“While I may not be knowledgeable in the internal practices of humans, aura control is something I have to be quite good at to be the guardian of the jungle,” Zriga said towering across from Zeirdin.
“I’m eager to learn how to resist what you did to me last night,” Zeirdin replied with a tinge of resentment inaudible to inhuman ears.
“I will teach you, follow me.” The two walked to the other end of the oasis, the roar of the waterfall fading into the gentle evening murmur of the jungle.
“Aura manipulation is one of the most important skills for those who stand apart from the rest. If mastered, those who are much weaker than you will not be able to overwhelm you,” The two stopped at a mound of knee-height gravel. Jagged and dark gray, the orange evening sunlight accented the gravel dully. “Power attracts power. Soon, you will begin to run into people worthy of the title ‘Mage’. This is where the most important part of aura manipulation becomes relevant. Defense.” Zriga paused for a moment.
“Go fetch a pebble and throw it at me.” Zeirdin complied, walking over to the gravel mound and choosing a hefty rock that filled his palm. It wasn’t quite a pebble, but Zeirdin was petty and annoyed that Zriga bashed his chest in just a day before. He quickly fired up his mana circulation with a quick inhale, and the familiar hum of energy filled his insides.
Focusing mana on his waist and right arm, Zeirdin threw the rock as hard as he possibly could, imbuing it with his mana the moment before it left his fingertips. The rock whistled through the air, spiraling through the air like an asteroid. The hard projectile instantly traversed the distance before seemingly hitting an invisible wall in front of Zriga’s face. The impact was silent and the rock softly fell to the ground. Zeirdin was awed while Zriga was amused.
“This is one application of aura manipulation. This can be applied to bullets, pure energy, or any projectile.” Bullets? Zeirdin thought of all the situations it could be useful in and was suddenly more eager to learn. Zrig shuffled his long branch-like legs.
“As I was saying, you will encounter mages with the knowledge of Kjex. Even during my time in the outside world centuries ago, Kjex were highly sought after and regulated. Simply put, a Kjex is any short spell with the purpose of instantly killing a human. Designed for efficiency and speed, they are a brutal corner of galma,” Zriga briefly looked into the distance as if he was reminiscing. A thought entered Zeirdin’s mind like a coin falling into a performer’s hat. Did his blood clotting spell qualify as a Kjex?
“Do not look so scared. Kjex all share a fundamental weakness. They can be blocked by even the weakest of aura shields. When cast by the vast majority of people, Kjex are too short to contain enough intent to penetrate someone’s aura shield. Though there are very rare instances of Kjex carrying enough hatred to shatter the aura shield of someone prepared.”
“So can emotions influence one’s magic?” Zeirdin asked. It was something he hadn’t ever heard of.
“Yes. Oh, child. Nothing about magic is concrete. Look for Stix Galma. It is where the true potential of man and mana lies.”
“What is Stix Galma?”
“It will not be relevant to you for some time,” Zriga looked down at Zeirdin. “This, is.” Zeirdin was suddenly hit by a wave of terror and animosity. He was frozen in place, not able to move a muscle. It faded as quickly as it came and Zeirdin gasped in relief. Zeirdin glared at Zriga.
“The elder folk used to call it Saza.” The final rays of sunlight faded behind the high canopy of the lush jungle. “Defending from Saza is essentially the same as defending from a Kjex. I recommend you relieve yourself now before we begin today’s training,” Zriga said in his old metallic voice. Zeirdin hopped off into the bushes and did his business. Following Zriga’s advice was always beneficial.
“Bury yourself in the gravel until only your head remains above it. Your task is to escape from the gravel using nothing but raw mana externally. I will not teach you anything more until you complete this task.” Zeirdin reluctantly buried himself in the jagged rocks. It took him a few minutes to dig himself under the gravel. “Do not shape your mana to move the stones.” Zeirdin assumed this meant using telekinesis. Cutting into his skin, the gravel was dusty and sharp while also obstructing his breathing with the weight. Zriga disappeared from Zeirdin’s field of view, melding into the dusk shadows.
“Aw fuck. Where do I start?” Zeirdin said to himself. He didn’t ask any questions to be polite, but he didn’t know where to start as a result. Aura, aura, aura. What did he know how to do with his aura? He could suppress it to hide his presence, and he could expand it thinly to intimidate foes.
“Am I an idiot for not figuring this out in the first place? Or am I not an idiot for figuring it out at all?” With much difficulty and concentration, Zeirdin began to slowly push more and more mana out of his skin. The harder he tried to control it, the more uncontrollable it became. Outside of his body, his mana behaved more similarly to gas than a liquid, as it did internally. Slowly and gradually, Zeirdin began to home in on the balance of force and control over his mana.
Too little force and the mana dissipated into the air, too much force and it squirmed out of his control. The field of mana around him grew denser as he slowly emitted more mana. The air in the immediate vicinity felt heavy and blue flecks sparked randomly in the air. Zeirdin’s tongue squirmed unconsciously as he concentrated to keep his mana field stable. He slowly expanded his now much denser aura. The gravel burying him began to shift and roll away from him. Sweat drenched his brow and Zeirdin pushed harder.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Hrrrrrr.”
With one final push of his dense aura, the mound of gravel burying Zeirdin collapsed outward with a crash. Pebbles flew away from him and rolled down the mound until he was no longer buried.
“Yes! I did it!” Zeirdin shouted to himself. Without realizing it, nearly two hours had passed since he began his test. Zeirdin relocated himself to a larger boulder while he waited for Zriga to return.
***
Two weeks of intense training passed. During this time, Zeirdin honed his control over his aura. He could now maintain a thin protective layer of mana at all times, making him immune to Kjex.
