Chapter 247 - A Lesson In Humility

Jiran's Teleportation brought him halfway to the battle overhead. He didn't immediately close the distance. Not only did he need several seconds for his Teleportation to be available again, he was also hoping to spot a weakness or chance to surprise the two. It never even crossed his mind that Lenton might not be able to handle the two Templari. In Jiran’s mind, the old bastard was the very definition of a legend.

Lenton casually swiped a hand at one of his two opponents, releasing an impressive wave of flickering lightning that blanketed the sky before merging atop the man. Not only did his Channeling convert and release the elemental lightning incredibly quickly, it also contained enough raw power to turn the visible world stark white.

A thunderous roar split the air. The released shockwave from when the lightning recombined was powerful enough to topple buildings far, far below. The Templari took the hit calmly on one glowing palm. His skin and bones evaporated into gas, and were quickly restored in a flash of mana just as quick as Lenton's.

Jiran's brows shot up. It was obvious from the first exchange that these tier nines were nothing like the group he'd just fought. In regards to speed of mana flow, conversion into an element, outright power, and response times; there was simply no comparison.

If the ones I fought were new to tier nine, are these two closer to maxing their attributes? Or have they already? And a tier nine beast is going to be double their speed and strength? I… still have a long way to go.

The other Templari vanished, appearing behind Lenton. A flash of light swept across his skin and a brief, but powerful flare of heat turned all the air within a kilometer to a raging inferno. Jiran was caught in the edge of the blast, his suit and skin melting before he even realized he was hit.

Mana Confluence raced through his body, repairing the damage but not recreating the tattered aura resistant material. He didn't have enough spare mana to keep repairing it, and if they could destroy it so easily, it was unlikely to be of help. Especially since he lost his masterium when he accidentally converted his entire suit of armor into ice.

Lenton fared much better. A bubble sprang into existence around him, easily absorbing the fire that rapidly annihilated its own fuel source and vanished. He was struck from behind by the first Templari. The man appeared, his fist already fully extended by the time Jiran realized he was there.

A massive chunk of Lenton's aura condensed into the size of a dinner plate. It pulsed against the incoming blow a dozen times, each one bleeding away the force until it was reduced to something a child might throw.

Jiran stopped advancing, sweat beading his forehead. There was clearly a much larger gap between him and fully-fledged tier nines than he realized. If he dove headfirst into their battle, he might very well get to test his new invincibility before even realizing he was dead.

Lenton's hands were suddenly outstretched and arcs of lightning traveling much faster than the natural element took both Templari in the chest. They flew backward, recovering all too quickly. Both men were still nearly full of mana, while Lenton's third of a manapool was draining rapidly. He was holding his own, but it was costing him.

I owe him too much to give up. I might not be able to fight at their level, but I can at least give him enough mana to win.

Jiran's Manabody yanked on the framework, sending him hurtling toward the battle raging above Sanctum. Thousands of guards had crawled from the walls and streets like a hive of insects. Ignited gases propelled him into their midst, his aura expanding to protect him as a sigil-boosted Enthralling Touch tore the precious mana from their bodies.

The entire battlefield lurched as Shapings and Channelings failed to materialize. More mana than Jiran could hold filled the sky, pulled inexorably toward him in a cyclone of raw energy. He began moving it through his body where it adjusted to his concentration before being deposited into Armament.

Mana Omnis flickering off without his consent was Jiran’s first warning that something was wrong. A fist of agony slammed into his guts. He doubled over, blood geysering from his mouth uncontrollably. Mana Confluence refused to answer his call for healing. His eyes popped open, pain and convulsions forgotten as his deepest seated fears became reality. His own mana raged inside him, it bucked and thrashed, turning his organs into soup.

This was not the first time Jiran had faced losing access to his mana. He barely held his mentality together, refusing to panic. His will turned to steel, his conviction absolute as he rallied each of his minds toward the same task.

My mana is mine!

His attempt to re-dominate what should have already been his had no effect. His mana thrashed all the harder and his vision swam. He plummeted from the sky, his thoughts too blurry to direct his aura. He held out a hand as the battling guards and Rankers zipped by, their figures stretched from the speed of his fall. His fingers were black from bruising, the muscles so damaged they barely responded.

Desperately, he stretched out his will to the mana he knew had to be in the air, even though he could no longer see it. There had been so much taken from the guards, so surely there was something he could use. It was Armament that answered his call. A hole opening to release a trickle of pure energy that swarmed into his flesh.

Still not understanding what had happened, Jiran did the only thing he could think of and pushed all the old, unresponsive and deadly mana from his body, replacing it with fresh energy from Armament. The process felt like it took a decade, but he had yet to hit the ground so by the time new mana made its way to his head and repaired his brain, he reasoned only a few seconds had passed.

The guards and Rankers were screaming, their pitched battle having turned one-sided in an instant. That was likely the only reason nobody had taken a potshot at him, which certainly would have been bad in his weakened state.

