Amyra cast her eyes across the horizon, staring out over the dead, barren lands that stretched endlessly in every direction. The ground was cracked and gray, and the air stank of rot and ash. Every breath felt like swallowing decay. She wrinkled her nose and reflexively activated the first circle spell Lord Arzan had taught her, [Purify]. She had to keep it running just to keep from retching.

Even after two weeks, the sight still made her stomach turn.

Some things, she supposed, you never truly got used to.

Her gaze drifted back behind her to the stretch of land she had already purified. The difference was obvious. The foul scent was no longer clung to the wind in that direction, and though the soil still looked dry, faint tinges of color had already begun to return. Most importantly, the stumps of the Elder Tree dotted the area. They had planted the stumps, one by one.

She didn’t understand how it worked exactly. Only that the Elder Tree’s presence was enough to stir the land back to life. It was like giving oxygen to a drowning man, it coaxed the soil to breathe again.

Even looking at it steadied her heart, making her forget about the stench and disgust for a moment.

She knew that she wasn’t done, not even close. But it helped her to know that she’d come so far.

It reminded her of Lord Arzan’s words, “Whenever the climb feels too steep, look back. See how far you’ve come.”

She used [Purify] again and inhaled a deep breath, filling her lungs with good air.

Her thoughts halted for a moment as footsteps approached from behind.

She turned back and spotted Magus Elias. The old man looked… shabby. His robes were dust-stained and his beard had grown longer over the past two weeks. With the wind tugging at his cloak and the staff at his hand, he looked more and more like one of those storybooks Mages she used to read about in the castle library.

A silent nostalgia filled her heart at the thought of the library.

She missed that place already.

Lord Arzan had been adding more and more books to it, but she hadn’t brought many with her, and the ones she had, she’d already finished twice over. The silence of this wasteland wasn’t the kind she liked. It wasn’t peaceful like a reading book tucked under sunlight. It was hollow in every way and form.

Magus Elias must have noticed the shift in her mood, because he stepped closer and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Amyra stiffened—she never liked being touched—but she didn’t pull away. The old Magus meant no harm, not now at least.

“Are you tired?” he asked, and for a moment Amyra saw genuine concern in his eyes. “If you want, we could take a break for today. You’ve been working tirelessly. And even if I don’t understand how you’re doing it, I can tell it takes a toll on you.”

Amyra shook her head. “No. I’m okay. Just… missing home.”

“I understand. Two weeks is a long time to be away from the place where you feel most at peace.”

She turned her gaze past him, to the small group standing at the edge of the cleared land. Half a dozen guards, their armor dulled by dust and ash, stood watch. Lord Arzan’s most loyal men, led by Knight Clement. They followed her without question, and were always on watch.

“I’m not the only one,” she murmured. “They’re away too.”

“They don’t count. They’re soldiers. It’s their job to endure harsh conditions. But you…” He looked at her with that familiar intensity again and let out a sigh. “You’re someone important. If it weren’t for the circumstances, I wouldn’t have let Arzan bring you here.”

Amyra smiled faintly at the praise, but didn’t reply.

Since the day they met—since she first showed him what she could do—Magus Elias had looked at her as if she were some rare treasure. He always prioritized her well-being, hovered nearby when she pushed herself too far, and even took the time to teach her new spells when he could.

Sometimes it was comforting.

Other times, it made her nervous. Because if someone like him believed in her that much… she didn’t want to let them down.

Though there was Lord Arzan’s warning that rang through her mind every time Magus Elias showed kindness. “The Magus might try to get close to you. Just be careful.”

But Amyra hadn’t felt anything wrong from him.

If anything, Magus Elias always acted with good intentions. Overprotective, perhaps. But never overbearing. He didn’t look at her like she was a pawn or a tool to be used. Still… all the attention made her feel a little shy. She wasn’t used to being noticed so much, especially not by someone as important as him.

Magus. The word alone held weight.

They were at the top of the Mage world, and here she was… just trying not to stammer whenever she spoke.

“I think I can still do more today,” she said quietly, brushing her fingers together. “We can rest after that.”

Elias gave her a thoughtful look, the kind that made her feel like he was measuring more than just her words. Then he nodded.

“Alright,” he said, rolling his shoulders slightly. “Let me get the sandstorm going again. The last one took a few weavers with it before it broke.”

As he spoke, Amyra felt it—the sudden surge of mana, thick and commanding.

Wave after wave, it radiated from his body, brushing against her skin like hot wind. A vast spell structure began to outspread in the air in front of her, even glowing lines and unrecognizable runes spiraling from it.

Her lips parted at the sight. Even now, after seeing it so many times, she still couldn’t help but stare.

The spell took form, surrounding half of Elias’s body before shooting down into the ground with a thunderous whir. It bloomed at the center and in the next second, spread outward in all directions. Wind began to swirl, picking up speed until the entire area trembled with its force.

