THUNK!!
I slammed both of my fists hard against the barrier.
THUNK!!
Its surface remained unyielding, unshaking, completely still and deaf to my plight.
THUNK!!
My mind struggled against the panic that ate and nibbled away at the corners of my consciousness.
THUNK!!
My eyes darted back and forth across the entirety of the surface of the pool, all in a desperate attempt at finding any signs of weakness, any signs of vulnerability within this gods-forsaken spell.
Any signs of a potential way out.
THUNK!!
My muscles began to ache.
THUNK!!
My lungs began to burn.
THUNK!!
My hands scrambled across the smooth and tantalizing fragile underside of the barrier. Those fists continued their relentless assault against the offending obstacle.
THUNK!!
Until finally, it clicked.
As in a moment of unexpected clarity, I saw it — waves.
My struggles had managed to cause the formerly calm and still waters to slosh around just enough for waves to form on the surface.
That was when it dawned on me.
The barrier wasn’t flush against the surface of the pool.
It couldn’t be, if that much water was allowed to slosh beneath its unyielding blockade.
Which meant there was an air pocket, or at least, small instances of them between the sloshing of large enough waves.
And so I forced myself up, kicking my legs calmly, just enough to keep me afloat, before poking my nose through what was effectively barely an inch of headroom between the barrier and the water.
I inhaled a massive lungful of air, through a waterlogged nose, and in a space just barely enough for me to do so.
Which was a struggle, both physically, and mentally.
As it took every ounce of my mental fortitude, my training, my forced calmness not to gasp for air with my mouth.
That would’ve spelled assured death.
Those lungfuls of air, and a newly clarified mind, was enough for me to notice one of two things.
One, being the finer details within the manastreams, and several inlets and outflows of those streams I could use to my advantage.
The assailant in question was good, but still a novice at keeping his spell integrity clean.
Two, being the nature of the assailant themselves.
Or rather, himself.
As I could just about make out the outlines, and then the full form in vivid detail, of the perpetrator in question.
A steely gaze and a barely restrained snarl were my instinctive reactions to the cocksure bull. These pointed reactions were met with a despicable grin, but without the manafield inflexions I would’ve expected of him.
Another stone in the current of mana seemed to pull the bull from his gloating however, as I felt the distinct presence of someone else arriving on scene.
The arrival of this interloper seemed to stir a look of annoyance on the bull’s features, as he gave me one final snarl, and an uncharacteristic glare of worry, before leaving to deal with the newcomer to the scene; removing himself from my line of sight and towards the new arrival.
But I could care less about that right now, as my mind switched to focusing on that first point, prompting me to take another, final, lungful of air, before submerging and darting across to the other side of the pool.
This was where the spell’s weakest point was.
And this was where I’d make my final gambit.
I dove back down, against my instincts, to the deepest section of the pool.
Then, I closed my eyes, focusing on siphoning the rich and latent streams around me.
Before finally—
Whiiiiirrrrrrr… KA-CRACK!!!
—Unleashing it all in a concentrated beam of mana. A feat that would’ve been utterly blinding to the manasenses, that shattered the invisible barrier that kept me prisoner, and that resulted in the water itself to shoot out in a massive jet of highly-compressed streams that chipped and cracked the fresco lining the dome above me.
This massive glut of water quickly came crashing down almost immediately after, utterly crushing the seats closest to that side of the pool, flattening it under its weight and eviscerating it as a result of the haphazard magical after effects that came naturally as a result of this barely-regulated channel-then-release form of brute-force magic.
A magic that would’ve probably barely made a dent on the same barrier back at home.
But that here? In the Nexus?
Was practically supercharged.
I found myself standing at the bottom of the pool now.
Not because of any intent to remain underwater.
But simply because there was no water to be had at the bottom at this point.
As almost every last drop was now scattered across the gymnasium and perhaps even down the hallway given the sheer volume that’d been displaced.
Everything in my body told me to lay down and rest, as my chest heaved, hungrily taking in the fresh air around me.
