Chapter 150: Speak no evil

Such vibrant mana Mirabella had never seen. She had seen people with absurd mana quantities before, Lucinda being at the top of that list. But despite this woman only having a decent amount of mana, it still seemed so extraordinary. Mirabella could not put it into words; such prominent and otherworldly mana she had never seen before.

"Now is not the time to gawk, girl," Rowena's voice snapped her out of her stupor.

"Wha-"

"Judging from the partial transformation of your arm, I assume you must be the Inheritor of Aragorn," she gestured with her chin to the unconscious form of Agatha some ways away, still in the process of being healed by Cor'nella. "Isadora's Inheritor, I'd wager. Arcane Ascendance is a powerful trump card. But it seems your friend expected it to be a win con. Unless it's trained, all it will amount to will be a simple boost in magical prowess." The Inheritor of Astraea lectured. Mirabella could not help but look at her incredulously.

"What the hell are you talking about!? This ain't no time for a lecture!" the princess bellowed. Rowena shrugged uncaringly.

"Just some sound advice," she pointed at Gisèle, the now disfigured woman who was already rambling on and on, spouting out incoherent sentences about the moon and how no one was ready. "I'm sure she's introduced herself already. Honestly, it's a miracle you and your friend survived. If that Ancestor wasn't so content to play around, you'd no doubt be dead." Mirabella could but scowl at the woman's words, but they held truth to them.

("When I charged my attack, that woman just stood there waiting for it, like she was curious if it would kill her, damn....") And the attack she launched moments ago, were it not for Rowena, then she would have most likely been killed. Her weakness continued to disgust her, but there was a silver lining. The princess looked at her partially transformed arm. ("It's not much, but it's progress. Hah, can't wait to rub it in Mikoto's face.")

She drew her thoughts outward as Rowena took a step forward. "Hold on, you're actually gonna fight that chick?" Mirabella questioned.

"Of course," Rowena merely said.

"Not ready, little lambs!" The Ancestor bellowed as she approached them.

As Gisèle surged closer, her mana in the air thickened—electric and palpable. The sheer quantity of her aura pulsed in waves, causing the remnants of debris to levitate slightly in the wake of her power, almost as if the air bowed in submission. As Gisèle broke the sound barrier with a head on charge, an explosive crack echoed through the air, a ferocious wave radiating outward that shattered loose glass and sent dust flying. Just within reach, Rowena's eyes flickered with a teal light, igniting tears of turquoise.

With a singularly fast motion, Rowena pivoted, channeling her own mana into a punch, which she propelled forward. The very air around her hand twisted and warped, amplifying her strength into a singular point. The collision was destructive; the punch connected with Gisèle's midsection, erupting with the force of a magma-laden volcano—an explosion of raw, kinetic energy. A shattering sound resonated through the field, impact created a shockwave that rattled the remaining stones in the vicinity.

In that brief moment, the world slowed, and time seemed to perceive the sheer magnitude of the event, the brilliant teal glow of Rowena's mana contrasting vividly against the bloody scars of the city surrounding them. From the point of impact, a brilliant beam of radiant teal mana burst forth, tearing through Gisèle's form as though sealed with the weight of a thousand suns. The sheer force propelled Gisèle backward, her body arching through the air in a deadly arc.

Around her, stone, brick, and debris were cast skyward in a violent conflagration of destruction—the remnants plunging to the earth like rain, settling in a chaotic display. Dust clouds enveloped the ruins like a shroud, momentarily obscuring the aftermath of their confrontation, the ground trembling beneath. As she all but flew.

As the dust began to settle, her form lay sprawled against a ruined and brought-down building, her pupil rolled to the back of her head and her mouth agape.

Mirabella blinked, then once more. She waited for another spark of power from the Ancestor thanks to her ability. But there was nothing; in fact, her mana started to die down, growing ever more insignificant. Gisèle was unconscious, for good measure. The second princess blinked once more. ("She's really unconscious? Am I just seeing things?")

Such vibrant mana, such fearsome physical abilities, all of that snuffed out with a simple punch. Cor'nella seemed less surprised than the princess; she seemed to almost expect the situation to some extent. ("The one who embodies this very realm, her Inheritor...") Cor'nella internally mused, glancing back at the unconscious form of Agatha. The deep wound on her chest had since closed, the fairy guide exhaled deeply as her floating form collapsed to the ruined ground. "It's finally over," she exhaled deeply.

"Fairy, how is the girl?" Rowena suddenly asked, causing Cor'nella to jump.

"Oh, uh, she's stable," Cor'nella uttered out with a low tone. Yet a heavy frown sat on her face despite that, her brows furrowed, and her eyes slightly watered. "B-but with her arm..."

Rowena nodded gravely, "Even for the most skilled sorcerer, regenerating a limb is a complex process, even more so if they are set to heal another. Not many are proficient in the arts of restoration either."

"Damn it, so she's just supposed to live without her damn arm!?" Mirabella howled out, a scowl settling on her face as she glared at the unconscious form of Gisèle.