Sand lifted into the air, spinning upward until the storm towered above them.

It stood as a protective barrier.

Amyra stared in awe.

“I’ll keep watch,” Elias spoke. “If you sense anything strange, let me know right away.”

Amyra agreed and her focus already shifted toward the next patch of dead mana. The ground looked lifeless, chalky and pale. She knelt slowly and pressed her palm to it.

Instantly, a familiar shiver crawled up her spine. That same awful sensation like worms writhing just beneath her skin.

It made her want to recoil

But she didn’t.

She’d gone through this so many times to recoil and run the opposite direction like a coward.

Instead she breathed through it and anchored herself to let the sickening sensation crawl up her arm, allowing dead mana to slither through her skin and into her heart.

It never stopped feeling wrong, but she didn’t fight it. She absorbed it—let it become a part of her and with a silent push from within, purified it.

A surge of mana pulsed through her with every cycle.

Frankly, Amyra had no idea how she did it.

Lord Arzan had spoken about something called soul inscriptions—ancient enchantments on the soul itself that granted her this ability. She had been there with him in her astral realm when he had found it.

Amyra never gave it much thought.

To her, this wasn’t a grand mystery. It was simply what her people did. And now, with her being the last of them, it was what she had to do.

It was her duty to cleanse the world of this corruption. All of it.

So she continued.

Hour after hour, the dead mana flowed into her and came out clean. The land responded. The chalky, lifeless grey began to recede, replaced with patches of dull but unmistakable color. The guards didn’t wait—they moved quickly, planting elder tree stumps into the newly revived earth. Magus Elias watched over them, silent yet alert beneath the veil of sand swirling above.

From time to time, Amyra would pause. She’d take a breath, sip from her canteen, stretch her fingers and then return to work.

She could feel it now. The change.

The way her body adapted. The way the mana no longer resisted her as much. When she’d first arrived, the effort of purifying even a small patch had left her breathless. But now, two weeks into these cursed lands, she realized how much more she could handle. How much further she could go.

What had begun as a mission—a favor requested by Lord Arzan—had become something else entirely.

This was training.

She wasn’t naïve. She knew something big was happening, even if no one said it outright. She knew Lord Arzan was at the center of it, and if she wanted to stand beside him—really stand beside him, then she had to be more than a girl with a strange gift.

And even if her growth as a Mage took time… her gift? This unique, sacred power. It could be her leap forward.

And she was ready to take it.

Before she knew it, the sun was already sinking behind the dunes. The light painted the land in deep orange and gold—almost beautiful, if not for the haunting silence and the scars of corruption still etched into the soil.

A large section had been cleared. It wasn’t whole, but it was healing.

Amyra touched the next patch of dead mana, channeling her power again, but this time, something shifted.

Her breath hitched.

A sudden wave of weakness surged through her, her vision dimming at the edges. Her knees nearly buckled.

“Amyra?” Magus Elias’s voice came from behind. “Are you alright?”

“I’m…” She hesitated. “I believe I’m done for the day.”

Magus Elias stepped closer, his staff grounding beside him with a soft thud. He gave a small nod. “That’s for the best. You’ve done more than enough. Let’s head back to camp. You can rest. Or, if you’d like… we can begin the journey back to Veralt.”

At that, Amyra shook her head.

“I can’t.”

Her eyes drifted outward, scanning the vast stretch of barren land ahead. It went on and on, far beyond where the elder tree stumps stood, beyond where her reach had ended for the day.

“There’s so much to do.”

The words came out softer than she expected. Not out of exhaustion, but something deeper. Maybe even a little guilt.

She hadn’t been forced into this. She had chosen it. And she wasn’t ready to stop.

***

Kai twisted sharply to the right as a massive claw swiped past him, the wind of it brushing his cheek like a knife’s edge. He spun midair, cloak flaring, and caught sight of the beast that had nearly grabbed him.

A massive eagle-like creature hovered above, looking at him with cruel eyes. He recognized it immediately. Ender vulture.

A third-grade aerial predator infamous for raiding small human settlements and feasting on the corpses. They were smart, fast, and savage. Not what he expected to run into just an hour into Lancephil. Not the first bird to try and eat him mid-flight either.

The ender vulture screeched, a piercing cry that made his ears ring. Kai ignored it, his fingers were already moving, spell structure forming at lightning speed around him.

A flurry of cutting winds shot out toward the beast’s wings. The vulture twisted midair, barely dodging, and dove straight at him again with bloodlust in its eyes.

Kai didn’t give it the chance to close the gap.

The desert was far behind him now. Here, the air was thick with mana—rich and plentiful. He could afford to flex.

As the bird lunged, Kai darted upward, agile and precise, letting it soar beneath him.

Then he struck.

A lance of ice—sharp, narrow, and fast—pierced through the sky and slammed into the vulture’s back and wings. The creature shrieked as frost bloomed across its feathers, weighing it down. Chunks of ice spread rapidly, encasing its joints and locking its wings mid-flap.

