"Young man favored by the wind elves, I have a heartfelt request." Archmage Gelfin bowed his head low.
Sora blinked, pausing before replying: "Your power outstrips mine—what could I possibly do for you?"
Gelfin lifted his gaze, eyes blazing into Sora's: "No, you can—you will, in time."
"My future self?" Sora puzzled.
"Perhaps you don't know: wind-elf baptism grants potential for [five-star] magehood. My plea—escort Crown Prince Verus to Tolistine for refuge. Once you ascend to [five-star], aid him in reclaiming Albion."
Sora fell silent.
"Please. Albion, founded by the ancestor's son, endures 6000 years. I failed to sway the king; rebels overpower us, royalists too frail to break free. The realm may fall briefly to those traitors, but with Verus alive, legions will rally on his return. Your [five-star] might then? Restoration effortless."
"Even so, why back him? I'd hesitate to make a kingdom my foe," Sora said coolly.
"Then, rewards worthy." Gelfin extended his hand, revealing a gleaming blue gem.
"The Ancestor's Wind Gem." Sora's eyes flickered.
"Albion held the [Wind Gem] and [Ancestor's Music Box]. War saw rebels seize the box. Take the gem—I'll impart every wind spell I've mastered. Wind gem plus elf baptism, my insights and lore? You'll hit square-rank wind mage fastest, [five-star] in due course. Deal?" Gelfin fixed on Sora.
Sora took the [Wind Gem], thumbed its surface, and mulled.
"What if I stall at square-rank, 5000 magic points like you?"
"Then safeguard Verus—see him live out safe years."
"Revise: he claims one future favor. Post-[five-star], restore his throne; or slay the rebel chief. Fair?"
Gelfin met Sora's steady gaze; Sora unflinching.
"Sigh—done. Sealed." Gelfin exhaled agreement.
Sora cracked a grin.
"Sit. Wind magic lecture." Gelfin crossed legs, set staff aside.
Sora laid Delphlink down. "Teach me, Master Gelfin."
They sat face-to-face through the night; Gelfin unloaded a lifetime's wind lore into Sora, urging notes for later grasp. Sora burned the midnight oil, committing all to memory.
Sora yawned, spirits lagging. Gelfin buzzed vibrant.
Manor bustled—soldiers dashed; the feckless king armored up, long sword drawn, strode out to rally troops in the square. A dozen robed nobles clutched wands behind him—royalist mages.
Verus strode heroically toward his father.
As Verus passed, Gelfin struck swift—staff rapped his head's nape.
Verus whipped around astonished, eyes rolling back; he crumpled.
"What—?" Louise gaped.
The king nodded unsurprised: "National teacher, Verus is yours."
"Sire, today I stand with you. Verus—entrusted to this youth."
All eyes turned; Sora waved acknowledgment.
"You—splendid. We old-timers ride with Albion."
"Precisely, my king."
"Lead on, master."
King and Gelfin shared laughs.
Mages and soldiers caught fire, spirits soaring—swords and wands aloft.
"For Albion!" "For the king!" "Albion!"
Morale blazed; more lavish death-defiance, knowing doom loomed.
"Time to move, Louise." Sora shouldered limp Verus.
"But them, Sora." Sadness welled in Louise's eyes.
"Their call. Ours awaits. Go."
Sora gripped Louise's hand; they quit the manor.
Ten thousand rebel troops ringed royalist turf, shoving inward from fringes.
Sora mounted, lashed Verus to his horse. Louise took another; they spurred behind the manor toward Albion's edge.
Rebel sky dragoons spied two horses, three riders— one peeled to report, two dove at them.
Through familiar's eyes, Gelfin marked the scouts.
"Leave it." Gelfin raised staff.
"Haxiu Wendy Wendy Lie." [Great Wind Blade]
Twin two-meter crescent blades coalesced, streaked kilometers, struck pursuing dragoons. Dragons wailed; riders bisected, corpses tumbling from backs. "Huff, huff—" Gelfin panted hard, fished a dark-blue potion vial, gulped it. Top-tier mana brew—8000 points stored. Priceless.
