Chapter Forty

  "A mind stretched by new perspectives will never return to its original shape—it’s in this stretching that wisdom takes root." – Professor Williams.

  Level Five

  The Northern Tribes

  Emy

  "Willpower and intent are more than just tools to command the elements; they define the scale of your influence," Sansa stated, her voice concise and commanding in the cool mountain air. She stood on a rocky cliffside overlooking a group of seven individuals scattered among the natural stone, the uneven terrain creating a makeshift amphitheater. "Touch is often the simplest way to shape the world around us—direct contact with an object allows for immediate influence, tangible interference. You can feel it, control it, change it. The same principles apply to skills and ranged powers. The farther they extend from your body, the more unstable and diluted they become. But why should it be that way?"

  She paused, letting her words hang in the air before continuing. "Think of your skills as existing in a three-dimensional sphere around you—an invisible coordinate system. The stronger your willpower, the greater your capacity to extend this sphere of influence, engaging with the world as though it were within your very reach." Her gaze swept across the attentive faces below. "Fury, do me a favor. Stand up and join me for a demonstration."

  Emy, seated on a smooth boulder, hesitated for a moment before complying. She rose, brushing her hands on her leggings as she stepped forward, now about five meters away from Sansa.

  "Your talent involves creating flames, doesn’t it?" Sansa inquired, tilting her head slightly. "Would you mind forming one in each of your palms?"

  Emy nodded, her expression focused as she extended her hands, palms upward. With a subtle breath of concentration, she utilized a partial Pyroform skill and conjured a pair of embers that flickered to life, glowing faintly against the twilight. Sansa gave an approving nod, her own hands beginning to shine as she summoned flames of her own. But unlike Emy’s fiery reds, Sansa’s flames burned in an eerie, mesmerizing shade of blue.

  "What’s the point of hurling my skills at you from this distance?" Sansa questioned rhetorically, her tone sharpening. "You’d simply dodge or deflect the attack. Instead, why not ignite my ability exactly where I want it to manifest?"

  With a flick of her wrist, the blue fire in her left hand abruptly vanished. Emy gasped, her left palm suddenly enveloped in a gentle warmth as her ember snuffed out. Her eyes darted up to Sansa, wide with astonishment. Before she could fully process what had happened, the second blue flame in Sansa’s right hand dissipated, and another wave of warmth extinguished the ember in Emy’s other palm.

  The gathered students erupted in gasps and murmurs, some clapping in startled admiration. Emy stared at her empty palms, baffled.

  "How?" she stammered, incredulity lacing her tone. Emy had always used ranged attacks like Umbral Void Blaze—a technique with extensive power but lacking precision and focused targeting.

  "How do you conjure flames in your palms?" Sansa countered, her expression calm and expectant.

  "Uh…" Emy faltered, the simplicity of the question catching her off guard. "I channel my energy into the desired area and let it interact with the surroundings directly."

  "Then why must the origin point always be your palms?" Sansa pressed.

  "Because—"

  "Because you've conditioned yourself to associate control with what you can physically feel," Sansa interjected with a knowing smirk. She turned her attention back to the others seated on the craggy rocks. "Your energies are not confined to your body. If you want to advance, you must learn to extend your sense of origin beyond the physical realm and into the metaphysical. Your reach is only limited by the boundaries of your will."

  ***

  Emy lingered near the rocky ledge, overlooking the stars that stretched across the vast expanse of sky and the towering northern mountains outlined in the moonlight. The last murmurs of conversation faded into the stillness of the night, leaving only the distant rustling of the wind. She waited for the group to disperse before approaching Sansa, who remained standing at the edge of the makeshift class site.

  “Headed back?” Sansa was the first to break the silence, turning to see Emy hesitating nearby.

  “Yeah... I’ll be honest, though. I’m still figuring out where to go and what to do around here,” Emy admitted with a slight shrug, her voice carrying a tinge of uncertainty.

  Sansa smirked faintly. “The downside of limited responsibilities,” she quipped, her tone teasing but not unkind. She leaned back slightly, giving Emy the space to steer the conversation.

  “Is… is your talent truly fire?” Emy blurted out, deciding there was no point in dancing around the question.

  “Straight to the point,” Sansa replied with an arched brow, her smirk lingering.

  “Sorry, I just—” Emy started to backpedal.

  “Don’t be,” Sansa interjected, her tone effortlessly calm. “But no, not in a literal sense. Blue flames and a touch of warmth? It certainly paints the picture. Back in Zar’Keth, that kind of association was a one-way ticket to becoming an outcast,” she added with a dry chuckle.

  Emy tilted her head, curiosity unabated. “So, what is it? Your talent, I mean?”

  Sansa’s expression softened into something almost coy. “You know, you’re the first person to ask me that since I got here.”