"N-no, I know of a few fairies that might be of help," Cor'nella inputted. "Even so, it may take too long. I...I don't think she'll be able to participate in the festival with such an injury."

Mirabella grit her teeth at the thought as Rowena's eyes scanned the injured form of Agatha before it turned to the downed form of Gisèle. ("This must be a relatively weak Ancestor, or maybe merely a fairly young one.") Rowena deduced. ("Or perhaps she has a trump card she has yet to use. Either way, she is not powerful enough to be a long-term threat. The potency and control of the mana signature I felt from on high seemed more of a threat.")

"Would I count as a threat?" It was as sudden as it was chilling, whipping her head to the side. Rowena narrowly avoided a palm strike as swift as it was powerful. Pivoting on her heel, the spawn launched a spinning heel kick towards the opponent, who just as swiftly dodged. A large speeding figure of black sped past her to stand in front of Gisèle.

It was a man with dark, slightly spiky hair, wearing a black robe with a distinctive hood. The robe was large and flowing, heavily in shades of black and shades of red and gray/white splatters and streaks. There were decorative red accents on the robe, primarily around the neckline, waist, and along the bottom of the robe. His features were sharp yet relaxed, and his bright red eyes contrasted the black of his hair.

("Stronger,") a single word reverberated in Rowena's mind; the man's mana was tranquil like a steady river flowing downward. It was not as chaotic as Gisèle's, nor was the quantity on par with the Ancestor of malice. Yet the quantity of one's mana was hardly a reliable source to gauge an opponent's strength. But her instincts all but screamed at her of the threat this man was. ("Red eyes too, an Ancestor one in an entirely different level.")

"You possess such potent mana," the man noted, a smile on his face that did not quite reach his eyes. "You must be the spawn of that primordial Goddess."

"Primordial?" Rowena quirked up a brow at the title, though curiosity did not grip her for long. "Doesn't matter, have you come to further the chaos your brethren failed to spread?"

He merely shrugged, "I care not for furthering Rhiannon's agendas. I am merely interested in this era's spawn of Octavia, though if her words are to believe there would be two." A twisted grin found its way onto his face, "I look forward to breaking both down."

("Two?") Mirabella mentally echoed with furrowed brows, ("Is this guy stupid? There's never been more than one spawn of Octavia in an era. Two is completely unheard of.") Rowena seemed to share her confusion for a brief moment.

"Suppose that is your goal, it doesn't change the fact that you Ancestors are a threat in the long run." Rowena's words rang clear as well as her intention, meanwhile Mirabella found herself all the more confused.

"Come now, I'd rather not fight. Undeveloped as Gisèle was, she was quite the force of chaos." He shrugged to himself, "It's why Rhiannon favored her so, yet you bested her with a single punch and while her magic and physical abilities were at their peak." He did not seem worried about that fact, but he did not seem confident either. No, he simply did not care, "But ah, I merely babble on without even introducing myself. I am Aelfric, Ancestor of Wisdom."

("Aelfric, huh? The one Lyra mentioned-")

"So you know of that witch," Aelfric suddenly blurted out, halting Rowena's thoughts. He smirked as her brows furrowed, "And it seems she is still cooped up North, maybe being there holds sentimental value." He chuckled at the prospect.

"So your only goal is the spawn of Octavia and revenge on Lyra?" Rowena leisurely folded her arms, "Not very ambitious for an Ancestor."

"Hm, what is ambition to one who has experienced all there is to experience? But I have an interest in what that Fate Walker is planning," the Ancestor mused, "To begin the seven calamities, now that is truly ambitious."

"Seven calamities?" Mirabella questioned as she glanced at Rowena, focusing on her expression to gain some kind of hint. All she got was a cold glare from the woman directed at the Ancestor.

"You mean to say someone intends to trigger those calamities?" Rowena questioned, her tone chilling as her mana grew from vibrant to suffocating.

"It truly is something. Not even Rhiannon would want to start something like that. Though her interest seemed peaked, it is much the same for me if I am being honest." Aelfric grinned at the idea as Rowena's frown only deepened.

("The seven calamities, each one serves to bring about ruin to the very realm. If one does not finish the job, the next one continues it. It was just a prophecy, nothing set in stone yet someone may have the ability to kick start it?") Rowena's expression grew grave at the thought, but quickly her attention was snapped away.

She gazed upward, from the heavens, they hurtled downwards, silhouetted like the blazing twilight. They began a chaotic descent unfolded like meteors. The ground rushed to meet them, and just as it appeared they would be engulfed by the earth itself, the figures executed a flawless, almost synchronized landing: two armored figures absorbed the impact as if cushioned by the very air behind her, a hulking man landed with a thundering crash that sent ripples through the earth, while a large blonde woman twisted mid-fall, gently landing behind Aelfric. A canine, lesser in trajectory landed with a soft thud, it was missing its left hind leg and had a deep red gnash on its chest as it whimpered.

Her eyes narrowed at that familiar small form cladded in black armor, the larger figure behind him flexed his muscles.

("Mikoto Yukio.")