Corvis Eralith
The orange light of the setting Mordain still bathed the Sapinese countryside, casting long shadows across the rolling hills and cultivated fields that surrounded the estate of House Wykes.
As I approached the iron gates disguised as Kai Crestless, I couldn't help but wonder what the repercussions of my actions on Dicathen after today would be.
Fiery House Wykes was amongst the most influential political factions in the human kingdom, and also one of the most powerful and richest.
Whatever the outcome of this raid was going to be for Sapin, it wasn't going to be peaceful. And yet the other option—letting Alacrya continue to seed its corruption right in Dicathen's heart—was unacceptable.
Kai Crestless had come here wearing a mantle that covered him from head to toe, leaving only his back, and the Alacryan runes on his spine, visible; the Quadra-Elemental Greatrune was my cover as I, just like the deceased spy, had only a single one of these spellforms.
It was the same kind of outfit Draneeve had worn in another timeline, during his attack on Xyrus Academy.
I reached the entrance of the Wykes estate, a set of ornate iron gates barring the way to those uninvited.
Strangely, no one was on guard duty, but I knew better.
From my interrogation of Kai Crestless, I knew that for the monthly meeting Draneeve organized, the security of the estate was deliberately left low to not disturb the business of the Alacryans.
After all, who would dare to disturb the affairs of the great Fiery House?
All guards of the Wykes family were currently either in the barracks—a building on the eastern wing of the mansion left as quarters for the security staff—or protecting the important members inside.
Otis Wykes was smart enough not to fully trust Draneeve despite collaborating with him.
The gates opened, moved by a wind spell from an artifact in the gears of the iron gates themselves, one of the inventions of Gideon I had read about during my various studies on Dicathen.
The grounds of the Wykes estate stretched out in a pristine, meticulously manicured lawn: an artificial sight that made my elven sensibilities grate.
Humans lacked an appreciation for the vibrant, untamed gardens cherished by our people; they favoured these sterilised swathes of green, punctuated only by a handful of lonely, decorative trees.
"Kaiyah!"
The blood in my veins congealed when I heard the high-pitched voice.
A masked man with orange hair was behind the gates, waving his hands at me—at Kai Crestless, it was better to say.
Draneeve was exactly as The Beginning After The End had described him.
Everything about his figure, covered in the same cult-like mantle as me, screamed lunatic. He was tall, taller than the average man and almost as tall as Chul, but slim, his muscles dry and no more trained than mine: the muscles of a ten-year-old.
"Spymaster," I greeted.
REmould didn't change my voice of its own, as Kai Crestless wasn't a true identity of mine. However, I resolved the problem by using sound magic, weaving the sound waves with mana before they left my vocal cords.
Thanks to this, my voice, when it left my mouth, was not that of Leòn Leurenzian or any other aspect of me, but undoubtedly that of Kai Crestless.
Draneeve halted for a moment, staring at me, and I feared my cover had already been blown. However, the Alacryan soon made a pirouette and started to walk toward the villa's proper entrance.
"You seem a bit nervous, Kaiyah," Draneeve said, using that mock name for Kai—something I remembered he did for Lucas Wykes too in the novel. "Did this last month prove itself taxing for you?"
"I prefer to wait before answering your questions, spymaster," I replied. When I interrogated him, Kai had screamed and screamed that he had no relationships with Draneeve, that the spymaster was only his boss; I behaved like that. "Away from prying ears."
Out of the corner of my eye, on one of the large balconies of the Wykes villa overlooking the yard, I spotted a man. I spotted none other than Sebastian Wykes himself. How convenient having him here.
"Oh, don't mind the Dicathians," Draneeve said, shrugging his shoulders. "You perfectly know how innocuous they are. Even those of Highblood Wykes."
"Highblood?" I echoed, surprised, and Draneeve snorted.
"Just the promise our High Sovereign made to these guys," Draneeve said. "But you already know this... ah, Kaiyah, you should relax!"
I held my tongue, cautious not to blow my cover as I fell into step behind Draneeve. We slipped into the villa, our steps muffled against the parquet corridors leading down toward the estate's basement.
As we descended, I quietly probed Draneeve's strength, seeking to gauge his baseline as a mage.
Even stripped of Leòn's green spectacles, the Quadra-Elemental Greatrune afforded me more than enough Insight to form an educated guess.
He's likely a silver core, I deduced, tracing the subtle atmospheric drift of mana coiling around his frame. Maybe even at the high stage of it.
His bare back was mapped with a complex lattice of Alacryan runes.
