Chapter 526 - Not lighting up

POV The First Disciple of Nathaniel Gwyn, minion Vega

“You shouldn’t do that. Your master set it up in a way that works best for your growth.”

The red-haired human woman appears again, as she likes to once in a while.

“Creepy woman!” I call out to her.

As always, I can’t feel her heartbeat, and she insists it’s because she’s just a projection. But could it be that she’s actually sick, hiding a weak heart out of shame? My master told me never to trust strangers—especially when they try to act nice.

“Maybe you could finally come up with a better way of calling me,” she says, jumping up to sit on a fallen tree near me. She looks at me with those strange yellow eyes.

“No.”

The woman shakes her head, and I look back at the mana stone Master gave me. Even the first level has so much stuff about these seven stances. Master says they all came from a super powerful demon. I wish I could see him. He’s probably not as strong as Master, since Master managed to force or trick him into giving up his secrets. But it would be amazing to see them fight!

“Creepy woman, do you know how to unlock all the secrets of the stone Master sent?” I lift the stone toward her.

“Yes, but I won’t do it.”

“Ha! It’s surely because you can’t. My Master’s techniques are too much!”

Instead of answering, she only smiles.

Tsk. So she hasn’t fallen for it? I could try acting cute—Master said I’m good at that. Or maybe act so she pities me; that worked against Master before we learned more about each other and opened up. But the way she looks at me tells me she won’t do that. Well, it’s up to me again. I know the way I’m supposed to do it is probably best, but if I could just tweak it a little bit, I’d feel like I was winning against him. Just a little bit.

“Is that envious guy still wanting to hurt me?” I ask as I start using mana the way I was taught, examining the stone.

“Sometimes.” She nods.

“And Master knows?”

“Somewhat.”

“So he will kill that envious guy.”

The red-haired woman chuckles and moves the hair off her face. “It’s not so simple. He might not look like it, but that guy is very powerful.”

“But Master wants to kill him, right? Because that guy would kill me, and because he messes with him?”

“Yes.”

“Then Master will kill the guy.”

“Or die trying,” the red-haired woman says so bluntly.

I smile and jump onto my feet and then onto the tree to sit next to her. “Yes,” I confirm.

She must already know the answer if she observed Master for even a few days, but she still asks, “Wouldn’t that be sad if he died because he tried to fight someone too powerful, or because he was protecting you?”

“A little bit, but so what if it’s something he wants to do?” I smile, and my hand passes through her body as though it’s not there, though her image remains. “I would do the same.”

Once again, she shakes her head and smiles sadly, tapping her finger on one of my horns. Even though I can’t touch her, she can touch me—and she loves to bully me.

“Lady Lissandra, Nathaniel, or you, little minion. People like you live such fleeting lives, yet in that brief span, some shine brighter than any other, like a beautiful final flare of a star about to fade. It’s a shame that those like you rarely see the end.”

“I don’t even know who Lady Lissandra is! But look, I’ll give you the horn of that beast I killed a few days ago and a bit of its meat if you show me how to unlock the secrets in this mana stone faster. Master said he will call for me during the tournament if possible, so I can’t show up weak in front of him!”

She taps on my horn again, and before I can try to hit her, she’s gone, as she likes to do.

***

POV Nathaniel

For the first time, mimics attack our camps. They’re weaker monsters without hosts, but they move in groups of hundreds. Even though these weaker variants hover around level 200 and are too weak to possess anyone from Group 4, their bodies are still powerful and capable of enduring the cold.

When they are not hiding and mimicking anything they remind me of a mass of tentacles used for movement, covered in multiple mouths and a dozen or so eyes. From each mouth, long tongues coated in a corrosive substance stick out.

All of them are wiped out without exception, and a few more powerful ones are hunted down by either mercenaries or lumorans.

That’s also when the countdown starts ticking until stronger ones locate us. Whatever the Champion wants to do here is now on a time limit, and it’s not helped by Ardenyx’s pilot’s death and the lingering damage to Exoria and Praxion.

The already-tense mood shifts further and our free time is cut short while the lumorans keep giving out more and more items and materials to maintain morale. I’m sure there will come a point where it won’t help anymore.

Every day Tess rounds up Group 4, making plans and getting used to the items the twins stole—something Serabeth still lets slide. Well, in exchange for our group barely getting any increased “risk pay” or overtime payment.

Fair. I’d probably be harsher.

Tess keeps going over the plan in case the camp falls, the plan in case the Champions start fighting, the plan in case the weather worsens, and the plan in case the lumorans turn on us. She also sets measures to ensure no one is taken over by a mimic—making sure no one is ever alone.

Sophie starts working with the twins on some web that could theoretically defend someone else’s mind in case of a powerful mimic attack. She even thinks of trying to connect our mental strength to defend a single target, something akin to the Framework they had in Mindblender City. She really is good at this mind-blendering stuff.

