97. Of Arcane and Soul I (Patreon)

The room grew cold as my words settled. I could feel the gazes of all my companions piercing my nape. I didn’t need eyes to do so, their souls screamed loud enough for me to understand that.

Yagul eye’s, on the other hand, finally shone with interest.

“So you intent on becoming the patriarch of a new House.” The High Arcanist summed up and I nodded. “I see that you are young, so I’ll give you an opportunity and allow you to step down. Ish’mat’era and the duel for the foundation of a new Noble House play by very different terms.”

“I know.”

I Recalled what Au’ter had told me half a season ago once Fynn had left us alone. He had informed me about the Ministers of the Arcane Sanctum and the best path of action for our coup, but he also told me another thing.

“There’s another way to usurp the High Arcanist’s position. Founding a new Noble House.” Au’ter explained to me in the solitary garden. “But such method has a problem. Unlike ish’mat’era, which was thought of as a method to keep the power of the High Arcanist in check and therefore is not lethal in nature, the duel for the foundation of a house is very much a duel to the death. Every founder of every established Noble House had been a High Arcanist. It’s not wrong to say that you have to usurp the power to make your own dynasty.”

I hated the words that came out of Au’ter’s mouth, but they were still a far better alternative than letting a coup d’état play out. One life was far less worth than tens, or even thousands. The coup could become a second Wyrm’s Landing, and I had to avoid that.

“Edrie, you can’t!” It was Kirielle who shouted. It was curious to see her lose her cool for the first time.

I said nothing.

“Nightfallen, you don’t have to do this.” Amira pleaded below me, still kneeling next to Fynn’s now-healed body. “If Fynn couldn’t win, you won’t be able to.”

“You are wrong,” I stated. “Fynn didn’t lose because he was the worst fighter, but for his prolonged exposure to mana. Mana poisoning is a factor that won’t affect me. And besides, the High Arcanist isn’t at the peak of his power, isn’t he?” I gave her a weak smile but swiftly turned to face Yagul with a serious expression. “That only leaves one matter. Will you accept my duel, En’yen Yagul?”

“You don’t feel bad to attack an old man when he’s tired?” I didn’t react to his words, not even a blink. “By law, I’m not allowed to refuse even if the conditions for the duel could be considered ‘dishonorable’, so yes. I, En’yen Yagul, thirty-sixth High Arcanist of Ferilyn, accept your duel.”

The Audience Hall burst with light as the towering glass wall became opaque once more with a purple shine. The leyline in the middle of the room began flooding with more mana.

“The rest of you, out!” The High Arcanist ordered, his words vibrating with power.

Even if I didn’t turn my head, I could feel the gazes of confusion from the others, though Kirielle and Amira’s carried more sadness and fear. I sensed Amira, with the help of her father, picking up Fynn and carrying him together to the exit. Kirielle’s soul was the one who lingered the most inside, but alas, she also went out.

The heavy stone doors closed with a loud thud.

Only two people remained now in the Audience Hall: The High Arcanist and myself.

En’yen Yagul glimpsed straight into my eyes with absolute confidence, which was a very bold and stupid move. He had probably never fought against a mystic before.

But I quickly found out his confidence wasn’t unfounded.

It was incredibly hard to peer into his soul. There was just too much mana. Alike my soul had become a singularity, the High Arcanist’s body was a moving singularity.

Even the straight connection between our irises, lavender and purple, wasn’t enough for me to take control. I couldn’t just knock him out in a single move. That was to be expected against the most powerful mage in the world, but that hope had still remained in my mind until now.

I need to make some time. I realized. The spell I began casting when I was healing Fynn wasn’t ready yet. I would need a minute more at the very least, and even then, I wasn’t confident with my chances.

“A student from the Academy of Applied Magical Arts of Ferilyn, huh.” Yagul mussitated.

It was obvious that he wasn’t taking me seriously. I needed to exploit that advantage to the utmost maximum if I wanted to have any possibility to win.

“You are a healer, but I sense a powerful Arcane affinity within you. How curious.” The High Arcanist continued talking to himself. “You chewed more than you can bite, boy.”

“The name’s Edrie Nightfallen.”

“Of course, of course.” He chuckled in amusement. “But you should learn to respect your elders!”

Without any hesitation or announcement, the High Arcanist shot a spell at me from his fingertips. I couldn’t feel him spellcasting it, let alone even react when it impacted me. In that split second, I could only recognize the color and the shape of the spell. It looked like an Arcane Beam but far more powerful. It was the same spell that Sergeant Aln of the Vanguard Order had used against me in the training of my first day in the Lan’el perimeter.

