The morning sun cast long shadows across the training field behind Joshey's hut, illuminating the fine mist of their breath in the cool air. Sylvaine moved with the fluid grace of a falling leaf, her hands a blur as she deflected, redirected, and outright dismissed the lances of fire and concussive bursts of heated air Joshey hurled at her.
She wasn't using any visible magic. She didn't need to. Her defense was a masterpiece of economy, her own immense Mana Field acting as an imperceptible shield, reading the intent of his attacks moments before the mana even left his body and guiding it harmlessly aside.
What struck her, however, was not her own skill, but his. The progress was unnatural. The wild, volatile surges that had characterized his first attempts were gone. Now, his firebolts were tight, focused projectiles. His control over the convection currents to shape the flames was becoming instinctual. It was as if the very flow of mana through his body had been polished, its rough edges sanded away to reveal a smooth, efficient conduit.
She deflected a spiraling helix of fire with a flick of her wrist, the flame dissipating against her unseen field like water on hot stone. "Your control is… different, Elias," she remarked, her silver eyes narrowed in that familiar, analytical way. "The tremors are gone. It's as if your power finally recognizes you."
Joshey, panting slightly, lowered his hands. The truth was, he wasn't doing much of the fine-tuning himself. The credit belonged to the silent, constant work being done in the background of their shared consciousness.
«She's right,» Elias's voice chimed in, a note of quiet pride in his tone. «I have been… refining our field. Constantly. It is like a muscle I never knew I had. While you focus on the grand gestures—the firebolts and the tornados—I am performing micro-adjustments. Strengthening the density, smoothing the flow at the point of emission, ensuring there is no wasteful leakage. It is the difference between a roaring, chaotic bonfire and the focused, cutting beam of a welder's torch.»
Joshey gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging the internal praise. He looked at Sylvaine, a new depth of understanding in his eyes.
"I'm starting to learn something," he said, his voice steady. "About mana. About why the Mana Field is so… goddamn important."
Sylvaine crossed her arms, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Oh? Enlighten me."
Joshey closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the concepts Elias was now, for the first time, truly articulating with a scholar's clarity. When he spoke, it was with a resonance that blended his own modern understanding with Elias's nascent, but profound, realizations.
"It's not just an aura," Joshey began, opening his eyes. "It's not a shield or a simple tool. It's the interface."
He gestured to the space around his own body. "A Mana Field is the spatial domain that forms when one's internal mana harmonizes with the ambient particles of the world. It's an invisible, yet tangible, zone where your will begins to govern the behavior of natural energy. It's the bridge between the soul and reality itself."
Sylvaine's smile faded, replaced by a look of intense focus. She was no longer humoring a talented novice; she was listening to a peer articulate a fundamental truth.
"It's the first stage of external manifestation," Joshey continued, echoing Elias's thoughts. "Not a vast territory you claim, not yet. For us, it's a thin film of influence, extending just a few meters. Think of it like the heat you feel radiating from a flame. You can't see it, but you know it's there. You can feel its influence. Our Mana Field is that heat. It is the medium, the canvas, upon which all external mana engineering is painted."
«Yes,» Elias whispered, his own excitement growing as the pieces clicked into place. «Without it, we are a locked room. Powerful, perhaps, but isolated. With it… we are connected. We can conduct. We can influence. We can… persuade the energy to obey.»
"It's the very core of it all," Joshey said, his voice firm with conviction. "The operating system. The foundation. Pyro-mana isn't about creating fire from nothing. It's about using your field to influence the oxygen, to excite the molecules, to guide the energy transfer. Aero-mana would be about feeling the currents of air within your field and giving them direction. It's all… engineering. Precise, mathematical engineering of energy, and the Mana Field is kind of like the workshop."
He looked at his hands, then back at Sylvaine. "You told me to stop fighting the flow, to be the riverbank. I'm starting to understand. The Mana Field is the riverbank. It's what contains the flow, shapes it, and directs its power."
Sylvaine was silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the morning breeze. She looked at him, truly looked at him, seeing past the face of Elias to the formidable, analytical mind that now inhabited it. "You speak of it as a master theorist, not a practitioner," she said softly. "Most mages spend a lifetime feeling their way to that truth. You just deduced it. And in doing so, you've given words to what I have always known but could never quite articulate." She uncrossed her arms, a new respect in her gaze. "You are correct. The Field is everything. And the fact that yours is being refined so quickly, so precisely…" She shook her head, a flicker of that old, wary wonder in her eyes. "It seems your 'riverbank' is being reinforced."
Joshey simply smiled. He was still a basic learner in many ways, his practical skills a step behind his theoretical grasp. But with Elias constantly perfecting their foundation, the act of building was becoming effortless. The flames obeyed not because he shouted commands, but because he and Elias were, together, learning. Of course, let's rewrite that scene with a more grounded, physics-based approach to the vacuum. A genuine, almost boyish grin spread across Joshey's face. This—the logic, the principles, the elegant mathematics of energy—was his native language. Grasping the theory behind mana was like slipping on a perfectly fitted glove. The application was still a bit clumsy, but the understanding was instantaneous and profound.
He had spent the previous day turning the concept of Aero Mana over in his mind. It wasn't about "wind." It was about pressure differentials. The key was the Mana Field. «Where mana density increases, air pressure decreases,» he reasoned. By flooding a specific area with dense mana, he could effectively push the air molecules out, creating a pocket of near-nothingness.
Now, facing Sylvaine, he decided to test it.
"Alright, Sylvaine," he said, his grin turning competitive. "I know I can't dream of harming you. But I want you to take my progress seriously." He didn't make a grand gesture. He simply focused his will on a point in the air a few feet in front of her face. He didn't pull or suck; he pushed. He willed his mana to flood that specific, contained volume, increasing its density to an intense degree. The air molecules—the oxygen, the nitrogen—were repelled, forced outward from the epicenter of his intent.
The effect was silent and invisible. There was no shimmer, no dramatic light-bending. The only evidence was a sudden, profound lack. A sphere of air, about the size of a baseball, simply ceased to exist. It was a perfect vacuum, a pocket of space as empty as the void between stars. Sound couldn't travel through it; it was a dead zone in the atmosphere. Dust motes that drifted into its boundary simply vanished from sight, having nothing to reflect light from.
Joshey held it, his brow furrowed. It was mentally taxing, a brutal exercise in precise control. He had created a weapon, and a phenomenon. His intention wasn't to strike her, but to force a reaction—a dodge, a blink, a raised hand to block the unnatural nothingness he'd placed before her. Sylvaine watched, her expression unreadable. She didn't flinch. She didn't dodge. She didn't even bother to block.
She simply… contract her Mana Field.
The terrifyingly perfect vacuum Joshey had struggled to create didn't pop or collapse. It was filled. Not with air, but with her. Her own immense, placid mana field gently permeated the space, its overwhelming presence effortlessly normalizing the violent pressure gradient he had engineered. It was like watching the ocean gently, instantly, fill a footprint in the sand. The vacuum ceased to exist, smoothed away into the ambient atmosphere without a whisper of resistance.
The entire process was so seamless it was anti-climactic. There was no clash of powers, only the quiet, absolute authority of her control dismissing his experiment.
The gap in their power was more than just a chasm; it was the difference between a student who has just learned to create a single, perfect drop of distilled water and the master who commands the entire ocean.
Joshey's concentration broke. The mental strain vanished, leaving him feeling intellectually spent. He stared at the now-normal air in front of her face, then at Sylvaine, who hadn't so much as acknowledged the physics-defying anomaly he'd just created and destroyed.
He let out a low, breathless chuckle. It wasn't bitter but filled with a humbled kind of respect. "Yeah," he said, his voice laced with wry, self-deprecating humor. "No point now, is there? Lol." In that single, effortless non-action, Sylvaine did more than counter his technique. She had demonstrated a level of mastery so profound it rendered his most clever theoretical application utterly trivial. The journey ahead, he realized, was not just about learning magic, but about understanding a depth of control he couldn't yet even conceive of. The silent dismissal of his vacuum technique hung in the air for a moment before Sylvaine let out a soft sigh, the tension dissipating. "Alright, Elias. That's enough for today. You should rest. Pushing a new concept that far is draining, even for you."
Joshey let his hands fall to his sides, a wry smirk on his face. "You don't have to tell me. I already surrendered. My channels feel... thin." He could feel a faint, hollow ache in his core, a sensation Elias was all too familiar with, though for different reasons.
