Flyte tore the shadow-bound golems apart, using contractually thin blades of light to cut through their knotted tendrils which once kept their stony forms together.
The group had crossed over to the second section of the Rift hours ago, and they were preparing to cross to the next one.
Flyte deflected the strike of a shattered, floating sword. He was ready to go to the third section. Ander had told him that there would be no more of these swords flying around. They were very annoying to destroy.
According to the things Flyte had been told, as Rift monsters spread further away from Atula’s Scar they became weaker, which reduced the daunting knights of the sixth section to mere hands in the first or swords in the second.
Only the truly weak monsters were unchanged through several sections, such as the shadowy bats or the insectoids that Telin tested Flyte with.
But alarmingly enough, the further the power of these monsters spread, the larger the Scar became, thus allowing for an even greater dissemination of monsters.
And because of that, an honorsoul had organized a patrol, dubbed the Rift Watch, to kill Rift denizens on sight. The honorsoul’s Return name was Ril, and she was proficient in shadow magic.
Flyte didn’t know how this would all play out, as based on the prophecy, the fight wouldn’t just be instantly won by Ril, so something horrifyingly powerful would have to come into play.
‘And what could I do against something that can overwhelm an honorsoul?’
Apparently something, as the prophecy spoke about decision he could have the chance to make after the fight.
So he’d get ready instead of worrying.
Alongside his sword, Flyte had forgotten his frozen lightning bolt at Ontin’s camp. Instead of relying on that, he had begun testing his enchanting skills and destroying all his projects soon after their creation. He worked hard to try to improve those, as there was no reason not to use all the magic he could get ahold of, especially given that he didn’t know how to harness the power of stone, wind, nature, or shadow spells other than through enchantment.
He had a duty to perform during the day though, so rather than training that skillset, Flyte diligently tore apart the rift fiends around the army.
That was until the sun got darker yet again.
They had just breached section three.
Now, he could take a very short break before defending against the next section.
Flyte looked around and saw monsters slowly becoming weaker versions of themselves upon leaving the section.
The whole army turned south towards their next destination: Ahken. One of the two cities within the Rift, and a refuge to travelers from Chraith, located half of the sections in. After they reached Ahken, their travel would take two more days.
Four days total. Then what?
Flyte didn’t know what he’d do once Will was gone. He would probably train, but what for? This would likely his last truly dangerous adventure. He was, after all, a mortal. Flyte’s body simply wouldn’t put up with too much more wear and tear. He’d broken a lot of bones and even died once, so he figured that his body would need a long break after this one.
It was safe to say that he was warming up to Eris’s offer. He wouldn’t mind a life at Lion’s Watch, and Ander’s army could always use another mage.
Still, he was nagging himself deep down that maybe he just wanted to lead his own life. Maybe have his own farm, find someone to marry, teach magic to others who loved it as much as him.
And he did love it. Over the last two months he was really happy to see the joy of spirits as they helped others to cast spells. He was happy to have made such good friends with some spirits. Most of all, Flyte was happy to understand a little more about his parents through it. Although it was fairly unproven, he suspected that his affinity towards light magic might have been passed down through his parents.
Holding onto that idea, he believed that that might somewhat reflect their personalities. It was easier to use a magic that had a base and facets reflecting one’s own emotions, just like how a hotheaded person using fire magic would be easier than a kindhearted person using the same, as the hothead wouldn’t have to fake an angry tone.
With that in mind, Flyte believed that his parents were kindhearted people who were passionate about what they did. The aggressive tone used for light spears made him think that they didn’t back down when they had something to protect. That in turn made him believe that they didn’t just leave him with a stranger to farm as they moved on without him.
That didn’t stop Flyte from thinking about how much of a stretch even the first idea in that chained claim was. Magic itself wasn’t always passed down a bloodline, let alone an affinity. For all he knew, his birth parents could have been like Telin or Borrigan or anyone else comparatively bad.
“Hey Flyte,” Elliot said, walking up. “You’re looking a little down. Is there anything I could do to help you out at all?”
