WOOOOOOOOOSH!
Like a lightning-fueled rocket, Elara streaks toward the village at blinding speed. Dozens—hundreds—of attacks chase after her, but none can keep up.
BOOOOOM!
They collide midair, the explosion scattering dirt and rock in every direction. Elara doesn't even glance back, driving forward with relentless focus.
"That surge of Aether… something's happening, and I don't like it."
Lightning sharpens her mind, her body firing at double its limits. The closer she gets, the more frantic the attacks become.
With a quick wave of her hand, lightning surges through Elara's body, locking onto the incoming attacks and tearing them apart in an instant.
—!?
Her instincts flare as something rockets toward her at blinding speed.
WOOOOOOSH!
Elara twists midair, her body bending unnaturally as she narrowly evades the strike. Her head snaps back just in time to see the projectile curve, coming around for a second attack—
A sword made of pure Mana, glowing with a vibrant blue light. It hums sharply as it slices through the air, vibrating with lethal intent.
She thrusts her hand upward, summoning two vines that lash out and coil around the blade—only to dissolve in seconds, burned away on contact.
Her foot slams against the ground, raising a wall of earth in front of the sword's path. At the same time, a flick of her wrist conjures seven metallic orbs, whirling around her in a tight orbit. Two lock onto her wrists, forming cuffs of gleaming steel.
Elara draws her right fist back, and the very air shudders, threatening to collapse under the weight of her gathering power. Sound and lightning particles coil around her metal cuffs, crackling violently, begging to be unleashed.
Time itself seems to slow. Every enemy within range feels it.
That crushing, inescapable sense of doom.
BOOOOOOOOM!
Her fist rockets forward, faster than the eye can follow—and chaos erupts.
The very earth before her ruptures and tears away. Soil, rock, gravel, and trees are blasted apart, their molecular structure shredded, reduced to nothing but chunks of matter that rain down alongside the obliterated remains of human bodies.
Blood, bone, sinew, and viscera paint the massive crater that yawns open before Elara, carved into the land by the force of her strike.
The Mana sword, once so fierce and vibrant, is reduced to absolute nothingness—erased from existence.
—!
Elara's senses flare. Something streaks toward her, and she snaps her arms into an X—
CLANG!
A titanium blade slams into her guard, its edges burning with bright blue energy as mana surges through it.
She glances down at her much shorter opponent.
Short blonde hair. Amber eyes behind thin spectacles.
"Ah. The one with the Arcanium gadgets."
Nella smiles politely. "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Veythorne. But I'm afraid you should be on your way."
Elara's palms glow purple as she grips the blade's edge in an iron hold. Her smirk sharpens. "Oh really? From where I stand, it looks like you and the Pigmaster have gone against the Royal Family. Slavery. Murder. Kidnapping. The list goes on."
Nella shifts her footing, aura flaring faintly—minuscule compared to Elara's. Her smirk deepens as she channels mana through her body to the small rod hidden in her pocket. It flares with light, and behind Elara, a sword of pure mana begins to form, silent and unseen.
"You've killed many, Ms. Veythorne. Do you really think you'll walk away from this? You have no proof of any crimes. The Crown's already been informed. Stand down, and we'll comply to lessen the charges against you and your family. You're not in any position to act."
The Armor of Fulmen thrums, lightning coursing through Elara's veins. Her thoughts sharpen, her body surges with speed, and her core churns mana at twice its usual rate—her entire being a storm ready to break.
Elara bares her teeth, fury blazing, and lets it all loose.
—!?
Nella's eyes widen, terror ripping across her face. Her body trembles uncontrollably. She knew Elara was a prodigy. She knew Elara stood an entire core stage above her. But the sheer weight pressing down on her now…
Her knees buckle. Blood leaks from her nose, her ears, her eyes. The aura crushes her body toward the soil, smothering every breath.
The aura of a Dominion Core.
Third-to-last stage known to mankind.
A height only a handful in recent centuries have ever reached.
'H-how? How? How?!'
One word pounds in her skull as death looms closer.
Elara seizes her head like a toy. Her voice drips with venom. "Don't threaten me—or my family. Ever."
CRUNCH!
THUD!
******
Deep beneath the village, a network of cramped caves stretches outward—narrow tunnels, barely five feet tall or wide. The air is heavy and oppressive, forcing anyone who passes through to stoop and crawl, each step scraping against jagged stone.
Here, the atmosphere should be rich with earth and metal essence. The veins of precious materials in these walls have always thrummed with elemental density, a lifeblood drawn by the miners.
But now… silence.
The clang of pickaxes, the bark of foremen, the distant crack of controlled blasts—gone. A suffocating stillness chokes the tunnels, as if the caves themselves are holding their breath.
Further down the suffocating tunnels, the stone walls suddenly give way to a massive cavern—a globe-shaped hollow that feels almost too vast, too perfect, to be natural.
The floor is littered with the remnants of work: overturned carts, shattered tools, half-empty waterskins, scattered clothing, and food left to spoil.
And among them—bodies. Dozens of miners sprawled lifeless across the ground. Their skin bears a bluish-purple hue, faces frozen in agony, as though they had clawed for air that was never there.
The cavern breathes only emptiness. No mana, no elements—just a hollow void where life itself has been strangled out.
Yet the silence stirs. Wisps of residual particles drift like dying fireflies, tugged forward by some unseen gravity. They funnel, ever so slowly, toward a single spot: a crude room carved into the side of the cavern. Its wooden door hangs unevenly in the frame, light seeping faintly through the cracks.