Narrowing my focus, the patterns resolved themselves—Articles! I could decipher the Articles underlying Draneeve's very runes, precisely as I had during my visit to the Castle (the Grand Tribunal, to use its Djinnic name) alongside Alea.
In hindsight, tho, of course I could; Agrona had derived his bestowal system directly from plagiarised Djinnic spellforms, making the structural parallels unmistakable, even when channelled through mana rather than aether.
It was fundamentally no different from my own methods: I consistently harnessed the Articles to reinforce my mana arts, mirroring how Arthur had once woven ambient aether to empower his own elemental attacks while still he had Sylvia's Beast Will and his mana core.
All in all, Arthur had been lucky he hadn't fought Draneeve when he arrived to save the day at Xyrus Academy.
If he had been earlier, or if Draneeve had remained, I highly doubted Arthur would have made it out alive.
By Dicathian standards, Draneeve was a top-tier mage, one of the strongest on the continent outside of the Lances probably.
But if you had Chul Asclepius waiting to storm in, a quadra-elemental Guardian Bear ready as reinforcement, and as many attempts as you wanted... the only problem was not letting anyone escape Dicathen's due.
I looked at the mages and servants working for House Wykes as we passed through the last corridors before starting to descend.
They avoided meeting our gaze; on their faces was the look of a beaten and abused servitude with ungrateful and cruel employers.
As I looked past more of them, a question haunted my mind: how could I save them once things went south?
A proud and ancient noble family like the Wykes would never let an attack right under one of their properties go unnoticed, even if those under attack were terrorists from another continent.
We descended the stairs leading underground to the dungeons of this estate.
"I made a few renovations since last time," Draneeve said. "I made it more like home. Otiyah has been so kind to please my every request."
The hideout of Draneeve and his lackeys was far more different than I expected.
Beneath the villa of the Wykes family, I stepped inside a temple with a high vaulted ceiling and windows that gave to the darkness.
Depictions of horned beings were initialed in these coloured panels—Basilisks, Vritra—mingling with human affairs.
And reigning above all of these dark depictions was a tall black figure with elk-like horns and red eyes, the only splash of colour in this otherwise totally black depiction. Said figure guided and ruled over the masses of humans and Basilisks alike, guiding them under the banner of Vritra.
"Hello everybody, and thanks for coming to our beloved meeting," Draneeve said, walking to the centre of the temple behind an altar.
In the room, other than me, there were other hooded figures, but without a mask. All of them showed with pride the runes on their backs.
I counted thirty-three Alacryans in total, their magic levels ranging approximately from the orange stage to the light yellow, with Draneeve as the strongest person in the room.
I shook off my shoulders an eerie dread that hung heavily over the Vritra temple.
Above us, a stained-glass mosaic rendered the obsidian silhouette of Agrona Vritra, its crimson eyes glaring down as though the High Sovereign was physically present within this sanctuary of decay, daring me to drop my disguise.
As if he was waiting for the Arbiter of Fate to strike once more, after having already snatched the coveted Legacy straight from the Basilisk's taloned hands.
Around me, the people were not the Dicathian radicals that in the novel Draneeve had swayed to Alacrya's side, those that mainly contributed to the attack on Xyrus Academy.
These were the spies from the land across the ocean, those that Cynthia had been hunting since she betrayed Alacrya, but that had avoided her and Avier all these years.
"Now that Kaiyah has arrived too, we shall begin our meeting about our little excursion in Xyrus City during the Interdicathian fair in a month's time!" Draneeve said, his voice brimming with excitement, and I felt my blood run cold.
Grandpa had been working on the Interdicathian for years, getting in contact with Elder Rahdeas first, working alongside Cynthia, bringing Gideon in too, and many other influential people to the Magic Capital of the World.
I took a deep breath, time seeming to slow down and everything looking as if underwater. I had been waiting for this for so long:
"No," I said, meeting Draneeve's gaze squarely.
With a pulse of mana, I summoned Fiorwato from my storage ring and cast off my disguise.
REmould rippled across my flesh and bone, finally stripping away the face of Kai Crestless to reveal the Justiciar—Nabyun Asclepius surfacing from the depths of the river.
"Your Fate has run out of threads, Alacryans."
Chul Asclepius
I sat cross-legged on the hill facing the curious nest of humans, enjoying the sunset—a true sunsest, nothing like the fake skies of the Hearth.
I repeated the words of the Warrant of War in my head, the relic that made me whole and granted upon me the greatest of Lifework: that to be paragon of Peace.
