A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Outskirts]

Mikoto landed roughly onto the ruined ground.

His sabatons struck first, biting into the loose layer of pulverized stone and dirt before his knees bent sharply beneath the force of the landing. The impact sent a ring of dust outward from his feet. His body dipped forward for a moment, one thick gauntleted hand lowering instinctively toward the ground to steady himself while the other still held Sabre.

The red aura surrounding him had not vanished entirely, but it had already begun to thin. What had moments ago been a dense, blaring reinforcement around his petite frame was now reduced to a flickering layer of red hugging his armor.

Mikoto slowly straightened, his tail coat shifted behind his legs in the residual wind as he looked up toward where Trismegistus stood.

His gaze, however, did not stop on the Royal Guard.

It passed over him.

Mikoto’s red eyes settled on something behind him instead.

For several seconds, he simply stared.

The creature standing there was vaguely shaped like a bird. Calling it merely a bird, however, felt insulting to the scale of it. It was absurdly large; its body was too massive to resemble an ordinary avian creature, with a broad torso that seemed closer to that of a lion than any bird Mikoto had seen. Four birdlike feet supported its enormous frame, each one planted firmly on the ground. Feathery wings extended from its back, their span considerably larger than the creature’s already imposing body.

Its head was unmistakably reminiscent of an eagle, a sharp black beak projected from its face, framed by features that gave it a strangely old appearance rather than the feral look Mikoto might have expected from something of its size.

Its body was primarily brown, though white coloration could be seen beneath its body and along portions of its plumage. The colors made the creature appear almost natural at first glance.

Then Mikoto noticed the symbols.

Swirling black markings ran across its body.

They crossed its back, curved around its limbs, and disappeared beneath portions of its feathers before emerging elsewhere. They did not look painted on. They seemed to belong to the creature, as though the markings had been incorporated into it.

And despite its size and the immense power Mikoto could already sense from it, the creature was standing docilely behind the Royal Guard.

It simply watched.

Mikoto’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"I would like you to meet Wuchowsen," Trismegistus introduced, his voice carrying calmly across the area. "A contracted spirit of mine."

Mikoto continued looking at the creature.

He did not answer immediately.

His eyes moved carefully over Wuchowsen’s body, following the black symbols across its back, then the enormous wings, then the physical structure beneath its feathers.

There was something familiar about its nature.

("That spirit’s got a physical shell too.") Mikoto’s expression remained the same, but his attention sharpened. ("If spirits function the same as souls, then their true forms should be in the ninth dimension. Or maybe higher.")

He held the thought for another moment.

That possibility bothered him more than the creature’s size.

A physical shell did not necessarily mean that the shell represented the entirety of a spirit’s existence. If the spirit followed anything resembling the same metaphysical principles as a soul, then what stood before him could simply be an extension of something existing somewhere far beyond the physical plane.

His gaze lingered on Wuchowsen.

Then, finally, it returned to Trismegistus.

"So spirits, huh?" Mikoto questioned.

There was no insult in his voice; if anything, he sounded curious.

"That’s your big play?"

The Royal Guard’s mask remained pointed toward him.

"My studies of the spiritual plane naturally gravitated me toward those who reside there," Trismegistus stated. "Spirits of myth, with various origins."

As he spoke, Wuchowsen began to move; the enormous creature unfolded its wings.

One wing opened first, feathers separating and shifting against one another with a heavy rustle. The second followed, spreading outward until the full scale of the creature became apparent.

The movement displaced the dust around it.

Mikoto’s tail coat lifted slightly in the resulting current; his eyes followed the wings. The spirit did not attack; it simply prepared itself.

Mikoto’s gaze moved briefly toward the black symbols running across Wuchowsen’s body.

Then back to Trismegistus.

"So you’re a contractor."

The realization came naturally.

Trismegistus inclined his head.

"Indeed." His tone remained calm. "Spirits are more open to conversing with those who walk the same plane of reality as them. Though I can only partially ascend my consciousness to those planes, it was enough to establish various contracts."

Mikoto’s eyes remained on him.

He considered the explanation; the statement answered one question while creating several more.

("Hm, I’m not well versed on how spirits function.") His thumb shifted slightly against Sabre’s hilt. ("But that wind attack earlier happened without any buildup whatsoever. It was instant.")

The sudden change in pressure still sat in his mind, as well as the complete lack of an obvious casting sequence. The way the attack had struck him before he could properly identify where the force was coming from.

("Even with some reinforcement magic, I was sent off my feet.")

His red eyes shifted toward Trismegistus again; the Royal Guard had been cautious earlier. He had spent much of the fight testing Mikoto’s abilities, observing his reactions, and using different branches of magic without committing everything he had.

That had changed.