It had become evident to him a few days into his training that Zriga was much more powerful than he let on. Zeirdin suspected some of the odd things he could cause were perks of being a guardian. When Zeirdin asked, Zriga refused to answer any questions that were not relevant to his training. The ancient elk was mysterious and secretive. During most of the daylight hours of each day, Zriga would disappear into the jungle until dusk.
The sun began to turn orange and fall behind the tree tops of the large clearing. The waterfall roared. It was the background noise of the oasis. Zeirdin sat atop a massive smooth boulder mending his second loincloth as he waited for Zriga. He’d improved the design considerably in the almost four months he’d spent in the jungle. The main covering did not rely on fragile jungle leaves anymore. Instead, it was a crude flexible basket-like structure, woven and braided out of vine fibers. It was scratchy at first, but it was sturdy and Zeirdin didn’t have enough shamelessness to roam the jungle naked.
Zeirdin saw movement in the corner of his eye. The trees bent and melded around Zriga as the majestic half-machine elk melted out of the dense jungle. The gap in the lush foliage closed behind him seamlessly without a sound. It was surreal. Zeirdin waved, acknowledging his arrival. Zriga made his way over to Zeirdin’s boulder in long graceful strides.
“It’s time we get serious. From now on, we will both fight sparing no strength. Your progress has been immense, especially for a human.” Zeirdin nodded. “I will tell you how to leave the jungle. When you strike me down and I breathe my last breath, remove the black metal plate that encases my chest. Inside will be a small green stone. It serves as my artificial mana heart. Holding it will mark you as the jungle guardian and will nullify the jungle’s hostility. Walk toward the rising sun and you will eventually reach the rift to Floor 4.”
Zriga’s one yellow eye flared brighter and his demeanor suddenly shifted. Although he could make no facial expressions, it was evident as he began to twitch slightly and jerk his head at every sound from the jungle.
“Is there something wrong?” Zeirdin asked, unease growing within his stomach. Seeing Zriga nervous could never be a good sign. The gentle whisper of the evening wind died along with the chatter of the jungle.
“The situation has taken a turn for the worst. This is dire,” Zriga said with a slight quiver in his metallic voice. Birds cried as an entire flock took off from the treetops in the distance. “The Tower has been breached.” Those five words held a grave weight that formed a pit in Zeirdin’s stomach.
“W-what?” He stuttered.
“The sentinels must be down,” Zriga looked to the sky gravely. “They don’t know about you yet. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to cut your training short here.” Zeirdin had no clue what was going on, but the pit in his stomach only grew heavier. With each passing second, he could feel his facial muscles growing stiffer. “I’ll take you to the edge of the jungle.” Zriga bent his long willowy legs until his stomach touched the ground. A gesture for Zeirdin to get on. He obliged. Slowly, Zriga straightened his limbs again and the ground grew distant. “Tennia will be safe for a while, but it would be best you completed your business in The Tower as soon as possible.”
“Ok,” Zeirdin responded stiffly, but it was all he could muster at the moment. Then Zriga took off. With each sprawling bound of Zriga’s modified legs, his body twisted, contorted, and stretched in places Zeirdin didn’t know could move. The wind howled incessantly through Zriga’s antlers, constant pressure on Zeirdin’s face. The jungle turned into a blur, bent and melded around the ancient elk, coerced by a force beyond Zeirdin’s knowledge. He clamped his legs around Zriga’s back for dear life, digging his hands into a metal crevice.
The last hour had quite literally been a blur. Zriga bent down to let Zeirdin off. They stood at the edge of the jungle. The cliffs of the pit edge were illuminated by the dim moonlight of the crescent moon in the distance.
“I’m afraid I do not have time for a proper farewell. I wish you well on your journey. May our roads cross again so both ends of the bargain can be completed,” Zriga said looking down at Zeirdin.
“Thank you for your guidance,” Zeirdin bowed his head. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last I’ll be seeing of you though. See you.” And with that, Zeirdin sprinted off towards the cliffs.
Perspiration covered Zeirdin’s forehead as he pulled himself onto the top of the cliff. A strange wistful feeling filled his chest as he looked back over the jungle. From afar, it looked like nothing was out of the ordinary. He looked down at his calloused, dirt-covered hands and clutched his amber amulet. The desert was the same desert he left over three months ago.
Small dry shrubs covered the dusty ground, dotted by small rocks and boulders. Surrounded by gray block-like tents, a fire danced. Orange firelight radiated into the night. Zeirdin let out a sigh of relief. With each step toward the camp, he grew closer to civilization. The dry crunchy ground was unfamiliar to his feet after months in the lush jungle. Even still, his footsteps were nearly silent.
A watchman spotted Zeirdin long before he made it to the camp. He continued forward, unfazed by the long energy rifle the man carried. The man seemed to have decided that Zeirdin wasn’t a threat either. Zeirdin stopped about ten paces away from the man. The sound of laughter and talking around the fire was much more audible now.
“Am I see’n this shit right?” The man rubbed his eyes. In hindsight, Zeirdin realized he probably looked rather ridiculous. A muscular teenage boy who looked like he’d just spent the last three months living like an animal would cause anyone to question their own lucidity.
“Uh, hi,” Zeirdin said awkwardly.
“Well, sheeit. Hey boss!” The man shouted. The dark made it a little difficult to distinguish the details, but the man appeared to be well-built and almost middle-aged. His hair was dark and he had a bushy beard. A few moments later, a tall woman emerged from the largest tent nearest the fire. She took one look at Zeirdin.
“Would you like to join us at the fire?” She asked. Zeirdin nodded.