Chapter 131: A storm

Lyra found herself sighing in frustration for what seemed like the hundredth time as she walked beside Percival through the vast hallways of the main castle in the capital. "This is an immensely terrible idea, Percival."

The man in question merely gave a hum, "The best way to learn is in the heat of battle," he stated. She gave him a questioning glance.

"Only this 'learning' experience involves multiple would-be casualties and the strongest Ancestor," she argued. Percival's careless smile did not change.

"Worry not, I entrusted the safety of the folk to Vulcan. None shall be harmed in Isabella's and Reynard's test," he smoothly replied. His words did not seem to ease Lyra's tension.

"Even so, I can't imagine them lasting more than two seconds in battle against Rhiannon," her frown deepened as she continued. "Even taking into account them working in tandem with Arcane Ascendance, the only way they would survive is if Rhiannon plays around."

"Is that so?" Percival mused. He did not seem to worry despite her words. "If the worst is to be expected from your fellow Ancestor, then I'll place Dante after her. For now, this is too good a learning opportunity for our newest Inheritors to pass. Isabella has some small experiences with battle, but until recently, she was but a stage actor. I saw how she acts in the heat of battle. She is unsure of her role and she hesitates much too often. Reynard, on the other hand, is much too confident. He believes because he was chosen to be an Inheritor that he is already at the peak of what is possible. He looks down on his opponents because of this. He has talent, true, but he needs humbling. And a swift battle with the strongest of the Ancestors will provide both with what they need."

For an Archbishop, Percival seemed to be in tune with battle, like he was used to it. As if he knew what was expected from one in the heat of it, an odd trait for an archbishop of all people to have. But Lyra did not mull over that fact. "But what of the outside parties? The Inheritor of Isadora is here, as well as the most prominent spawn of Almeric. They could no doubt interfere."

"I suspect both will be participating in the festival," Percival murmured as they came to a stop at her office door. She took brief notice of how his gaze snapped to the door before he tore his eyes away from it. "We'll at the very least see what some of the opposing forces have to offer. Good day." He simply walked on with his parting words as she glanced down in contemplation.

("Percival, despite my age and experience, I can never quite truly gauge what's going through your mind. So unpredictable, the most even. And I say this as someone who has met Gods and dragons both.") The archbishop was a mysterious figure, there was no denying that. She could never figure him out. Sometimes he was a calm man with smooth and brilliant strategies and ideas. Other times his thoughts seemed unruly and almost unhinged. She pushed past her office doors with a sigh. ("With Rhiannon here, I've been much too stressed. I could go for dissecting something right about now.") As that 'comfort' thought passed her mind, she entered her office with furrowed brows.

"Tough day, huh?" A muffled voice reached her, and seated at her table behind her desk was an ominous armored figure leisurely leaned back in the chair.

She narrowed her eyes somewhat as she entered the office, closing the door behind her. "Ah, Mikoto," she finally registered his voice.

"In the flesh," he presented, standing up from the seat and circling the desk.

"I've sent a letter ages ago, you're very late," she lightly chastised while approaching her desk and leaning against it, while Mikoto took a seat on the sofa leaned against the wall. "You need not hide your face here. Besides, your cute face could help cheer me up. All know how I need it." Mikoto shrugged and obliged with her request, his helmet disassembled into naught but red particles.

"I really should cut my hair..." he mused, running a hand through his unruly shoulder-length white hair. "There, now my very 'handsome' face is visible."

Lyra merely gave a smile. "As cute as ever, the cutest spawn of Octavia, I dare say." He merely grumbled at her words, much to the Ancestor's amusement.

"So what's even going on here? I'm sensing that large mana signature from yesterday lingering here," he muttered, staring out the office window. "Looks like they're up to something."

Lyra heaved a sigh. "You've no idea," she mumbled. "That person would be a very old acquaintance of mine. She's here to cause havoc."

"Really?" he quirked a brow up at that. ("Seeing as this mystery person was able to go against Telluris and live, I'm assuming they're dangerous. They could cause some serious damage here.")

"Indeed, there's not much I can do about it. Her name is Rhiannon, the mightiest of my race," Lyra informed.

"Right, I could've guessed you weren't human or demi-human. Are you a vampire ripoff or something?" he curiously questioned.

"I've no clue what a 'vampire' is," Lyra murmured with some confusion. "My race is known as the Ancestors. We've been here since the age of Gods and then some."

"And this Rhiannon chick is how strong?"

"Immensely. She was able to match Octavia in pure battle prowess, and she has dispatched two Divine Beasts, the World Plunderer and the Hound of Eternity, respectively."

Mikoto made an 'o' shape with his mouth as he heard her words. Of course, Lyra found the action endearing. "Sounds like she's pretty overpowered. But why does she even want to cause trouble in the capital of Verdantis?"