My instincts screamed at me to stop, especially after an entire workout, a near-drowning, and what amounted to the casting of a powerful spell.
But I didn’t.
What fueled me now was a newfound rage that caused me to not only stand there in defiance, but that also compelled me to take the next appropriate step.
Counterattacking, and dealing with the assailant.
Without warning, and without any hint of intent, I crouched… then leaped out of the twenty foot swimming pool, crossing my right arm across my chest and calling upon my dagger in one fell swoop, before landing well past the lip of the pool with my blade fully drawn into that of a greatsword.
It was there, with the blood of battle coursing through my veins, and the breath of rage wailing against my lungs, that I was met with the bull; who was standing cowardly down the hall, poised to leave.
We locked eyes once more.
This time, on completely different playing fields.
No longer did he maintain that look of unbridled cockiness, or a sense of superiority.
Instead, there was fear within those eyes.
And a manafield that felt clouded and shrouded, as if he was hiding and masking those feelings beneath that layered shell.
A second passed.
Then, I ran.
Four different spells were cast in rapid succession.
The first, was an enhancement to my speed.
The second, was an enhancement to my grip.
The third, was an enhancement to my agility.
And the fourth, was the most visible.
An enhancement to my blade, as it burst into flames just before I struck the bull’s side…
Only for it to be met with a resounding — CLANG!! — as the bull seemed to summon some form of armor throughout his entire form.
But that didn’t deter me.
In fact, the defensive posture, and the fear in his eyes was the panacea to the humiliation incurred upon me.
In short, it only fanned the flames of my response.
As I began striking harder, faster, and bolder.
CLASH!
Again.
CLANK!
And again.
CLANG!
And again.
Until finally…
CRRSHHHH!
The curved manasteel of his breastplate gave way to a hard bash from my pommel, forcing the bull back, where he staggered and heaved.
We both stood there now, tired and breathless.
The fuel that was rage started to wane somewhat.
But it was clear in spite of that, the blow I landed on the beast was significant enough to leave him still on the defensive; something that surprised yet irked me to no end.
“Well?!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED, RUNT?!” I yelled even louder, my voice resonated deep with its enhancement via latent mana.
The bull didn’t reply, not even with some empty platitudes of peace or a denial of the whole situation.
In fact, all he did was to begin channeling even more mana, moving into a fighting stance befitting of his superior size, but not so much to his species’ natural advantage.
“Let’s finish this like men, you petulant beast!” I all but snarled out, keeping my sword trained, and my posture ready.
Ping made the first move.
But that move wasn’t all what I’d expected.
As a sharp disruption in the manafield caused both my manasight and my eyes to become blinded by a headache-inducing light, and a loud high-pitched nausea-inducing sound.
This took me completely off-guard, prompting me to swing wildly towards the offending party—
Only for that strike to simply bounce off of the wall behind him with a resonant CLANG!
It took a few more moments for my senses to fully recover, and by the time it did, I was left with nothing.
Nothing but a door that had been left hastily ajar, and what appeared to be bootprints that ran through and down the hall towards the main stairwell.
The dishonorable thing had escaped.
I couldn’t help but to feel conflicted following that, as my sword continued to remain raised, and my body poised for another attack.
It was the battle-blood that still ran through me, that refused to let me rest.
In fact, the sudden and abrupt end to the battle had more or less exacerbated this feeling of restlessness.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
As it was one thing to have an enemy die or surrender… it was another thing entirely to have them retreat; even if there was an assurance of victory.
Because there was a sense of assurance when it came to death or surrender. You knew for a fact that the enemy had been properly dealt with.
Dead or in chains, there was peace with knowing they were neutralized.
Retreat, and a successful one at that, left me uneasy and tense with worry.
It was a feeling that was… difficult to truly work through.
And it was a feeling that had in many instances left me feeling hollow.
Still, it was a feeling that my father had oftentimes helped to frame as one thing only — dishonor.
And the shame that would come from that, would hurt more than the most chronic of injuries, or the most disastrous of wounds.
