Chapter 66: The Gathering Storm.

Training picked up. The mines now had the peculiar mood of a home army camp on the eve of deployment. Half of it was all business, but the other half did their best to make the circumstances more pleasant. The baths were kept clean and well-flooded, there were new constructions rising every week and a few kind souls had spent a lot of time and mana to create bushes of wildflowers, bringing some much-needed green to the desolate place. Viv spent her days either practicing outside or accompanying convoys to and from the Yries camp and specific hunting grounds that only the Hadals dared travel. She fought the moles again, the bats, two giant worms, a sort of trap lamprey that dropped from the ceiling and a particularly pungent gut spiller. The Yries asked her to help clear the vale outside their cave which she did for a few more services. Her efforts bore fruit and she got a pleasant surprise after a particularly intense practice with the inquisitors.

It was a breakthrough, one that had a distinct and lasting impact on her perception of the world. Mana pervaded everything, absolutely everything. Even the stones had a potential, an impact on their surroundings that went beyond the mere physical. The entire world of Nyil was… malleable. Someone powerful enough could turn it into a salt plain or an eternal garden. It would take an impossible existence but it was technically feasible. Mana colors were not true colors but categories of intents left on reality. She could taste them, feel them, see them… not manipulate them since she did not have the proper distribution though, and that was strange.

She could see the red around a lit torch, but she could not grasp it with her mind. It felt strange to her, distant, though not alien. It just did not recognize her. The part of her soul that moved the world did not have the limbs to touch red mana. Trying was a strange and frustrating experience, but the frustration lasted only so long as she didn’t try to touch the black. When she did, well…

Once, Varska had said that using mana was struggling against the will of the world. It certainly felt that way with colorless mana which was simply raw potential. Black mana was an entire different beast altogether. Before, it was like an overeager Labrador puppy. Now, it was a bloodhound. Even if Viv’s control was far from perfect the energy still flowed in and around her with lithe, deadly grace. It begged to be unleashed. It almost felt… alive.

Her attunement had also reached 24.2%. The idea that such an abstract concept could be measured with math baffled her to no end, yet it came from the god of magic so who was she to judge? Concretely, she was on the verge of casting her artillery spells the way they were meant to be, not their simplified version. Her mana channels also reached the mage level and her ability to cast continuously increased dramatically. All in all, it felt like a massive improvement after months of relentless pursuit. She sometimes wished she had gotten it a bit before, but quickly told herself that it may not have helped much.

The Yries made good on their promises and they delivered heavy armors and weapons with regularity. The trainees selected for this week’s shipments immediately switched to their proper gear and discarded those that had been pilfered from revenants. The armors themselves were iron, very dark, and made by means unknown. They had a glassy, pitted quality to them that gave off a raw vibe that worried her until the town smith and the church conducted some tests.

“This is prime work, if ugly. I threw an axe at it and the thing barely got dented. The owls sure know how to build things.”

Meanwhile, the rest of the goodies arrived, mostly Yries crossbows. Those were not new. They were the sort of cobbled-together weapons the strange beings had used on the revenants, yet they were effective and the guards took a liking to their own. Many took to decorating their weapons with some turning into real works of art. The only parts left untouched were those dedicated to firing and they were mercifully standard so bolts were interchangeable.

Viv got her silverite tool delivered with the black mana stone used as pommel. It was not a short staff, of course. She wasn’t some sort of field marshal. It was a knife.

A big ass knife.

To stab people, because why not have the option? She was going to bring that thing into battle and did not see the point of looking like a cheerleader. It also came with a sheath that complimented her off-grey robes pretty well.

The design was both simple and exquisite and truly showed what a master forger could achieve when skills and magic were involved. She didn’t think that a modern computer-based cutting machine could have done any better. Most of the surface was left untouched except for a few shield glyphs that immediately proved useful.

‘Pok’

“Aw, DAMMIT!”

‘Hss’

“Hah, I got it this time.

‘Paf.’

“Gah, not the shin you ASSHOLE!”

Day after day, the children of Kazar would sneak up on her and throw small stones to help her train acuity reflex. The skill allowed her to cast at an incredible speed when in danger, replacing finesse-based reflexes with mental ones. It was an incredibly useful survival tool and she was more than happy to see it develop. The only problem was that she was convinced that the little twerps had gotten skill increases too. They were merciless. Solfis had even been forced to implement one hour breaks between attempts so that she could practice in relative peace.

Arthur was a bit surprised about the violence at first, yet she understood the concept of ‘mock-battle’ and training.

“No.”

“Squee?”

“Not you too. No.”

“Squeeeee…”

She was not the only one making progress. A month after the start of the training, Solfis went to visit her as she was recovering near the well. He had brought Ban with him. The old, retired militiaman looked even more thunderous and wiry now, all lean muscles like taut steel cables. His long white beard jutted out of his heavy helmet while his dark gaze zeroed on Viv with laser-like intensity. As for the Lost Heiress, she was trying to chill and the atmosphere had just turned dead serious.

“Yes?” she asked, regaining her composure.

//We have achieved success, Your Grace.

//Ban has reached a milestone and he is able to upgrade his path.

//There is only one condition left to achieve.

“I need to swear allegiance to the Harrakan Empire,” Ban said, looking miffed, “Can’t say that I’m ecstatic.”

“The Old Empire? The one that blew up completely?”

//You are considered as heiress to the empire, Your Grace.

//I am aware that I stretched the rules to nominate you when we met.

//However, it appears that the Dead God, Nous, has a sense of humor.

//Ban must swear allegiance to you.

“Errr, fine? I guess? Is there a ceremony or…”

“Not so fast,” the old man stopped her. He took a deep breath, quite flustered.

“Look, I swore to myself that I would never bend the knee again to any man. Or woman, I suppose. I am forced into a situation I don’t like one bit. That said, hmm, if it will improve our chances against Prince Lancer then, harrumph, I suppose that I can make that sacrifice. However…”

And there Ban’s expression grew so dark that Viv could have sworn that it was a skill. It was particularly impactful because Ban was quite strong, his black armor was quite thick and he had a full metal practice stick that looked like it weighed a ton.

“Betray the ideals you’ve shown, ask me to kill children or the like, and you’ll get my spear through the guts, even if it kills me. You won’t see it coming but you sure as Enttiku will feel it going out. We clear?”

“Perfectly clear.”

Solfis didn’t say anything so Viv assumed it was all fine.

Ban sighed again, a powerful movement that shook his whole torso.

“Right. Right. I, Ban, son of Greror, solemnly swear to serve the heir, long may she live, for the good of the empire and its people. Gah! Harrak eternal.”

//Harrak eternal.

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“It… It’s working.”

Viv inspected the man as his eyes grew wide as saucers.

[Harrakan heavy recruit: dangerous, a man who follows the path of the Harrakan heavy infantry. He focuses on heavy pole weapons, group formations and squad tactics.]

Ban relaxed and his eyelids fluttered.

“By Neriad’s balls that is one powerful path. If this is the norm then no wonder real infantry tore us to shreds. Fuck. This is so unfair.”

//Ah yes, the world is unfair.

“Don’t patronize me.”

//But it is quite nice when it is unfair in your favor, is it not?

“… Yeah.”

//Let us stack the odds.

//Back to it, recruit.

“It feels so strange not to be called a maggot anymore…”

//That’s the spirit, recruit.

//Now go back to training with the other maggots.

Viv watched them leave and returned to her practice.