The Forsaken Hero

”So fast,” Korra gasped. ”Did you see that?”

I started to shake my head, only to flush as I realized she was talking to Gayron.

The demonkin shook his head. ”Only a blur. But my soul’s telling me that was only a sixth-level art!”

”What about you?” Korra asked, looking at me.

My eyes flicked back to Emlica, searching the golden weave of Adaptive Resistance. The mana of the attack was already gone, dissipated throughout the arena. ”Nothing.”

”Ernyst, I believe the purpose of this was for the Oracle, not a demonstration for your self-claimed students,” Emlica said.

”Ah, right. I supposed I got carried away.” He rubbed his head sheepishly. ”Alright, one more time. This time, I’ll slow it down for you.”

Ernyst drew his sword and advanced at a rate visible to my eyes. He raised it above his head, filling it with mana in a way I’d never seen before. Instead of stuffing it into his arms and the blade, he wove it through in delicate ribbons, reminiscent of how a mage crafted magic circles. It pulsed like a living vein, emitting almost no waste and bearing no inefficiencies. Though sixth level, the attack landed with the force of seventh.

Ernyst’s sword came full stop against Emlica’s ward, failing to cause the slightest bit of damage. A heartbeat later, his art detonated, consuming them both in a violent cloud of ravenous mana.

”Beautiful,” Korra whispered, reflecting the resulting golden explosion with her eyes.

I squinted against the glare, determined to catch what I’d missed last time. Adaptive Resistance shone strong and undaunted against the attack. Every current and ribbon of mana that brushed it was drawn in, melting into streams of unattributed mana. Like rivers of honey, they followed the channels of the ability into Emlica’s soul. They condensed within her like dew, forming a gentle, shimmering halo of light around her, akin to my aura.

When the explosion died, Ernyst stepped back, sheathing his sword. Emlica lowered her hand, letting her ward fall.

”How did you do that?” Gayron asked, staring at the swordsman. ”How could you bring so much power to bear?”

”Your standards of how powerful an attack should be are skewed by mediocrity,” Erynst said as he returned to our side.

Emlica nodded. ”Indeed. What you call a ”sixth-level” attack isn’t actually a reference to how much mana it has, or how many circles a spell uses, but how hard it hits. Reality holds the opposite perspective. Ernyst used a sixth-level art with sixth-level power. But, because of his skill, it struck with force proportional to a seventh-level spell you might have cast.”

”Wait, is that how you do it?” Korra asked, turning her awe to me. ”I always wondered how your wards were so powerful. I actually thought you were hiding an ability that buffed your fate spells or something.”

I blushed, fiddling with my sleeve. ”I, um...didn’t you see my status at the last shard? I only have three abilities, and none of them strengthen my spells.”

She tilted her head. ”Oh, right. I guess so.”

I let go of my sleeve and turned to Emlica. ”How did you do that with Adaptive resistance?”

”Oh?” she arched an eyebrow. ”What exactly did I do?”

I moved my hands, gesturing as I talked. ”After stripping the attribute from the magic, Adaptive Resistance should have diffused it into fate, but it didn’t. Instead, all the mana gathered into your...well, you don’t have a soul, but that’s the only way I can describe it. And it looked so soft and gentle, too. Not like how sharp and overwhelming it was when I tried it before.”

She gave me a pleased smile. ”Very good, Xiviyah. The problem when you tried to absorb the mana at Tormod’s Breach was that you had no grasp or control over the incoming flow. Think of it like trying to force an ocean through a straw. The water might make it through, but it would be compressed and pressurized, as sharp as any sword.”

I touched my chest, wincing as I recalled the fiery pain absorbing Nithalee’s magical suppression barrier had caused. ”So that’s what happened.”

”Right. However, by studying the way Adaptive Resistance naturally releases the mana back into the weave, I was able to develop a technique that wasn’t quite so invasive. The mana doesn’t just flow into one thread, but every thread. It’s how it avoids overloading and breaking the stars of fate,” she explained.

”And you found a way to do that for my soul?”

She nodded. ”Precisely. The only problem is that, given the time constraint of your circumstance, I haven’t yet perfected it.”

”And that’s why it works better for magical arts and techniques?”

”Combat arts,” she corrected, grumbling. ”That’s their official name, not the bastardization your world uses. ’Magical techniques...’ Hah. They might as well just throw raw mana around. No wonder your perspectives on strength are so skewed. Half the mana just flies off, who knows where?”

