Ivny stared at where the noises were coming from. He stood still, holding a pole made of steel, yet polished to resemble white gold. In his other hand, he gripped a small knife adorned with intricate, craftlike designs, befitting his ethereal image.
His long grey hair swayed gently in the wind. There was no nervousness in him. His heart was calm.
He needed to fight to the death—so he could buy his sister time to run away with the dear child.
Let them live. Let the child be the future of this Empire.
Soon, soldiers clad in orichalcum came marching in. Not a few—but nearly a hundred of them. All against one man. One magis.
Yet Ivny remained unfazed by the sheer number before him. His magic would not work against the armour they wore.
The soldiers knew this, and they were confident the battle would end swiftly.
"Where is the girl?" asked the general, his armour marked by a flowing red cape. He carried a sword etched with gold—infused with magic.
"I am not sure what you are talking about," Ivny replied. A white magis could not lie. "But you will not cross me. Stop this insanity… or face me."
The soldiers burst into haughty laughter.
The general smirked. "We have fought countless wars. We will not be shaken by a womanly man wielding a small knife. Hah! We will kill you—and the girl as well."
"So be it," Ivny said softly.
The general was still smiling—but in the blink of an eye, Ivny vanished.
His pupils darted around wildly, as if his vision betrayed him.
"What—"
He never finished.
Ivny reappeared before him in an instant, driving the small knife that he just mocked just moments ago into the gap between his armour plates at the neck.
Blood splattered.
The general collapsed with a heavy crash, his armour clashing against the ground.
The soldiers froze in shock, staring at Ivny. A being of white and grey—now stained with vivid red across his face. The purity of his presence was tainted, the blood stark against him.
Ivny looked down at his knife.
He had killed someone.
A white magis detested such acts of taking another's life. Yet… he knew it had to be done.
The soldiers snapped out of their stupor and charged.
Ivny vanished again.
They stood bewildered—but soon, screams erupted from within their ranks. One by one, soldiers fell.
Ivny was gifted with photokinetic combat. He moved like light itself—swift, untouchable. That was why he needed only a small knife and a retractable pole. His body could reach the speed of light—but at a cost.
His vitality.
Overuse would consume his lifespan.
Still, soldiers dropped like flies. Their armour proved useless, not because of magic, but because Ivny struck only at its gaps.
More fell. The formation broke. With their general dead, confusion spread. Their comrades died, yet their eyes could not track their enemy.
But after cutting down nearly three-quarters of them, Ivny slowed.
He was exhausted.
His vitality was nearly spent.
As he faltered, the soldiers saw their chance. Bolas and nets were thrown. Some striking their own allies but eventually, one wrapped around Ivny's legs.
He fell hard to the ground.
Ivny panted heavily. He had reached his limit.
Yet enemies still remained.
"Glasswing… hear me," he called to the spirit within him.
"Yes, Master," came a gentle voice.
A soft amber glow began to emanate from Ivny's body, taking form—a medium-sized dragonfly hovering above him.
"Master, I want to aid you."
"I'm sorry… but I must ask you to eliminate them, Glasswing. Use my life as your energy source."
The soldiers hesitated as the creature appeared from nowhere, raising their shields in caution.
The dragonfly spirit faltered. "Master…"
But it understood. It had to obey.
The glow seeped from Ivny's body into Glasswing. Soon, shimmering threads formed beneath the spirit, trailing like strands of light.
Its wings beat steadily as it circled the soldiers, weaving the glowing strings around them. Some struggled to break free—but it was useless.
The threads clung to the gaps of their armour, growing brighter and brighter.
Glasswing's eyes burned—from reddish-orange to a deep amber.
Then—Boom.
A contained explosion rippled outward that is enough to obliterate the remaining soldiers.
One hundred against one.
And the victor was Ivny.
He lay motionless on the ground, his life slipping away.
Glasswing, its task complete, shrank and landed gently atop its master, mourning as his life faded.
"Haa… haa…" Ivny's breath grew shallow.
His final thoughts drifted to his sister… and to Ayumu.
He prayed for their safety.
And that the little fledgling would one day grow into an exceptional white magis… and bring change to this rotten Empire.
With that, Ivny drew his last breath. And Glasswing faded with him.