Min-Jae is off preparing to leave with the twins soon, waiting for a time when Serabeth is in the training hall, letting out her steam and frustration. Ever since he saw how she dealt with those mercenaries, he’s recognized her abilities as similar and keeps asking her for pointers.

Lily is packing another bag full of my arms to the side—at this point, she could probably do some crazy stuff if she used them all at once, especially now that they’re a much better [Sacrifice].

Izzy, Maya, Biscuit, and Noodle are soon heading out too, to talk with Hed and his group in case something happens. That group is recognized as the most reliable.

And I… I also do stuff. I train a lot, yup.

By now, I think I’ve seen all I can in Workshop Number 2, everything Leth can show me. I’m sure he has deeper knowledge, but it’s simply knowledge collected over time. I want to see Quent at work; I want to see the level 9 technician Ito—the one who oversees Exoria—at work. I want to see Exoria, Praxion, Ardenyx. But I don’t think they’ll let us. It’s more like a shiny jewel they dangle before us, never actually letting us have it.

I’ve had that feeling before, which is why I started going on these scouting missions around the camp.

Standing up, I begin preparing. Soon, I’ll be heading out again, and at least I can keep testing [Empyrean Lance] since we encounter mimics almost every time.

***

After another twelve hours of scouting and killing some mimics, I follow our leader. Even now, I can’t sense where the camp is, so I just keep my eye on him. As before, he reliably leads us until we pass through the first layer of defenses, then we wait for Serabeth’s elites to test us with the Signature Isolation Framework.

While we line up for the Framework test, a palpable tension coils through the air. One of Serabeth’s elites mutters something to another, quick enough that I can’t quite hear, and they glance in my direction. It doesn’t bother me at first—these elites are always looking for threats, always suspicious.

A cold breeze whistles around us, and the other scouts fidget restlessly. Our leader peers over at the technicians manning the control crystals linked to the Framework and taps his foot as if waiting for a signal.

“Good job this time too, Assistant Nathaniel. To be honest, I was iffy about you, but you did well. I can see why the technicians like you,” the lumoran scout leader says, standing beside me as the others pass through the framework.

“Because I’m cheap.”

He laughs shortly and points at my crown. “That too. But also because of that. We lumorans have our own methods of storing mana, so [Mana Crown] is extremely rare for us.”

“So you like me because I’m a good mana battery.”

“The fact you’ve acquired a crown shows your strong connection to mana—something we also have. Plus, your being obsessive might anger the technicians, but they like you for it too.”

“All craft-people are a bit weird.”

“I agree,” he says, smiling and gesturing me onward.

I’m one of the last to step into the framework and take my chance, “Maybe you could tell them to show me more. I could help—”

Something in his expression changes—first surprise, then shock and finally regret. I follow his gaze to the framework around me.

Unlike before, it’s not lighting up.

A sudden hush falls across the area, as though everyone has stopped breathing at once.

Before I can open my mouth to protest, Serabeth’s elites spring into action. In an instant, multiple mana circles blaze to life around me. A swirl of crackling electricity arcs from one side, while jagged shards of ice form in midair on the other. Someone hurls a sphere of raw kinetic force straight at my chest—no hesitation, no mercy.

I react on pure reflex, drawing Fracture in one swift motion. Its blade devours the surrounding air. The first barrage of spells collides with the shortsword. Lightning fizzles, ice shards dissolve into mist.

I catch a glimpse of the scout leader’s face—twisted in regret. But it’s too late. The rest of the elites move in, each brandishing weapons or spells, determined to finish me off as quickly as possible. My heart pounds in my ears, and my mana surges again, feeding me with all that power. A thrill races through me; my entire body hums with the influx of mana, as though my blood is on fire.

They attack to put me down before I can retaliate. I feel each assault like a drumbeat, slamming into my barriers and into my passives with relentless force. Yet I hold on for that little bit. The world shifts to black and white, my thoughts racing so fast that even the movement of my mana feels sluggish. Sparks erupt across the clearing as spells collide with the barrier, fracturing it. A harsh wind whips up snow and dirt, obscuring the edges of my vision.

In the split second of calm between attacks, my eyes dart around, searching for an opening. The camp’s defenses activate, and the scout leader, along with Serabeth’s elites—all near level 400—attack again.

No one waits for an explanation. The Framework’s detection is absolute.

I swing Fracture, the blade looking like it devours the very air around it, and I swing it to defend against the onslaught. The mana in the crown above my head compresses, instantly turning pitch-black. It shatters the array surrounding me and begins devouring a dozen extremely powerful attacks, each one adding an incredible surge of mana to it.

The air grows heavier as the crown’s black mana pulls in the surrounding mana like a whirlpool. I lift my blade once more—if they want me dead, they’ll need to do better than this.

***

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