Sylvaine studied him, her head tilted. "You know," she began, changing the subject with a thoughtful tone. "You focus so much on the mana. But the vessel is just as important. Why don't you train physically? A strong body can channel more power, recover faster. With your... intuitive grasp of energy, if you paired it with a physically powerful vessel?" She let the implication hang in the air, a faint, almost wary look in her eyes. "You might become very powerful. Too powerful, perhaps."
The comment sent a lightning-fast cascade of thought through Joshey's mind. He remembered his old body with a pang of possessive pride. It wasn't just trained; it was perfected. Every muscle group fine-tuned, reflexes honed to a razor's edge, capable of moving faster and hitting harder than any normal human should. It had acted on its own in tight situations, a seamless extension of his will.
«Oh, here we go, » Elias's voice grumbled, a mix of annoyance and insecurity. «The great Joshey, here to show off his flawless past form. Go on, then. Tell me how weak this body is compared to your glorious old one. »
Maybe, Joshey shot back, the entire internal exchange taking less than a millisecond. But even if we factor in our current mana, my old self's speed and precision might still have given this version of us a run for its money. He just built different.
The smirk didn't leave Joshey's face as he turned his attention back to Sylvaine. "Well," he said, his tone deliberately casual. "I am training that too. Just in a more... refined way. I'm perfecting how to breathe. Controlling my sleep patterns for optimal recovery. It's all part of the system."
Sylvaine stared at him for a beat, her composed features dissolving into pure, unadulterated amusement. She threw her head back and laughed, a loud, ringing "HAHAHAHAHA!" that echoed across the training field. It wasn't a cruel laugh, but one of genuine, mocking delight.
"You're sleeping!" she managed between gasps, wiping a tear from her eye. "You dare call sleeping training? Oh, by the Moonlight Mother, you're something else, Elias!" She shook her head, her laughter subsiding into a wide, disbelieving grin. "Fine, fine. You 'train' your sleep patterns. I'll be over here, you know, actually lifting heavy things and moving quickly. Let's see which method gets you further."
She turned to walk back towards the hut, her shoulders still shaking with occasional chuckles, leaving Joshey standing in the field, his smirk now a touch more defensive. The encounter with Sylvaine left Joshey standing alone in the field, but his mind was a roaring coliseum of existential dread and frantic calculation. The casual revelation of planet-busting entities had detonated the last stable foundations of his understanding.
What in the ever-loving fuck is this universe?
The question wasn't rhetorical. It was a desperate, analytical scream into the void. His physics-trained mind, the very tool that had allowed him to grasp mana engineering with such ease, was now turning against him, tearing apart the fabric of his new reality.
He wrestled with the fundamental paradox. Had he simply switched his location in space? A one-in-a-trillion quantum fluke that transported him to a distant exoplanet in a galaxy far, far away? But that didn't hold up. The laws of physics here weren't just different; they were expanded. Mana wasn't a new element on the periodic table; it was a fundamental force he'd never accounted for, like suddenly discovering a fifth fundamental interaction that governed reality. This wasn't a different location; it was a different set of rules.
The alternative was even more mind-rending: had he switched his location in time? Was this some hyper-advanced, post-human future of Earth where evolution or technology had unlocked these capabilities? But the biology was all wrong, the stellar constellations unfamiliar, the very history Elias remembered was one of elves and ancient empires, not of silicon and steel.
The core of the problem was the "how." How does one even change universes? Not just travel, but transition from a cosmos governed by one strict, unforgiving set of physical laws to one where consciousness could directly influence energy, where will could warp pressure gradients and create fire from intent? It implied a multiverse of such profoundly different base states that the very concept of "physics" became relative. It meant his old textbooks weren't universal truths; they were just the local bylaws of a very quiet, very limited corner of existence.
He had tried, over the past few weeks, to simply accept his fate. To focus on the business, the magic, the day-to-day survival. But Sylvaine's words had ripped that bandage off. This wasn't a strange country; this was a strange creation.
And that led him to the most terrifying evidence of all: the soul.
He had been a staunch materialist. Consciousness was an emergent property of a complex brain, a beautiful, tragic illusion of self that flickered out when the hardware failed. But then... how was he here? How did the unique, intricate pattern of memories, desires, and flaws that was "Joshey" persist after the violent deletion of his brain? How was he now inhabiting the neural pathways of Elias, another complex system that should have had its own emergent consciousness? The memories he'd received weren't just data; they were imbued with the emotional weight, the shame, the quiet hopes—the qualia—of another person. And the Dual Core Fusion... that wasn't just a merging of data. It was the harmonious intertwining of two distinct streams of consciousness, two selves, into a new, greater whole. That wasn't biology. That was metaphysics. That was a soul.
His thoughts, spiraling down this dark and luminous path, arrived at the inevitable, terrifying question.
"Does that mean there is a God, too?"
The words were a whisper on the morning air, a heresy and a plea all at once. The existence of a soul suggested a creator, a source, an architect for this impossible multiverse.
But almost immediately, his cynicism, tempered by the new, horrifying scale of reality, fought back.
Well, that can't be possible in a universe filled with planet busters.
The logic was chillingly simple. What kind of god would create beings that could unmake its creation? What omnipotent architect would design a sandcastle and then hand out tactical nukes to the children playing inside? It made no sense. Unless... unless God was absent. Or indifferent. Or perhaps "God" was just a label they gave to the first, most powerful of these planet-busting entities. A natural, if terrifying, part of the cosmic food chain.
He accessed Elias's scholarly memories, the basic astronomical knowledge of Caligurn. The planet was a super-Earth, a behemoth with roughly fifty times the mass and ten times the diameter of his old home. The gravity was stronger, the air denser, the very scale of everything was grander. The kinetic energy required to overcome this world's gravitational binding energy was staggering. It was orders of magnitude beyond what would be needed to shatter Earth.
A being that could destroy this place... his mind, trained to comprehend scale, struggled. They could unironically blow up Jupiter... well, maybe not since Jupiter is still larger, but... the fact that it's even a consideration...
The sheer, unadulterated power was incomprehensible. It wasn't magic as he'd started to understand it—a precise engineering of energy. This was raw, cosmic force. The ability to not just paint on the canvas of reality, but to tear the canvas itself to shreds.
And as this terrifying new scale of the world settled into his bones, a cold, hard, strategic realization dawned. Ambition was one thing. Survival was another.
He looked at his hands, the vessels of his nascent power. He thought of Sylvaine, the "Mana Codex," who considered herself a small fish. He was, by comparison, a plankton. A single, ambitious plankton in an ocean teeming with leviathans.
A grim, determined smile touched his lips. The corporate recruiter in him, the strategist, knew one fundamental truth about navigating hostile environments. You don't face them alone.
I need allies, he thought, the concept crystallizing with perfect clarity. Not employees. Not contacts. Combat allies. Partners. He needed to find others—the powerful, the desperate, the uniquely skilled—and bind them to his cause. He needed to build more than a merchant empire. He needed to build a faction. A guild of his own, not for profit, but for power. For survival in a universe that was clearly, terrifyingly, not friendly.
The path was no longer just about personal mastery or atonement. It was a galactic-scale game of chess, and he had just learned the board was infinitely larger, and the other players could flip the table at will. He needed to find his knights, his bishops, and his queens. And he needed to do it fast. Joshey watched Sylvaine's retreating back, the echo of her laughter about his "sleep training" still hanging in the air. But his mind was already racing past the jest, locking onto a far more profound concept. If there was one thing he needed to train, one area with truly infinite potential, it was the refinement of his Mana Field. It was the interface, the canvas, the very foundation of everything. He could feel Elias within, a constant, diligent presence, polishing that foundation grain by grain.
"Sylvaine, wait," he called out, his voice cutting through the morning quiet.
She paused, her hand on the rough-hewn wood of the hut's front door, and glanced back over her shoulder.
"How powerful are you, really?" Joshey asked, his tone devoid of its usual wit, replaced by pure, unvarnished curiosity. "Are you the strongest in the world?"
This time, her laugh was different. It was a gentle, almost melancholic chuckle that didn't quite reach her eyes. She turned fully to face him, leaning against the doorframe.
"Nah," she said, the word simple and final. "I'm strong. Don't get me wrong. But the number of people in this world who could fold me in half without breaking a sweat... you wouldn't believe it if I told you." She was trying to be humble, but the statement itself was a testament to her stature. To be as powerful as she was, and to still speak of others with such stark respect, was terrifying.