"If I had to wager, it is no doubt due to her interest in the Inheritors. Most are stationed here, and she is no doubt curious about what they're capable of. If she were able to sense your no doubt absurd mana, she would have probably made her way to Galadriel once more," Lyra clarified.

"So I'm guessing your higher-ups are gonna send your strongest Inheritor to deal with her, right?" Mikoto surmised, though he grew confused as Lyra shook her head with a frown.

"If only. They seek to only send in our newest Inheritors," she huffed out with annoyance. "One, in particular, thinks this a good 'training' experience for them," Mikoto snorted at that.

"Fighting something like this Ancestor seems like suicide, not for me, of course," Mikoto mulled before shaking his head. "But I might as well stick around so no one dies unnecessarily. It gives me a good chance to observe the Inheritors too, at any rate."

Lyra smiled at his words. "That would be most appreciated." She moved to her desk, sifting through the papers strewn about her desk before retrieving a thick stack. "Here are all the notes recorded having to do with Arcane Ascendance. Mind you, nothing that would garner a strategic advantage, but it should make the specifics of Arcane Ascendance all the more clear."

"Thanks a bunch!" Mikoto jumped up from his seat with some vigor. Of course, an action the ancient woman found cute.

"You seem a tad different, though," she could not help but note. He tilted his head at her words. ("So cute!")

"What do you mean? Have I gotten taller or something?" he innocently inquired. Lyra had to resist the urge to give him a pat.

"Oh, nothing like that. The look in your beautiful eyes has simply changed. You used to look lost and so sad, but now you seem so full of light. Your eyes tell me you've found purpose," she mused.

He smiled slightly at that. "Suppose I did. After I find a way back home, I'll probably jump back between worlds. Maybe fixing my world's problems and this one's. I have the power, after all." He looked to the side in some embarrassment. "I know, I know, pretty corny, but hey, at least it's something."

"On the contrary, I find it endearing. You remind me of a spawn of Octavia I knew long ago," Lyra mused with a look of reminiscence. "Both striving for a better tomorrow, no doubt. At any rate, good luck, dear Mikoto."

"No need for luck. I am pretty strong, after all," he boasted slightly as he approached her, receiving the papers that held such important information.

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The moon gleamed an ominous red, its light intense enough to engulf the capital of Verdantis. Many stopped and looked up at the light, panic was mostly vague. Most were just curious about the phenomenon, perhaps some fool using an illusionary spell. Or just the side effects of a broader magic, no one seemed that focused on it to panic or go wild. This world of theirs was, after all, filled with much more absurd phenomena.

Agatha herself gave but a glance before focusing on the blue-haired idiot currently conversing with Victoria.

"The moon is red, red symbolizes love. All of this is symbolic," the blue-haired idiot known as Reynard stated with confidence.

"Oh?" Victoria merely smiled, "Speaking of love already, how very bold."

"Forgive my boldness, but I can't help it when I'm in the company of such beauty," he proclaimed. Agatha's stare grew more deadpan, as did a familiar face alongside her.

"Uhm, I am deeply sorry for this," Isabella could but wryly state as she stared at the scene.

"So, my dear lady, may I have the pleasure of your name?" He continued, giving a slight bow as he took her dainty hand, planting a kiss upon it.

"Victoria Eizenberg, charmed I'm sure," she introduced, retracting her hand.

"Very," Reynard grinned.

"Well, aren't you a charmer?" Victoria gave a giggle, though it was clear to see she did not really care for the man, she was just being polite.

"So what brings two damsels like you here?" He questioned, wanting to keep the conversation going.

"Ah yes, I was also curious about that," Isabella cut in, glancing at Agatha. "It was only recently that you left for Galadriel, yet you're back in Verdantis so soon."

"A friend of ours had business here," Victoria answered, "We saw fit to accompany him, as we were bored." She smiled.

"I was not bored," Agatha denied, "I merely had nothing better to do."

"Oh hush, hush. Same thing," Victoria waved off as Reynard's eyes locked on her.

"Oh, and what would your name be?" He inquired with a stupid grin.

Agatha merely folded her arms beneath her chest as she leveled a dull stare onto the man. "Agatha Gregory," she dully introduced.

"A beautiful name, though a dress would better suit you rather than boyish armor. Once more, a smile also," he advised with a wink, her frown deepened.

"Oh, have I gotten boring so soon, you wound me dear Reynard," Victoria joked.

"Of course not, dear, you're clearly the prettier blonde of the two!" He exclaimed, eliciting a chuckle.

"I'm only teasing," Victoria chuckled, "Besides, I already fancy another." Reynard visibly deflated at that, and Isabella seemed to contemplate whether she should give him a pat on the shoulder.