For dishonor, and cowardly dishonor at that, was the heart-maimer.
It might start small, but eventually, any warrior worth their name will succumb to its effects.
Auris Ping might’ve gotten away with a few superficial injuries. But it’s the injury of his actions that will eat at him from this point onwards.
At least, that was what I was attempting to placate myself with as I moved to lower my sword, before transforming it back into its resting dagger-sized state.
It was around this time, as the battle-blood induced vitriol was cresting its peak, and as my body began to step down from that heightened battle-ready state, that I finally took note of a series of noises from within the gymnasium proper.
It was almost assuredly from the unknown interloper, who I’d myopically overlooked as a result of the rage-fueled retribution.
So without sheathing my blade, I began walking down the hallway towards the now-soaked room that was the gymnasium; towards what appeared to be another student and one that took me only a few seconds to recognize.
It was one of Qiv Ratom’s peers.
The small rodent-like creature struggled to stand on both of his legs, as if still dazed and recovering from the massive downpour of water, or perhaps some other injury if that bruised arm was anything to go by.
“Prince Havenbrock?” The small, hamster-like thing, barely half a head taller than Ilunor, spoke with a polite, cordial, and strangely affable tone of voice. One that was at complete odds with the usual terseness of most of the student body upon encountering me on a good day. Which was nothing to say of me in my battle-ready state. “A-are… are you quite alright?” He continued, the nervousness was palpable not just through his tone of voice, but by the obvious stressors in his manafield, and the smell of anxiety that was difficult to control to anyone not of lupinor heritage. “Do you require any healing assistance?” He quickly added with a sense of concern. Whether it was genuine or not, was anyone’s guess at this point.
“I’m alright.” I managed out, or rather, huffed out in a fit of exhaustion. “I appreciate the offer though, Prince…” I paused, realizing now that outside of Qiv and Airit, the two others in their peer group were practically enigmas to me. I blamed this not on myself or my reluctance to associate with the rest of the student body, but on the circumstances that prevented our group from truly integrating into the year group proper. “I am afraid I haven’t quite caught your name yet.” I admitted politely; desperately trying to claw myself back to civility.
“Ah! That’s quite alright! It’s certainly more than justifiable given…” The orange and white-furred being paused, gesturing around him. “...the recent circumstances. It would be entirely unfair of me to expect you to remember my name when we haven’t even been properly introduced, my dear fellow!”
It was around this point that the strangely dressed prince took a deep bow, almost befitting of Ilunor’s more theatrical tendencies.
“I am Prince Rostario Rostarion the XXI, son of His Benevolence King Rostario Rostarion the XX, Herald of the Nine Rivers, Beholder of the Writ of Transitions, and tenth in line for the throne of the Crita.” He spoke in an almost whimsical manner, straddling the line between the overzealousness of Ilunor’s propensity for noble norms, and a more idealistic interpretation of Expectant Decorum.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Prince Rostario Rostarion the XXI.” I spoke politely, matching the Crita’s bow, and holding it for just as long. “I just wished it had been under more… auspicious circumstances.”
“Oh nonsense! As we say in our realm, any day we meet a friend is a good day!” He beamed out, maintaining that smile throughout it all. “As a matter of fact, I doubt there’s ever such a thing as an unfavorable day to meet a friend. Which, once again, given recent happenings, may be as much a matter of courtesy as it is a matter of practicality.” Those latter words set off a few alarm bells in my head, which prompted me to address him now with less pleasantries and more in the way of practical matters.
“If I may ask, Prince Rostarion… what exactly are you doing here?”
The small thing blinked rapidly at that question. “Well, to be entirely honest Prince Havenbrock, I was here for perhaps the exact same reasons you were here.”
I looked the rodent-like prince up and down, noting his… less than typical attire, one that most certainly did not forego typical Nexian sensibilities as my own outfit had done, but that was definitely not your typical dinner attire.
“I mean no disrespect when I ask you this, Prince Rostarion, but would you genuinely have me believe that you were here to utilize the gymnasium’s facilities?”
