Chapter 54 - It Is Me And I Am It (Patreon)

Niya of Feylon

Niya pulled herself from the rubble of a collapsed building. She cracked her neck before wiping off the trickle of blood leaking from her split lip.

“Life Touch,” after uttering the name of her custom technique, the cut on her lip vanished as if it had never been.

“Nice hit,” She smirked at the man who had just knocked her into the still-crumbling building.

He wore gray robes covered in intricate runes. They were reminiscent of the rippling waves of a pebble dropped into still water. When activated, they would form a formidable defensive barrier, if fed enough mana. The runes were currently inactive, their mana cost too high for prolonged activation. The man shook like a leaf as he took a step away from Niya, the gloating condescension from before he hit her with all his strength nowhere to be seen.

“It’s my turn now, right?” Niya slowly closed in on him, planting one foot before the next in a methodical advance as unstoppable as an avalanche.

“Blazing Star,” Red flames ignited across her chest before condensing into her fist.

“W-w-what are you doing?! You can’t attack me! Striking an Inquisitor of the Voice is punishable by death!” The inquisitor turned to run but the stones beneath his feet liquified before they rose up and enveloped his legs to the knees.

“Glacial Collapse,” Waves of the purest icy blue surged across her body before combining atop her fist, mingling with the crimson glow of her last technique.

The inquisitor's terrified eyes turned to Niya’s side where a handsome boy with dark hair knelt. His fingers were splayed wide on the ground, a wicked grin showed perfect, white teeth. The inquisitor struggled desperately, but the now-solid rock held him fast.

“Impossible! No tier four can hold me!” The inquisitor's aura writhed around him, shattering stone and bringing another building crashing to the ground, yet the grasp on his legs remained firm.

“Tsunami Burst,” A wave of rippling mana spread from her heart before enveloping the wildly radiating purple energies shining on her deadly fist.

“Your struggles are pointless. The Voice’s methods are dated and your time is up.” The kneeling boy crowed.

“RUINOUS STRIKE!” Golden power quaked from her chest and joined the barely stable energies converged in her fist.

Niya took a final, inexorable step forward before the power of four combined channelings slammed into the runes protecting the inquisitor’s chest. They shattered instantly and her arm sank into his flesh causing blood to explode from his mouth. Space broke around them like cracked glass as his body was blasted through the castle wall behind him. Bricks fell like rain as an entire section of the sturdy wall collapsed, sending a cloud of dust and debris high into the air.

The handsome boy stood with a whistle of appreciation. “You get him?”

Niya blinked, checking her notifications.

EXP: + 1

Strength: + 1

Durability: + 1

Wisdom: + 1

Layering: + 1

Ruinous Strike: + 1

NAME:   Niya of Feylon

RACE:   Human

AGE:   16

WEIGHT:  3111.86 kg

STATUS:  Basic Manabody / Healer’s Reservoir / Juggernaut Core / Forged Body

TIER:   5

EXP:   1/400

GROWTH:  12.18%

MANA: 16

CONCENTRATION: 16

STRENGTH:  212

AGILITY:  197

ENDURANCE:  195

DURABILITY:  192

WISDOM:  196

INTELLIGENCE: 191

SKILLS:

Molding - Mana Folding lvl 59

Shaping lvl 23

Channeling lvl 19

Forming lvl 7

TECHNIQUES:

Forcing lvl 27

Layering lvl 18

Life Touch lvl 29

Blazing Star lvl 22

Ruinous Strike lvl 32

Glacial Collapse lvl 18

Tsunami Burst lvl 18

“Yeah, I got him. I told you he was tier five,” She smiled after seeing the EXP notification and the several gains from soloing someone her own tier.

“You got experience from him, didn’t you? This is so frustrating! I can’t believe you tiered up without us. We’re only a few kills short and now we’re completely stuck without your help.”

“It’s not my fault you’re all too weak to kill anything without me. After everything I’ve taught you, beating a few tier fours should be a picnic,” Niya’s gaze was ice as she disregarded the whining boy. “Enough complaining, did you see where the other one ran off to?”

