“What do you think?” Wyllan asked Alyssa. The four of them had moved back when Glenn created his earthen pillar field. 

“He’s just playing,” Alyssa spat. “This is boring. That other Ancient, Heron, is obviously a kid. Someone who lucked out? Did he and that other Ancient, Gwendith, discover the Ancient’s Way on their own, or were they guided to it?”

Their voices were contained within their helm. They knew very well how sharp an Ancient’s senses were, even discounting Anima perception. The Ashigaru armour was a sealed environment and communication between suits was handled through Fate entanglement, though how that worked, he didn’t know, just that it only worked between the suits of an Ancient Circle. 

“There’s undoubtedly a third,” Wyllan agreed.

None of them knew that Ancient’s level of power and it was why they were being cautious now. Those two were rogue Ancients, and Conclave ruling regarding that was rather…well, varied depending on the Conclave in question. The self-proclaimed ruling party, the Conclave of Authority, would try to have the rogues register and become part of the Conclaves, while their own Conclave of Conquest would either subjugate, ally with or plain leave them alone if they proved too troublesome. 

Heron was young, and his natural Anima didn’t seem more dense than normal. Being a rogue, it either meant he didn’t know how to do Ignition, or just as likely, he hadn’t reached his natural limit. Most Ancients, those who manage to reach Actualisation anyway, had a reach limit of eight paces. Ten was needed to ascend to Transformation, though it was but one of the milestones. A natural limit could be pushed to about twice the distance with some hard work, and even beyond that with a lot more effort. But the amount of time it took to push beyond twice one’s natural limit could be measured in decades or centuries. But Ancients were called that for a reason: they were unaging. So they had as much time as they needed to advance. 

One would think, if that were so, then all Ancients would eventually reach the pinnacle. But very few have the mental discipline to press on for untold centuries for a modicum of power. Most settled for what was easy to reach and stayed there until the very end. Either they eventually grew tired of living and laid down for the Eternal Repose, or something eventually killed them. 

Strong Willed Ancients weren’t all that common, and neither were those with great natural potential. It was easy to bring someone to the Ancient’s Way with Ignition, after all, though results often varied. Someone who wasn’t strong enough of mind and heart could burn up during the awakening too, and it was why only those who reached Actualisation were allowed to initiate mortals, and even so, there was a strict screening of both candidate and initiator. 

Wyllan winced at the final exchange when Glenn stopped holding back. Somehow, Heron’s counter was just as potent, and both wound up ragdolling in opposite directions. The dust their exchange threw up covered the view, and they were more than what his perception could easily reach. Nevertheless, he was confident Glenn prevailed. 

“A pity the stakes were too low,” Alyssa muttered. 

“It can’t be helped,” Zanji Huber said.

The shorter man had his hands resting on his guns, twin Anima Telum pistols. He was the only one amongst the Circle with such weapons, and what he sacrificed for them still made Wyllan shudder when he thought about it. It wasn’t getting the Telum that was difficult, but getting the artefact spirits to accept him. Even so, the Telum helped Zanji with his Ennoia, and amongst the five of them, his was closest to Colligia. 

“I know that. It’s still annoying anyway,” Alyssa muttered. 

“Don’t be like that, Lyssa,” Anya drawled.

The cat-kin stretched her hands over her head, somehow making herself look both lazy and alluring even through the bulkiness of the Ashigaru armour. Attached magnetically on her back was a massive sword that probably weighed more than she did without the armour. The thing was nearly two paces long, with about two-thirds of it the blade. It was also at least ten inches wide and was enough to act as an impromptu shield. Anya’s calling was the sword, and her Ennoia was the Mountain Cleaving Blade. It was a frightening Truth, and with a matching Swordlight Physique, Anya was actually the strongest of the five. She cared little about anything other than swordplay or napping though, and already, Wyllan could see that she was half dozing from boredom. 

“So who won?” Anya asked. 

“Glenn did. But he can’t continue,” Wyllan said.

Sure enough, they could see the hulking man standing tall as the dust settled. Heron was on his back, but a few moments later, he pushed himself upright. His armour was heavily damaged, however, with the right arm part cracked and sparking. Bits of it fell off as he moved, and a couple of seconds after he stood, a large chunk of it fell off. Even more importantly, they could see his Anima was filled with cracks, and he wasn’t able to rotate a fresh set to the forefront. Any more battle damage and he wouldn’t be able to protect himself. 

“I believe that’s the match,” Wyllan called out. 

Heron tilted his head, then nodded. “I suppose it is.” 

Wyllon couldn’t help but frown at the nonchalance. Well, the stakes of the Ancients’ Battle weren’t high, just control over the planet for a day. Just long enough to gather what they could if they won, or to retreat in good order if they lost. 

While the entire fleet should be able to defeat a couple of Ancients, the loss of life and materiel would be catastrophic. If the third Ancient was stronger… Well, they weren’t here to fight other Ancients, much less rogues. As long as they got the supplies they needed, they would be fine. Even while the duel commenced, and the hostilities around the port ceased, the other raiding squadrons were already breaking into the supply depots and taking everything they could within. This battle didn’t need to be won for the fleet’s goals to be accomplished, though it would be nice if they did. However, should the third Ancient prove to be much more powerful than the entire Circle, or Rulers’ forbid, someone on a level above them, being overtly too hostile would backfire horrifically. 

