The Higher Plain Ch 24: The Growing Giant, A Power That Can Burn The World!

(Krelzor) Okay. Let me just start by saying, when people tell stories about giant women fighting world-ending monsters, they tend to leave o

(Krelzor)

Okay. Let me just start by saying, when people tell stories about giant women fighting world-ending monsters, they tend to leave out a few important things. Like, for example, how terrifyingly inconvenient it is to be standing directly underneath said woman when she starts growing again.

I felt it before I saw it—this strange, pulsing warmth beneath my boots. The ground sort of... shifted, like it was no longer content being solid. Cracks spread beneath my feet like angry spiderwebs, and I stumbled back with a curse, heart hammering in my chest.

And then, the impossible started happening. Again.

The earth itself began to rise—no, not the earth. Flesh. Skin. Muscle.

Faylina was growing. Again.

Her already mind-numbing size expanded further, and I swear the temperature spiked just from the force of her movement. I watched in stunned silence as her foot, bigger than the hills behind me, slammed into the ground not far off, the impact launching shockwaves through the land. Trees disintegrated. Rocks cracked. The air screamed as pressure rolled outward like a shockwave from the gods.

"Oh, not again!" I yelled, breaking into a run because what else do you do when the terrain decides to become a woman?

Her shadow engulfed me in seconds. I looked up—way, way up—and through the clouds, her face emerged, larger than life, her brows furrowed in sheer murderous rage. I think I whimpered. Just a little. But in my defense, that face could level kingdoms.

In her hand, the black sludge-beast writhed like an overcooked slug. And that's when she did it—she reared back like she was winding up for the smack of the millennium.

"No, wait—" I tried to shout, but too late.

She slammed her hand—and the monster—with enough force to probably flatten a mountain range. I felt the ground roll beneath me, buckling and splitting as huge cracks opened up. I skidded, lost my footing, and scrambled to get away as a particularly large slab of rock tipped dangerously close to swallowing me whole.

Why did I not stay home on the farm? Why did I let myself fall for a literal force of nature?

I was about to ask the universe that exact question when I looked up and saw it—an orange glow blooming like a second sun in Faylina's palm. My eyes widened. Runes. A sigil, swirling and pulsing with power I couldn't begin to comprehend. It was like magic had gone feral in her hand.

And then the fire came.

Holy hells, the fire.

It burst into existence like the world had torn open a vent to its molten core. A furious orange inferno bled out from her palm, flooding the land below in spiraling waves. The heat hit my face like an open forge, and my skin tingled from the sheer power of it.

Then came the explosion.

It didn't sound like an explosion. It felt like one. My ears went silent. My whole body lifted clean off the ground like I'd just been punched by air itself. I sailed a good ten feet before gravity remembered I existed and slammed me back into a patch of smoking dirt and twitching grass.

Everything hurt. My ribs were debating mutiny. My left boot was definitely on fire, or maybe just warm—I didn't want to check. Ash drifted through the air like snow at a funeral. It smelled like burnt dreams and molten monster.

I lay there, blinking up at the glowing sky, ears ringing like I'd just headbutted a bell tower. The orange light was slowly fading, replaced by the dim flicker of flames licking across blackened hills.

And still, she stood there.

Faylina, towering above the ruins, smoke curling around her limbs like dark ribbons. Her face was a blur in the clouds, unreadable, but the fire that had been in her hand still echoed in the scorched world below.

"Is it over?" I croaked to no one in particular. Probably to myself, honestly.

There was no answer. Just wind. And the occasional plop of something on fire falling off a tree.

I let out a long breath, letting my head thunk back against the charred earth.

If it wasn't over, then whatever came next better have better timing—because I was starting to think I wasn't built for surviving two world-ending catastrophes in one afternoon.

Or maybe I was. Who knows? Maybe I was just too stubborn to die.

But one thing I did know, as I stared up at the shadow of a woman who'd just melted part of the continent—

Faylina was a lot more than just big.

She was something else entirely.

And I had a front-row seat to the apocalypse.

Lucky me.

***

(Faylina) 

Okay... maybe that was a bit much.

I looked down at the massive crater my palm had created, the fire still flickering in quiet orange streaks along the edges, the smoke rising in thick, lazy coils. The wind carried the scent of scorched dirt and something acrid—probably what was left of the creature. Or the forest. Or both.

All that remained of that beast—of Vorlith—was a black, scorched mark in the ground. Like someone had spilled ink onto the world and let it soak into the crust. My fire spell, barely a flicker by Aetherion standards, had turned into a full-on localized apocalypse.

And to think... that was just a fireball. My weakest spell. A beginner's incantation. Something I used to light candles back home. Candles.

I grimaced and rubbed my temple. This is why I don't cast here. Not unless I absolutely have to. The lower plane wasn't made to handle energy like mine. Magic this size doesn't just scorch the ground—it scars it. Everything down here is just... so small. Fragile. Every time I breathe too hard, a tree probably faints.

"Ugh..." I muttered, lowering my hand. "This is why we can't have nice things."

The black fog at my feet was gone, the sky was still flickering with dying embers, and the pressure in the air—whatever had clung to us, twisted around us—had faded. That presence, that voice, that thing... it was gone.

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding. It felt like someone had taken a boulder off my chest. Or maybe several boulders. A whole mountain, really. I could finally relax a little without the fear of getting skewered by tentacles made of sentient hate.

My legs ached. My back hurt. I was pretty sure one of my eyebrows had been singed. There was still ash clinging to my ankles. But we were alive.

We.

I blinked, then immediately tilted my head, trying to peer down through the thick clouds that clung to my shoulders like fog.

"Krelzor..." I whispered.

My heart dropped.

I couldn't see him from here. I couldn't feel him either—at this size, everything below felt like dust, too far away to sense clearly. I had to grow so fast, so aggressively, to stop the Morvren from dragging me down. I didn't even have time to think about what might've happened to him in the chaos.

Panic bubbled in my chest.

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please—don't be a heroic idiot and throw a rock at a god-beast again, I swear—

I spotted a flicker of movement far, far below—just a tiny speck scrambling through a patch of cracked, half-melted earth. Something small. Two legs. Definitely not tentacles.

Krelzor?

I squinted, leaned forward ever so slightly, and nearly caused another earthquake. The world groaned beneath me.

Oops. Easy, girl. No more accidental tectonic shifts.

There he was. He was covered in dirt, clothes hanging on by threads, hair sticking up like he'd been struck by lightning (he might've been, actually), but he was alive. Barely standing, looking up in my direction like I was some towering goddess. His mouth was hanging open. Again.

Poor thing. Probably traumatized.

I smiled softly, placing a hand to my chest. Relief hit me so hard it made my knees buckle a little. Not that the world needed another Faylina Fall—I'd already flattened about two acres of forest earlier with my rear end. Which I'm still not talking about, by the way.

Krelzor. You stubborn, tiny, brave little thing.

"Thank the stars you didn't get squished..." I whispered. Then, louder, "And thank me for not squishing you!"

He didn't hear that. Or maybe he did, and just didn't have the strength to sass me back.

Honestly, I wasn't sure what came next. I'd used fire magic on the lower world—which meant there'd be consequences, for sure. The land would take weeks, maybe months, to recover from the damage I caused. My clothes were... well. Barely hanging on. And I had just fought the oldest monster I'd ever read about like I was in some kind of dramatic stage play.

But he was okay. We were okay.

And for now... that was enough.