She looked up at the sky, her silver eyes seeing something far beyond the clouds. "Five hundred and thirty years ago," she began, her voice soft with the weight of memory. "A beam of light was forged in the heavens. It wasn't a spell. It was... a statement. Everyone in the world felt it. Saw it. It was a power so immense, so utterly beyond comprehension, that it could have unstitched the continents and boiled the oceans if its wielder had so desired."
A shadow passed over her face. "In that moment, I felt like a fish who had spent its whole life in a deep lake, only to be suddenly flung onto the shore to witness a mountain range for the first time. I understood scale. The more I progress, the more I learn, the more I truly understand how vast the ocean of power is... and how small my own pond is in comparison."
She turned her gaze back to him, and for a fleeting instant, before she masked it with a faint, encouraging smile, Joshey saw it—a deep, ancient weariness, a depressive understanding of her own limits in an infinite universe.
"Elias," she said, her voice firming up, "you have a hundred times more potential than most mages I've ever met. Your grasp of the fundamentals is... unnatural. Don't waste it. Grow. Grow to be a strong, fine young man."
The words were kind, but they landed on Joshey with the force of a revelation. This world wasn't just about magic and markets. It contained entities—people—on a scale he had only ever associated with deities in his old world. A planet-buster. And Sylvaine implied there were many who operated on that level. The key difference was, here, it wasn't divine; it was just power. A terrifying, mundane fact of existence that the powerful lived with and the weak prayed to avoid.
As Sylvaine disappeared into the hut, leaving him alone in the field, Joshey clenched his fist. The familiar drive to master his environment, to climb to the top of the hierarchy, ignited within him with a new, ferocious intensity. It wasn't just about survival or business anymore. It wasn't even just about atonement.
He looked at his pale hand, the mana field around it humming with nascent potential.
I will, he vowed silently, the promise etching itself into his soul. I will become stronger than you, Sylvaine. Stronger than the ones who made you feel small. I will see that mountain range for myself, and then I will climb it.
The comfortable pond of his previous ambitions had just evaporated, revealing the terrifying, exhilarating ocean ahead. The encounter with Sylvaine left Joshey standing alone in the field, but his mind was a roaring coliseum of existential dread and frantic calculation. The casual revelation of planet-busting entities had detonated the last stable foundations of his understanding.
What in the ever-loving fuck is this universe?
The question wasn't rhetorical. It was a desperate, analytical scream into the void. His physics-trained mind, the very tool that had allowed him to grasp mana engineering with such ease, was now turning against him, tearing apart the fabric of his new reality.
He wrestled with the fundamental paradox. Had he simply switched his location in space? A one-in-a-trillion quantum fluke that transported him to a distant exoplanet in a galaxy far, far away? But that didn't hold up. The laws of physics here weren't just different; they were expanded. Mana wasn't a new element on the periodic table; it was a fundamental force he'd never accounted for, like suddenly discovering a fifth fundamental interaction that governed reality. This wasn't a different location; it was a different set of rules.
The alternative was even more mind-rending: had he switched his location in time? Was this some hyper-advanced, post-human future of Earth where evolution or technology had unlocked these capabilities? But the biology was all wrong, the stellar constellations unfamiliar, the very history Elias remembered was one of elves and ancient empires, not of silicon and steel.
The core of the problem was the "how." How does one even change universes? Not just travel, but transition from a cosmos governed by one strict, unforgiving set of physical laws to one where consciousness could directly influence energy, where will could warp pressure gradients and create fire from intent? It implied a multiverse of such profoundly different base states that the very concept of "physics" became relative. It meant his old textbooks weren't universal truths; they were just the local bylaws of a very quiet, very limited corner of existence.
He had tried, over the past few weeks, to simply accept his fate. To focus on the business, the magic, the day-to-day survival. But Sylvaine's words had ripped that bandage off. This wasn't a strange country; this was a strange creation.
And that led him to the most terrifying evidence of all: the soul.
He had been a staunch materialist. Consciousness was an emergent property of a complex brain, a beautiful, tragic illusion of self that flickered out when the hardware failed. But then... how was he here? How did the unique, intricate pattern of memories, desires, and flaws that was "Joshey" persist after the violent deletion of his brain? How was he now inhabiting the neural pathways of Elias, another complex system that should have had its own emergent consciousness? The memories he'd received weren't just data; they were imbued with the emotional weight,—the qualia—of another person. And the Dual Core Fusion... that wasn't just a merging of data. It was the harmonious intertwining of two distinct streams of consciousness, two selves, into a new, greater whole. That wasn't biology. That was metaphysics. That was a soul.
His thoughts, spiraling down this dark and luminous path, arrived at the inevitable, terrifying question.
"Does that mean there is a God, too?"
The words were a whisper on the morning air, a heresy and a plea all at once. The existence of a soul suggested a creator, a source, an architect for this impossible multiverse.
But almost immediately, his cynicism, tempered by the new, horrifying scale of reality, fought back.
Well, that can't be possible in a universe filled with planet busters.
The logic was chillingly simple. What kind of god would create beings that could unmake its creation? What omnipotent architect would design a sandcastle and then hand out tactical nukes to the children playing inside? It made no sense. Unless... unless God was absent. Or indifferent. Or perhaps "God" was just a label they gave to the first, most powerful of these planet-busting entities. A natural, if terrifying, part of the cosmic food chain.
He accessed Elias's scholarly memories, the basic astronomical knowledge of Caligurn. The planet was a super-Earth, a behemoth with roughly fifty times the mass and ten times the diameter of his old home. The gravity was stronger, the air denser, the very scale of everything was grander. The kinetic energy required to overcome this world's gravitational binding energy was staggering. It was orders of magnitude beyond what would be needed to shatter Earth.
A being that could destroy this place... his mind, trained to comprehend scale, struggled. They could unironically blow up Jupiter... well, maybe not since Jupiter is still larger, but... the fact that it's even a consideration...
The sheer, unadulterated power was incomprehensible. It wasn't magic as he'd started to understand it—a precise engineering of energy. This was raw, cosmic force. The ability to not just paint on the canvas of reality, but to tear the canvas itself to shreds.
And as this terrifying new scale of the world settled into his bones, a cold, hard, strategic realization dawned. Ambition was one thing. Survival was another.
He looked at his hands, the vessels of his nascent power. He thought of Sylvaine, the "Mana Codex," who considered herself a small fish. He was, by comparison, a plankton. A single, ambitious plankton in an ocean teeming with leviathans.
A grim, determined smile touched his lips. The corporate recruiter in him, the strategist, knew one fundamental truth about navigating hostile environments. You don't face them alone.
I need allies, he thought, the concept crystallizing with perfect clarity. Not employees. Not contacts. Combat allies. Partners. He needed to find others—the powerful, the desperate, the uniquely skilled—and bind them to his cause. He needed to build more than a merchant empire. He needed to build a faction. A guild of his own, not for profit, but for power. For survival in a universe that was clearly, terrifyingly, not friendly.
The path was no longer just about personal mastery or atonement. It was a galactic-scale game of chess, and he had just learned the board was infinitely larger, and the other players could flip the table at will. He needed to find his knights, his bishops, and his queens. And he needed to do it fast.
(break scene)
The scene shifted from Joshey's existential crisis to the quiet, dusty streets of a less-traveled district of Oakhaven. Lucia stood frozen, her knuckles white as she clutched a crumpled piece of parchment. The address, meticulously copied from a guild ledger she'd… accessed… had led her here: The Weary Traveler Inn.
But there was no inn. Not anymore. The sign hung askew, the windows were boarded up, and the door was sealed with a heavy chain and a rusted Guild lock. The air smelled of rot and neglect.
A cold, familiar dread pooled in her stomach. She wasn't surprised. Not really.
"Why," she whispered, her voice a low, pained breath in the silence. "Why do you always play these games with me, Ani-ue?"
The honorific, meant for an older brother, tasted like ash. He was always one step ahead, a ghost leading her on a chase that always ended in emptiness. She lowered her head, a wave of frustration and helplessness washing over her. Who could she even ask? He had no friends, no real ties. He was a shadow.
"Excuse me, miss?"
Lucia's head snapped up, her hand instinctively drifting to the hilt of her shinobigatana. An old woman was peering at her from the doorway of a neighboring bakery, her face wrinkled with curiosity.
