A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Outskirts]

Mikoto watched the large wall of ice.

For several seconds, he did nothing.

The enormous formation stood between him and Trismegistus, its surface still settling after the collision between his beam and whatever the Royal Guard had used to resist it. Fine fractures continued creeping through some of the thinner sections. A few pieces of ice broke away from the upper edges and fell, striking lower formations before shattering.

The cold had settled over the crater.

Mikoto’s breath escaped in a mist as his red eyes moved slowly across the wall. He was not impressed; he had expected the spell to do more than this.

But then he saw it, an orange glow.

Mikoto’s eyes narrowed.

The glow brightened; it wasn’t the reflected light of the explosion. It was coming from behind the ice; something was still there.

Mikoto stared at it for another moment.

"Cockroach." Mikoto raised one hand; his armored fingers opened towards the sky. "Well, you wanted a fancy light show, right?"

High above the crater, something changed; a point of golden light appeared in the heavens. It was distant, so distant that it initially looked like a star.

Then it grew; the golden point expanded rapidly, becoming a broad, intense light suspended high above the area. The darkness of the sky was illuminated; the clouds above the crater caught the golden light, their undersides becoming bright as though dawn had suddenly appeared in the wrong place.

The frozen landscape below reflected it; every surface of ice became outlined in gold.

Mikoto stood beneath it.

The golden light continued gathering overhead; it became larger and brighter. The atmosphere seemed to react to it; the air pressure changed. The ice around Mikoto trembled, small fragments lifted from the ground. The crater floor groaned beneath the increasing force.

Then Mikoto spoke.

"Technique Development: Stellar Cataclysm."

The golden light answered, and a massive beacon erupted from the heavens.

It descended with almost no warning; one instant there was only the golden light overhead. Next, an enormous column of golden light was racing towards the ground.

The pressure arrived ahead of it, the crater floor cracked, and the remaining debris was swept outward. The force descending from above pushed the air down with such intensity that dust was flattened against the ground before being violently expelled in every direction.

The beacon continued falling as Mikoto lowered his hand; he did not need to guide it anymore.

His eyes remained fixed on the ice wall.

The golden column struck, and the entire wall of ice disappeared beneath the impact. A tremendous explosion of force expanded outward; it was enormous.

The blast spread across the area with a width that reached mountain-like proportions, consuming the frozen wall and everything immediately surrounding it. The ice shattered; the entire formation broke apart at once.

Millions of fragments were thrown outward before being destroyed by the continuing pressure of the blast. The ground beneath the wall was crushed; the force drove downward first, then expanded laterally.

The crater floor buckled; massive sections of the frozen earth were lifted and thrown away. The shockwave continued outward; it swept across the landscape.

Mikoto remained where he was as the explosion reached him. His tailcoat snapped violently behind him as his white hair whipped across his face.

He did not raise a barrier; instead, he merely brought Sabre downward. The blade struck the ground as he drove it into the earth.

Mikoto then placed both hands over the pommel and waited.

The explosion intensified; the golden light became almost impossible to look at. The pressure increased again, and the ground beneath Mikoto cracked outward in dozens of directions. His sabatons remained planted as the shockwave passed around him.

Another tremendous pulse struck; the terrain trembled as the crater shook beneath him. Deep fractures opened and sections of the ground collapsed. What remained of the surrounding landscape was swallowed beneath the expanding blast.

Mikoto simply waited; his red eyes stayed open as he watched the destruction through the golden glare.

The light continued sweeping outward; then, slowly, it began to thin. The pressure diminished and the trembling became less violent. While the golden light faded into a duller glow.

Dust and smoke moved through the air, then even that began to clear.

What had been there before was almost unrecognizable, the ice wall was gone, and the frozen landscape was gone. The remaining debris had been destroyed, and the area had been reduced even further.

A huge, wide hole now occupied the area where the wall had stood. The crater was broader than before, its edges broken and rough.

Mikoto stood upon one remaining piece of land.

It was an isolated section of ground surrounded by the destruction, large enough for him to stand comfortably but otherwise almost insignificant against the scale of the devastation.

Sabre remained embedded in it; Mikoto slowly lifted his head. His red eyes gazed forward; the silence after the explosion was almost uncomfortable.

Then he noticed something.

A shape.

Something was standing—or rather, kneeling—where the wall of ice had been.

Mikoto’s eyes narrowed; they were large, very large. A fiery humanoid giant was hunched over in the middle of the destroyed landscape. Its body was composed primarily of fire; the flames rolled continuously across its frame, forming the rough outline of a humanoid figure.

Two enormous legs supported its weight; one arm remained. The other was missing; the remaining arm hung heavily against the ground as the giant struggled to maintain itself. Pieces of black rock decorated its body, and large sections covered its chest. Others protected its groin and additional pieces formed a rough structure around its head. Two protrusions extended upward from that rocky crown.

Mikoto stared as the giant’s flames flickered; the orange glow he had noticed earlier had been coming from it.

("So that was what had survived.")

Something Trismegistus had hidden inside.