“That is exactly what I am implying, Prince Havenbrock.” The little thing nodded with a smile. “However, I wasn’t necessarily intending to utilize it in the manner in which you perhaps assume.” He finished that sentence off by gesturing to a pile of now-ruined flotation artifices of some rubbery consistency. One resembling a round pastry, one resembling an ottoman, and another being a container that he quickly opened to reveal a deluge of snacks and beverages. “I was intending on using the pool for aquatic therapy, if you understand my meaning.”
There was a pause as I needed a moment to connect the dots.
“So, you were here, to simply lounge atop of the pool.” I concluded.
“A bit eccentric and skirting the line of expectant decorum, but it is one of my lesser known pastimes, yes.” The prince admitted with what I could only describe as an open look of abashment, one that when paired with his puffy fur, and harmless disposition, put me in mind of what Emma must have seen and felt with the foxes of the library.
“Of course.” I acknowledged with a nod. “And I am assuming that this pastime of yours was rudely interrupted when you arrived and encountered-”
“That vile bull?” The Crita’s features scrunched up, yet not once did I feel an ounce of threatening posture from the small creature, as even that attempt at a scowl looked more like a pup attempting to emulate a snarl. “I had arrived just as he seemed to be busy casting some sort of a barrier spell above the pool. At first, I assumed this to be a sort of jab at my character, and so I confronted him about the indirect assault on my leisurely intent. However, no sooner did I realize the severity of the situation, did the bull push me to the wayside, right before you managed to break free of your undue entombment, or thereabouts.” The little thing paused, before shaking his ‘head’ from side to side. A remarkable feat, for it was difficult to tell where his head started and where his body ended given the puffy fur that ensconced him in an almost spherical shape. “A truly sordid affair if I do say so myself, Prince Havenbrock.” He continued, meeting my gaze with that of a friendly, empathetic stranger. “In any case, I wouldn’t want to keep you here for much longer than necessary. This turn of events has been tiring enough for the both of us.”
“Indeed, this truly was unexpected, to say the least.” I responded plainly, lacking the energy to really engage with any of this more than I could at this point.
Not a moment later did two disruptions in the manastream occur simultaneously, as it seemed as if we both had the same idea of quickly switching from our leisurely attire back into our regular clothes.
“I do hope you weren’t hurt by the bull though.” I quickly added, my more courteous and civilized sensibilities returning to me now that the blood of battle had subsided from my veins.
“Oh, the vile thing merely pushed me. A truly despicable act of brutish savagery befitting of the common beast, but nothing that could hold a candle to the transgressions imposed upon you today, Prince Havenbrock.” The Crita replied politely, as we began making our way out and through the gymnasium’s long corridor, and back towards the castle’s winding pathways. “In any case, it is… comforting in a sense, Prince Thalmin — to have someone civilized to talk to following those brutish acts.”
“You flatter me, Prince Rostarion.” I replied reflexively.
“To be quite frank, I did have my reservations on the content of your character prior to this meeting. However, upon finally being acquainted, I can see now that those reservations were entirely baseless. It is clear that in this game of appearances, that the strong and self righteous can oftentimes overrule those who are genuine of heart. Today’s events have, in a sense, served as an unwelcome but necessary wakeup call, one that validates my fears over Lord Ping, and invalidates my concerns over your character, Prince Havenbrock.”
“And what might those concerns over Lord Ping be?” I replied curtly, deciding to go along with his narrative, if only to hear him out.
“That Auris Ping may not be averse to brutish acts of subterfuge to undermine the peer groups he deems to be a threat to his ambitions. It’s quite obvious to me the reasons why he went after you of all people.” The little thing paused, as if giving me a window to reply.
Which I did.
“Go on?”
“Your newrealmer’s little stunt on the last emergency assembly, Prince Havenbrock. The man was humiliated in front of the entire year group as a result. The newrealmer has essentially made an enemy out of him from there on out. There’s now, effectively, a target painted on each and every one of your peer group’s backs.” Rostario cautioned, prompting me to narrow my gaze on the otherwise harmless-looking hamster.
