A cloud pierced down from the clear sky. All at once, with a sudden vengeance, the storm reformed. It swirled and churned. White clouds darkened, to gray, then black, then purple. They surged together, forcing a horrible form in the sky, piled up high, high, high into the heaven. Lightning flashed. Rain rushed. The winds howled.

In the center of the funnel cloud, a shadowy form appeared. One bit at a time, it twisted together. Feet. Legs. Hips. A torso, arms, head. Ike reformed. From the storm, he was reborn.

Every atom of him had been torn apart, but now, it came back together. And as it came together, the storm rushed into his heart. It poured out of the sky, funneling into Ike’s forming body like an umbilical cord.

Llewyn’s face twisted in disgust. He threw out his arm. “Stop him!”

The mages rushed forward, but couldn’t get close. The winds threw them back. The lightning struck down, forcing them away. The rains slicked the earth beneath their feet.

And then, all at once, it stopped. The last of the storm sunk into Ike. He hung in the air, supported by the winds. Gently, they set him down. He wobbled, barely keeping his feet. Eyes shut, limbs loose, he swayed where he stood.

Llewyn scowled. He charged in.

Ike’s eyes opened. They blazed with brilliant light, as bright as lightning. He lifted his hand languidly, effortlessly, and pointed at Llewyn.

Lightning blasted from the sky and slammed Llewyn back. He flew through the air, body as limp as a ragdoll. Ike looked up, toward the sky. He spread his hands.

Lighting struck from the clear sky. It blasted the mages one after another. Some fled under the ground or across the plains. It didn’t matter where they hid. The lightning sought them out and struck them down, no matter how far they fled. One strike after another, with each strike emanating the power of a Rank 3 attack. The Rank 2s toppled over directly. The Rank 3s barely clung on.

Ike turned, slowly. There was no expression on his face. His eyes were clear, but somewhere beyond clarity. He gestured again.

Once more, lightning rained down. It hammered down on the Rank 3 mages, striking them over and over until they fell.

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The battlefield emptied. At last, there were only two figures left standing.

Ike, surrounded by winds and clouds flickering with lightning, his eyes flashing white. His hair and clothes whipped around him as he stood there, but Ike stood firm, unaffected by the wind.

And Llewyn, surrounded by the corpses of his men, his hat askew and his green hair a mess. He stared at Ike in outright shock. “How…?”

The lightning sheen faded from Ike’s eyes. He blinked, snapping back to reality. He raised his hands, turning them over. Clouds flowed around his body, lightning flickering in their depths. Wind whistled around him. He laughed, clenching his hands into fists. His body felt so light. Every inch of him screamed with power. The him before and the him now were different people, completely, utterly different.

Reforging his body with aether had been a revitalization. This was a rebirth. He had thought reforging himself with aether was as far as he could go, but that had been shortsighted. He’d been clinging to the limits of his abilities and skills as he knew them. But that was only a mental block. An artificial limit he’d been imposing on himself. When he’d ignored that, all his skills and their rules and edge cases, when he’d simply followed his heart and chased the flow of his aether, he’d broken beyond those limits. Gone further beyond what he thought his absolute edge was.

“Answer me! How?” Llewyn howled.

Ike turned. He looked at Llewyn, then laughed. “Why would I tell you?”

Llewyn’s face twisted in rage. Kicking off the ground, he blurred toward Ike.

“No!” Shopkeep leaped forward, but Wisp grabbed him by the waist.

“Don’t be stupid. You aren’t a fighter,” she admonished him.

Shopkeep whipped around. He stared at her, flabbergasted. “Llewyn is Rank 4. Ike is Rank 3. He can’t beat him!”

Wisp laughed. She released him and stepped to the side, gazing down at the battlefield. “Don’t count Ike out yet. He’s done more surprising things before.”

“He’s fought above his Rank?” Shopkeep asked, shocked.

She grinned. “Yeah. And you saw him smash those Rank 3s. Let’s wait and see how things go.”

Shopkeep looked at Wisp. She stared down, watching the two men intensely, her brow furrowed. She leaned to the edge of the wall, ready to jump down at the drop of a hat. Despite her bravado, she was worried, too.

He snorted to himself, gently amused, and turned back. He let out a breath. If she was trusting Ike, he would as well. “He’s surpassed you, now, hasn’t he.”

“Heh. I knew it would happen, sooner or later. I need to get out there and focus on my own Rank. I grew too self-satisfied in that Abyss, where I was nearly the strongest around. Now that I’m out, I see I was just a frog in a well, a big fish in a large pond… someone who was only strong because I was surrounded by weaklings.” Her eyes twinkled. A fire burned in their depths, one that had burned down to ash, but was now reignited. She stood on her tiptoes, straining at the very edge of her toes. She desperately wanted to join the fight, but knew she would only get in the way. “Once we finish here, I’m not staying complacent any longer. I’m going to break through to the next Rank and get even stronger than Ike.”

“Then I suppose I shouldn’t slack either.” Shopkeep turned back to the battle.