Mikoto’s eyes moved lower.

There beneath the fiery giant was Trismegistus; the Royal Guard was still there.

The golden mask was visible beneath the enormous humanoid form.

Mikoto’s expression flattened.

"Tedious," he said it idly.

He slowly pulled Sabre from the ground; the blade came free with a dull scrape.

Then he heard something above him, a sharp screech. His eyes moved upward; something descended from the sky.

Wuchowsen.

The enormous spirit dropped rapidly, its wings spreading just before it reached the ground; it landed besides the Royal Guard. Its four birdlike feet struck the remaining earth. Its wings folded partially against its massive body.

Mikoto stared at it; he had assumed the collision, the ice, and the Stellar Cataclysm would have been enough to finish it.

Apparently not.

Wuchowsen was damaged; its feathers were scorched, and several sections of its wings were uneven.

But it was still alive and well.

"That magic..." Trismegistus spoke up at last. "That was an imitation of the Goddess of Light’s power. An imitation, but a remarkably effective one."

He stood beneath the wounded fire spirit, apparently unshaken by the destruction that had just swept over the area. The enormous fiery humanoid remained hunched above him.

Trismegistus regarded Mikoto through the lenses of his golden mask.

"Though using mana to imitate her light only grants you the destructive aspect, along with some of the cleansing properties," he continued. "It reproduces certain characteristics of that power, but not the entirety of what makes the original so formidable. In terms of effectiveness, it is not quite all there. There is a difference between reproducing an effect and possessing the principle that creates it."

Mikoto listened without changing his expression.

He glanced towards the damaged fire spirit, then back to Trismegistus.

"Like it needs to be." Mikoto gave a small scoff, dismissing the distinction entirely. "I don’t need to reproduce the Goddess of Light’s power perfectly. I only need the part of it that’s useful to me. Destruction, cleansing, whatever else I can make the mana do. If the result gets the job done, I’m not particularly interested in whether it resembles the original perfectly."

His eyes shifted briefly towards the fire giant.

"That fire spirit of yours seems to be barely holding itself together, anyway."

The spirit’s flames flickered as if to reinforce his point.

"Can it take another attack like that?" His gaze returned to Trismegistus. "How about a dozen more?"

Trismegistus did not immediately respond.

The question was delivered casually, but neither misunderstood what was behind it.

Mikoto was pointing out something obvious.

The fire giant was still standing, but its condition was poor. Its enormous frame had lost one arm entirely, sections of its black rocky armor had been broken away, and the fire surrounding its body no longer seemed quite stable. Wuchowsen had survived as well, but the spirit’s feathers were scorched in several places.

Mikoto’s eyes moved between them.

"I wonder if your mana reserves can handle something like that," Trismegistus idly spoke.

Mikoto’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Please." A scoff accompanied the word. "My mana would barely suffer even if I fired off a million of those."

He lowered his hand slightly, Sabre hanging loosely at his side.

"Same can’t be said for you or your pets."

The Royal Guard’s mask remained pointed towards him for several seconds; Trismegistus said nothing.

"Endurance is not infinite for us, so I suppose you would be right."

He did not attempt to argue the point.

"Even spirits with physical shells eventually reach their limits. Even contracted beings have to contend with the strain placed upon their manifestation. I am no different. My reserves are not infinite, and neither are theirs."

His gaze shifted briefly towards Wuchowsen.

The enormous spirit remained close by, its wings partially folded.

"Matching an Angel was always an impossibility." There was no bitterness in the statement. "But if today you’ve even struggled a minute amount, your chances against the three other Royal Guards dwindle. As well as the high-ranking Mortifers."

Mikoto’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Trismegistus had already gathered enough information from the battle to judge him.

And perhaps that was the real purpose of the fight.

Mikoto looked at him for a long moment before his expression softened into boredom.

"Giving up, huh?" Mikoto understood the decision; the Royal Guard had learned what he wanted to learn. Continuing to fight against an opponent who possessed vastly greater reserves would accomplish little.

It was the sensible choice.

Mikoto lowered Sabre; the blade remained in his hand for another moment. Then red light began gathering around it; a thin glow travelled along the weapon’s length. Then Sabre began to break apart; the weapon dissolved into shards of red light. One section disappeared, then another. The blade separated into countless fragments before each piece faded from existence.

Mikoto’s hand remained closed for a moment after the weapon was gone.

"It’s smart." His eyes remained on Trismegistus. "Walking away now, I mean. You’ve seen enough, and there’s no reason to keep throwing yourself and your spirits into a fight you already know you can’t win."

He paused for a moment.

"But I know how people get." His gaze moved briefly towards the damaged spirit. "They tell themselves they’re finished. They tell themselves they’ve made the sensible choice. Then later they start wondering whether they could’ve done something differently. And people don’t always leave things alone when they start wondering."

Mikoto raised both his gauntleted hands.

Trismegistus watched.

"I should give you a parting gift. Now what was that chicks chant again..." Mikoto considered something before he spoke up. "Technique Development: Phantom Ember Strike."

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