Chapter 113 - Ball-O-Lightning (Patreon)

Niya of Feylon

Niya was unable to fully track Jiran’s movements as he vanished from beside her only to appear at the other end of the room.

That wasn’t teleportation. How the shitweave did he do that? He didn’t even make any sound!

Her thoughts were cut short and her mouth fell open when she saw who he was standing next to.

A-a-a beast? In a dress?!

Remembering Cameron’s words, she looked over her shoulder at the too-handsome idiot to see him smirking at her with his tongue sticking out the corner of his lips. “I wish you could see your face right now. Priceless! Yeah, that’s her. Crazy, right? Better get used to it quick, Mortemer is… touchy when it comes to her. She’s not weak, either. Kicked my ass flat when we first met.”

Niya turned back to see Jiran sweep the admittedly beautiful girl into a spin before kissing her. A blonde girl with shining blue eyes and the dignified poise of a high noble stepped between her and the surreal couple. She dipped into a light curtsy before speaking in a low whisper. “Greetings. You must be Niya. My name is Oliviala, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Niya frowned at the rude noble and moved to step around her when Cameron’s hand lightly fell on her shoulder.

“This is my cousin, Olive. I’m sure Mortemer has told you all about us.” He sent Olive an obnoxious wink that caused her to cover her mouth with restrained laughter.

“Oh, Olive. Yeah, I think he said something about you being even more reckless than him? Not sure how that’s possible though.”

“Rude! Boldness is a virtue that only appears as recklessness to those without a discerning eye,” Olive trailed off when she noticed Jiran critically examining the crowd with a nasty expression on his face.

“He’s so going to punch that twerp! Hope you’re ready to pay up, dearest cousin,” Cameron gloated, eager to finally win a bet.

“The one banging on his aura?” Niya questioned.

“Yea—”

“Silence!“

Jiran of Feylon

Mayalyn nervously adjusted her dress after Jiran addressed the crowd. He noticed the slight tightening of her mouth as she fidgeted with the material at her back and quickly realized what the issue was. He placed his hand on her lower back, giving her a comforting nod of encouragement while passing a trickle of mana into the Forming skill. A small fold of the fabric beneath his fingers parted, and a moment later, Mayalyn’s tail was released from its pinched curl. It leaped out, coming to rest in the air behind her for all to see.

"Thank you! That was so uncomfortable!" Her tail lashed back and forth angrily, a perfect match for the vitriolic frustration bubbling within her as she gazed at a sea of hateful, judgmental faces.

She cleared her throat and spoke loudly in her native tongue, her yips, growls, and barks loud enough to silence the shocked whispers cropping up across the room. She paused after every sentence, giving Jiran time to translate. "I came to you in peace and was met with scorn. I see now my mistake. The empire, your home, your people, are not at peace, you are at war for your very survival. You have no need for our culture, our knowledge, our wisdom, therefore, you do not see them. You see only my fist, which is small, delicate,” She paused, took a deep breath, then met their gazes openly with ferocious snarl, “But my people do not fight with fists! We fight with claws! And we would fight by your side, for the Graymin are not your foe alone. You need a weapon, and The People are a fine weapon indeed."

A man raised his fist, ready to cheer, but Jiran’s aura sealed him off before he could interject. Most of the onlookers appeared in a daze; the rest were quiet, openly watching with questioning expressions that were already turning less harsh. A well of pride bubbled within Jiran from the conviction in her tone. He could tell they had been cruel to her and he couldn’t wait to see their reaction when she showed them what The People could do, what she could do.

One of the two powerful auras pushed deeper into the room from another part of the Manor. While larger, it was nowhere near potent enough to infringe without his consent. Jiran allowed a trickle of it to reach them and quirked an eyebrow at Mayalyn. When she nodded, he released his hold and it entered his space.

Must be the Duke. I wonder why he isn’t here. Could have avoided this whole scene if he disciplined his Grandson or gave Mayalyn and the People some respect. I suppose respect must be earned, and she's chosen your douche of a Grandson to teach you she's worthy of it.