"Who could have stolen such a beauty's heart? If you don't mind my asking?" Reynard questioned.

"Just someone 'mysterious'," Victoria's words got her a suspicious glance from Agatha.

"Ah, love is such a complex but beautiful thing," Isabella mused with a look of longing, "Well, I give you my wishes for the best, Lady Victoria. At any rate, would the two of you like to be shown around? The capital does not much differ from Emberreach, barring its larger size, though there is still much to see."

"That would be appreciated," Agatha expressed. Isabella seemed to want to say something but stopped.

An ominous shift began to cast a pall over the city. A low, almost imperceptible hum vibrated through the ground, causing the people to still their voices and glance uneasily at one another. Then, without warning, numerous bright red tears erupted into being throughout the city. These rips in the fabric of reality dripped with an eerie luminescence, spilling over the edges like molten glass, defying the laws of nature.

The crimson tears pulsated with a seeming life of their own, throbbing as if each were a heart steadily synchronizing with the rest. As they expanded, an unsettling silence fell over a few crowds, chatter fading into a palpable sense of dread. The air grew thick, charged with an inexplicable energy that made the hair on the back of one's neck stand upright. Then, in a horrific spectacle, grotesque creatures began to claw their way out of these tears, their forms writhing and twisting in a agony.

One might first notice the sound—a collection of shrill, inhuman wails and guttural growls as the first abomination emerged. It stood tall, easily towering over the tallest buildings of the city, its skin was a mottled gray, glistening with a sheen that suggested a viscous fluid layered atop. Long, sinewy limbs extended from a body that seemed to ripple as though it were not quite solid. Sunken eyes, festering with a melancholic red glow, scanned the pandemonium below as jagged teeth protruded from a mouth that opened in a gash of pure horror, revealing a cavernous throat lined with ridges that seemed to pulse with each breath, dispelling foul vapors into the air.

Around it, more creatures began to emerge, a grotesque collection of chaos as they spilled forth from the tears. One creature slithered from the ground, its form resembling a nightmarish fusion between a disfigured serpent with tentacles and a man, with scales reflecting the red moonlight and elongating limbs. It moved with impossible speed, lashing its many appendages as if testing the air for prey. Another creature crawled forward on grotesque, spider-like limbs, each ending in talons that scraped against cobblestones, leaving deep, jagged grooves that bled ichor into the fresh snow.

As these behemoths tore forth one by one, the citizens gasped, expressions momentarily frozen in disbelief before swiftly morphing into abject terror. Madness erupted among the townsfolk, screams and cries mingling as they instinctively fled, a thrumming pulse of humanity ricocheting against the towering walls of the holy city. Mothers clutched their children, while men dropped their wares, watching in horror as the creatures went about their unholy rampage.

The air filled with a scent unlike any other—a sickly, sweet aroma coated in iron and rot that clouded minds and twisted hearts, provoking a primal instinct to flee. Men stumbled over one another as they tried to escape the advancing monsters. The creatures reveled in their terror, slashing through market stalls, sending shards of wood and fragments of glass exploding in chaotic bursts, drowning the serene white of snow in grotesque shades.

One towering beast, grotesquely expanded, snatched a hapless vendor and lifted him effortlessly, the man's screams filling the air as the monstrous mouth opened impossibly wide. With a single, fluid motion, the creature devoured its prey whole, offering a final, hollow echo of life swallowed by the abyss. Panic and horror gripped the streets as children wailed and the buildings trembled under the weight of despair.

The carefully calm of the city unraveled into chaotic disarray, the sanctity of the holy place now marred by the abominations. The creatures lunged toward the remaining townsfolk, some darting down alleys while others sought refuge within the churches, believing foolishly that the sacred might protect them. But inside, they found only a silence broken by the crashing of stained glass—one creature, with skin like burned parchment, effortlessly crashing through a majestic window, scattering shards that glistened malevolently in the dim light.

Isabella looked on with the same horror the city residence did, Reynard looked on much the same. Agatha clicked her tongue. "Victoria, Isabella is an Inheritor but I am not sure about this man, please make sure neither dies!" 

"Of course, though do be careful. These things....they're inflicting madness and I am not sure what they are." Victoria muttered, she got a resolute nod from Agatha as the girl sprung into action.

As a gargantuan abomination loomed ahead, writhing in frantic rage as it snatched buildings and tossed them like kindling, Agatha's mind kicked into high gear. She closed her eyes, her breath steadying, gathering her thoughts like strands of silk. With a slow, motion, she lifted her arms, palms outward, channeling the mana through the environment. 

