His family stood waiting in the courtyard. The breath of the horses in the nearby stables plumed white in the cold air. Eugene, Elena, Devon, Sonya, and Rose formed a quiet half-circle, the impending departure hanging over them.
Nick walked over to his mother and pressed the disc into her palm.
"Wear it against your skin," Nick instructed, keeping his voice low. "I carved spiritual static into the stone. It will scramble any telepathic probes or memory delves. It won't stop a dedicated caster, but it will buy you the seconds you need to react.”
Elena curled her fingers around the jade. Her expression remained stoic, ever the Lady of Floria, but her eyes gleamed with fierce pride. “I will, thank you. Give them hell, Nicholas.”
He handed a second disc to Sonya, who accepted it with a formal curtsy. Even her strict posture could not hide the gratitude in the set of her shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Giving her a smile, Nick turned to Rose and held out the modified leather scabbard.
“I noticed you keep your blade sheathed until the right moment," Nick told her. "I bound a seal of Accumulation into the grain. It will siphon ambient mana while at rest, and the friction of the draw will release that stored energy, granting you the speed and power you lost. More, when you get it back. Use it well.”
Rose took the leather, tracing the faint, glowing outlines of the kanji hidden in the tooling. She looked up, her jaw set with the same stubborn resolve she had used to face a Great Work. "Thank you. For everything.”
Finally, Nick stopped in front of Devon and held out the dwarven sword.
His brother took the weapon, his hand wrapping around the fresh leather grip. The moment his fingers curled around the hilt, his eyes widened in shock. A faint hum resonated up his arm, a spark of conceptual awareness echoing in the soul-scape.
"Nick... what is this?" Devon breathed, staring at the crossguard.
"Treat it as a partner, not a tool," Nick advised, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. "It might surprise you one day. Grow, brother, and you won’t be disappointed.”
With his stated desire to make for Prestige as well, he’d need all the help he could get, especially since he'd have to delve deep into the Green Ocean to earn the Feats he needed.
Hopefully, the sword would help him through his trials.
Devon swallowed hard, gripping the sword tightly. He reached out with his free hand and pulled Nick into a brief embrace. "Watch your back out there.”
"Always," Nick promised.
He stepped away, walking toward the center of the frosted cobblestones. He needed no horse for this journey. The trade roads were safe enough with all the new soldiers being put to work, but the sky was far faster.
Eugene offered a crisp military salute.
Nick returned it. He drew a deep breath and focused. The air around him warped, bending the light as a dense sphere of force wrapped around his body. The cobblestones groaned under the sudden pressure, but his control was fine enough to keep them from cracking.
It had taken some time, but he was back to where he’d been, able to direct every mote of mana that made up his body. Or even better, given how much more there was.
With a crack like a whip, Nick launched himself into the air.
He tore through the freezing morning sky, climbing rapidly until the sprawling stone walls of Floria looked like a scatter of gray pebbles in the grass. He banked eastward, the wind roaring against the smooth curve of his shield.
The borderlands fell away beneath him, and the vast grassland stretched out, a patchwork of rolling golden fields, dense thickets, winding silver rivers, and creeping brown arteries of the trade routes.
Once Floria’s expansion slowed, even those would change, replaced by paved pathways that would make trade even faster.
Flying at this altitude offered a majestic view, but there was another reason he’d decided to go so high. His esoteric senses expanded, sweeping across the terrain below. Compared to the shadow he cast, the world’s lesser creatures burned like tiny, insignificant candles.
An hour into the flight, near the rocky foothills bordering a merchant pass, Nick spotted a disturbance. A flock of Gale Eagles circled a caravan, their broad wings churning the air into dangerous, unnatural crosswinds.
Nick altered his trajectory, diving toward the cliffs. The largest of the flock, around level seventy, had razor-sharp plumage and folded its wings to dive toward the panicked draft horses below.
A mage was taking potshots at them, keeping them from swooping down, but his mana was dwindling. Soon, only the archers would remain to defend, and their arrows lacked the piercing power to injure the beasts.
Nick intercepted the matriarch as it prepared for another pass, though he did not bother summoning the devastating firestorms or vacuum spheres he would use against a real threat. Killing a mortal beast was no longer a challenge; the challenge was restraint. If he unleashed his true power, he would vaporize the eagle, the caravan, and a fair chunk of the trade road.
Thus, he wove a hair-thin thread of kinetic force, infusing it with spiritual intent, then snapped it outward like a whip. The invisible lash wrapped around the eagle’s throat, and Nick pulled sharply.
The beast’s neck snapped with a clean, audible crack.
And just like that, it went limp, tumbling harmlessly into the brush a hundred feet from the merchants.
A couple more applications brought the rest of the flock low, and Nick banked upward, leaving the caravan guards cheering at the empty sky.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You have participated in the defeat of [Gale Eagle Matriarch - Lv 72]
You have participated in the defeat of [Gale Eagle - Lv 55-62]x4
+271,200 Exp
I’m unsure whether they’re happier about being saved or about the loot I left for them. He thought, amused. If they were wise, they’d report the matter to the guards and set aside a portion of the eagles’ worth for him, but it wasn’t worth slowing down.
An hour later, he spotted a herd of Thunderhoofs grazing dangerously close to a small village. An Alpha, a brute crackling with ambient electricity, pawed at the dirt, preparing to charge the wooden palisades.
Nick dropped from the clouds, landing silently in the tall grass behind the beast. He drew the kanji for Weight in the ether, projecting the seal directly onto the Alpha’s broad back.