I ducked my head. ”S-sorry. But why is that? What makes arts different from spells?”

She folded her arms, smoothing out her scowl. ”They’re much more direct, and typically only impact a single point. All barriers function by distributing the strain of an attack throughout the entire barrier, dispersing the impact point and lessening the burden of each individual thread of mana. When the entire ward is impacted by an attack, it leaves less room to distribute the force.”

”But doesn’t that mean the attack is technically weaker everywhere, too? If it’s spread out?” I asked.

”You might think so, but that’s the hidden weakness of combat arts. Their mana is condensed and more powerful, but the speed and flexibility they offer take away from their overall power. A spell, on the other hand, draws significantly more power from the mana, utilizing runes and circles to amplify the effect. You’ve been spoiled by only fighting incompetent mages until now and haven’t had to face spells as powerful or efficient as your own, so it hasn’t really mattered. And, given your world, perhaps all of this is useless information. But if the gods get serious, and send archons or, fate forbid, avatars themselves, you must understand the difference. You won’t be able to get away with blocking third-level attacks with a first-circle ward.”

”I think I understand,” I said solemnly. ”I can’t think of anything worse than underestimating my opponents.”

”That’s what I figured. Most mages can make that mistake and get away, but with your constitution...?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. ”You won’t get a second chance. It’s far better for you to understand the limitations of your spells and abilities here, in a controlled setting, than be forced to learn them out there.”

She turned to Ernyst, who was talking to both Korra and Gayron behind us. He gestured wildly with his hands, simulating internal mana flow by manifesting small ribbons of golden light in the air.

”Ernyst, would you be so kind as to watch after Xiviyah? It’s time I returned to the library, and she needs to get a handle on that technique,” Emlica said.

”Sure, just leave her to me,” he said.

”Wait, you’re leaving me here? With them?” I gave her a frantic, pleading look.

Emlica chuckled. ”You’ll be stuck with them a lot longer than a few hours of training. Besides, you still have a day and a half before you can call a remnant to your world. You’ll be grateful for putting in the effort now, instead of suffering later.”

I hesitated, tail twitching. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck in a colosseum with battle maniacs, but...

My shoulders sagged and my tail dropped. ”Alright.”

After her lecture on understanding limitations, what was there I could say? It was clear I knew nothing about combat arts, and my grasp of Adaptive resistance was fledgling at best.”

Emlica spent a few more minutes instructing me on the basics of the technique she was developing, lingering just long enough to ensure I could at least invoke it. Whether I mastered it well enough to use in a practical situation, according to her, was purely up to me.

”One last thing,” Emlica said, pausing as she turned to leave.

She drifted closer, feet an inch off the ground, and reached toward me. I shied away as her hand came to my face, but it fell to my chest. She crooked her finger, lifting the ring I wore around my neck.

”A Wayward Compass. Where did you get this?” She asked, raising it so it caught the light of the stars above.

”Luke...the curse apostle...gave it to me,” I admitted shyly. ”Is it special? It has a lot of enchantments, but I don’t recognize any of them.”

She smiled faintly. ”Some might say that, though I doubt he understood the significance of it, either.” She hesitated, then shrugged. ”No, he must be aware of them, in part, else he wouldn’t have given it in the first place.”

”What is it?” I asked.

”One half of a whole. It acts as a pin in the realm, tethering another ring to it. When one activates the magic item, they will be teleported to the other.”

”That’s how they teleport?” I gasped.

”They only work one way, too. I would assume he has the other half,” she said.

Emilca let it drop back to my chest. The delicate chain it hung on was just long enough to place it between my modest cleavage, cold against my skin. It had barely been visible above the hem of my dress, so I was surprised she’d seen it at all.

”You don’t normally wear jewelry,” she said, guessing my thoughts. ”Besides, it’s not like I could ignore such a powerful magic item, anyway.”

”I...don’t like them,” I said softly.

It had taken almost half an hour for me to convince myself to wear it. Every time something even brushed my neck, I got shivers, and my heart skipped a beat. It was just too close to the collar of the slave warehouse, or the unbearable weight of the Soul Binder.

”Then why wear it? Even if it’s a gift, you must be distrustful of an enchantment you’re unfamiliar with.”

”Because, um...” I blushed softly, fingering the chain. ”He gave it to me.”