The ground quaked, resonating with the magic she used; the earth shuddered as enormous roots burst forth like snakes from the ground, spiraling and intertwining with ferocious speed. They snaked around the creature's limbs, wooden fingers curling tightly to ensnare its form. The abomination screeched in outrage, its lofty body thrashing as the roots clamped down, holding it steadfast in place, each root pulsing with a vivid green glow.

With her surroundings now illuminated in a surreal glow. "Creation Magic."

She summoned her unique magic, her mana a gentle whisper in the world, calling forth the ethereal essence of life. From the crevices in the snow sprang forth a flock of snow-white wolves, their fur glistening like untouched snow, each one crowned with piercing azure eyes that scanned their surroundings with uncanny intelligence.

The wolves, summoned from the depths of her will, stood poised, their muscles coiled like springs and ready to leap into action. She gave a commanding gesture, a slight nod with her head, and the pack erupted into motion. They moved as a singular force, fanning out across the streets, sprinting with elegant grace, their paws barely disturbing the fresh layer of snow as they dashed toward the terrified civilians.

The wolves engaged the chaos with support, rescuing those trapped under debris, guiding frightened children to safety with nuzzles and gentle nudges, weaving through the panicking mass as they led citizens toward the protection offered by the sturdy, stone walls of the cathedral nearby. Their azure eyes sparkled, reflecting the will of their creator as they acted in unison, barking fiercely to keep the menacing creatures at bay.

Agatha turned her focus back to the towering creature still straining against the roots. Her mind raced, orchestrating her next move as the very air around her seemed to pulse with mana. She envisioned a colossal blade materializing from the nothing, formidable as a mountain yet beautiful in its design, crafted from shimmering ice. 

With a gesture of her palm, the blade took form, growing larger and larger until its tip pierced the clouds above, ethereal steel cascading along its edge. The blade shimmered under the dim light, glistening with a faint, aura. With a thunderous boom, the blade was hurled toward the creature, The massive weapon sliced through the air, a flash of white cutting starkly through the shadows, aimed directly at the creature's center mass. Time felt suspended as onlookers gaped in awe, the blade's descent almost slow-motion before crashing down like a meteor, smashing into the abomination with a force that rattled the foundations of the ground.

The impact sent shockwaves rippling outwards, a cloud of snow and debris exploding in all directions as the blade connected, piercing flesh and muscle with a sickening crunch. The creature howled, a sound that reverberated through the city, echoing against the stone walls of the cathedrals. For a moment, it faltered, its grotesque features twisted in anguish.

Yet from behind, more creatures slithered forward, drawn to the chaos like moths to a flame. Their grotesque shapes crawled over broken ruins, spilling into the street, their eyes glimmering with predatory hunger. They advanced with malicious intent, recognizing Agatha as a foe.

Unfazed, Agatha merely expanded her attention and magic.

Vines erupted once more, sprouting from beneath the earth, ensnaring the advancing creatures that surged toward her, binding them tightly and thwarting their advances. They thrashed impotently as the roots constricted, forcing the attackers into submission, allowing Agatha time. She could see the chaos cooling around her; the wolves continued to aid those in need while the roots held the encroaching horror at bay.

With her mind racing, she measured her surroundings, strategizing as her magic entwined with the gleaming light of her mana. Agatha used her magic more precisely, she could not risk more damage to the environment, and so flakes of drifting snow gathered in thick swirls around her, infused with her mana. They coalesced into multiple icicles, each sharp as steel, hanging suspended in the air, awaiting her command.

The creatures howled in fury, thrashing against their bindings, and Agatha, sensing that they were about to break free, acted.

With another single gesture of her hand, the icicles shot forward like arrows, piercing the creatures with deadly speed. They flew unerringly toward the monstrous forms, sinking deep into their cursed flesh and causing loud, earth-shattering roars of pain to fill the air, drowning out the remnants of screams. Though that seemed to do little to dissuade the other grotesque creatures.

The large one's, tall as buildings took note of her. It took all her will to keep her gaze on them, like Victoria said they were affecting her mind somewhat. She prepared another spell but then her eyes widened, instincts screamed at her very being.

Her Creation Magic kicked in on instinct, a shimmering and large intricate shield came into existence at her side hovering. Something collided with it, breaking it in an instance, the shockwave generated from the attack sent her body flying. Her journey in the air however coming to a quick halt as she collided with the broken down structure of a ruined church.

"Gah!" Her body unceremoniously fell to the ground as it slid off the wall, she did not keep herself down for long. Immediately her body shot up as she zeroed in on something, or someone.

A suit of gleaming golden armor, a golden broadsword resting in her left hand and long golden-blonde hair with gleaming red eyes. The woman was a contrast to the impending destruction surrounding her.

The woman gave an animalistic grin as she planted her golden blade in the ground, "Not who I was expecting but you'll do I suppose."