The Duke’s aura stilled around them and she continued. "We came together tonight to acknowledge the one who has slain many of our enemies. Yet his efforts are not enough. The Graymin are still at your walls, wearing down your defenses.” She snarled the last, baring her teeth as she pulled his hand from her back and held it firmly for all to see. “Together, we will give you reason to cast off your doubt. First: A demonstration of my personal strength. Then, we will show you what our two peoples can do when they join. Once you have seen, we will truly have a reason to celebrate this night."

By the time Jiran finished translating, Mayalyn had moved in front of him. She pointed a finger at the Duke’s Grandson, her face twisted like she wanted to spit. "Dornev Le’Mortan will assist with my first demonstration. My name is Mayalyn Aloyhee, I am tier three, and this is my power!”

Mayalyn’s skin flickered with arcs of electricity. For the tier fours in the room, she seemed to split in two. One of her appeared five meters away, behind Dornev. The other stood still at Jiran’s side. The tier fives in the room perceived her movement, though it was still a blur that stretched between her afterimage and her new location. The tier sixes saw her clearly, their eyebrows shooting up as they took in the speed that should be impossible for a tier four, let alone a tier three.

As Mayalyn’s afterimage faded, her hand landed on Dornev’s shoulder. The asinine boy never had a chance. Currents of electricity tore through his body, turning him into a convulsing, gibbering mess. A few stray arcs jumped from him to land on Mayalyn, where they sank back into her skin.

When she let go, the helpless boy collapsed to the ground and Jiran was there, a finger to his forehead. "Restoration." The name of his technique filled the ears of those present as his healing cleansed the boy from head to toe, repairing the damage wrought by Mayalyn.

Jiran frowned when his aura found a blank space in his brain. He created several threads of mana to investigate, quickly discovering a tiny shard of metal that was not only invisible to his aura, but stubbornly attempted to deny his healing. He wrapped it tightly with his mana, using that as a guide to also firm his aura around it. Ever so gently, he pulled, separating the shard from the gray matter before pushing it out of his neck. Regenerative mana rapidly repaired the damage in both his neck and brain.

He examined the splinter of metal no bigger than a needle before shrugging. With a tightly-contained flame, he burned it away. A thick, sickly smoke was released as it burned, threatening to break free from his aura. Big Bang joined the fray, compressing the smoke into a solid. Once it was fully burned away, Jiran used Forming to turn the little marble of smoke into oxygen.

Well, that was different. Whatever that was, it must have been painful. Who knows, maybe he’ll be less of an ass now.

Jiran stepped back, finally allowing the Duke’s aura to lift the boy and carry him across the room. A tall man that looked like an older, tired version of Dornev was there, having appeared from thin air. Jiran examined him, confirming what he already knew.

[Human: Duke Reihnhardt Le’Mortan (Tier 7 - Sapient - Trusting) ????/????]

The man raised his hand for silence and then spoke, his voice easily cutting through the din, "Impressive, though targeting my Grandson while he was unprepared was a cowardly mistake," A chorus of deep inhalations was followed by silence as none dared to exhale. All save Mayalyn and Jiran, who remained completely unaffected by his presence. Seeing the targets of his ire unfazed, the Duke continued with a glimmer of respect in his eyes. "You mentioned a second demonstration, I pray that it is better than the first. If it is not, your welcome in my city will come to an end."

He just stretched his neck over a barrel. After what I'm pretty sure Mayalyn has in store next, he's going to be licking shrelkshit from her boot to get her to stay. Why would he say something that puts him in such a disadvantageous position if he’s wrong? He doesn’t look like an idiot. He actually reminds me a lot of Samris.

Jiran spoke before Mayalyn had a chance. "The final demonstration will be held upon the Western Wall in fifteen minutes. Any who wish to see the future of our peoples should not be late, as it will be over for our enemies all too quickly." Maylyn shot him a wide smile and he responded with a wink.