"You lookin' for someone?" the woman asked, wiping flour-dusted hands on her apron.
Lucia forced her posture to relax. "A man. He was supposed to be staying here." She held up the parchment, her voice carefully neutral.
"Oh! The loud one? Dark hair, lively eyes? Likes to talk?" the baker said, her face lighting up with recognition before clouding over with pity. "Sweetheart, this place was sold up and closed over a month ago. Your friend… he wasn't just staying here. Old Man Harlow, the previous owner, took him in as a helper. Felt sorry for him."
The baker gestured for Lucia to come closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "It's a sad story. The man—your friend—got into some bad business. High-stakes dice game down at the Siren's Call. Lost more than he had. A lot more."
Lucia's blood ran cold. She could smell it now, beneath the scent of fresh bread—the lingering, sour tang of the baker's pity and the unspoken tragedy.
"He owed money to the wrong people," the baker continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Viggo's crew. Nasty bunch. When he couldn't pay, they came for him. Took him. Said his debt would be worked off. Old Man Harlow tried to stop them, but what could he do? They broke his spirit. He sold the inn and left town not long after."
The words landed like physical blows. Debt. Worked off. There was only one form of "work" for a debtor in this part of the city.
Her brother wasn't just missing. He was indentured. He was about to be traded as a slave.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The fierce, independent warrior who could silence a room with her presence felt like a little girl again, powerless to stop the cruel machinations of the world. The Clan of Swords meant nothing here. Her skill with a blade was useless. You couldn't cut a man free from a legal—or illegally enforced—debt. Not without starting a war she couldn't finish alone.
The baker, seeing the color drain from Lucia's face, patted her arm awkwardly. "I'm sorry, dear. Truly. Viggo's holding his… 'assets'… in the old granary down by the western docks. But you don't want to go there. It's a den of vipers."
Lucia didn't hear the warning. Her mind was already racing, calculating, and finding no viable solution. She had coin, but not nearly enough to buy out a significant debt from a criminal lord. She had no connections, no influence in this city. She was utterly, completely alone.
And then, a single, clear memory surfaced through the panic. That warm diner. A kind, impossibly powerful woman with silver eyes who had seen past her hood and called her "cute." A woman who had commanded the very room with a quiet authority that felt both gentle and unshakable.
Without another word to the baker, Lucia turned on her heel. Her path was set, her desperation forging a single, desperate purpose. She moved through the streets with renewed speed, her cloak flowing behind her.
She didn't know if it would work. She had nothing to offer but a story and a plea. But she had to try.
She was going to see Sylvaine.
The frantic rhythm of Lucia's heartbeat was a drum against her ribs, a stark contrast to the usual serene stillness she cultivated. The world had narrowed to a single, desperate vector: find Sylvaine. The elf's unshakable calm and latent power were the only sanctuary her panicked mind could conjure. Her feet, trained for silent steps, now slapped against the cobblestones in a betraying tattoo of haste.
As she cut through a narrow alley—a shortcut she'd mentally mapped on her first day—a familiar presence registered at the very edge of her heightened perception. It was the same clean, focused scent from before, the man from the market. Elias.
She tried to adjust her trajectory, but her speed was too great. She brushed against his shoulder, the contact sending a jolt through her system. She stumbled back, her balance perfect but her composure fractured.
Joshey, pulled from his deep contemplation of multiversal physics and mana-field theory, steadied himself. His eyes, sharp and analytical, took her in instantly. The pale, drawn face. The wide, grey eyes usually so cool, now shimmering with unchecked alarm. The scent—ah, the scent. His newly synchronized senses parsed it effortlessly: the bitter, coppery tang of pure fear, laced with the sour vinegar of desperation.
"Lucia?" he said, his voice a low, steadying baritone. "You seem… distressed."
"I— Apologies. I must go," she managed, her voice tight, trying to sidestep him. The secret was a burning coal in her chest. To speak it aloud would make it real, and the reality was too terrible to bear. "I need to speak to someone about the granary, I have something important to do there."
Joshey shifted his weight, a subtle, non-threatening movement that nevertheless blocked her path. His gaze was not intrusive, but deeply perceptive. "The nature of your urgency… it carries a specific frequency. Is this related to a certain individual who deals in… ill-gotten assets?" He kept his words vague, diplomatic. "A man named Viggo, perhaps?"
Lucia froze. Her breath hitched. How could he possibly know? The shock was a cold splash of water, momentarily dousing the panic.
«Her emotional output just spiked,» Elias noted, his mental voice clinical. «The name 'Viggo' is a key. His operations are well-known. The western granary. But her approach is emotionally compromised. The probability of a successful, non-violent resolution is negligible.»
Negligible for her, perhaps, Joshey thought back, his own resolve crystallizing. But for us, it is a strategic opportunity. A chance to observe the system's underbelly firsthand.
He looked at her, truly seeing the warrior trembling on the edge of a precipice. "Allow me to accompany you," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.
"No," Lucia's reply was a blade of pure instinct, her body tensing. The flustered girl was gone, replaced by the honed weapon of the Earivel clan. "This is my path to walk. My power will be sufficient." A faint, barely perceptible aura of lethal intent—the same that had made the corrupt wagon driver flee—radiated from her.
Joshey felt it, a pressure against his own nascent mana field. He didn't flinch. Instead, he offered a different path, one she could never have anticipated.
"Then permit me to offer an alternative solution," he said, his voice dropping into the cadence of a master negotiator closing a deal. He met her stormy gaze, his own eyes holding a terrifying, absolute calm. "I will assume your brother's debt. I will secure his release."
The silence that followed was absolute. The very air seemed to still.
«ARE YOU FUNCTIONALLY INSANE?» Elias's mental shriek was a feedback loop of pure panic. «OUR FINANCIAL OBLIGATIONS ARE GEOMETRIC! WE ARE PRACTICALLY INDENTURED OURSELVES! THIS IS NOT A CHARITABLE FOUNDATION!»
Our net profit from the market is sixty-eight thousand florins, Joshey countered, the numbers appearing in his mind's eye with flawless precision. That is not insignificant. And the intelligence we will gain on debt-slavery operations is a strategic asset with incalculable value. This is not charity. This is an acquisition.
Lucia stared at him, her fierce mask crumbling into utter, bewildered shock. The lethal aura vanished. "You… you would…?" She shook her head, as if trying to clear water from her ears. "You don't even know the sum. You don't know him. Why…?"
"I know that a debt to a man like Viggo is a cage," Joshey stated, his voice softening from its business-like edge into something more human, more empathetic. "And I know that sometimes, the sharpest blade is not one of steel, but one that cuts the chains of obligation."
The simple, staggering magnitude of his offer, the sheer, unassailable power implied by such casual financial force, shattered her final defenses. The story, the secret she had clutched so tightly, broke free in a hushed, pained torrent.
"It's my… my Ani-ue," she whispered, the honorific laden with a lifetime of love and frustration. "He was… foolish. A game of chance. The debt is… substantial. They hold him at the granary. They intend to… to trade him." The final word was a barely audible breath of shame.
Joshey gave a single, slow nod. The confirmation settled in him not as a surprise, but as a grim validation. Here it was. The human raw material fed into the machine he despised.
"Then the negotiation begins now," he said, his tone shifting back to that of a CEO mobilizing his resources. "Let's go. We will retrieve your brother."
She looked at this strange, calm man who spoke of the situation with the same gravity others reserved for life and death, and then a flicker of the formidable warrior returned to Lucia's eyes, the vulnerability shunted aside by a cold, pragmatic survival instinct. The offer was too perfect, too convenient. A stranger does not intervene in such matters without a motive that served himself.
"Understand this," she said, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper that seemed to lower the temperature around them. "This is a temporary alliance. If you try anything… amusing… I will end you."
It wasn't a threat born of suspicion toward his character—her senses screamed that his intent, while complex and layered with its own agendas, was devoid of the specific, greasy film of betrayal or personal malice. It was a warning born of experience. Help this sudden, this powerful, always came with a price tag she might not be able to see until it was too late.
Joshey felt the shift. The air around her grew heavy, not with mana, but with the sheer, focused will to kill. It was a pressure that physically pressed against his mana field, causing the finely-tuned energy to stutter and hum with interference. Had his field been the weak, flickering thing it was weeks ago, the visceral, primal fear it would have induced might have been overwhelming. Now, it was a potent warning, a testament to her power.