It began to struggle, flapping desperately.

Exactly what Kai wanted.

“[Magma Core],” he murmured, and the spell

responded instantly.

Three orbs of molten fire burst into life in front of him, swirling with deadly pressure, before rocketing toward the immobilized bird.

They struck—wings, beak, and chest.

Explosions tore through the sky, fire and smoke bursting in all directions. The creature let out one final cry before its body twisted, spiraled, and vanished into the clouds below.

Kai watched, arms still raised, until a distant impact echoed from below. It would probably leave a crater.

Despite its size, the vulture was only a third-grade beast. Against a fourth-circle Mage? It never stood a chance.

Still, Kai didn’t take time to relax. His eyes scanned the skies ahead. Lancephil was rich in mana, but so were its predators. This was only the beginning.

Kai didn’t wait to see if the creature had survived. He doubted it could recover from those injuries before either scavengers or another beast found it. A pitiful end, but not his concern.

He moved on.

Wind gathered beneath his boots, curling around his legs and back as he surged forward, slicing through the sky like an arrow. He passed over villages and towns in blur after blur, watching rooftops shrink and vanish below him as hours slipped by.

More beasts came.

Large, territorial things unaccustomed to being challenged in their airspace. Some came with talons, some with fangs, but they all came with evident bloodlust. Most ended up like ender vulture—torn, frozen, burned, and dropped like stones. A few were smart enough to flee after the first exchange, sensing just enough of his strength to reconsider.

The unfortunate part was that he didn’t have time to dissect any of them.

Some of their cores or parts might’ve been valuable—especially for Balen—but he had a schedule. He was expected in Lancephil.

He flew harder.

Evening had just begun painting the sky amber when he finally spotted it.

The walls of Hermil.

Massive, orderly, and glimmering with faint light—mana, woven tightly into the stone. From a distance, it looked like a sleeping beast curled protectively around its own heart. Kai hovered high above for a moment, eyes narrowing.

He could feel the enchantments from here.

Detection fields, layered alarm spells… and likely more defenses hidden underneath. They had increased the wards since the last time he had been here. Lancephil might’ve looked like a city, but it was a fortress. No surprise, considering it was the capital and home to the Archine Tower.

After giving the city a good look, he let himself descend. Down toward the front gates, where a line of carriages was already forming. Noble banners fluttered, servants muttered complaints, and guards were busy inspecting everyone. The crowd was thick. All of them were here for the assembly.

Cloaked in wind and mana, his entrance was noticed immediately. The guards drew their weapons out.

They stepped forward with alarm etched into their faces, hands tight on hilts. Even the servants near the carriages staggered back in fear, some clutching at the reins of startled horses. For a heartbeat, it looked like chaos would erupt.

But Kai remained still.

He reached into his cloak and calmly held out a token, letting its etched crest glint in the fading light.

“I am Count Arzan Kellius,” he said. “Here for the Assembly of Judgment. My cohort should already be inside the city.”

The words struck like a gong.

Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd. A few noblemen peeked their heads out of velvet-draped carriages, eyes widening as they caught sight of him. Several servants whispered to one another, and even the guards hesitated—some exchanging glances, others lowering their weapons with uncertainty.

Kai saw it all. It was exactly what he intended.

He hadn’t tried to hide his arrival. Quite the opposite. Flying directly over the crowd, descending with wind magic—he wanted them to see.

His name had been echoing through noble halls ever since the beast wave. Half-rumors, half-fear, and a reputation that only grew with every passing week.

He wanted to add more to it, especially one about his prowess. Hence, he didn’t cover up, not even a bit.

If his enemies were going to collect intelligence on him anyway, then his allies—potential allies—should see his own powers too.

The guards didn’t speak for a long moment, tension lingering like fog. Then, finally, one stepped forward, his face having gone pale. He took the token with both hands, examining it carefully before bowing slightly.

“Please enter through this way, Count Arzan,” the man said, gesturing toward a smaller, reinforced gate off to the side. “Your cohort is staying at the Serenthia Inn, just left of the Archine Tower. If you’d like, I can guide you there myself.”

Kai gave a small nod. “That would be appreciated.”

He didn’t bother with a carriage.

As the guard moved ahead, he followed on foot, boots tapping softly against the cobbled streets of Lancephil.

He preferred it that way.

The walk let him observe.

With each turn through the winding lanes and bustling intersections, Kai’s eyes moved—not toward the buildings or banners, but the people. Commoners lining the streets, vendors shouting over their lungs, messengers darting through alleys. And above it all, he could feel it.

There was tension in the city thick in the air like storm clouds before a downpour.

He caught the whispers, too—fragments of hushed conversations slipping into his ears as he passed.

Every sentence was about the assembly. People didn’t seem to realise that the man they were discussing was walking past by him, but each of them seemed to know that something big was going to happen in the city soon.

***

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