Everyone below the fifth tier shuffled out of the room immediately, likely wanting to get in their coaches to not miss the upcoming spectacle. Hand in hand with Mayalyn, Jiran walked to a buffet table and elbowed Niya out of his way to grab a plateful of the tier six food she was shoveling into her mouth.

The second he filled his own mouth, Olive appeared before them with a bright smile. “That was marvelous, Mayalyn! I suppose you were acceptable as well, Mortemer,” She threw in with an excited giggle.

“No upset mine?” Mayalyn squeezed between them, head tilted questioningly.

“Upset? No, of course not. The empire only respects power, for without it, society would immediately collapse under the weight of Madra’s wrath. Mortemer’s ability to rival the Duke’s aura and your strength on full display are sure to alleviate the abuse you’ve been suffering. There isn’t a single person in the city who would dare look at you the same. I’m so proud of you!”

When Jiran’s only response to Olive’s gushing was bulging cheeks and slow, blissful chewing, she sighed wistfully while rolling her eyes.

“That said, we should have a quick conversation about respecting the Duke and his family. There are lines that once crossed, can cause excessive annoyances in repairing. We do not wish for there to be any stains upon your honor as that might reflect upon your people, whom we want to be treated well.”

Jiran completely failed to understand them as they pulled on his sleeve, asking for his help translating. His head lolled back to face the ceiling. Perfectly cooked and seasoned tier six meat painted a tapestry of rich flavors in his mouth. A soft moan escaped him as he basked in the rapidly-dissolving, savory density that swam down his throat to be claimed into mana.

A moment later, the sounds of nearby chewing interrupted his bliss. Survival instincts kicked into overdrive as he pulled Niya away from the rest of his food. He hastily swallowed the rest of his bite before shoving her in Mayalyn’s direction. “Niya, meet Mayalyn, Mayalyn, my cousin, Niya. How about you two get to know each other. Preferably somewhere far away from here!” Jiran’s chop intercepted a stealthy hand before he slammed a barrier of aura between Niya and the food.

She relented with a snarl, turning a sickly-sweet smile at Mayalyn. "That was entertainment at its finest. An entire room full of prissy nobles put in their place. No wonder Morty likes you! This reminds me of the time I caught him in my father’s attic. You wouldn’t believe what he was doing to himself!"

“Thanks many! What Jiran do in attic? He hurt self?” Mayalyn tilted her head with a finger on her cheek.

Somewhere in his subconscious, Jiran knew they were talking about him but the food was unlike anything he had ever tasted. It swept him away on a journey he would never be able to forget. Eventually, the last bite vanished into his bottomless gullet and he turned back to his friends and family. “Yeah, so that just happened. What did I miss?”

Cameron, Niya, and Mayalyn were laughing a few paces away while Olive was standing beside him with blazing red cheeks. “Welcome back to the party. I knew you would come around to the finer things in life eventually, but we are out of time. We must get to the wall as we have only a few minutes until your second debut.” Olive moved around behind him and began physically pushing him toward the door.

Mayalyn leaned in to whisper in his ear as she passed, “I hope you will show me that secret hand technique of yours later. It sounds quite fun.”

“Huh? What secret hand technique?”

“No-no-no! We are going, right now!” Olive pushed all the harder and Jiran allowed himself to be guided outside where he picked up everyone except Niya. They rapidly flew to the far wall and alighted amid a cluster of clucking suits and dresses. Jiran created a quick light show with Shaping a couple meters away from the wall. His luminous display danced through the air, silencing everyone. Though its real purpose was revealed when no rook attacks came hurtling from the mass of Graymin far below. He stuck his head out between two crenellations, eyeing the undulating throng of creatures.

Mayalyn shuffled up behind him, meekly staring at her feet as her claws extended and retracted in rapid succession. “Was this a dumb idea? Suddenly this feels like a dumb idea.”

“This is a great idea! We need them to understand the worth of the People or they will only be abused. The more the empire values and respects them, the better. Are you ready? The concentration of my mana increased so this is going to be a lot harder on you than before,” She grabbed his hand, giving it one gentle squeeze before nodding firmly.