«Her combat pressure is… significant,» Elias observed, a note of clinical respect in his tone. «It's not mana-based. It's pure, refined lethality. It resonates on a frequency that disrupts ambient energy. Fascinating.»
Internally, Joshey remained unshaken. He met her gaze, his own holding a placid, almost unnerving honesty. "I have no intention of duping you," he stated, his voice calm and level, cutting through her threatening aura. "My true purpose in accompanying you is to acquire the intelligence required to dismantle this abhorrent system from within. To fight an enemy this entrenched, you need more than a blade. You need a strategy. And for a strategy, you need data. Consider this my initial field research."
Lucia's senses, stretched to their limit, swept over him. She found no trace of the bitter, coppery flavor of a lie. Instead, there was the clean, sharp scent of cold resolve and a chilling, analytical ambition. It was not comforting, but it was… aligned. For now. He was genuine in his desire to see the system broken. And at this moment, that was enough.
"…Very well," she conceded, the lethal pressure vanishing as suddenly as it appeared. "I would accompany a demon from the netherworld if it led to my brother. We leave. Now." She turned to go, but Joshey's voice stopped her, with the infuriating, unassailable logic of a master planner.
"One moment. We cannot proceed with haste and call it a plan," he said, holding up a hand. "We operate with two critical deficits: One, we lack the precise internal layout of the granary. And two, I am not a wandering vagrant. I have responsibilities. I must inform my staff of a temporary absence and speak with Sylvaine. Disappearing creates problems we do not need."
"Every second we waste here is a second they could be moving him!" Lucia insisted, the frantic energy returning to her voice.
"Calm your mind," Joshey instructed, his tone that of a senior analyst addressing a junior associate in a crisis. "Do you even know the basis of this trade? The process?"
She stared at him, silent. She knew violence and tracking, not bureaucracy.
"It takes a minimum of three weeks," he explained, the information flowing from Elias's memory banks into his speech. "Three weeks of 'screening' and 'evaluation' of the goods. They assess health, strength, skills, and mental fortitude. They find the right buyers, the right markets. They don't just throw valuable assets onto the first cart out of town. It is a business. A slow, meticulous, and vile one."
"How… how can you know this?" Lucia asked, a sliver of desperate hope piercing through her impatience.
"The information isn't exactly secret," Joshey said with a grimace. "It's just that no one who isn't directly threatened by it bothers to look. But when you're a man perpetually on the brink of falling into that very system, you learn its schedule. You learn the rhythm of the abyss, waiting for the day you might slip." The words were his, but the lingering, soul-deep fear behind them was a ghost from Elias's past.
Lucia looked at him, truly seeing the man—Elias—for the first time. Not just as a mysterious merchant, but as someone who had lived with this very monster breathing down his neck. The truth in his words was undeniable. She gave a single, sharp nod. "Alright."
"Good," Joshey said, his demeanor shifting back to one of efficient action. "Then let us be calm, and let us be smart. I need to get my affairs in order. You will wait. Use the time to center yourself. A frantic blade is a dull one."
He turned and began walking toward his hut with a purposeful stride, not waiting to see if she followed. Lucia stood for a moment, the storm inside her quieted not by reassurance, but by the cold, hard framework of a plan. The path to her brother was no longer a desperate, headlong rush into darkness. It had become a mission. And the strange man walking away from her was, for now, her unlikely strategist. She took a deep, steadying breath, the scent of his chilling resolve still hanging in the air, and followed.
As Joshey moved with practiced efficiency inside his hut—gathering pre-written travel permits, a map, and a pouch of high-denomination florins—Lucia stood alone in the small, sun-drenched compound. Her earlier panic had subsided, replaced by a strange, quiet awe.
She looked around, truly seeing it for the first time. The patched roof, the well-tended vegetable patch fighting its way through the rocky soil, the simple, honest wear on the wooden fence. It was… beautiful. Not in the grand, imposing way of the Earivel clan's mountain citadel, but in its quiet resilience. The air here didn't hum with latent killing intent or the oppressive weight of ancestral expectation. It smelled of earth, of simple meals, of a life lived without constant vigilance.
This was why her senses were in a quiet uproar. They weren't screaming danger; they were drowning in normalcy. It was a sensory overload of a different kind. Back home, her survival instinct was a constant, automated shield, eating away at her softer emotions, leaving behind the cold, efficient heir the clan required. When that mode activated, her power would spike, her combat field—a palpable aura of dread—would weaken her opponents' resolve. It was a fearsome power, but it came at the cost of her own humanity. Here, in this honest place, the shield was down. No one looked at her with fear or reverence. They saw just a girl. And for the first time in a long time, she felt… relaxed. She could almost forget the weight of the title now thrust upon her after her brother's banishment.
Before the thought could spiral into the familiar loneliness, the hut door creaked open. Joshey emerged, a leather satchel slung over his shoulder, his demeanor all business.
"Okay," he announced, "first, the market. I need to submit my leave of absence to my staff and the Guild."
Lucia blinked, the peaceful moment shattered. "The Guild? Will they even allow it?"
A wry, knowing smile touched Joshey's lips. "The Guild doesn't rationally care if I'm present or absent, Lucia. They care about the flow of florins. As long as the levies are paid and the ledgers are in order, I could be on the moon for all they care. I am a revenue stream, not a person."
The cynical, brutal honesty of it was so stark it was almost funny. A small, genuine laugh escaped Lucia's lips, a sound as rare and beautiful as a sunshower. "You have a very… unique way of seeing the world, Elias."
"It's the only way that makes sense," he countered, falling into step beside her as they headed toward the East Quarter. "People pretend there are rules of honor and duty, but beneath it all, it's just math. Supply, demand, risk, and reward."
"And what's the reward here?" she asked, her tone playful but her eyes sharp.
"The reward," he said, glancing at her, "is data. And perhaps, the chance to prove that some equations can be changed."
The conversation was light, almost bantering, but Joshey watched her closely. The frantic, hunted creature from the alley was gone, replaced by this… person. He'd been worried for himself when her killing intent had flared, yes. But seeing her now, he felt a pang of something else. He was looking at someone who had been raised in an environment where trust was a liability and empathy a weakness. Her momentary peace was a testament to a life usually devoid of it.
They reached the market stall. His team—Lyra, Mira, Talia, and the energetic Anya—were in their usual rhythm. When Joshey presented the formal leave papers, there was concern, but no panic. He spoke to them with a calm authority, delegating responsibility, assuring them of his return within a month. They, in turn, bowed respectfully, a well-oiled machine trusting its conductor. "Safe travels, Proprietor," Anya said, her usual grin tempered with genuine well-wishing.
The final stop was the Guild hall to inform Finn. But as they stepped into the vast, echoing plaza, Joshey felt the change in Lucia before he saw it.
It was subtle. Her breathing shallowed. The relaxed set of her shoulders vanished, replaced by a fluid, ready looseness. Her gaze, which had been soft and observant, became a sweeping, constant scan, missing nothing. Her scent shifted—the clean, rain-like quality was gone, replaced by the faint, metallic sharpness of honed steel. To anyone else, she might have just looked alert. But to Joshey, whose senses were now synchronized with a hyper-aware consciousness, it was a five-alarm fire. Her survival instinct had just kicked in. Automated. Lethal.
«Shit,» he thought, the plan unraveling in his mind. «Shit, shit, shit. If a Guild guard or, spirits forbid, someone from Viggo's crew picks up on this… if they sense the predator in the room…»
He saw Finn approaching, his recorder's slate in hand. There was no time.
Joshey didn't break stride. He reached Finn in three quick steps, his voice low and urgent, cutting off the young man's formal greeting. "Finn. Handle the rest. I'm leaving. Now." He shoved the formal leave parchment into the recorder's hands.
Before Finn could even process the breach of protocol, Joshey had already turned. He moved to Lucia's side, and with a firm but subtle pressure on her elbow, he guided her—not roughly, but insistently—toward the nearest exit.
"Walk," he murmured, his voice a quiet command beside her ear. "Don't look back. Just walk."
He didn't need to explain. She felt it too—the dangerous shift within her, the mask of normalcy slipping to reveal the weapon beneath. And in that moment, as he guided her away from prying eyes, the alliance felt less like a transaction and more like a pact. He wasn't just using her for data. He was protecting his asset, yes, but he was also protecting her from the consequences of her own terrifying nature.