Jiran’s aura arrested his momentum and he dove into the sensation from his mana, needing to know what had happened. He found nothing. Feeling like a fool, he reactivated Mana Omnis to gaze upon the ejected mana that had betrayed him in the first place.

He saw it instantly; the same green sheen he'd seen in so many of the soldiers. He had no idea what it was, but it clung to his mana like an oily sickness, contaminating it further with each passing second. When he saw a sliver of it coloring the mana coming from Armament, he nearly did panic. It was spreading far too rapidly, and if he didn’t figure out how to counter it soon, he would lose access to his skills all over again, and this time, possibly for good.

Instead of hastily throwing more mana at it, he tracked its progress throughout his body. His brow furrowed as a vague notion of familiarity passed through his thoughts. Attributes had long since made Jiran’s memories crystal clear and exacting, so the idea he couldn’t perfectly recall what triggered the familiarity was cause for concern. Jiran carefully sent only healthy, uninfected mana to his brain, sweeping it with another pass of healing Mana Confluence.

It instantly struck him that the disease, or whatever it was, held many similarities to the Meersvants’ poison. Once that connection was made, he knew exactly what to do. Mana Venom blossomed within. He held firmly to the mental image of ridding himself of the contaminant, and its spread came to a stuttering halt. 

The vile mana recoiled from his skill, hissing and boiling as it steadily lost ground but the smaller it became, the more viciously it fought back. Jiran growled deep in his throat as he squeezed his venom. With great effort, he condensed the infection to the size of a fist. In a twist he never would have seen coming, the thrashing mana fled. It slithered through his chest and into his neck where it scurried down his tap into his soul-space.

Jiran’s heart seized as he realized how hard it would be to pin down inside his immeasurably vast soul-space. He gave chase, ignoring the world around him as he threw everything he had into catching and containing it. But the wicked stuff was quick as thought and reached its goal before he could catch up. Mana Venom being so hard to control wasn't helping, and Jiran swore he would dedicate more time to practicing with the technique.

He chased the little ball of green energy across his soul-space and it evaded his every attempt to pin it down. It zipped toward his soulwall, and in an effort to keep it away, Jiran pinged his consciousness as he’d done when locating the sigil. Instantly, the emptiness between his tap and the wall expanded exponentially as his perspective zoomed out.

Since his thoughts were capable of directly affecting his soul-space, he saw no reason they couldn’t do the same for his skill. With a thought, he swelled the size of his Mana Venom until it was as massive as a sun. Unfortunately, it refused to move in that state so he focused on a spot at its periphery and shrunk it into that new spot, effectively teleporting the venom in front of the infection. It tried to go around the obstruction but he spread it out, repeatedly expanding and shrinking his venom to just barely stay one step ahead, all the while leading it closer to his gate.

With a nasty, victorious grin, Jiran spun the gate’s rings and opened wide the fissure to his soul. He called on Madra's mana and it sensed the invader, gushing out like a tidal wave. The milky white mana was more potent and quick than Jiran’s venom. The green energy screeched in terror, attempting to flee back up his tap but the way was already plugged with Mana Venom. 

Vindictive joy pulsed in Jiran’s chest as he watched the nasty ball panic as much as he had earlier. Then, it dove into the only safety it could find: the frozen heart in the corner of his soul-space. Jiran's eyes bolted open when Madra's mana washed over the heart, failing to damage it or penetrate inside to extinguish the hated foe. He threw Mana Venom at it but the heart had formed a hard outer shell in its time inside his soul-space. He didn’t dare attempt to draw on the heart as he had when forming his aspect for fear the infection would piggyback on the direct connection to his soulwall.

The green entity furiously banged against the walls of its new prison, just as helpless to get out as he was to get in. Seeing it struggle gave him some small sense of comfort. Madra’s mana flowed back through his gate and Jiran’s attention was pulled toward the rings as they slowed to a stop.

Finally, Foresight ceased its blaring. It had been such a steady sensation in his spine that he had grown numb to it.

That’s what it wanted me to see? It tried to warn me. It wanted me to follow my parents. They were likely being taken to whoever infected everyone. I can see why it’s been freaking out. Whatever this stuff is, it's beyond deadly.

Jiran squinted in impotent frustration at the heart. He kicked it once for good measure, then left one of his minds to watch it while he returned to reality.

Outside, he pulled at what was left of the mana from the guards. Most of it was long since infected, and lacking a container, had dissipated into nothing. He commanded what little was left, purifying it through a filter of Mana Venom before absorbing it. 

For what felt like the tenth time in the last minute, his heart froze and he blasted into the air, flattening several city blocks in his haste. He yelled at the top of his mana-imbued lungs, “Lenton! Don't let their mana touch you!”

With their auras contesting for dominance of the skies, none of the three heard him. Jiran’s stomach felt like it dropped straight into his feet when the Templari behind Lenton slit his own wrist. A fountain of vile mana gushed out in a massive glob that raced toward the old man who had saved his life too many times to count.