He shook his head, “Leave him, we aren’t here for them.”

“You might not be here for them.” She growled, her lips contorting into a snarl.

The boy took a step back while making calming motions with his hands. “Please control yourself. You promised to help, remember? Destroying my family's home while you chase another weakling around the city hardly counts as helping.”

Niya clicked her tongue but backed down as she folded her arms across her chest. “Fine, lead the way.”

They moved quickly, running up several spiraling flights of stairs to the back of the massive fortress castle. The dark-haired noble held out his hand and a reinforced wooden door was sucked into itself as if it were swallowed by a black hole. He tore through the opulent room like a tornado. Pulling pictures off the walls and kicking over furniture in a desperate search for the thing he sought.

Growing frustrated, he kicked an intricately designed table that likely cost more gold than Niya had ever laid eyes on. “Please control yourself, destroying your family’s home, blah blah blah,” She mocked with a smirk.

“You are insufferable, you know that? If you weren’t so pleasant to look at, there wouldn’t be a soul alive who would tolerate you.”

“Oh, you think I’m pretty? Do you want a chance at this?” Niya gestured to herself provocatively. Suddenly, the young noble was unable to pull air into his lungs as he gulped nervously. “All you have to do is survive one little punch, then you can do whatever… you… want… to me. What do you say, want to give it a go?” She cracked her knuckles with a grin.

Without warning, Niya leaped past him and he jerked back in shock, stumbling over debris on the floor as he fell on his ass. The wall behind him imploded in a shower of stones as a bulbous, finely-dressed noble tore through it with an extended fist. Niya took the attack on her gauntlet, causing the mana-infused metal to crumple. She screamed in the pudgy noble’s face, her features contorting as her fist connected with his chest.

Blood exploded from his mouth as he crashed through priceless furniture. He came to an abrupt stop against the far wall, near the hole he had just created with his failed sneak attack. The noble groaned, bleeding from numerous lacerations as he shook his head in an attempt to clear shock.

“I’m surprised you actually came, Father!” The boy spat the word like a curse.

Father and son eyed each other warily before the downed man spat, clearing his mouth of blood. “So it’s you, Dommell. What does a worthless bastard like you want from me?” Dommell raised a shaking fist, a rictus of pure hatred contorting his features. Just then, bells began to ring all through the city and the fat man chuckled pitifully. “What’s wrong, so happy to see my pretty face you can’t speak?”

Ugly-ass shrelk kills his real dad then has the gall to call him a bastard? No wonder Dommell hates him.

“Where’s the key?” Dommell demanded after taking a shaky breath to regain control of himself.

The man laughed as he pulled a crystalline key out of his fancy jacket and held it up mockingly. As suddenly as it appeared, the key was snatched up by Niya’s aura. It flew through the air and into her outstretched palm. Dommell turned his glare on her before she reminded him of his place with a raised eyebrow.

“Hah! You can’t even control your little pet. You’re as worthless now as you were back then,” Dommell’s stepfather taunted.

Dommell’s anger seemed to evaporate as he slowly shook his head while looking down at the man. “You used me and everyone else to get what you wanted. I suffered for your schemes, I could have died. You’re nothing but a monster, a beast waiting to be put down. I’ve played my part long enough. It’s high past time you played Yours!” Dommell screamed as he raised both arms toward the man who had taken everything from him.

The last remnants of his mana poured out in his strongest attack. A tiny mote of darkness appeared in front of the downed man's chest. He was sucked into the dot, crushed, and devoured. His body folded in on itself until only a tiny red marble remained. Dommell scooped up the marble and stuck it in his pocket before the two made their escape.

As they flashed down the stairs leading out of the fortress, Niya shot him a wink while waving the crystalline key in front of his nose. “Hope you don’t mind if I hold on to this until our deal is complete.”

Dommell clicked his tongue, “Do I have a choice?!”