Once they were a safe distance from the Guild hall's oppressive atmosphere, Joshey released Lucia's elbow. The tension in her frame slowly ebbed, the predatory sharpness in her eyes softening back into wary confusion.
"Why did that happen?" Joshey asked, his tone not accusatory, but analytical. "The sudden... shift."
Lucia shook her head slightly, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. "I don't know. It's... automatic. When I'm surrounded by too many people whose intentions feel... murky, clouded. It just... happens."
Joshey gave a slow, internal nod. «That's just about right, lol,» he thought to Elias. «Her threat detection isn't based on overt action, but on ambient emotional 'vibes.' A room full of greedy, ambitious, or cruel people is a trigger. The Guild plaza is basically a trigger factory.»
Aloud, he simply said, "I understand. My apologies for the rush. We have one more stop to make."
"Where?" Lucia asked, her guard still partially up.
"To see my master. I need to inform her of my departure."
Lucia's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That was it? What you did back there with the recorder? That was all you needed from the Guild?"
"That was all," Joshey confirmed, resuming their walk. "Finn is competent. He'll file the paperwork, ensure the levies are paid from the stall's profits. The machine will keep running. That's all the Guild cares about."
As they approached the familiar, warmly lit facade of The Toasty Tavern, Lucia's pace slowed. A look of recognition dawned on her face. "Your master... works here?"
"Yeah," Joshey said, pushing the door open. The comforting din of the diner washed over them. "Her name's Sylvaine."
A small, genuine smile, the second one Joshey had seen from her, touched Lucia's lips. "I know her," she said, her voice softening. "I ate here when I first arrived. She was... very kind to me. She told me not to hide my face." There was a note of fondness in her voice that was entirely new. "I like her."
Joshey looked at her, seeing the genuine warmth the mention of Sylvaine inspired. It was a stark contrast to the lethal weapon of moments before. "She has that effect on people," he replied, a hint of a smile on his own face. "She sees through a lot of the nonsense."
They spotted Sylvaine near the bar, effortlessly directing her staff with a quiet word or a gesture. She saw them approach, her sharp silver eyes taking in the pair—Joshey with his travel satchel, and Lucia, who seemed to stand a little straighter, a little less like a shadow, in the diner's presence.
"Elias," Sylvaine greeted, her tone warm but laced with curiosity. "And Lucia. This is a interesting combination. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her gaze lingered on Joshey's pack.
"Master Sylvaine," Joshey began with a respectful nod. "I'm taking a leave of absence. A month, perhaps. Business and... personal research out of town."
Sylvaine's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Research," she repeated, the word heavy with unasked questions. Her gaze flicked to Lucia, then back to him. "This is sudden. Your market venture is barely out of its cradle."
"The foundations are solid. The team can manage," Joshey said, his confidence unshaken. "This research is crucial for its long-term stability. And for my... understanding."
He was speaking in code, but Sylvaine was fluent. She could feel the shift in him, the new, unsettling purpose that had replaced mere ambition. She could also feel the quiet, desperate tension radiating from Lucia, a girl she had found intriguingly opaque.
She studied them for a long moment, the noise of the diner fading into a backdrop. She saw the alliance, fragile and new, and the dangerous path it likely heralded.
"Very well," she said finally, her voice soft but firm. "Take care of yourself, Elias. And look after your companion." Her eyes held his, imparting a silent message of warning and expectation. "Don't do anything irreversibly foolish."
"I'll do my best," Joshey replied, a faint, grim smile on his lips. He gave a final, respectful nod. "Thank you, Master."
With that, he turned, and Lucia fell into step beside him, offering Sylvaine a small, grateful bow of her own before they disappeared back out into the street.
Sylvaine watched the door swing shut, her expression unreadable. The pieces were moving on the board, and Elias was no longer a passive piece. He was a player, and he had just made his first aggressive move, aligning himself with a mysterious, dangerous girl.
As the dinner rush began to swell around her, Sylvaine didn't move. She sent a silent, focused pulse of mana, a whisper on a specific, private frequency she shared with her most trusted agent.
«Kieran,» her thought projected, crisp and clear. «The variable is in motion. He's left the city with the girl from the Earivel clan. The destination is likely connected to the criminal element. Do not interfere. But watch him. Closer than ever before. I want to know everything.»
High above the city, perched on a gargoyle overlooking the main gate, Kieran Vale received the message. A faint, predatory smile touched her lips. The hunt was on.
«Understood, Master,» she thought back. «I'll stick to him like a shadow.»
As Joshey and Lucia passed through the city gates, unaware, a silent, lethal shadow detached itself from the stonework and began to follow, her presence vanishing into the twilight. The game had truly begun.
(break scene)
The commercial transport wagons were a noisy, public affair, packed with merchants, migrants, and adventurers. Joshey took one look at the crowded benches and the shared, weary atmosphere and made a decision. He led Lucia to a smaller, more secluded part of the travel yard where private charters were available.
The charge for a covered, two-person wagon with a dedicated driver was exorbitant, but Joshey paid without hesitation, handing over a stack of florins that would have made a guardsman's monthly salary.
Lucia watched him in silence. She had known men who used wealth as a weapon, but from Joshey there was no arrogance—only intent. The money wasn't a display; it was a tool, a means to secure quiet. She respected that.
They boarded the enclosed wagon, the driver clicking his tongue to urge the horses forward. The interior was plain but clean, with padded benches and a small, locked chest for valuables. As the city of Oakhaven faded behind them, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels became the steady pulse of their journey.
Unseen, a shadow flitted from rooftop to tree branch with preternatural grace. Kieran Vale moved like a wisp of smoke, her presence erased by elven arts so refined they were less like magic and more like a rewriting of perception itself.
Inside, the silence stretched—comfortable, but edged with unspoken history.
Joshey broke it first.
"So," he began, voice casual, "your brother. What kind of person is he?"
Lucia turned from the window, her expression unreadable.
"He was... complicated," she said softly. "Funny, proud, and reckless. He lived like the world would forgive him for everything."
Joshey watched her for a moment, noticing the flicker of something beneath her calm tone—regret, maybe, or sorrow too deep to name. But he didn't pry.
The wagon rolled on, carrying their silence into the wilderness.
Break scene
The wagon wheels had a steady, lulling rhythm. Across from Joshey, Lucia was finally asleep, her head resting against the wall, the sharp lines of her face softened in the dim light. The frantic energy from the city was gone, leaving only the quiet creak of wood and the horse's hooves on the dirt road. That's when Joshey noticed the silence.
It wasn't just quiet. It was empty. The usual forest sounds—birds, insects, the rustle of small animals—had vanished. It felt like the world had been muffled under a thick blanket. He'd been lost in his own thoughts for a while, but this was different. This was wrong.
He leaned forward and peered through the small front window. The driver was just a dark, cloaked shape on the bench, holding the reins. Everything looked normal. "Hey," Joshey called out, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Everything alright up there?" No response. The driver didn't turn or shift. He was as still as a stone.
A cold knot tightened in Joshey's stomach. He nudged Lucia's boot with his own. She was awake instantly, her eyes snapping open, clear and alert. No confusion. He put a finger to his lips and pointed towards the driver, then made a flat, empty gesture with his hand.
Lucia understood. Her expression didn't change, but the air around her went cold. She was no longer a sleeping girl; she was a weapon waiting to be drawn. Joshey motioned for her to stay put. He moved carefully to the front of the wagon, his heart thumping a slow, heavy beat in his chest. He reached through the partition to try and tap the driver's shoulder. The cloak slumped. It was empty, propped up cleverly with a sack. The reins were tied off to the brake. The driver was just… gone. He pulled back and looked at Lucia. Her face was pale. "When?" she mouthed.
He shook his head. He had no idea. The man had vanished without a sound, without a struggle. The horse just kept plodding forward, taking them… where?
The wagon creaked to a gentle, final stop. The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Joshey's mind raced. Okay. Okay. Don't panic. First, figure out where we are. He pulled a folded map from his satchel, the parchment rustling loudly in the unnatural quiet.
"Elias," he thought, spreading it on his knees. "Where are we?"
Inside their shared mind, he felt a rapid, silent calculation. Elias's knowledge of the region superimposed itself on the map. The travel time, the turn off the main road we felt hours ago, the type of soil... Joshey, I believe we are in the Dead Mount Forest.
Joshey's blood ran colder. Dead Mount was supposed to be teeming with life, a noisy, vibrant place. The utter lack of sound was a violation of its nature. This was deeply wrong.
