"This is getting boring," Martin walked onwards, his pace unhurried as his rapier traced idle lines in the moss underfoot. Reddish-black mana flickered faintly along his coat's hem, burning away dew-damp foliage with every passing brush.
'Let's rampage a bit,' Martin thought as the Dread Shroud shifted to his right, while flames began to flicker into existence on his left side.
"Man, this always looks awesome," Martin remarked as the Dread Shroud and Flame Mantle covered him in bipolar colors. Shadows coiled around his right like living smog, while flickering crimson-gold fire wreathed his left side in dancing, crackling brilliance. "Mix and assimilate."
He raised his hand, fingers twitching in delicate micro-gestures, feeding mana into the two mantles. The surroundings darkened instantly, as if the sun itself had dimmed.
The flames twisted and warped, blackening at their core. Where fire should have glowed golden-orange, it instead smoldered dark red, flickering with shadows woven into their depths. Smoke billowed upwards, but it was no normal smoke – it writhed in clawed tendrils, forming fleeting faces that screamed silently in torment before dissolving.
The firelight didn't illuminate. Instead, it moved with oppressive, flickering shadows that sapped courage and hope, a roiling tide that devoured instead of warming.
Trees burned noiselessly, collapsing into piles of molten, black-streaked embers. The earth hissed and split as it scorched under the hybrid mantle's corrosive touch. Even the air warped with the combined dread and heat, refracting the jungle's colors into dull lifeless grey.
Observation Hall
"Can someone tell me, what is happening?" Roen asked, his voice tight with disbelief as he watched the hellscape unfold on Martin's tactical feed.
"He's combining mantles," Belisarius replied, eyes narrowed, his jaw tense. "Fear magic with Flame Mantle… It shouldn't be possible to fuse two incompatible elemental incantations with opposing conceptual anchors."
"You are looking really angry, for some reason," Roen noted.
"I am a bit," Belisarius admitted, his golden eyes flicking with old memories, "Since I have faced that spell before."
"Against Martin?" Roen asked quietly.
"No," Belisarius said, his voice distant. "Against the Necrotic Pyromancer of the Southern Reaches. An A-rank calamity class entity that killed two divisions before being sealed. But… even that was just a crude version compared to what Martin is doing."
Back in the Forest
Martin inhaled softly, eyes half-lidded, feeling the mana resonate through every nerve like an orchestra of agony and euphoria. Flames marched outward in omnidirectional waves, flickering shadows woven into each gout of fire.
The jungle burned in near silence at first, then the screaming began.
Students who had been hiding among the rocks and collapsed ruins emerged, stumbling forward with eyes wide in terror, clutching their heads as the Dread Shroud burrowed into their minds. Some ran aimlessly into the smoldering foliage, falling as their feet burned to bone. Others dropped where they stood, teleport glyphs flaring like tiny suns as they were whisked away bleeding and unconscious.
A lone beast, a giant iron-plated pangolin, barreled through the burning ferns, scales gleaming with protective runes. Its mouth foamed as it roared in primal fury, charging directly at Martin.
He barely glanced up.
The hybrid mantle surged outward in a pulse. Flames wrapped the creature like ribbons of molten shadow. Its plated hide darkened, cracked, and finally shattered, exposing steaming muscle that charred in seconds. It collapsed forward with a final choked scream before disintegrating into ash.
Observation Hall
"How many students are still active within his immediate radius?" Bellarine asked, her dark eyes reflecting the swirling inferno on the monitors.
"There isn't going to be an immediate radius," Belisarius said curtly, "That thing will burn as long as there is material to consume. Its conceptual architecture rewrites flame's attribute from 'heat emission' to 'hope consumption'. It's no longer just a physical effect."
"Students are getting teleported by the dozens, turning up bloody and screaming," Roen said, gesturing around the hall. All across the vast observation amphitheater, nobles were rising to their feet, eyes wide with disgust or horror. Sponsors whispered among themselves, their lips thin and tense, while ranking officials from the Imperial Army typed rapid notes onto their rune tablets.
"And people are looking angry," Roen added quietly.
Bellarine smirked faintly, brushing a lock of white-gold hair behind her ear. "They wanted a demonstration of what Varncrest can produce. Well… they're getting it."
Belisarius's fingers tightened on his tablet. "If this continues, the Emperor will have to intervene. Martin is crossing into full massacre tactics. Even with teleport glyphs, psychological trauma at this scale can cripple a mage's core for life."
"Do you think he cares?" Bellarine asked.
"No," Belisarius said, shaking his head. "And that's what makes him terrifying."
Back in the Forest
Martin flicked his rapier lightly, letting molten droplets slide off the blade to sizzle against the scorched stones.
'Still too easy,' he thought, watching as another squad of students collapsed in unison, screaming until safety glyphs removed them from his sight. 'I wonder if the scions are watching. I hope they are trembling.'
He stepped lightly over a fallen tree, flames parting for him with silent reverence, shadows curling around his ankles like obedient hounds.
"This world is too soft," Martin murmured aloud, his voice carrying across the blackened clearing like a whisper from a grave. "They build glass palaces, fill them with gold, and call it security. But everything burns, eventually."
He paused, tilting his head as his enhanced senses caught flickers of movement deeper within the forest.
"Finally," he said softly, a smile curling his lips. "Someone worth killing."
He raised his hand and with a simple flick, the firestorm compressed into a tight spiral around his body, shadows and flames weaving into an ominous, humming cocoon of annihilation. The air warped, reality rippled, and the forest's dying light dimmed further.
'Let them come,' he thought, his eyes gleaming with murderous joy, 'Let them show me something worthy of my interest.'
Observation Hall
Belisarius closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "This… will not end peacefully."
"No," Bellarine agreed, her gaze fixed on the flickering monitors, "It never does, when humans walk among insects."