I watched as Uncle entered the grounds of the human nest, his spell still around me and concealing my presence. My hands gripped Suncrusher's golden shaft, the head of the warmace as heavy as always.
As I saw Uncle disappear within the building I found myself surprised at myself. The fire burning inside of me wasn't only a trepidation to fight off Vritra's filth, but it was also for what would come next.
Uncle made me meet with the dwarf named Rahdeas, I spoke with him about my father and he revealed to know much about him—even if most were things Mother already told me.
Like the origin of my name: Chul. When they were younger Mother told me she and Father had two pets: a mouse and a serpent. The mouse was named Chul while the serpent was named Elijah. Mother confided me that if I were ever to have a brother she and Father would have undoubtedly named him Elijah.
As I lost myself in the calm before the storm Berna shifted beside me, resting her head on her paws.
"Soon we shall fight Berna!" I exclaimed, patting the head of the Guardian Bear, to which the creature growled and gavee a side glance with those bright green eyes of hers.
And that soon did indeed arrive... soon.
A brilliant portal shimmered to life bare minutes after Uncle vanished into the human nest, jolting me to my feet as I hoisted Suncrusher across my shoulders.
"This is it!" I roared as a battle cry, Suncrusher's head flaring to life as hot flames blazed from it, fed by my mana and my magic. "Beware foul Vritra for Justice is served!"
The portal, feeling not unlike the one placed in the Portal Chamber of the Hearth—a sudden bright vacuum—took me in.
Corvis Eralith
Hell broke loose the moment Chul emerged from the portal, wielding Suncrusher boldly against our enemies in the large Vritra temple hidden in the bowels of the countryside near the city of Marlow.
My nephew immediately fell into his peculiar battle stance, using the momentum his Earthen-like breakdance granted him to deal devastating blows with Suncrusher as the weapon roared with scorching flames.
Chul moved with the preternatural speed of his Asuran half, spinning across the floor with Suncrusher whirling around him like a spinning top.
The flames that surrounded the hybrid snapped, popped, roared, and guttered as he struck the Alacryans—those who raised their spells in defense if they were Shields, or tried to fight back if they were Casters or Strikers.
The sound of Suncrusher meeting flesh and bone was a sickening symphony, punctuated by the desperate cries of the spies who had thought themselves untouchable.
As this dance of war unfurled around me, I kept my eyes fixed on Draneeve, who barked words of shock and disbelief.
For once, he wasn't the one striking an unexpected attack. The hunter had become the prey, as they said. The spymaster produced an anvil-shaped object from under his cloak—a Tempus Warp. Of course he had one. But I came prepared.
Before the spymaster could escape, seizing the opportunity of his lackeys keeping Chul occupied, I thrust my hand forward and conjured a Bubblespell from beneath my palm.
The Articles of Freedom and Unity were inscribed inside it, and suddenly the small Bubblespell—barely larger than a marble—expanded outward, engulfing the underground temple in an interfering field.
The Articles of Peace couldn't be used effectively in combat to directly harm; but against technologies like the Tempus Warp, based on the Aetherology of the folk of calm currents? They were perfect.
The Tempus Warp in Draneeve's hands flickered to life and tried to conjure its own portal, but like a flame blown by wind, it sputtered and died before it was born.
"Your Fate has run out of threads, Draneeve," I repeated, taking a step closer to the spymaster. "You cannot escape."
Draneeve threw his mask to the ground in rage, his gaze wildly darting between me and Chul, who was annihilating the dozens of his Alacryan spies.
I had to end Draneeve quickly and then take care of things upstairs; we would not have much time before House Wykes noticed something was wrong.
"You are not Kaiyah!" Draneeve shouted, snapping his fingers which made a loud crack as mana surged from one of the runes on his back.
Suddenly, I felt as if the temperature had risen a hundredfold—not because of Chul's flames, which didn't scorch me, but because I felt as if my own mana was trying to be set ablaze, engulfing me in flames from within.
What kind of rune can do this?! I screamed inwardly, feeling the control over my own magic being interfered by Draneeve.
The only similar thing I had ever witnessed was Aya in the novel during her fight against Olfred.
I braced myself, channeling the power of the Quadra-Elemental Greatrune, and perfectly repelled Draneeve's magic. His control broke, and he felt the recoil physically, stumbling on his own feet.
"It didn't work?!" Draneeve shouted, and I seized the opportunity to make my move.
Wind Surfing propelled me across the battlefield on rushing currents as I aimed for the spymaster's throat.
