Chapter 241 - Blast From The Past

The sweeping arches and delicate curved towers of the Cathedral of Chords towered over Jiran. The only word that came to mind when taking in its splendor was: Gorgeous. He couldn't help but feel proud that the people of his empire had gone from caves, to structures of this magnitude and perfection. Especially considering the devastation caused by the Season of Shattering, which typically limited the scope of Imperial construction.

Well, our dear cardinal won't be enjoying his fancy home for long. Huh, if Silence takes its orders from the Cardinal, and Markhiss was ordered by Silence, doesn't that mean both times I've been collared, It was because of the same guy’s orders?

Yah, definitely owe him a solid punch. Maybe three.

Jiran’s first move after leaving Markhiss outside had been looking for Niya, Cameron, and Mayalyn. Of course, none of them were where they said they’d be. And considering how well their suits blocked Mana Omnis, he was at a loss on how to find them.

The first group of guards he'd come across had been more than happy to tell him everything they knew about the intruders, which was nothing. They at least managed to point him toward both major cathedrals before forgetting he existed.

Scratching his armored chin, Jiran considered his next move.

Knowing where Olive and the Templari are doesn't really change much. Can't fight them in the city, not my job to rescue Olive, and it's too early to make a move on the cardinal.

If I can't find the others, how long do I give them to find Olive on their own and get into position? An hour, two? Suppose if I see something blow up, I should make my move immediately. Otherwise, I'll give them a couple hours.

What to do in the meantime? I could check out the undead. I should probably look for my parents though.

At one time, Jiran’s feelings regarding his parents were a jumbled mess of filial responsibility, loss, betrayal, and scorn. Now, he felt nothing when thinking about them. They had raised him, but also made their choice to no longer be part of his life. If he owed them anything, it was respecting that choice.

They were tier three, and unless they changed their ways, risking life and limb for EXP, would age and die along with most of the population. While he didn't feel anything for them at the moment, he knew that may someday change. The idea of living potentially hundreds or thousands of years without a clear memory of their faces wasn't an option. Afterall, he was only tier two the last time he saw them. Already their faces were blurry in his memories.

With how violent things could end tomorrow, this might be my last chance.

Decision made, Jiran leapt into action. He targeted smaller groups of guards with tier six or seven leaders, easily surprising and overpowering them with aura alone. Mana Venom was amazing at loosening lips, leading him to the section of Sanctum housing refugees from Feylon within minutes. 

It was neither a nice or ugly part of the city. Squat, two-story buildings housed dozens of people each. Uniformly painted walls and a lack of space for decoration left a forgetful impression. It was a far cry from the bare ground of their hovel in Feylon, but after the places he’d seen on his adventures, it felt more than lacking. 

Finding their exact building was less of an issue than expected. Their mana signatures jumped out at him amidst a sea of softly shifting colors. Even though he’d never seen their mana before, his instincts knew them for his parents the moment they entered his range. Jiran paused, an unexpected pang of longing squeezing his lungs.

With clenched teeth, he hovered to their window, looking in on the small room they shared with six others. All were asleep, soft snores filling the air. There they were, spooning happily, oblivious to him lurking only meters away. Their expressions were serene in the way only sleeping faces could be. A flood of memories came to him; the good times and the bad, each important enough to his maturing self to be remembered after all this time.

He stayed long enough to memorize the contours of their faces, cementing them for all time in his attribute-enhanced brain. Then, he turned to leave, satisfied with the closure of one last look. His aura pulled him straight up, gripping the synapses in the space his body occupied after reinforcing them with intent so they could handle the load. High in the air, he was about to turn his attention toward the massive wall blocking the undead when he frowned.

Every occupant of a building only a block from his parents had roused and were shuffling outside. The oddity wasn’t restricted to that one spot. Several other homes were being emptied as well; yawning and confused people gathered in the streets, speaking in hushed tones.

Don’t get distracted, don’t get distracted.

Jiran’s new mantra was useless. When a dozen more buildings quickly emptied, and the phenomenon extended to his parent’s home, he was inevitably drawn closer to investigate. A particular pair were speaking louder than most. Jiran angled toward them, hoping to find a quick answer.

“You better be serious about that week's worth of rations!”

“Ev’n if yeh doubt me, what about e’re one els’? Entire thing’s sponsored by tha church, ya know? They wouldn’t lie to us!”

“Fine, fine. Let’s just get this over with, today was a long day and I want to get back to bed.”

“We’s ain’t alone. Gotta wait fer e’re one. Don’ worry, we ain’t gunna be late.”

“Late?! Do you have any idea what time it is? Why is the meeting in the middle of the night? This doesn't feel right, Jedd.”