To ordinary eyes, nothing would seem amiss. But to those who can see mana—and rarer still, the particles of the elements—the sight is terrifying. A torrent of energy, an entire sea, is being drained into that room.
Inside, the horror deepens. A small bed sits shoved into one corner, forgotten and useless. Opposite it lies a child—his small frame slumped in a widening pool of blood. His sternum glows faintly, pulsing with a soft, eerie violet. In his hand, he clutches the hilt of a short sword.
But the weapon is no mere steel. Its blade, a pitch-black void, devours everything around it. Mana, elements, the very essence of the cavern, all torn from the air and consumed in an endless hunger. The boy doesn't move, but the sword feeds him, endlessly.
******
-Elara POV-
I stare down at the woman's corpse, her skull crushed in like pulp. My handiwork.
"f-fuck..."
I bite my lip and turn from the sight, fixing instead on the floating sword of pure Mana. With a flick of a vine, I search her pockets, tugging free the small rod clenched in her robes.
Arcanium.
I channel my Mana into the device, feeling it hum to life before binding the sword's will to mine. The blade drifts obediently above me.
"Fool," I mutter, shaking my head. "Did she really think she could beat me with a borrowed toy?"
The sword joins the orbit of the five metallic spheres circling me—The Fists of Mantra—their dull gleam catching the crackle of my armor.
A sharp pang burns in my core. I wince, clutching my chest for a heartbeat before steadying myself. Armor of Fulmen lends me speed, clarity, and strength beyond my normal limits—enough to push my core a stage higher than it is. But every breath reminds me of the price.
I grit my teeth, ignoring the ache, and push onward. My feet lift from the ground as I launch into the air again, streaking toward the village. The convergence of Aether below pulls at me like a whirlpool, a storm brewing in the dark.
******
Landing at the edge of the village, I keep my senses sharp—not because any of them could realistically harm me, but in case they have more Arcanium devices. They were designed for the weak to challenge the powerful, and I refuse to take any chances.
With my enhanced core capacity, I extend my aura across the village, sensing every minute detail on the surface.
…Nothing. No movement. No signs of life. Nothing.
I pick up my pace and move deeper into the streets—and that's when I see them.
Bodies.
Hundreds. Thousands. They litter the streets in grotesque silence.
Then I feel it.
—!?
A cold, wrenching sensation, as if my very soul is being sucked from my body. I wrap a reinforced layer of Mana and Aether around myself, twicefold, and only then does the feeling ease slightly.
Circulating Aether into my eyes, I peer closer.
There is no Mana, no Aether, no elemental particles—only Nitrogen, Oxygen, and Argon.
Everything else is being drawn to the east side of the village, deep underground.
The villagers… they died from a lack of Mana. We cannot survive without it, no more than we could without air.
My skin pricks at the absence of Mana in the air. I attempt to use my elements—any of them—but nothing responds. I can only access the Mana and particles stored in my core…
...And if I run out of it all.
I shake my head. 'Not the time for that.'
Taking a deep breath, I begin running toward the east side. The closer I get, the stronger the suction becomes.
My mind races, searching for anything that could explain the phenomenon. Memories and knowledge accumulated over my twenty-two years flood through me at rapid speeds, each thought processed and filed like a supercomputer.
I feel the lightning particles draining rapidly as I focus, pushing my brain to think faster, act faster, be faster.
Approaching what seems to be the Baron's manor, I see a familiar figure on the steps.
The massive form of the Pigmaster lies there—unconscious, or dead.
I barely register it as I surge toward the garden, tracking the source of the Aether convergence.
Right in the middle of the garden sits a medium-sized shed.
'There it is.' I murmur to myself.
Bursting through the door, I spot the hatch—tightly locked with chains and reinforced by magic. With a simple flick of my hands, the Fists of Mantra shoot toward the hatch at blinding speed.
CRACK!
The sound, like a tornado whipping through the air, fills the garden as the balls tear through the hatch. I immediately leap inside.
As I land on the rough rock, I immediately wrap another layer of Mana and Aether around myself, warding off the energy that threatens to consume me.
My heart races, sweat dripping down my brow as I navigate the narrow tunnels.
My core burns through its reserves, forced to sustain both the Armor of Fulmen and the Fists of Mantra. Letting go of the armor now would exhaust me instantly—probably leave me bedridden for several days after using it for so long.
I surge through the cramped passages, using the pull of the energy as a compass.
The closer I get, the more layers I have to maintain. Four… five… six.
My core aches—a constant, burning pressure in the center of my sternum, threatening to incinerate me from the inside out.
Seven...
Eight...
I can't even make myself fly anymore; I'm forced to walk, cursing my tall stature despite the dire circumstances.
...nine.
I find myself entering a massive, globe-like cavern. Bodies, equipment, and scattered items cover the ground, but I barely notice them, my eyes locked on the door at the opposite side of the cavern.
"T-there… it… is…" I barely manage to pant.
I limp forward. My limbs, my body, feel like lead, as if the weight of the sun is pressing down on me, burning me from the inside.
I glance at my arms and notice how unnaturally red they are, as if literally on fire from within.
'A-almost there...'
Thoughts of what I'll do once I get inside—or what lies beyond the door—drown out any semblance of proper thought.
...t-ten....
I feel my body shutting down, every nerve screaming, begging for Mana. My eyes blur, my vision shakes, and I collapse face-first.
C-crunch—
I feel something break… probably my nose, as a warm, searing liquid leaks down my face, burning my lips and skin.
I-I feel like a normal person... fragile... hopeless...
...As
Everything goes dark...
...creak.