With the bone-splintering eruption of Suncrusher crushing yet another Alacryan accompanying my gesture, I swept Fiorwato in a wide, singing arc.
All four elements surged in lockstep across my viridian blade, matching the resonant tempo dictated by the sword's melodic hum.
The rainbow-hued Flame of Dicathen—Nabyun's deviant fire magic—blended seamlessly with currents of water, gales of wind, and cascades of stone; all while singing with fierce clarity as it collided against Draneeve's guard.
His weapon, which he drew from under his cloak in a frightened second, was an oversized curved dagger, bearing an eerie resemblance to a traditional Nepalese kukri from Earth.
The weapons clashed, and Fiorwato sang. The grip on the kukri in Draneeve's right hand faltered, but the spymaster still attempted to fight back.
He reached for me with his offhand, but I had already forced him into a less-than-ideal position against the altar of this cursed temple.
I ducked, flames surrounding the spymaster's hand whooshing above my head, and answered with a low kick from my crouched position.
Draneeve's kukri plunged down from above. I caught the blow in a tight parry, driving a low kick into his kneecap that drew a ragged groan from the spymaster.
All the while, I strained against the foreign force of his Alacryan rune, actively suppressing its insidious attempt to ignite my own mana channels and veins.
Watching his signature magic fail against me landed a huge blow against Draneeve's pride, leaving him sputtering incoherent curses through clenched teeth.
For Alacryans, runes were not only the gift of Vritra, what made them worthy of living; they were also their greatest source of pride and glory.
The same situation in Dicathen for noble houses, especially in Sapin, but worsened a thousandfold.
Fiorwato and my enemy's kukri clashed left and right, up and down, sparks of metal being chipped as the blade of Fiorwato slowly consumed the kukri.
For a spymaster meant to stay in the dark, though, Draneeve was remarkably skilled at melee combat.
"Chul!" I called, my head snapping left for an instant that almost cost me dearly as flames from Draneeve threatened to swallow me, but a burst of cold, humid air extinguished the danger.
I saw one of the many Alacryans being smashed against the wall as Chul slammed them with a powerful shove of his shoulders, while a fallen one, exhausted from their useless fighting against the Asclepius, got his head stomped by Chul's foot.
The Asclepius turned his head and nodded, understanding implicitly what I wanted to say.
My clash with Draneeve continued, his slashes lacking the strength of a true silver-core mage as he, because of his runes, was unable to strengthen himself with mana.
But where he lacked in physical strength, he recovered in magical prowess.
Another of the runes on his back tirelessly worked to make every stab of his kukri a small meteor of its own: incandescent and final.
The sound of his left hand snapping to try and combust me from within was a background noise to the chaos Chul was wreaking.
Every time the pressure of that rune burnt my skin, I resisted, using the Trucewater flowing through Inner Current to cool me down.
"Uncle!"
Suddenly, Chul called out, and I knew what to do. I went entirely on the offensive. I snapped my fingers too, and REmould made me Finn Warend.
Draneeve's shock couldn't fully manifest on his face as I raised both my hands to block his kukri, the gear-shaped runes of the Kain Clan starting to rotate as Massbinding worked its magic.
Two gravitational forces—opposite and equal to each other—pressed on Draneeve's right arm, bending it in unnatural ways and the spymaster cried out in pain.
I jumped away and heard the sound of splitting air and furious fire behind me.
The next thing I saw was Suncrusher crashing into Draneeve's form, ending the spymaster once and for all. Without waiting a second longer, I rushed to the weapon to heave it back towards Chul.
The weight of the warmace was unbearable, but Massbinding worked miracles as the Asuran weapon recognised the runes of its creator's clan: Wren Kain the First.
Chul held a hand high, a player poised to catch a pass, whilst keeping the Alacryans occupied with a flurry of breakdancing kicks.
Once more, Suncrusher flew across the room, and Chul caught it with immediately, his muscles visibly protesting from the unbelievable weight of the warmace.
As Chul hammered his radiant weapon into yet another Alacryan spy, I pressed on with the operation.
While my nephew cleared the remaining cultists within the subterranean temple, House Wykes was mine to dismantle.
A sharp tap of my Servo-Foot against the flagstones initiated the shift. The flesh and bone of Nabyun dissolved into the posture of Leòn Leurenzian.
Wearing a different outfit from the uniform of Xyrus Academy, I turned toward the upper chambers, ready to ascend to the surface and confront the treacherous family that had traded away their homeland and souls to the Vritra.