“I thank you for sharing your observations with me, Prince Rostarion… but please, what point do you wish to make here?”
“The matter I wish to address, Prince Thalmin, is that the man has elevated himself from a nuisance to a palpable danger. And if he’s willing to go to these lengths to correct for past slights, there’s no telling what may happen as we push forwards through the year, especially following the house choosing ceremony coming up this weekend.” The little thing reasoned, before shifting his gaze to a more thoughtful and empathetic one. “Seeing as my group has consistently occupied the top three positions in terms of points so far, it stands to reason that the bull’s ire will soon be drawn to us. And whilst Lord Qiv Ratom is indeed a wise and capable leader, he is only one man, with three other peers to work with.”
“You’re proposing an alliance, then?” I cut through the fat of the hamster’s reply, prompting the man to, thankfully, nod in acknowledgement with no further pleasantries involved.
“I wouldn’t be so brazen as to call it an alliance outright, Prince Havenbrock. I moreso wish to make it clear that my own group harbors no ill sentiments towards your own, and will continue to do so, if only to ensure that we may at least live in peace whilst at war against this brutish menace. Alliances, and future agreements, can come later. Right now, I only wish to extend a hand of goodwill, nothing less.”
It was around that point that we both paused at the foot of a set of stairs, marking the junction in which we needed to part ways.
“I will… consider it, Prince Rostarion. If Auris Ping continues to play the role of a nuisance, and a dangerous one at that, it would be in the best interests of both of our two groups to maintain a working peace. Regardless, I sincerely hope the man does not prove to be a menace to you, as he was to me.”
“I appreciate the kind sentiments, Prince Havenbrock.” He nodded, right before we parted ways.
----------------------------------------
Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 23:20 Hours.
Thalmin
I arrived at an eerily dead dormitory once more, the lights within the public spaces acknowledging my presence with a tastefully choreographed glow.
I hesitated for a moment as I walked past Emma and Thacea’s room, considering whether or not the matter of Ping should be best reserved for the morning, or if it was prudent to address it now.
This hesitation lasted a few moments, before I started noticing a distinct string of conversations from within, answering my concerns of whether the pair were still awake.
> “Sorry for saying this Thacea, and I’m not implying that you are but… could you be careful with your talons. I’m afraid it’ll-”
>
> “I assure you, Emma. Your instructions were extensive and your demonstrations were in-depth enough for me to handle this aspect of the operation.”
I took that opportunity to knock on the door, leading to a series of hurried footsteps towards it. And as the door opened, I noted a distinct lack of Emma, prompting me to put two and two together. “I apologize if I’m interrupting anything.” I announced. “I’m assuming you two are in the middle of your em-redd experiments?”
“That is correct, Thalmin.” Thacea nodded.
“Ah, well, maybe we can talk about this another time-”
“No, no. If there’s something urgent, it is best to state it outright.”
I let out another sigh, before I leveled my eyes once more, preparing for the long winded explanation ahead.
…
Twenty-five Minutes Later
…
The reactions from Thacea, and even Ilunor, were practically about what I expected. With a measured and appropriately sympathetic look of concern from the former, and a somewhat amused yet annoyed look of acknowledgement from the latter.
It was Emma however, who’d exited the tent moments after I arrived, that truly gave me pause for thought.
It was, naturally, difficult if not impossible to read the earthrealmer’s reactions. Her armor served as a barrier not only for the features most readily readable to the average observer, but also to the most seasoned of conversationalists, as everything from her facial features through to her nonexistent manafield were blocked.
The only thing that anyone could truly work off of, was her speaking mannerisms, and what feeble attempts at exaggerated body language she could muster through sheer will and determination; and even those were encumbered.
Yet despite that, and all the encumbrances involved, I could feel the palpable shock and outright rage that seethed within her. As I could only imagine the features of a lupinor with little to no reservations on maintaining the guise of civility, snarling beneath that helmet of hers.