  “If it helps, I’ve been tagged as a generalist. I’ve just got affinities with Fire and Void,” Emy offered, feeling the need to share something of herself first. “I figured I should start with my cards on the table.”

  “Oh, so what you’re saying is not all fire users are the same?” Sansa teased, her tone mockingly inquisitive.

  “See, there you go again with the ‘fire users,’” Emy shot back, laughing. “Just so you’re aware, I’m proud to be a fire girl. But right now, it’s kind of... a side hobby.”

  “Hobby?” Sansa asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

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  “Oh, never mind,” Emy muttered quickly, realizing the phrase probably didn’t translate well.

  “Outworlder reference?” Sansa asked, her tone more intrigued now.

  “Yeah,” Emy sighed. “Why does no one care about that?”

  “To question is to challenge existence,” Sansa said, her voice taking on a contemplative note. “Our culture values unquestioning acceptance. You’re not the first outworlder, and you won’t be the last.”

  “So you’re not curious about where I’m from?” Emy asked cautiously.

  “I’m not saying that. But I’m also not as bullish as you are with questions,” Sansa replied with a mischievous smile. “Still, while I don’t have a flashy name for my abilities like you seem so confident in, I’ve always thought of them as... nullifying.”

  “Would you like me to name it for you?” Emy offered the idea that had sparked in her mind.

  “Name it?” Sansa tilted her head, her curiosity evident. “What do you mean?”

  “What your talent would be called,” Emy clarified.

  Sansa’s expression shifted, her intrigue now undeniable. “Wait... what? How? Yes, absolutely.”

  “Trust circle?” Emy asked, folding her arms with exaggerated seriousness. Then, with a smirk, she added, “And do I get to ask you something in return?”

  “There’s literally just two of us here,” Sansa pointed out dryly.

  “Fine, trust line,” Emy amended with a grin.

  “Alright, I’m in,” Sansa replied, humor glinting in her eyes. “Go on.”

  “Dampener,” Emy declared confidently. “That’s our best guess. Quite powerful, from what Nex has observed.”

  “Our?...Nex?” Sansa’s eyes widened, her curiosity spiking.

  “Excuse me, that’s your second and third question,” Emy said with mock sternness. “It’s my turn first.”

  Sansa rolled her eyes but relented. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

  “Who is Krexul?” Emy asked, her tone shifting to something more serious.

  Sansa’s gaze flickered for a moment as though weighing her response. Finally, she nodded. “I figured you’d ask that. It’s better shown than told. Come on.”

  ***

  James & Rose

  “Alright, Rose, just because it’s working so far doesn’t mean it’ll always work. This is the furthest we’ve been toward the mountain,” James cautioned, his thoughts intertwining with hers as she soared through the dusky sky, Radiant Phase skill active and the newly equipped Katuwa’s Embrace secured tightly to her ankle.

  Rose let out a groan—a sound James could only interpret as the equivalent of teenage sass—as she adjusted her flight path. “I know, you’re right,” James affirmed, despite her unspoken protest. “We need to see this, but keep your distance. Maintain sight and stay directly behind Emy and Sansa.”

  Rose acknowledged the plan, her focus sharpening as she locked onto Emy and Sansa below. The stars shimmered against the twilight sky as a faint glow emerged from the northern mountain’s base—a haunting light that rose like a signal to the unknown.

  Emy and Sansa moved steadily, leaving the familiar lecture hall atmosphere behind as tension mounted. James felt the strain radiating through Rose’s connection to him; her body fought the invading toxins in the air, her anklet and internal energy struggling to hold steady. As the pair approached the mountain trail, two figures emerged from the shadows. Emy hesitated, her steps faltering, while Sansa pressed forward, taking the lead without hesitation.

  The figures, guardians of the mountain pass, eyed Emy warily but withdrew at the sight of Sansa. A pile of discarded weapons lay scattered—a grim offering stolen from the Kar’keth tribe. “She’s with me,” Sansa declared with calm authority.

  “Didn’t realize we were up for replacements yet,” the leader grunted, his tone edged with force, while the other man remained indifferent.

  “Replace?” Sansa echoed, her voice sharp with defiance. “Nah, that’s why I teach. I’m just here to show Emy our way of life.”

  “Did you warn her?” the leader asked his words carrying a subtle weight.

  Sansa smirked, her gaze flicking toward Emy. “What’s the fun in that?”

  “Just don’t do anything stupid…” the leader muttered dryly, dismissing them. Sansa paused briefly, glancing at the second man. “See you in class tomorrow, Tarza?”

  The leader shot him a tight look, but Tarza nodded slowly in reply.

  As Emy and Sansa continued their path, Rose caught the lingering exchange behind her—Calid challenging Tarza, who defended Sansa’s teaching. “What, she’s a good teacher!” Tarza retorted.