“Stop yer bellyachin’! Yah said ye’d come to the meet, no draggin yer feet now that we’s on the way. Don't be scared, yer gunna love it. We always meet at night, ya’know. The speakers are hard working common folks like you n’ me, they ain't got time durrin’ tha day. Now, ‘elp me rouse them’s two ‘ouses. They’s comin’ tonight too.”

Jiran tuned out the rest of their conversation, casting around for someone he could pull aside and discreetly question. Unfortunately, only three people seemed to know what was going on and they were constantly running back and forth with far too much attention on their every move.

He flew higher again, keeping one eye on the Cathedrals in the distance for any sign of his party, the other on the rapidly expanding mob of Imperials.

Well, I have a couple hours. Might as well see what this is all about.

Jiran frowned, suddenly realizing the three ringleaders had that same green sheen in their manapools that he’d noticed from several of the city guards. The moment he made the connection, Foresight began to buzz softly in his neck.

In the next instant, a light so bright it banished the gloom across the entire city exploded into being. A beam of multi-colored destruction shot upwards, decimating the cloud-cover and blinding any foolish enough to stare. It was accompanied by a roaring shockwave that spread outward, originating from the direction of the Cathedral Jiran had left minutes ago. The closest buildings were decimated as the blastwave engulfed several kilometers of the city, reducing huge swaths of construction to rubble.

Aww, fuck.

Niya of Feylon

- Moments ago -

Niya puffed her cheeks, pressure building rapidly before escaping in an explosive sigh, “We really should have planned this better.”

“Or at all,” Cameron snorted, “Good learning experience so we know what not to do next time, y’know?”

“Next time? Going to turn into a princess on me and get yourself captured by a cult of lunatics?”

Cameron shook his head, animated features drawing down in an exaggerated frown, “That’s Olive’s thing, don't take that away from her, she'd be crushed.”

Instead of his normal laughter at his own joke, Cameron’s chin dipped and his eyes tracked the snaking lines between the street’s cobblestones. Awkward silence descended on their tiny darkened alley. Niya wasn't about to let him drift into melancholy again. She knew he'd been suffering whenever he was alone, attempting to shoulder the entire burden of Olive’s capture like a good soldier. 

It never did anyone any good to combine their worries into a simmering stew. What we need now is solutions, not moping.

“Well, if those two don't want to come up with a real plan, we'll have to do it for them. Someone in this party needs to have their head screwed on straight!” Niya kept her aura tight, blocking her enthusiasm from breaching a small bubble around them. 

“The fact you think that's us, is terrifying.”

She rolled her eyes, “Don't go sounding like that damn geezer. We're young, we can become anything we want to become. We rely too much on Olive to clean up after us. After we get her back, I’ll be picking her brain so much she’ll wish she was still captured.”

Cameron paused, hearing the sincerity hidden behind her words, “The future is created by those who tear free their bones and use them to chisel it, eh?”

“Huh?”

“Something my old man used to say all the time.”

“Riiiight. Remind me to decline meeting him when the opportunity arises. Anyways: Plan. Jiran’s off to create a distraction, which will undoubtedly happen at the worst time in the worst way, and Mayalyn’s vanished to who-knows-where. What can we do?”

“Honestly, between the two of them, they can probably handle this fine. We should be reserves and keep our noses clean until, if, either of them need us.”

“Okay, I like the sound of that. How do we pull that off without being spotted? If we keep hiding in this alley, we won't even know one of them is in trouble before it's too late.”

When neither had an answer after a few short seconds, they shared matching sighs. Niya gazed longingly at the dark sky framed by the massive city walls, wishing she could be back in the valley where things were simple and fun.

That’s it!

“The walls! We’d be able to see everything!” She exclaimed, pulling on Cameron’s gauntlet to urge him up.

He held fast, refusing to move, “You mean the place with the highest concentration of guards? Jiran warned us about overusing the camouflage formations, remember?”

“But that’s the last place they would expect us to hide. We only have to use them until we find a good spot and hunker down. It’ll work, trust me!”

Niya panicked when a pressure from outside her hardened aura burst its way inside, easily bypassing her defense. She threw herself to the side, crashing into a wall that nearly buckled and collapsed. She was on her feet in an instant, fists raised, Channeling and Layering sapping at her manapool to charge her most deadly attack.

The air shimmered, revealing Mayalyn standing tall with her hands on her hips. Niya couldn’t see her expression, but she didn’t need to to know the girl was frowning at her. Frustration, fear, and embarrassment boiled to the surface, “What the shit May?! Why did you scare me like that?!”

The girl’s muffled voice held an equal tone of aggravation, “I called to you several times before tapping your shoulder. Can we please stop fighting? I found Olive and she is in trouble.”

Cameron moved to her side like lightning, his massive form dwarfing her lithe figure, “You found her? Thank the Voice! Which way? Let’s go!”