"I'm going to check the front," he whispered to Lucia. She gave a tight nod, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, her body coiled.
He moved carefully back to the partition and pulled himself up to look out the front, bracing for an empty path.
He was wrong.
A man stood directly in front of the stationary horses, not five feet from the wagon. He was tall, wrapped in a dark, non-reflective cloak, his face hidden in shadow. The shock wasn't just seeing him—it was the fact that Joshey could see and hear him now. The man's boot scuffed lightly on a stone, the sound crisp in the dead air.
The man started, taking a half-step back. "How...?" he hissed, his voice full of genuine surprise. "You shouldn't be able to perceive me!"
«Joshey,» Elias's voice cut in, sharp and clear. «The entire area is under a sophisticated barrier. It doesn't just create silence; it actively dampens the five senses, making anyone inside it virtually undetectable. It's like a bubble of sensory static.» Then how can I see him? Joshey thought, his eyes locked on the stunned figure.
«Because our consciousness is synchronized. We are no longer relying solely on sight or sound. We are perceiving the mana wavelengths directly and converting them into information. We are using a seventh sense. The barrier doesn't account for that.»
The cloaked man recovered from his shock. Seeing his cover was blown, he didn't hesitate. He whistled, a sharp, two-toned sound that sliced through the false silence. "Standby, engage! The target is aware!
From the inky blackness of the trees on either side of the path, two more cloaked figures emerged, their movements fluid and silent. All three drew thin, wicked-looking short swords in unison. The one in front pointed his blade at Joshey. "Take him!" The three figures burst into motion, closing the short distance in a heartbeat, their weapons aimed with lethal intent.
The three men moved like shadows given purpose. Their speed was unnerving, a blur of dark cloth and glinting steel that was far faster than Joshey could hope to match with his own two feet. Instinct took over. He didn't try to outrun the first slash aimed at his neck; he pushed.
It wasn't a conscious decision to use Aero Mana. It was a flinch, a full-body recoil translated into force. The air behind him compressed in a sudden, silent whump, shoving him backward just enough that the blade whistled past his chin, close enough to feel the wind of its passage. He stumbled, his boots scraping on the dirt as he fought for balance. Another attacker was already on him, a low sweep aimed at his legs. He kicked off the ground, using another short, sharp burst of air to alter his momentum, twisting his body in a way that felt unnatural. He landed awkwardly, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Distance. I need distance. The thought was a frantic drumbeat in his head. If he could just get a few yards, he could use the Void. He pictured it—a sphere of absolute nothingness that would slam into them with the force of a collapsed lung, stunning them, maybe even knocking them out without having to kill them. But they were too close, their attacks too relentless, a storm of sharp edges he could only barely dance away from. He was a strategist, not a brawler, and he was losing the rhythm of this dance fast.
The wagon door creaked open.
"Joshey? What's happening?" Lucia's voice was calm, but laced with confusion. She could probably hear his frantic movements, but to her, he was likely just dodging and weaving in the empty, silent dark.
«Share the sight with her,» Joshey thought desperately to Elias.
There was a pulse, a subtle shift in the shared space of their minds, and then a projection—a stream of raw sensory data, the mana-wavelength information of the three attackers, their positions, their movements. It wasn't like seeing with eyes; it was knowing they were there.
Lucia didn't gasp or cry out. She simply stepped down from the wagon, and in that single step, the confusion vanished from her posture. She moved between Joshey and the swirling chaos of the attackers, a small, solid figure in the face of the storm.
"I see them," she said, her voice low and steady. "Get the one in charge. I'll handle these three."
Joshey's first thought was a spike of pure panic. No. That's insane. There are three of them, and they're fast. He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her to get back in the wagon.
But then he looked at her. Really looked. She wasn't posing. She wasn't boasting. She was stating a simple, logistical fact, the same way he'd delegate a task to one of his market staff. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, her stance relaxed but utterly rooted. She wasn't asking for his opinion. He swallowed his protest. He didn't know if she could win, but he knew, with a sudden, bone-deep certainty, that she could last. Long enough for him to do his part. "Alright," he said, the word tasting like iron. "When I'm done with him, I'm coming for you."
It wasn't a heroic promise. It was a plan. A contingency. He didn't wait for her reply. He turned his back on the fight he was leaving her to and faced the leader, the one who had spoken, the one still standing calmly ahead of the horses. The real threat. Joshey started walking toward him, his own fear crystallizing into a cold, sharp focus.
The leader stood silent, a dark sentinel refusing to give up any information. Joshey felt a flicker of frustration, but it was quickly smothered by the simple, urgent need to survive. Fine. Don't talk.
A sudden commotion erupted from Lucia's fight. One of the cloaked men was flung through the air, tumbling end over end directly toward the leader. It was a perfect distraction, a moment of chaos Joshey could have used.
But the leader didn't even flinch. He simply raised a hand, and the tumbling man was shoved sideways as if by an invisible hand, crashing harmlessly into the undergrowth.
Aero mana, Joshey realized. Of course. It made sense. In this world, you fought with the tools you could grasp. Some, like Sylvaine, could seemingly use them all. This man's tool was the wind.
There was no more time for thought. Joshey charged forward, closing the distance. He didn't have the finesse for a prolonged aerial duel. He needed to overwhelm him. He thrust his palm forward, and a spear of condensed, white-hot flame—his Scorching Flames—shot toward the man's chest.
The leader's response was disdainfully simple. He didn't try to block it. He just swept his arm in a wide arc, and the very air between them erupted. A roaring tornado, small but vicious, tore up the ground between them. It didn't just deflect the fire spear; it consumed it, shredding the concentrated mana into harmless, scattered embers. The force of the gale didn't stop there. It hit Joshey like a physical wall, forcing him to dig his heels in. He saw Lucia and her two opponents stagger, their deadly dance interrupted as they fought to stay upright against the sudden storm.
Joshey grunted, planting his feet. He could feel Elias in the back of his mind, a constant, silent partner, but his focus was split. A significant part of their shared processing power was dedicated to feeding Lucia the sensory information she needed to fight her own battle blind. Right now, Joshey was on his own.
He had to match force with force. He remembered the theory, the principles of pressure and counter-currents. He couldn't just stop the tornado; he had to unravel it. He raised both hands, not in a block, but in a mirroring motion, his mind racing through the calculations of airflow, of vortices.
"Aero Mana: Swirling Vortex!" he yelled, the name feeling clumsy and dramatic in his mouth.
The air in front of him shimmered. It wasn't a shield. It was a whirlpool of his own making, spinning in the opposite direction to the leader's tornado. Where the two vortexes met, they didn't explode. They gnawed at each other, a violent, screeching cancelation of force. The roaring wind died into a fitful, gasping gust, leaving behind a cloud of kicked-up dust and leaves.
The violent cancellation of the two vortexes left Joshey coughing, his lungs burning with dust. His first frantic thought was for Lucia. He spun around, expecting to see her thrown off balance like he had been.
She was perfectly fine. She had simply driven the point of her blade deep into the earth, anchoring herself against the gale, one hand holding the hilt, the other bracing against the flat of the blade. She stood now, pulling the sword free with a smooth, practiced tug, completely unruffled.
Of course, Joshey thought, a wave of relief mixed with sheer admiration. That is the most Lucia thing possible. No flashy magic, just a brutally practical, physical solution.
He turned his attention back to the commander. Using the Void now seemed pointless; the man had just demonstrated he could summon winds strong enough to scatter it. Joshey's mind, already racing, kicked into an even higher gear. Time seemed to stretch, the world slowing to a crawl as his brain processed information at an impossible rate.
In that single, stretched-out moment, his eyes locked onto a detail he'd missed before: a small, intricately designed golden badge that pinned the man's cloak at his throat. It wasn't just decorative. It had to be. The sheer scale and power of this sensory-dampening barrier was immense. For it to be maintained over such a large area, and for these men to move freely within it… they couldn't all be powering it themselves. They had to be wearing a key. A device that granted them resistance.
The plan snapped into place with perfect clarity.
"Lucia!" he yelled, his voice sharp in the eerie quiet. "The badges! Their cloak pins! Aim for the badges!"
He didn't wait to see if she understood. He launched himself forward, a clear goal finally in mind. He feinted low, then lunged for the commander's throat, fingers outstretched to snatch the golden pin.