  “Calid is one of Alberth’s men, but Tarza—he’s a good kid,” Sansa remarked as Rose tracked the pair ahead.

  “Tarza looks older than you,” Emy scoffed, skepticism lining her voice.

  “Not in maturity,” Sansa countered, her face stern though her eyes glinted with humor. As their journey progressed, Sansa began explaining, “We rotate in pairs to oversee the offerings. Krexul senses metals, gems, and energy signatures, but it hasn’t objected to the bursts we deliver—every half day, another offering. The cravings never seem to diminish.”

  “So you steal from the tribes, bundle it at the base of the mountain, and slowly feed… it?”

  “Steal? Sure. However, be aware that everyone plays a role in this endless cycle. Alberth crew doesn’t need much to justify the practice, but I choose to believe it as a necessary evil,” Sansa replied, her tone guarded and her expression momentarily faltering.

  Rose circled high above, her sharp gaze fixed on the pair below. Emy's expression remained calm, but the faintest flicker of suspicion crossed her face. Without warning, Emy's head jerked slightly, her keen eyes darting toward Rose’s position in the darkening sky. Rose froze mid-flight, her feathers shifting delicately, allowing her to further harmonize with the elements around her. Emy’s intense gaze lingered for a moment longer, scanning the shadows where Rose blended seamlessly. Finally, Emy shook her head, dismissing the feeling, her reaction quick and unnoticed by Sansa, who remained lost in thought, her mind clouded by deeper concerns.

  “Close call,” James’s voice wove into Rose’s mind, grounding her as she adjusted her flight path. She kept close enough to catch the conversation below but far enough to evade any further notice.

  “Just say it.” Emy refocused on Sansa’s trepidation of her former tribe.

  “People just…” Sansa’s voice cracked slightly. “Let’s just agree that those born within ignorance can remain ignorant for all I care. At least we are using it to get stronger.”

  “But how do you? Where do you—” Emy’s voice faltered as she struggled to piece together the question forming in her mind. Sansa cut her off abruptly, her tone firm and final. “No. Not yet. Remember… Seeing is the ultimate truth. Save your questions for later.”

  Emy hesitated but ultimately trusted Sansa’s firm tone, continuing down the trail beside her. Rose maintained a careful distance, following their path as the mountain loomed more significantly with each step. The horizon blurred as the northern lights shimmered faintly over jagged cliffs, their vibrant flux illuminating the rocky terrain in eerie, shifting hues.

  The air thickened with the Taint, its suffocating presence palpable even from Rose’s vantage point. Steam rose from the hillside like ghostly tendrils, and the ground beneath them pulsed with a low, ominous grumble. Rose felt a shiver ripple through her feathers, shared instinctively with James, who urged caution. Sansa turned back to Emy, placing a finger to her lips—a command for silence that carried weight amidst the growing tension.

  The terrain shifted suddenly, light cresting from the ground below as Rose realized the illusion of safety. This was no mere hill but a jagged fissure splitting the mountain itself. Glowing light seeped from the earth’s cracks like veins of molten life. Rose's sharp vision registered Emy’s startled expression, her hand trembling slightly as she fought to steady herself.

  “Rose. No further!” James's voice flared in her mind, urgent and unyielding. But Rose resisted, her resolve sharpening. It was now or never—they had to see.

  Circling higher, Rose’s vantage expanded, allowing her to capture what lay below. The sight was enough to freeze her mid-flight. Emy’s face dropped in bewilderment, and Rose banked downward for a closer look. What she saw was nothing short of monstrous.

  The mountain was alive—a slumbering colossus embedded deep within its core. The creature's colossal form sprawled outward, a fusion of rock, soil, and glistening metal that encased its frog-like body. Volcanic rivers of red, blue, and purple ash flowed around its massive legs, feeding into the cracks below like lifeblood. Horns protruded from the base of its skull, twisting backward and embedding themselves grotesquely within the creature’s head. They reminded Rose of a wounded deer whose antlers had turned inward; only this beast was far from broken—it exuded a raw, terrifying power. From every inch of its form, the Taint erupted, a living miasma saturating the mountain.

  Vraxxalith: Level 24.

  A colossal, ancient entity entwined with the heart of the mountain, a slumbering behemoth whose form is part organic, part fused with the earth itself. Its semi-metallic body pulses with molten energy, casting an otherworldly glow through the cavern, while jagged protrusions stretch toward the sky like the claws of some ancient force. The creature emanates a mysterious aura—a pervasive influence that saturates the air, subtly altering the bodies and minds of all who dare enter, embracing that of power for themselves. Driven by an insatiable hunger, this enigmatic titan silently grows in power, biding its time amidst the mountain’s depths.

  James’s confidence wavered. “C-Class?” he murmured in disbelief as he grasped the sheer magnitude of the creature. “Rose, get out of there. Now!”