“Okay, make sure to let it out quickly and squeeze twice when you’ve done all you can.

There’s no reason to push too hard.” Jiran could feel the determination lurking within her and knew she wouldn’t stop until he did.

This is what she wants to do. All I need to do is support her and clean up any mess after.

With his resolve firmed, Jiran started with several layers of Coating to protect Mayalyn and himself. He shaped two of them into tubes that would carry their combined mana. He stretched the two conduits to the limits of his control until their ends hung far away from the wall into open air. With his preparations complete, he began funneling a Shaping of electricity through their joined hands.

He started slowly but did not hold back his mental images at all. He pictured a flow of charged particles seeking out and creating free electrons, forming bridges for the energy to rampage across. The powerful current flowed into Mayalyn. She stiffened with a pained grunt as her Enhancing absorbed, refined, and multiplied his shaping.

The caged lightning suffused her body, filling every centimeter of her being with more power than she could possibly contain. She turned blue as thousands of tiny electrical arcs created spider webs across her skin. Her eyes sparkled like plasma balls as cerulean cracks of lightning shot from her open mouth. The energy blasted through the tubes of coating, gathering three meters away from them into a rapidly growing congregation of sparking death.

The orb grew with each passing second until it was far more potent than anything he could have made himself. Jiran spared a glance at Mayalyn but all he sensed from her was complete conviction. Respecting her decision to press on, he poured his mana through her until the now-giant sphere became unstable. His eighty-five levels of molding were put to the test as he struggled with all his will to contain their truly deadly creation.

Sixty percent of his mana had been amplified and magnified as it passed through her, now it was something far greater than the sum of its parts. He tried to push it away, to release it onto their enemies but it resisted him; unwilling to be commanded by one who could not even create such power themselves. He screamed, pushing with every fiber of his mana and will. The sound was completely drowned out by the blasting cracks of lightning and thunder that pulsed from the sphere to lick across the surface of the wall.

But it did obey.

Slowly at first, then gaining speed, it fell away from the wall and toward the center of the Graymin Horde. Half a million eyes tracked its movement as it fell—a speck in the night sky compared to their massive numbers.

The first Graymin died before the orb was thirty meters from the ground. From high atop the walls, a seemingly gentle caress of lightning swept through their ranks. It lasted only a moment, yet hundreds of Graymin were reduced to ashes. Flashes of blinding white snapped from its surface, portending doom upon the horde of beasts. The watching nobles gasped in unison as it reached the ground, sending a thousand jagged, azure spikes of lightning amongst the writhing mass of Graymin. Vast energies jumped from beast to beast; each touch ended a life as surely as the setting suns ended each day.

Its ending was anticlimactic as the magnificent orb slowly shrank and disappeared after spreading its devastation a full two kilometers in a perfect circle. What remained was the absolute stillness of a peaceful void, shocking in its quietude. Mayalyn’s slight weight collapsing into his side brought Jiran back to reality. He held her close against him, his heart beating a staccato rhythm at seeing what they had accomplished together.

Olive’s gentle cough was a not-so-subtle reminder that he should probably say something. Jiran turned, taking in the varying expressions of shock and awe. Mayalyn nudged him with her head. Although barely able to move, she clearly had something to say. He leaned down, listening to her whispered words before repeating them to those present.

"This is the power of our peoples when we work together. We would stand with you, though we will not be treated as toys for your children any longer." Jiran maintained eye contact with Duke Reihnhardt as he spoke.

The man nodded gravely before responding in a deep voice. "It would appear I owe you an apology. I let my Grandson make a fool of himself once more. As a father and a Duke of the great Finlest Empire, I apologize for any disrespect you have received while under my care.”

What? Just like that? No blustering or threatening my family line for a hundred generations?

Jiran noticed Olive nodding along to the Duke’s words as if his apology was the most natural outcome. Shrugging, he translated for Mayalyn while cradling her in his aura. She was asleep before he finished; a soft yet triumphant smile spread across her lips.