“No, no you do not.”

Jiran of Feylon

Jiran walked down the bustling main street of the Solorin. Children chased each other with smiles on their faces and new mothers carried babies in slings with determined expressions.

That’s right. It’s the calm season and densoon is right around the corner. Some of those kids aren't going to survive the overabundance of density that’s coming. Madra has no mercy for those who fail to adapt. Everyone just takes it in stride, refusing to grow attached to their own children until after they prove themselves.

One more reason for me to learn what density really is. If I can figure that out, maybe I can learn how to help babies adapt. How many thousands of lives would that save every year?

Jiran found the clothing boutique easily enough. The proprietress threw herself on the floor the second she felt his aura. He picked the old woman up with a gentle touch and assured her he was just there for a new set of clothes. She tried to give him a discount but he wasn’t having it and a few minutes later, he was sporting a loose-fitting outfit in the local style.

Darkness covered the town when he stepped back onto the main street. A boy, probably his same age and still tier two, was rushing from one side of the street to the other, lighting lamps with a flickering finger. Jiran pressed on down the main road, his thoughts crowded with finding a comfortable bed and a warm meal.

He approached a three-story house with a sign hanging out front that read “Skinny Dick’s Halfway Inn.” As he drew closer, his manabody enveloped the building, and what he saw inside the aptly-named inn was exactly as he expected. A pretty girl with generous curves on display waved with a sultry smile while blinking bedroom eyes his way.

Brandon would have jumped at the chance, and often did. Guess our tastes aren’t that similar. I’m just not interested in a city girl fling. I’m sure someday I’ll find an adventurous girl who can handle exploring Madra with me. You, girl, are not her.

Feeling far more excited about spending the night experimenting with his new skills, Jiran moved on with a wave of his hand, absently noting the girl's disappointment.

He continued walking until he found a cozy building called “Mithrer’s Lodge.” As his manabody passed over the crowd inside, he smiled with a sigh of relief.

He walked inside, the din of a busy pub washing over him bringing the comforting smells of sweat, cheap alcohol, and warm bread. Several dozen patrons shouted happily as they celebrated another day in the easiest season of the year. At a nearby desk, a man sat on a stool with his head on the table. He teetered on the verge of falling to the floor, the only solid thing about him was the grip on his half-full mug.

“Room for the night?” Jiran asked loud enough to be heard over the rambunctious crowd.

The man didn’t bother raising his head to look, he held up two fingers for a moment before producing a copper key and sliding it across the table.

Does he want copper, or silver? Well if he’s not going to say, he’s getting copper.

Jiran placed the coins on the table, watching with amusement as the man deftly made them disappear without looking. Hearing no complaints, Jiran paid for and grabbed a pre-prepared meal from a nearby counter before finding his room.

There was nothing special about the room. It had a bed, chamberpot, nightstand, and an empty bucket he assumed was for a ‘bath’. After taking a deep breath of the room’s pervasive stench, Jiran collapsed onto the bed which groaned in protest, but held his weight with the help of his manabody. He dug into his food, glad that the over-spiced meal masked the room’s smell.

Every occupant in the building was within his aura’s range. The constant barrage of noise was far from relaxing. Despite wanting to focus on his skills, he found himself listening in when he heard an interesting conversation come up.

“Graymin going to be close by next season, Marve. Mark me, we should out from this place ‘n go further south.”

“South? There’s nothing south o’ here but more death yah daft drunk. If yer so worried about ‘em, why don’t you re-enlist?”

“Wha’ like all the fours across the damn empire doin? I ain’t going back into that nightmare! I did my time an’ you know it. Filthy damn nobles don’t give a snarglits arse ‘bout us three’s. If I go north again, it’ll be the last trip I ever make.

Why are they so worried about the graymin?

Jiran listened to a few more conversations and quickly understood.

Four forts in just two seasons. I wonder if the emperors will have to make a move. I remember one of Samris’s books saying the emperors haven’t had to get involved with pushing the Graymin back in over a hundred years.

Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that. The emperors wouldn’t waste their mana unless a lot of people were already dead and the situation was truly desperate. Supposedly they still haven’t recovered their mana from the last time they had to fight. How crazy would it be to have so much mana it takes a hundred years to regenerate it all?

I’m going to have to join the army soon, too. By the end of my sixteenth birthseason, my oath will kick in. The longer I ignore it, the more it will damage my manapool. Not that I plan to avoid helping with the Graymin. I still have nearly two seasons left though, plenty of time to get a lot stronger so I can make a real difference in the war.

If I can get to tier five or six before then, I’ll be one of the strongest people in the empire. The Graymin won’t know what hit ‘em. But that would mean starting the timer again, facing the euphoria of the challenger density, and then another arena…

Jiran cut off his train of thought, uncomfortable enough that a shudder ran through his body.

I can’t relax with all these people talking inside my aura. I might as well try to figure out what she meant about my manabody. Maybe then I could control it enough to block all of them out. As easy as blinking or moving an arm huh? What a load of crap. It doesn’t respond to anything I’ve done.

Jiran tried again, hoping a lighter effort might yield results, but still the vaporous, ever-present energy that surrounded him refused to cooperate.

Normally you acquire the manabody at tier five. Maybe I can only sense things through it until then? No, I crushed that bug in the desert, it can definitely do more I just have to figure out how. There’s definitely something I’m missing.

Jiran recalled the strange flashes of memories he had received the day he unlocked the cube and acquired his manabody. He could clearly recall how it was with him all the way back at his birth. It had always been around him, even if he couldn’t feel it. He remembered that it sacrificed itself by going through some gate to help him heal the wound from his first tiering.

What were those errors about? Wasn’t there another error when the system put me in stasis? What the heck is so wrong with me. Focus, Jiran. Manabody. What do I know about it for sure? It’s been with me since my birth, it operates automatically to help me in various ways, and it’s not alive or an actual part of me.

No, that’s not right. How can I say for sure it’s not alive. It has emotions, I felt them clearly in those memories. It died to protect me. It even has a brain that it uses to help me filter all the sensations. I may not be able to point at that brain, but that doesn’t mean it's not very real. Huh, is it really a living thing? Could it actually be a part of me like an arm or leg? Was she talking more literally than I thought?

Jiran shook his head, instinctively wanting to deny the idea even as it clawed for purchase within his thoughts.

Why am I so against it being alive, being a part of me? Is it my memories from Earth telling me that something like that is impossible? Well, that’s stupid. Earth didn’t have any magic. What would they know about a part of the body that can’t be seen or felt without the help of mana?

As Jiran moved ever closer to accepting the truth, a flutter of recognition swept through his manabody. The moment he felt that touch upon his mind, a massive, idiotic grin split his face.

That’s exactly what it is. Every human has a manabody—an aura. They just can’t feel it without mana filling it, giving it power, strength, and purpose. Once again, the answer was in the freaking name all along! It’s a part of my body infused with mana, the manabody!

Jiran held his hand in front of his face, observing it closely through both his eyes and the senses of his manabody. He willed his limb to move, but not with muscle. His manabody rose to the challenge, pushing awkwardly against his skin. The air in front of him moved too, sliding like mud as his will was imposed upon it. He saw it all; every mote of dust in the displaced air, the pressure of weight on and within his flesh, it was all his to command.

Everything inside his aura was inside him and he became the arbiter of its fate. A deeper connection formed as he moved his aura with purpose for the first time. This was no phantom limb, no eye to blink or ear to hear. The manabody was more than that, it was connected with everything that he was in a way so profound, he could not possibly understand it all. But he understood a little.

It’s not just a part of me. It is me and I am it.

As with all things regarding mana, when Jiran’s understanding deepened, the power of his manabody swelled. When his thoughts flickered to the bucket in the corner, it flattened in an instant, creating a loud crash that echoed through the small room as a spider web of cracks spread through the floor.

Oops…