Potion downed, Gelfin perked.
Two more burst from foe lines on griffins, arcing over manor after Sora.
The assassin! Gelfin's glare iced.
Aloft griffins, Varut and Fukai scowled grim.
Gelfin leveled staff at kilometer-distant marks.
"Inz Wendy Wendy Wendy Grew." [Hammer of the Wind King]
Sky clouds churned, winds howled; from rent clouds plunged a ten-meter fist air mass, top-down.
Gusts yanked even griffin wings; Varut eyed the plummeting blob.
"Damn that old Gelfin." Varut drew wand and sword skyward.
"Lille Wendy * 3 Young." [Wind King's Shield]
Dense winds latticed above griffin, doming overhead.
"Boom!!!" Hammer met shield; blast hurled griffin earthward.
"Fukai!!" Varut barked cold.
"Gerut Erth*3 Harem." Fukai incanted swift.
A ten-meter earth-rock golem erupted; Varut and Fukai atop its shoulders.
Golem lumbered after Sora, quaking ground.
Triangle-rank earth mage? Gelfin prepped another hindrance.
"Kill!!!" Battle cries thundered.
Rebels assaulted. Swordsmen, mercenaries swarmed king's hold dense.
Royalists formed front, clashed rushers.
Thousands arrows loosed; distant bowmen rained barbs.
Bang-bang-bang—rival mages hurled fireballs, wind blades crisscrossing field, reaping lives on impact.
Gelfin finished, retargeted rebels.
"Haxiu Wendy*3 · Lie." [Blade of the Wind King]
Ten-meter cyan blade skimmed ground-level, sheared over royalist heads into foe ranks. "Splatter-splatter..." Blood fountained; scores to hundreds gutted, hundreds more sideswiped. Royalists cheered; rebels quailed.
"Great Mage Gelfin—dire foe." Kolomwe marveled from rear.
"Gelfin's Albion's top mage in a century. Pity—our thirty thousand versus their few hundred. He'll drag to exhaustion."
"King, Gelfin, Verus dead? Albion mine."
"To victory." "Victory." "Victory."
Rebel brass toasted. Royalists' king charged wild, sword hacking forefront.
Rebels gawked at mad-lunging king; he and guards felled dozens apiece—yet foes poured endless.
Royallist mages flagged post spells—few four-five per, many hundreds slain—but dozen casters couldn't sway tide.
Gelfin quivered, face flushed. Tier-three chains plus tier-twos taxed even him. Yet 8000 mana held—full reserve.
[Floating] near-zero drain, Gelfin soared wall-over, above heads.
Both sides fixated, agog.
"Him—what's his play?" Kolomwe puzzled.
Gelfin overflew royalists, halted tens meters above rebels.
He boomed chant, voice booming tens meters.
"Gruba Wendy Wendy Wendy Wendy Spar!!!" [Tornado]
Gusts cloaked him, batting rebel arrows. Winds swelled apocalyptic; Gelfin tornado's eye—three-meter base diameter, forty meters tall, twenty-plus crown. Spawned, it voraciously inhaled air. Mana spent, Gelfin willed spirit-force to steer it foe-ward.
Whoosh-crash-bang—gale path flipped rebels, wrenched swords free, lacerated countless—like plowed earth. Tornado barreled rearward, snaring peripherals—soldiers smashed to pulp, hurled sky-flung.
"Raining?" Kolomwe wiped face—blood.
Hundreds meters on, twister gulped rebels, shredded formations.
"Damn!!" Kolomwe crushed goblet, scowling.
Ten minutes more, tornado faded; Gelfin vanished. Yet its toll: three to four thousand rebels dead, near five thousand trampled in rout.
Post-Gelfin, royalists buckled swift.
Mercenary lopped king's head. Soldiers swamped, minced. Mana-dry mages easy-chopped by influx.
Rebel banner supplanted royal, hoisted over manor.
Royalists crushed, rebels triumphant. But losses steeper than forecast—chase Verus sidelined awhile.