“Lady Gwendith, I believe it’s your choice of an opponent,” Glenn said, his tone even and slow.

Wyllan’s HUD showed that Glenn was mostly fine, but his Anima exhibited a twenty percent fracture. That was good news. That much damage, once healed, could drive a few inches of growth in reach. He’d lose some progress with Anima density, but nothing a few sessions of Ignition wouldn’t fix. Excruciating sessions to be sure, but all of them were well used to the pain by now. 

No, they weren’t, not truly, but there was little choice but to endure if they wanted to continue growing stronger. 

Gwendith Sharine waited for Glenn to neutralise the pillars, which took the man a couple of minutes. Heron sat cross-legged on the ground, breathing heavily. His finger tapped on his knee, but he visibly took control of himself. Lady Gwendith glanced at Heron and shuddered slightly, either sobbing or laughing. 

“Who will you fight?” Glenn repeated. 

The woman looked at the other four Ancients, then shrugged, “I don’t know any of you, so…” She pointed at Alyssa, seemingly at random. “I guess her?”

Alyssa growled, “I will fight.” 

“Hmm, lucky you,” Wyllan said. He wasn’t sure of how powerful Lady Gwendith was, but since all of them were of the same level, some progress would have been made no matter how lopsided the duel might become. 

Alyssa walked towards Gwendith while shaking her arms. She declared, “I am Alyssa Sato of the Clouds.” Soft white puffs emerged around her body. 

“Gwendith Sharine…of Ice.” A crystalline dagger materialised on her hand, followed by two more that she manipulated to float on either side of her. 

Wyllan could practically hear Alyssa scoff. “I propose a Debate instead of a physical fight.” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t feel like you’re much of a fighter, unlike your boyfriend over there.” 

“Should I be insulted? Ah, Heron’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Huh, alright. I’m fine with throwing hands if that’s what you like, but I think both of us would be better off Debating.” 

“And by debating you mean…arguing?”

Wyllan held in a chuckle at Gwendith’s ignorance, though he supposed she couldn’t help it. They were rogues after all. 

“Debate your Truth against mine,” Alyssa said. The world around them rippled with the invocation, and it looked like Gwendith realised it, too. 

“I see.”

“Do you agree?” 

“Limitations?” 

“One cannot move from where they stand, and should your Truth break, then it is your loss,” Alyssa said.

Wyllan could all but imagine her smirk. Debating the Truth was her favourite exercise, and none of them were as good or as well suited to it as the short woman. Funny how her Ennoia had to do with clouds but she had acrophobia. ‘I bring the clouds here,’ was what she said to that particular train of thought.

Alyssa pulled a pebble from the ground. “We begin once this falls.” She tossed it towards Gwendith, and fell into a loose, but ready stance. 

Tonk.

The sound of the pebble hitting the soft ground was barely there, and a moment later, everything was muffled when Alyssa spread white vapour several dozen paces around her. Her Ennoia was one that could transcend the limits of Anima reach, and as long as one part of the cloud was within her senses, she could use it to ride along wherever it went. As long as the cloud was contiguous anyway. 

The instantaneous spread didn’t catch Gwendith off guard as she exuded a cold blue aura. When the clouds touched it, the vapour condensed back into water and dropped to the ground, which turned it into mud. 

Alyssa pressed more vapour towards Gwendith as she corralled the puffs that spread away from the battle zone. In contrast, Gwendith drove her aura and her Truth directly towards Alyssa. The cloud cover condensed into rain almost as soon as they touched. Thicker vapours pressed against the attack, while secondary tendrils snaked to the left, right, and above. 

“Ice is hail and snow. Under the domain of Clouds,” Alyssa intoned as the reality layer resonated with her words. The rate at which the vapours turned to water didn’t change, but the rain that fell down turned right back into puffs of vapour, now behind the line Gwendith pushed. 

The right and left vapour lines slammed into Gwendith’s defence circle which condensed to rain and snow. The one going above didn’t strike just yet. Instead, it turned into a swirling storm, carefully contain so it would only gather into a sphere rather than spread out. A minute later, the ball of condensed clouds dropped on top of Gwendith’s head. 

The other woman barely reacted. Instead, she flicked her her hand upwards, and the falling clouds turned gigantic pieces of hail, turned right back into clouds, which were dispersed by a funnel of warm winds. 

“So it wasn’t only ice,” Wyllan muttered. 

“Information is strength,” Glenn said while Anya yawned. Zanji wasn’t looking at the duel, but was instead scanning the area around them. He also looked up to the skies. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and tapped his fingers on the handle of his gun—a nervous tick.

“What’s wrong?” Wyllan asked.

“Do you not feel it? An oppressive air.” 

“Huh, no, I don’t…” Wyllan frowned as he expanded his Anima perception. The air was still, but there was little else of note. He assumed the winds died down due to the Clash of Truths, but a quick glance at the battling women told him otherwise. Alyssa’s attacks threw wind and clouds all over the place, and Gwendith’s responses formed whirlwinds. So why was the air so still around them? He noticed Heron stood up, shoulders slightly slumped.

Boom!

Then, there was a shockwave that blasted everything around them away, though the Ashigaru allowed them to negate the kinetic force. The Debate faltered as the duelists both turned to look at the source of the commotion. And there, floated a couple of paces above the ground, was a golden-haired goddess. 

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep