reached into his inner Essence circulation and released all of that might into its stream.

Faster!

The thought became an action, and the action brought forth a result. The fangs piercing his body began to lose its shape, its grey tracing now a course towards that clover which was so intrinsically connected to him, it could be said to be part of who he was. It defined him as much as he defined it.

His actions gave it shape, and so it was an extension of his will.

In that state of constant struggle, time once again lost its meaning.

Pain and consciousness became one, and through it, he noticed the many changes happening to his body.

Of course. Tempering. Was the thought a corner of his mind managed to give form to.

Not just his body nor his soul, but his entire being was being altered under the influence of that mighty primordial fire flowing through creation, aiding him and testing him at the same time.

Metal that’s too hard, breaks.

The world’s Essence, for the first time since Avaln began refining it, stopped resisting him then. As if recognizing his right, it began to flow steadily inside him, healing his injuries and restoring his strength, burning his veins with a vigorous feeling of new found power. The grey elementless Essence spiralled with Avaln as its centre, engulfing his figure in a pillar that shot to the sky, invisible to the naked eye, yet overwhelming to one’s seventh sense.

“Fertile.” The meaning vibrated inside his chest, filling him with a sensation close to elation. “And now, Tempered.”

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“One more!” Alice shouted, her hand dancing over her staff’s crystal, shaping her fire.

There, right in front of them, the giant demon boar struggled against the barrier, its hooves slipping on the uneven rock, its glowing red-eyes fixed on the spellcaster who caused it so much pain. All the while, Garry kept trying to get rid of the smaller demon boars, fully aware that even if a beast, that boss was a minor realm higher than him, hence his attacks would have little to no impact.

Harold and Gallathorn could only watch.

Yet Alary… could not.

What was going through her head? That sudden rise in power and that white lock of hair now swaying by her green gaze were enough clues for Alary to realize what was going on.

Alice, her friend, was burning through her own lifeforce.

Wind!

Alary’s lips moved even before her thoughts, accessing that part of herself which she learnt to harness during her time at The Tower. The place where she met that mischievous yet lovely spellcaster, and forged a bond.

And so, her sword found a place in front of her, ready to protect that bond, the flat of the blade now resting against her forehead, her gaze locked onto what she surmised must be her friend’s target. Her seventh sense had caught it the moment she met that alpha, yet hadn’t paid it much attention due to the straining circumstances at the time.

But after Alice’s ramblings, she understood that the shadow around its tusk may very well be the cause of their woes.

And so, she focused, her pretty lips shaping her Essence into manifested symbols of power.

Unrestrained,

Untamed,

United,

There is no limit to my aims,

Nor is there a reason to deny motion,

“Aly?” Alice muttered in disbelief, her own focus swayed by the spectacle happening by her side.

One of the main aims a spellcaster has is to reach the Manifested Essence realm, and Alice herself had chased that goal for a few years now, to no avail, despite being considered a genius of her generation. The conditions to breakthrough were just that harsh.

A beast strong enough.

A refinement secret art strong enough.

A seventh sense strong enough…

And more than anything, a deep comprehension of Essence.

If any of the conditions above were to be missing, that adventurer would have no chance of ever leaving the Tempered Essence realm behind. For most people, it was but a dream.

So why would spellcasters chase such an impossible goal? The answer was one word:

Chanting.

Through making and storing special associations inside their minds, a spellcaster who has reached the Manifested Essence realm could materialise their Essence and directly form the commands of a spell through chanting words associated with those symbols, instead of drawing them one by one.

And that was precisely what Alary was doing now, shocking her to the point of completely losing focus on her spell. Alice was aware that her friend knew the basics of Spellcasting, yet she never expected her to learn a technique so advanced.

All the while, Alary felt the sword vibrate with power inside her grip, as her own blonde locks swayed under the merciless element gathering around her, shaping symbols that then were absorbed by its edge.

Aeolus can’t deny my wish,

The four directions converge on my sword,

Yet they yield to my will,

The wind… is always by my side:

She took a stance as the ivory of her edge shone white, its point aiming at the alpha’s tusk, whose red gaze was now fixed on her, as if instinctively understanding the threat she wielded now with fearful confidence.

A confidence she channelled from hip, to torso, to arm, to weapon, in a full body thrust that seemed to silence the cave for an instant, right before releasing a storm.

Sky Piercer!

A thunder, a quake, a high-pitched shout of pain.

Alary’s skill made an arrow of a tempest, cutting through flesh and tusk cleanly, carving a hole on the rocky wall on the other side of the cave, forcing the alpha to step back from the barrier, its eyes rolling in their sockets.

Yet the one whose knees hit the ground, wasn’t the beast.

“Alary!” Alice shouted, and tried to reach her, but her own body betrayed her on the way, growing weak by every breath. “Aly… “

Their gazes met in a silent apology, then looked in the same direction, towards the beast whose tusks had been cut, and whose nose was now hanging from just a layer of skin, dripping blood with the murmur of a stream. A murmur that couldn’t be heard due to its despairing squeals, as it stepped back believing it could get away from the pain.

But it never fell. Its eyes flickered with hatred and wrath, then attacked the closest demon boar it could find… and devoured it.

“What…?”

Everyone released a mutter of disbelief, of shock even, except for one person. The person held herself from her staff, and had a lock of white hair around her green gaze.

“Now, time to roll the dice.”

His hands gripped the demon boar spear which laid at the edge of a place devoid of any life.

Avaln, not daring to linger where he almost died, ran towards Gale at full speed. In his mind, there were so many questions that he had to shove them into a corner by pure strength of will.

What was that serpent?

What was that true path?

Why, what was before a small clearing in the forest, became a large circular dead zone around him?

Who were the men who attacked him?

Why were they going to Gale?

Albeit some of their answers were something he could, maybe, guess roughly somehow, they were far from his priority right now, for his heart was certain as one does when worry grips it with bony fingers.

Rei was in danger. So was Mira, and Jeff, and all the people from Gale.

He no longer hesitated.

That’s why, as soon as his gaze caught the scene of a young-woman of pale-blue hair being stabbed in the chest with a gripped arrow, he ordered his Essence to swell, to enhance his legs muscles, to push him forward as he plunged his spear on the ground, hurling himself skywards, and with a turn, he recalled one of the skills he learnt during his last month’s training.

Unneeded Heart.

The run, the jump, the Essence running from legs, to hips, to back and arm, all of it served the purpose of building a momentum that was channelled directly into a spear’s throw, turning the weapon into a projectile with intent and purpose, so fast it whistled through the air…

And met its mark.

The ground shook, and a curtain of dust blocked the vision of those around. Avaln landed, yet lost no time before his feet pushed themselves against the ground, released, unchained, urging unconsciously his Essence circulation to enhance his muscles…

One breath, two breaths..

He arrived by Rei’s side, met her eyes covered in tears, her confounded glint fading quickly…

Avaln’s hands drew two runes in the air, one over her chest, another one over the woman’s corpse, whose injury had been a breath more fatal. The transferred Essence would pass from her, to him, and then he’d use his own elementless attribute to power up the regenerate rune on Rei. His gestures were smooth, as if he’d done it a thousand times, guided by hope and certainty…