That didn’t mean that Flyte’s parents were so bad though. Flyte had faith that they were good people, like Glow or his many other newfound friends.
"Not really,” Flyte said, wiping away a singular tear that he hadn’t noticed before. “I was just thinking about my parents.”
“What about them?” Elliot asked, noticeably paying attention for the answer rather than just making conversation.
“Well,” Flyte started. “I was imagining what they might have been like. I never really got to meet them.”
“Knowing you, I’m sure that they were great,” Elliot said.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Were?” Flyte asked.
“Well,” Elliot looked to the side. “I very much doubt that they would have just left you. If they were rich, than an heir would matter a lot to them; if they were poor, then they would understand that families need to look out for each other; and if they were in the middle, then you’d likely be dead.”
“Why’s that?” Flyte asked.
“The king had a lot of non-noble children killed when they showed an aptitude for magic. The poor weren’t very easy to search because of the growth of camaraderie in their communities.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah,” Elliot said. “But hey, he’s dead now.”
“You seem a little down now, Elliot,” Flyte observed. “What is it?”
“I’m just thinking about Honorious again,” Elliot said. “I’m sad because of how powerless I was. I couldn’t save him.”
“He never expected you to,” Flyte said after a short silence. “Honorious just wanted you to get out safely, and is glad that you did, he’s said so himself.”
Elliot look up with hopeful eyes, but they lost their luster and his head drooped. “There was a mage there. He teleported me out, sacrificing himself the very night that I met you and Ander.”
“Teleporting isn’t just some spell that any person on our planet can learn to use. That mage was an altruin, like Ontin, or at least had altruin blood, so I very much doubt that they died. Nareans are very protective of each other. That might even be why they teleported you out. They didn’t want to risk you seeing another Narean.”
Elliot stared forward for a while, then blinked. “Oh.”
He then laughed for a while, and Flyte was once again content.
“Flyte,” Elliot began. “If you never met your parents, then who raised you?”
“A man named Lebrandt Tenner,” Flyte answered. “Although I have no idea what his relation to me is. He seemed alright when I was young, but he got distant and stricter when I grew older.”
Elliot thought for a minute. “Maybe he was strict in order to keep you safe from the king. The distance could have been out of worries or some relation to the past.”
“Seems optimistic,” Flyte said. “But I consider myself to be an optimist, so I’ll think that until I see him again.”
Flyte sat still for a moment, but then sighed in relief. “Thank you Elliot, I feel much less burdened now.”
“Same,” Elliot smiled bigly. “I’m glad that I could help.”
And then he walked away, talking to Honorious with the happiest smile that Flyte had seen on him.
Was his false father really looking out for him? Flyte couldn’t tell, but now, he did want to know.
Channeling his emotions into a pencil, Flyte tried to enchant it with the heal spell, viewing his need to know to be like the desperate surge of adrenaline given by the body as one gave it ther all after using every ounce of their energy.
Flyte soon felt like his work was done, so he reached out to the pencil to see what it could do.
Tapping into the pencil, he instantly felt empowered, as though strength had just poured through his body.
Flyte used it to quickly shatter the pencil. He couldn’t see any negative side effects to its usage, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t there. That was without considering just how pivotal the healing spell was to his combat style.
Flyte looked over his last remaining pencil. Just because he was so close to Ahken didn’t mean that he might not need to write something in the meantime, so he stopped his experiments. At least, for now.
It was just in time, really. The army’s first third section foe showed up just as Flyte packed up the pencil.
The monster was a huge lizard, larger than most residential buildings that Flyte had seen. Other than that, it seemed pretty mundane.
That was, until it started running.
It was incredibly fast. Not only was its stride huge, its limbs also moved as fast as its much smaller counterpart’s.
Still, Flyte was much faster. He fired a spear of light before it got halfway.
Then another.
And another.
The chasm born lizard didn’t even slow down as Flyte punched holes in its body.
He was beginning to sweat as it got closer. He didn’t think that he could stop it in time. It was right about to get into a dangerous distance from the army, and the sound of its steps made Flyte flinch.