His heartfelt plea and the pure, unmitigated relief in his voice caused Niya’s heart to melt. Cameron often acted the fool, but his kindness and the way he openly cared about the people around him was just as attractive to her now as the first time she had noticed it. 

Her frustration at being surprised evaporated and she joined them in a huddle, “How can we help?”

“She is this way, in the basement of a large cathedral. It is heavily guarded and I could not follow her further without great risk. Let us hurry. I will explain on the way.” 

They nodded enthusiastically and followed as Mayalyn took off at a sprint. Niya fed mana to her suit’s camouflage formations which promptly cocooned her in a sheen of bending light. Cameron did the same, and Mayalyn activated her Obfuscation, leaving only a small spot on her back visible for them to follow.

They dashed across the city, pausing at each intersection to check for guards. Despite Jiran’s confidence in his stealth formations, they chose to circle around the patrols they encountered. True to her word, Mayalyn concisely explained how she had found Olive and followed her captors into the cathedral’s bowels.

Niya was beyond impressed. Somehow, this girl with a hundredth her training, and a tier below her, had the courage to do all that. Meanwhile, she was jumping at every shadow and nearly bringing the entire city down on them by overreacting to a tap on the shoulder. Her shame was an open flame in her chest, heating her skin to an unbearable degree. Her only solace was that neither of them could see her, which ended up making her more ashamed.

What happened to me? I used to be so fearless, strong, and independent. When did I become—

Her thoughts stuttered to a stop, replaced by an epiphany that shook her worldview to its core. When she was taken from her family as a child, she lost more than she realized. It was only after getting her cousin back, meeting Cameron, Olive, and Mayalyn, that she found and experienced true affection again. For the first time since she was a little girl, she had a reason to live. And with that desire, came the fear of losing it. But that was far from the epiphany which stole her breath.

Between one footfall and the next, she dove into that fear, analyzing it and tearing it apart at the roots. It wasn’t her own death that terrified her, it was the idea that the people she had come to love might cease to exist. For her, death had always been a viable escape, though it remained tucked in the back of her mind without ever being fully considered; she was no quitter.

The very concept of her death unfolded within her: Serenity, an end to worries, strife, and anxiety. When death came for her, it would mark the end of her suffering, and herald eternal restfulness. Tears sprang to her eyes as worries that seemed so paramount moments before fell to dust before the omnipotence of true, everlasting peace. Fear for her and their safety morphed to desire; desire to see them live another day, even if she wasn’t around to experience it with them. What would she care? She would be at blissful rest, oblivious to all things living.

Niya didn’t snap out of her trance until the cathedral loomed large before them. Pristine walls and perfected architecture were drab compared to the enlightenment she had just experienced. Mayalyn spoke, and Cameron responded. Neither of their words managed to pierce the state of harmony that had wrapped around her thoughts.

Only one thing mattered: One of her people was inside the disgustingly opulent building that dared to rear its walls and bar her path. There was no doubt that its construction was top-notch, created and reinforced by the best the empire had to offer. Mere walls couldn’t stop her. Nothing would stop her. Death was to be embraced, and if she died this day, she would damn well get in one good punch before the end.

Niya snarled the names of her techniques, her mana coursing as Layering stacked one element after another atop her glowing fist, “Blazing Star, Ruinous Rupture, Glacial Collapse, Tsunami Burst!”

The acclamation she had earned while trapped inside an old bastard’s tower flickered to life. Lenton had scolded her harshly, and convinced her to seal its use, but that wasn’t worth considering any longer. Her Juggernaut Core pulsed, adding its destructive potential to her techniques. The ground crumbled beneath her feet, stones losing whatever mysterious coherence that typically kept physical matter together.

A feral smile pulled at her lips as a series of flashing notifications demanded attention. She didn’t bother closing her eyes to look. She could feel the explosive growth in her abilities through every fiber of her being.

Technique evolution triggered: Blazing Star > Blazing Nova

Technique evolution triggered: Ruinous Rupture > Ruinous Divide

Technique evolution triggered: Glacial Collapse > Glacial Extinction

Technique evolution triggered: Tsunami Burst > Depths of Despair

As her fist reared back, she remembered Jiran’s instructions on how to combine her skills with the formation he had installed in her gauntlet. Mana Folding—the evolution chosen at level fifty Molding—created a link between the formation and her Layered techniques. Just as he said they would, her abilities were sucked into the formation, leaving her fist capable of stacking them all over again. When she did, her arm shook as she strained to lift it. A glorious cackle escaped her lips as she thrust her gauntlet forward and up, aiming at the top half of the grand construction, toward a suspicious hole in the wall.

Night turned to day, and when the dust cleared, only foundation stones remained of the Grandem Papal.