He carefully modulated the ether output, wanting to see how much it would take. The Alpha let out a startled bellow as its knees buckled and its hooves sank deep into the soil.
Nick held the seal, increasing the pressure incrementally until the beast’s heart, unable to pump blood, finally gave out. It collapsed, its hide and valuable core intact for the villagers to harvest.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You have defeated [Thunderhoof Alpha - Lv 75]
+121,200 Exp
Again, he barely bothered to show his face to the trembling guards as they peered out from behind the palisade, ensuring they got a good look at his family’s symbol before flying off.
His final test came near a winding river gorge. A Rock Worm, a segmented horror with grinding mandibles and stone-plated scales, erupted from the mud, attempting to drag a stray cow into the earth.
Nick hovered above the river. He channeled the [Gleipnir] spell, threading the adaptive chains through the wet soil.
Unseen, they wrapped around the worm’s subterranean segments. Once it was completely trapped, Nick raised his hand and hauled the entire fifty-foot length of the monster out of the ground in a single motion.
He twisted his wrist, and the chains constricted, crushing the beast’s carapace before dropping the twitching carcass back onto the riverbank.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You have defeated [Rock Worm - Lv 78]
+160,880 Exp
Control. Precision. The ability to apply overwhelming force with the delicacy of a scalpel. That was what he sought, and it seemed to be coming more easily. Nick nodded in satisfaction, resuming his eastward flight.
By late morning, the horizon shifted. The rolling green plains gave way to Alluria's sprawl.
Nick had always known that the Ducal capital was a city built on staggering wealth and ancient magic, but with his new senses, it truly struck home.
Concentric rings of high white stone walls separated the districts, climbing ever upward toward the gleaming manses of the High Nobles and the towering spire of the Magic Tower. Even from miles away, Nick could taste the sheer density of the warding arrays humming in the ether, a complex lattice of defensive magic designed to repel both sieges and scrying.
Nick landed half a mile outside the main gates, dismissing his kinetic sphere. Walking the final stretch was a matter of protocol; the city’s anti-air defenses were notoriously lethal, and arriving by air was punished by the Ducal Guard.
He joined the throng of merchants, sellswords, and travelers bottlenecked at the grand archway. The smells of the metropolis rushed over him—roasting meats, open sewers, the tang of metal from the artificer districts, and, surprisingly, the exotic perfumes of the Free Cities.
Trade with them seems to be increasing. Are they trying to forge better ties with us to avoid the King turning his gaze on them?
That was possible, though it was all speculation. It was just as likely that a merchant prince had decided to send a few expeditionary caravans north to make a quick buck.
When he reached the checkpoint, the armored guards stepped forward to block his path, though he sensed hesitation as the man behind the barricade seemed to struggle to pin him down. Nick reached into his coat and produced the silver noble plaque bearing the Crowley sigil.
The guard captain clearly recognized the seal, his eyes widening as he took it in. He saluted sharply, shouting for his men to clear the lane.
Without further delay, Nick walked through the gates and was back in Alluria.
He knew these streets. A year ago, he had arrived here as a clever provincial kid seeking wisdom, treasure, and opportunity. He remembered the Abattoir’s stench of blood, the subterranean filth of One-Ear’s tavern, and the absolute chaos of the demonic incursion that had nearly torn the Magic Tower apart. He had fought cultists in the Temple of Ulter and stood trial before the golden light of the High Tribunal.
Through it all, the city remained the same, a sprawling engine of politics and power. But Nick had changed. He was no longer a mere fledgling hoping to catch an Archmage's eye.
Before heading to the Tower, Nick diverted toward the noble district. The streets grew wider and cleaner, lined with manicured hedges and wrought-iron gates.
He stopped before a familiar estate, and this time he was admitted without a word, the guards at the gate recognizing him on the spot.
He found Grandmaster Xander Wolfram at the center of the training ring. The retired powerhouse wore loose linen trousers, and despite his age, his bare chest was heavily muscled, his back rippling with contained power. He moved through a sequence of advanced sword forms with an enchanted practice blade.
Every strike he delivered displaced the air, creating a whistling vacuum. From the feel of it, the sword had to weigh more than a ton, yet he wielded it as if it were a toy.
Xander paused mid-strike, though he did not turn around right away. He lowered the blade and hummed. “You’ve become harder to pin down, boy, but I’d recognize that cadence anywhere.”
Though the old man was no mage, his martial instincts were honed to a preternatural edge, and Nick wasn’t surprised to feel the density of his suppressed aura, since he wasn’t trying very hard to hide it.
"Grandmaster," Nick greeted, offering a respectful nod. “I hope you’ve been well. I bring correspondence from Floria.”
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out three sealed letters.
Xander took the parchment, breaking the wax seal on the first. "Your father.”
Nick nodded. He did not know the exact contents, but he could guess. Eugene was likely asking the Grandmaster to use his old contacts in the Capital to prepare the ground for Nick’s eventual arrival at the Royal Court.
Xander scanned the letter, grunting in acknowledgment, then tucked it into his sash. He broke the second seal with a twitch of his lips. “My wayward apprentice.”
"Devon asked me to pass that along," Nick said. "He seeks guidance on integrating his forms against monsters.”
Looking as if he were resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Xander nonetheless nodded in agreement.
When he opened the third letter, the wax bearing Sonya’s seal, the Grandmaster’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"She is well," Nick offered.
“I’m glad,” the old man murmured, then turned his sharp eyes on him. “Now, let’s talk about why you’re really here, shall we?”