But the space between them seemed to warp. The commander didn't move his feet, but he slid backward, maintaining the exact same distance with an infuriating ease. He then made a simple, pushing motion with his hand. There was no finesse, no vortex this time—just a raw, blunt wall of force that slammed into Joshey's chest and sent him stumbling sideways, his grab turning into a clumsy stagger.
He has crazy power, Joshey realized, gasping for air, but zero skill. He's just shoving the air around. He's a thug with a cannon.
As if to prove the point, the commander, looking annoyed now, clenched his fist. The ground at his feet rumbled, and a chunk of rock the size of a small barrel tore itself free and launched itself at Joshey.
Geo Mana. Of course. He was just throwing whatever he had at him.
But in that moment, Joshey saw it. The opening. The perfect, stupid opening.
"Perfect," Joshey whispered.
The man was powerful, but he was untrained. He relied on overwhelming force, not technique. And that meant he might not know how to counter something he couldn't simply overpower.
As the boulder hurtled toward him, Joshey didn't try to dodge or block it. He planted his feet, ignored the screaming instincts in his head, and focused everything he had into a single, precise point in the air directly between him and the charging commander. "Aero Mana: Void."
There was no sound nor a flash of light. But the space in front of him suddenly became… less. It was a pocket of absolute nothingness; a vacuum so intense it exerted a terrifying push on everything around it. The air itself rushed to fill the void, and the incoming boulder was violently shunted aside, veering off course and crashing into the trees. The vacuum sphere shot forward, as a projectile, and as a propagating zone of nullity, that exerted so much force that it pushes everything away from itself
"You'll regret keeping your distance," Joshey said, his voice low and steady. The commander's eyes widened in confusion, then shocked, as the invisible force hit him. It didn't feel like a punch; it felt like being slammed by a battering ram. The air was torn from his lungs; his cloak ripped at the seams, and he was thrown backward, the ground erupting beneath him in a silent, devastating wave.
Joshey worried about Lucia found Lucia standing over the two other assailants. They weren't moving. A cold knot tightened his stomach. "Why..." he started, his voice rough. "I told you to go for the badges." Lucia looked up, her expression was unreadable. She wiped her blade clean on a fold of her cloak with a practiced, efficient motion. "They were trying to kill us, weren't they?" she said, as if stating a simple, unchangeable fact of nature. To her, it was that straightforward. Kill or be killed. "You don't know that for sure!" Joshey argued, frustration boiling over. "We could have disabled them!" "What if you were wrong?" she countered, her grey eyes meeting his. "What if the badges did nothing? I would be dead. You would be dead. I do not take that gamble."
The logic was cold, brutal, and from her perspective, unassailable. He saw the third man, the one who had been flung aside earlier, lying motionless a dozen feet away. Lucia must have finished him with a swift, precise strike the moment the vortex had dissipated. He hadn't stood a chance.
Joshey wanted to argue, to shout about the value of a life, but the words died in his throat. He was relying on her strength, on her lethal competence, to survive. He couldn't demand she fight by his rules when her methods were what kept them breathing. The regret he felt wasn't for the dead men, but for his own inability to handle the situation without her having to become an executioner. He just shook his head, the fight gone out of him, and turned away. "Where are you going?" Lucia asked, her tone curious but not concerned.
He didn't answer. He walked towards the commander, the one he had spared. The man was on his hands and knees, patting the ground in front of him with a look of profound confusion. He was completely lost inside the barrier's effect now that his badge was gone.
Joshey looked down at him. The commander's eyes were wide but unfocused, staring at a world that had become a terrifying blur. He wouldn't be able to see Joshey clearly, just a hazy, indistinct shape. He probably couldn't hear him properly either, just a muffled, directionless rumble. He was trapped in a sensory prison of their own making.
The initial question of "why" they were attacked suddenly felt less important than the immediate, practical one: "How do we get out of here?"
He was stranded in the middle of a magically silenced forest with a dead driver, dead attackers, and a blinded commander. The wagon was useless without someone to guide the horse, and wandering blindly through this was a death sentence.
«Elias, » he thought, the idea forming. «The barrier. You said we're perceiving its mana wavelength directly. Is it possible to... analyze it? To understand its structure? »
There was a pause as Elias, the scholar, directed his full attention to the task. «Yes, » he replied, his mental voice buzzing with analytical focus. «It is a complex but stable resonant frequency. If we can map its harmonic pattern... in theory, we could generate a counter-frequency. A small, localized field of our own, tuned to cancel it out. We wouldn't be destroying their barrier, just creating a bubble of normality inside of it. »A way out. Not by fighting their way through, but by thinking their way through. Joshey looked from the disoriented commander to the dense, silent woods around them. The fight was over. The real work was just beginning. Joshey took a deep breath, pushing aside his frustration and the image of the dead men. Survival first. He closed his eyes, focusing inward. He willed his mana field, that thin, shimmering bubble of personal space, to expand. It wasn't about pushing outward with force, but upward, it was about stretching his awareness, reaching up like a tendril to gently brush against the oppressive, muffling blanket that smothered the forest.
The moment his field made contact, he felt Elias surge forward in their shared consciousness, a master analyst taking over the terminal. The raw data of the barrier, its resonant frequency, its harmonic structure—flolooded their mind.
The effect was immediate and disorienting for Joshey. The world, which had been rendered with the hyper-clarity of their seventh sense, suddenly flickered. He felt a wave of vertigo, his own normal senses trying to reassert themselves against the artificial silence. Beside him, Lucia stumbled, a sharp hiss escaping her lips. The constant stream of sensory data she relied on had just been severed.
"Joshey? I can't—" she started, her voice tight with a sudden, unfamiliar vulnerability. She was blind again, cast back into the silent, formless dark.
"Be patient, I'm working on it!" he said, but the words felt clumsy and distant, even to himself. His focus was split, his mental resources overwhelmingly dedicated to the colossal task Elias was performing. He was just the power source; Elias was the engineer running the calculations.
«Analysis complete,» Elias's voice cut through the cognitive static. «The structure is elegant, but rigid. Commencing counter-resonance field.» Joshey didn't understand the specifics. He just felt a shift, a recalibration deep within his core. His mana field, which had been passively analyzing, suddenly began to pulse with a new, intricate rhythm. It was like finding the exact opposite note to cancel out a sound.
A faint, visible shimmer expanded from him, a bubble of warped air that pushed back against the deadening effect. It wasn't loud. It was a profound un-silencing.
The first thing to return was sound—the rustle of leaves in a real breeze, the creak of the wagon wood, Lucia's sharp intake of breath. Then sight bled back in, the grainy, desaturated fog dissolving to reveal the sharp outlines of trees, the dark stains on the ground, Lucia's wide, relieved eyes as she looked around, her vision restored.
The seventh sense, the direct perception of mana-wavelengths, flickered and died. The processing power required to maintain it while also generating the counter-barrier was too immense. The world was just the world again. It felt almost… simple.
Joshey let out a heavy breath, the mental strain easing. It was clear now. They had a way to navigate.
His eyes fell on the commander. The man was blinking rapidly, clarity returning to his gaze as the counter-barrier enveloped him too. He looked from Joshey to Lucia, then to his fallen comrades, confusion giving way to a dawning, grim understanding. He opened his mouth, perhaps to speak, perhaps to curse.
Joshey didn't give him the chance. He didn't need a speech, or an explanation. He just needed the man out of the way.
He took two quick steps forward, his right fist already cloaked in a tightly-wound sheath of Aero Mana. It wasn't for cutting or slashing; it was for concentrated, concussive force. As the commander looked up, Joshey drove his fist straight into the man's solar plexus.
There was a soft whump, the sound of air being violently expelled. The Aero Mana transferred the kinetic energy directly into the man's diaphragm and lungs, bypassing much of his muscle and bone. His eyes bulged, a silent, shocked gasp his only protest before his brain, starved of oxygen, shut down. He crumpled to the forest floor, unconscious but alive.
Joshey stood over him, his knuckles stinging. At least it wasn't a kill. It was a solution. One problem, temporarily dealt with. He turned to Lucia, the forest now alive with its true, natural sounds around them.
"Let's go," he said, his voice tired but firm. "We're walking." Joshey picked up the commander and placed him on his shoulder. "You are taking him too?" Lucia asked, "Yes. I have questions for him", she did not fight it and accepted but deep within her, she told herself if the commander acts up she will kill him.
Joshey deep within his mind understood that and silently prayed he doesn't wake up. As they both walked with a clear path in mind.