“Thalmin.” Emma continued, restructuring her response, in a tone of voice that struck a certain chord within me. “Let me ask you this again. Did he hurt you?”
“I am unharmed, Emma.” I responded immediately.
“Good.” The armored earthrealmer responded compassionately, before effortlessly returning to that seething and outraged persona. “Because if that walking prime rib dinner had done anything…” She paused, as if taking the time to ponder all the possible means of violence at her disposal…
But instead of saying anything outright, she instead remained silent.
That silence, and a lack of any definitive threat, spoke louder than any descriptive rant ever could.
Moreover, the sheer emotion behind her voice prior to that ominous silence was enough to compensate for all of her armor’s encumberances, and then some. A fact that resonated deeply with the lupinor within me.
As unlike the Nexian propensity for layering intent beneath decorum, Emma seemed poised to simply make herself known when she needed to.
“I… appreciate those sentiments, Emma.” I acknowledged with a deep nod. “But I believe the fact I managed to defeat him in combat, or at least, prompted him to flee like a complete coward; is proof enough I can handle myself. Though… I am certainly not averse to a brother or sister in arms to join in the fray.”
This seemed to lighten Emma’s spirits somewhat, as she placed a hand on my shoulder, shaking it about.
“This begs the question…” Thacea finally interjected, after a few moments of deep and serious thought. “What could be Ping’s true gambit here?”
“To posture and potentially send a message? Like a thug or a bully I guess?” Emma offered.
“The fact remains we don’t necessarily know how far he would’ve taken this, a fact which would very much define, or redefine the intent behind this attack.” Thacea countered, prompting me to reply in no uncertain terms.
“Believe me, Thacea. If you were there, you’d know he was serious in his intent.”
“I do not discount the traumatizing events, Thalmin. I… simply wish to ascertain just what his angle is. Because from my vantage point, this attack seems brazenly-”
“-idiotic.” Ilunor chimed in.
Prompting the avinor princess to simply dip her head in acknowledgement. “-foolish, but that is likewise an appropriate descriptor.”
“Maybe he is just that dumb?” Emma offered up once more. “He’s hot-headed, and clearly angry from the whole library card incident. So maybe just like any other hot-headed bully, he’s going after the ones he thinks he can handle, alone, and without backup.”
“I could see that.” I acknowledged.
“The simplest answers are sometimes the ones that turn out to be true.” Thacea acknowledged. “However, given the complexities of the Nexus, we shouldn’t discount more elaborate possibilities.”
“Mal’tory.” Ilunor suddenly blurted out darkly. “It’s his class tomorrow, isn’t it? And the Academy isn’t suspending his classes either. Now, this may seem improbable, if not outright impossible… but I believe the lack of any changes to the academic roster means that whatever damage you inflicted on him, Emma… could not have been enough to kill him outright; at least not permanently. Which means that maybe, just maybe, he recovered sometime today, and has recruited Auris to his own aims.”
That theory hit me hard, prompting me to turn towards Emma with a worried expression. The silence from the otherwise chatty earthrealmer was enough to clue me in to her state of mind. And the anxiety welling within her, especially when it came to what was up ahead tomorrow.
“That’s a possibility.” Thacea acknowledged. “Perhaps, in light of you becoming an intrinsic aspect of the library’s games, Ilunor — you’ve effectively become immune to the man’s machinations. Thus, Mal’tory is now looking to target either me or Thalmin, in order to replace us with a more pliant student.”
“We won’t know anything, nor can we come to any conclusions.” Emma finally interjected. “But there’s only one way to be sure, and only one way we can rule that possibility out.” The earthrealmer paused for a moment, making an attempt to crane her head to meet each of our gazes. “We need to resume the library’s mission as soon as we can, and we’ll start by infiltrating his office.”
“After we assess the situation in tomorrow’s classes.” Thacea urged. “We will see, definitively then, the state of the man, and from there — we continue our quest against the black robed professor.”