And then a huge stone pillar smacked it right in the face.
Ander worked to pin down the creature, moving stones to grab at its legs.
Flyte got to work immediately, jumping to magic enhanced heights as he positioned himself right above its neck.
“Nelar!”
Flyte’s light spear was less like a spear and more like a slash than normal. Through his spirit contract, he had thinned the edge as its width didn’t matter when cutting, and he lengthened its blade.
The colossal lizard’s head dropped with a wet thump, and its body soon followed.
Flyte landed right after it, getting his boots wet with its blood.
“Well,” he said to Ander. “That was worse than I expected.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Ander said. “We’re just lucky that those are rarer than the other monsters in this section.”
“Oh,” Flyte started. “That is good. Is there anything else that I should know about?”
“I guess those floating blades were once soldiers made of dust.”
“Huh, that’s interesting,” Flyte said.
Ander shook his head slowly, then pointed behind Flyte.
“Wha-” Flyte was dumbfounded by the sheer number of soldiers lined up, having been attracted to the sounds of Ander and Flyte’s battle. There were at least a few hundred, and they all kept rank, unlike their more foolish fellow monsters. They were just like the ones in Telin’s trial, so dust was falling everywhere, making a huge cloud as the limbless soldiers marched.
“Ander,” Flyte started. “If you get me over there, I can destroy the majority of them.”
As Flyte had learned, confidence was the key to spellcasting.
“Alright,” Ander said.
The sands swirled beneath them and pushed them up and forward, bringing them right above the knights by the end of their movement.
“Alright,” Ander said. “Do your thing.”
Flyte breathed in, preparing himself.
And said “Nelar” triumphantly.
The shadowy knights below Flyte collapsed into piles of dust, and soon, more and more joined the same fate until, in less than ten minutes, they were all gone.
Flyte fell to the ground, his spell exhaustion having made his knees weak.
“Good work,” Ander said, lifting him up.
Ander ended up carrying Flyte all the way to the wagon so that he could rest even more,
So Flyte did, but he didn’t sleep.
An hour passed by, and he heard the sounds of hooves strike sand.
‘Is it really more of them?’
Flyte stepped out of the wagon, feeling fairly refreshed.
Only to see a large group of white robed riders approaching the army.
"Hello,” Flyte heard. “Have you seen anyone completing amazing fears with light magic?”
“Why do you ask?” Elliot asked.
“We are searching for out king, and we believe that this person could be a clue as to where to search next,” the man said.
“Ithilles died many years ago,” Ander said. “He faded on the day of his son’s birth.”
“Then where is this heir?” the man asked. “Both him being alive or his son bring alive are acceptable to us, we just want to find and follow them.”
“It’s fine,” Flyte said, walking closer. “That person was me.”
“Half elf checks out,” the man, who turned out to be an elf, said. “Do you mind if I look into the 3rd plane for a moment?”
“Not at all,” Flyte smiled.
The elf smiled. “Thank you.” He then closed his eyes and quite obviously lost consciousness.
He came back before falling, but he was frowning. “You’re strong,” he said. “But not nearly as strong as Ithilles.”
“Sounds about right,” Flyte said.
“That being said,” the elf grinned. “You’d be welcome to join us Seekers of Light if you want to…” He paused, waiting for a name.
“Hey!” Elliot exclaimed, seeming upset at the prospect of having his friend poached.
“My name’s Flyte,” Flyte said. “And I’m fine. I’m already questing at the moment.”
The elf chuckled for a few seconds before saying. “My name is Parendyne. It has been nice meeting you and your companions.” He nodded to Ander.
“Wait,” Flyte said. “Would you be interested in joining us for a week? We are chasing down a dangerous shadebringer, and if I am an oracle like I suspect, then a being named Rush is likely to try amassing power there, and we could use your help.”
At the mention of Rush, Parendyne flinched, but soon looked determined instead. “We’ll join you. Me and my comrades have a … personal grudge against shadebringers.”
Parendyne extended his hand.
Flyte took it and they shook hands.
And with that, the army increased threefold.