Now Trismegistus was content to show his hand, and that meant Mikoto could no longer afford to treat the fight as casually as he had before.

It might have been time to get serious.

Mikoto’s eyes narrowed.

"Well, an overgrown bird isn’t going to be enough to stop me." His voice was blunt. "I hope you know that."

Trismegistus gave a low chuckle with genuine amusement in it.

"For an ancient being, you sound quite like an adolescent," the Royal Guard noted.

Mikoto’s expression barely changed; his red eyes remained fixed on Trismegistus for another moment.

("That’s because I’m sixteen.")

He thought dryly.

Meanwhile Wuchowsen flapped its mighty wings.

Its enormous wings drew backward, feathers spreading apart as the spirit gathered itself. The air around its body began to shift before the wings had even completed their motion. Dust lifted from the ruined ground, and loose stones trembled where they lay.

Then the wings came forward.

The resulting wind tore through the crater.

The pressure arrived as a broad, violent wall that swept across everything in its path. Dust and broken pieces of the earth were ripped from the ground and carried away. Broken chunks of stone bounced twice before being caught completely and hurled through the air. Larger fragments rolled across the crater floor as though they had suddenly lost most of their weight.

The force struck Mikoto head-on.

His white hair whipped violently backward as his coat tail snapped behind him. The impact pushed against his armor hard enough to make the metal creak.

Mikoto’s sabatons slid backward several inches.

He looked down at them, the ground beneath his feet scraped away.

Another pulse of wind followed the first; this one was stronger.

Mikoto’s body leaned into it.

His thick gauntlets lowered slightly; for a moment, his entire body seemed to be resisting the force through nothing more than his footing.

Then his red eyes narrowed.

A red aura burst around him; it formed tightly around his body, wrapping over his black plate armor and reinforcing his frame with a dense layer of mana. The pressure that had been pushing him backward suddenly met something that refused to move.

Mikoto’s sabatons stopped.

The ground continued breaking apart beneath them, but he did not. The wind rushed around his body as dust streamed past his shoulders. His snow-white hair continued whipping across his face, but Mikoto barely reacted.

"You’re ruining my hair," Mikoto mumbled over the pressure.

The force pressing against him was immense, but it simply wasn’t enough.

His body remained perfectly planted.

Mikoto gave a quiet scoff.

"These same tricks aren’t going to keep working."

His stance changed; his right foot shifted backward as his left foot turned slightly inward. Sabre lowered beside him as the red aura around his body compressed, then he moved.

The ground beneath his sabatons exploded as he shot forward. The acceleration was so abrupt that the earth behind him was ripped apart by the force of his departure. A deep groove carved itself into the crater floor as he raced toward Trismegistus and Wuchowsen.

Dust erupted behind him, the pressure created by his movement alone tore through the already ruined landscape, sending loose debris scattering in every direction.

Mikoto’s body remained low as he accelerated.

The distance between them disappeared rapidly.

Wuchowsen’s head turned, its eagle-like beak angled toward Mikoto. The enormous spirit did not retreat.

Trismegistus remained where he was.

Mikoto’s eyes turned toward him, but then something moved above Wuchowsen.

Mikoto’s gaze snapped upward.

The same enormous fiery arm from earlier appeared in the air; it did not emerge from the ground this time. It simply manifested above Wuchowsen; the arm hung suspended in the air, its enormous palm facing downward.

The fingers were spread as fire rolled across its surface.

The strange physical structure Mikoto had noticed earlier was still there beneath the flames, but Mikoto did not slow.

The open palm pointed directly toward him, then the attack came.

Fire erupted from the palm; an enormous torrent shot forward. It was a massive, concentrated flood that consumed the space between Mikoto and Wuchowsen almost instantly. The ground beneath it vanished as stone cracked and broke apart. The crater floor blackened beneath the passing heat before chunks of it were simply blasted away. The torrent widened as it moved, swallowing everything directly in its path.

Mikoto continued running toward it.

The fire came closer, and at the final moment, his right foot struck the ground, his entire body twisted as his arm moved. Sabre came upward in one mighty swing. The blade cut through the incoming torrent, and a red crescent of mana erupted from Sabre’s edge.

It traveled forward in the same motion, expanding as it moved; the crescent struck the enormous torrent of fire. For an instant, the two forces collided, then the red projectile cut through it.

The torrent split apart, cleanly; one enormous section was forced toward the left, and the other was driven toward the right.

The two halves separated around Mikoto’s path, continuing onward with almost all of their original momentum.

The left section slammed into the crater floor and carved through it, blasting apart layers of earth and sending burning fragments across the landscape. The right section tore into the opposite side, pulverizing enormous pieces of stone and sending a wave of heat through the surrounding air.

Mikoto passed between them.

He did not stop.

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