I had now learned that the ten-star spell was called Leyline Beam, but unlike the one from the soldier, the High Arcanist’s Leyline Beam was far more powerful and wider.

This time I didn’t end with a hole in my shoulder, but a severed extremity.

My left arm fell to the ground as it was cut clean by the spell that recreated the intensity of a leyline. I gritted my teeth in pain. Not even blood flowed out of the wound as the Leyline Beam had cauterized my arm in that single second of contact.

That was the might of a High Arcanist.

The might of En’yen Yagul.

He had spellcasted a ten-star spell in tenths of a second, if not a single one.

“Edrie,” he called out, “I am not without my flaws, but I am a magnanimous person. If you surrender now and take your arm, I will forget this whole ordeal happened and you can go your merry way, no need for you to die. It would be foolish of me to deprive Ferilyn of an eleven-star mage in these times of... change.”

It didn’t surprise me that Yagul knew I was an eleven-star mage. It would be easy for someone of his caliber to judge another mage’s power.

I did not mutter a single word, but I crouched down and picked up my severed arm with my right one. En’yen Yagul briefly smiled believing he had won, but that expression quickly vanished as I reattached my arm back into place with Regeneration.

The severed sleeve of my academy’s tunic fell down as it was no longer connected, and it revealed my left arm in all of its burned glory.

I may have reattached it; I may have healed it multiple times; but the wounds of the leyline remained. His eyelids slightly opened, noticing the meaning of the burns on my arm.

“Shall we continue?” But before I even finished the sentence, I unleashed ten Necrotic Bolts at the twelfth star arcanist.

Yagul wasn’t even bothered by my attack, for a split second I believed it was because he was underestimating me, but in truth, the six-star spells were utterly useless against him. They didn’t even travel even a meter before they were dispelled. It was to be expected that a twelve-star arcanist, the manaweavers by excellence, was able to nullify any simple spells with as much as a blink.

Lavender mana sipped into the spiritual plane.

“Is that all you can do?” The man almost sounded disappointed. “I shouldn’t have expected much of a healer.”

Almost there. I need him to talk more.

“How amusing that a scholar says that.” Taunting him wasn’t the best option, but it was likely that it would make the conversation flow.

“A scholar? Yes. But I have almost three centuries on my belt, Edrie.” Yagul sizzled the last word with poison. “You don’t even look like a century old? Considering what you are wearing, you may not have even lived half a century. Are you truly that enticed to die?”

I didn’t respond.

“I see.” He raised the High Arcanist’s staff and hit the bottom against the ground. “Then let me oblige you in your desires.”

Mana violently shifted; quantities far bigger than I had fought against before. Not Fynn nor Eygaz possessed such raw mana at their disposal. But now I did expect an attack.

Three Leyline Beams shot out of the staff’s canopy.

The ten-star spells were lethal and fast, and I certainly couldn't protect myself from them. Fortunately, their trajectories were simple, and I was able to dodge them to the side.

There had been an arm’s width between the beams and me, yet my body shook with their energies even after they had missed. The electric current felt like a palpable static charge numbing my body. One of those beams was enough to kill me, even if I deposited all my mana into defense. En’yen could spellcast three at the same time.

Thirty seconds, that would do.

“Your spells may pack a lot of power, but if they miss, it doesn’t matter if they are Magic Chips or Leyline Beams.” Once again, the High Arcanist didn’t fall for my provocation.

Losing one’s presence of mind was devastating for a mage. Concentration on the battlefield was of utmost importance.

“Command Sergeant Major Albeyr at least entertained me for a few hours,” Yagul sighed, “but in a few minutes you’ve already tired me.”

As he put his sight upon me with a deadly gaze, time seemed to slow down as reality slightly warped. This time it wasn’t Leyline Beams, but the leyline.

The pillar of arcane light behind the High Arcanist flared up with a radiance that occluded the sun. Goosebumps littered my body as if a powerful static charge had filled the air. I felt slightly nauseated.

Mana poisoning.

It wouldn’t kill me, but it surely would weaken me.

Ready.

“Perish.” It wasn’t a threat or a statement. But an order.

I could feel my body spasm against my will as if someone had shocked me with electricity, but before I could gather my thoughts, my mind exploded.

Quite literally.

My head burst open in gore as my soul was expulsed from the physical plane, my body falling lifeless into the ground. I lay in the spiritual plane in amazement trying to puzzle out what had happened.

The bored High Arcanist turned his back and walked back to his throne, already disposed to open the stone gates.

Unbeknownst to him, I had planned for this.

Eleven-star spell: Resurrection.