Amalia pulled Alexis close as they huddled beneath the pillar’s lip. She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on her absolute, attempting to keep the waters calm. Of course, she couldn't. She didn’t have Ranvir’s monstrously overdeveloped absolute, but she could manage enough to not accidentally drown either her or Alexis.

Normally, she wouldn’t even attempt risking using her mana this blatantly, but the chaos of the storm overshadowed all but Ranvir and Sabas’ fight in the distance.

Alexis clung to Amalia’s form, one hand gripping her collar, the other on the stone lip. She shivered in the icy wind and water, but kept quiet. Amalia forced her mind away from the girl and back on the waters surrounding her. If she couldn’t let herself get distracted.

She didn’t know how long they waited, but each and every second was misery. Misery and icy pain. And banging against the stone when a wave grew too big for her mediocre control to stop it. I’m never neglecting my practice ever again, Amalia cursed to herself.

The ambient mana hitched.

Amalia shot her eyes open, turning to look at Alexis. The tiny, already pale, girl had stopped shivering, eyes staring vacantly ahead and her lips were turning blue. “Up!” Amalia cried, shoving her up with Jet.

Jet was her only somewhat trained combat Ability, and somewhat might be a bit of stretch. As a middle Urityon, like Sabas, Amalia’s Abilities were supposed to be five or more times her level, and they were… mostly. Her main Abilities, the ones designed for stealth, speed, and recovery, were closing in on seven times her level. She was an excellent spy or scout for her level, just not a fighter. Hence her role as a spy and scout.

Water roiled forwards, shoving Alexis into the air. Amalia strained to push her in the right direction. With a sigh of relief, she saw the girl land on the stone, one leg hanging off the lip. Her own passives kicked in as Amalia jumped out of the water.

Alexis was looking around, her eyes still carrying the dazzled look Amalia saw in them earlier. “No time,” Amalia groused, bending down and throwing the smaller girl over her shoulder. Alexis wasn’t heavy, but Amalia wasn’t built much bigger, nor did she have any points in Physique: Strength. What she did have was Physique: Speed.

With shadows enveloping her, Amalia became a rush. Her passive Abilities boosting her speed both in water and in darkness, combining with her own personal stats. In moments, she was closing on the camp.

The tents weren’t being taken down; the mercenaries appeared to be abandoning them. There were a few of them on guard, but most were carrying supplies as they readied in front of the entrance as purple lights sparked from it.

She’d timed it well, even if Alexis’ form was heavier than she’d expected. Someone cried out—likely Mihail spotting her—but his warning was lost in the storm and excitement as the seal finally came crashing down. And then she was through.

The air was scorching and, despite the lack of rain, even wetter. Amalia stumbled, as the ground wasn’t where she’d expected it to be. She nearly dropped Alexis as she fell onto her knees. Groaning, she pushed off, hearing the murmured cries from all around.

She pushed off the ground, but she was no longer in shade and had to rely on her personal speed. She’d forgotten how far off the ground the fold was on this side, but she still remembered the general clearing. It was just a scant few seconds before she could disappear into the forest.

A step away from the entrance, the air suddenly grew much hotter and crisper. The air dried in the hiss of steam emerging from behind her, fire licking at her heels. She staggered, putting her foot down. Pain, molten and disabling, seared up her leg as she fell to the ground.

She screamed in pain, the injury finally registering. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the heat growing closer and closer.

Oppression. Overwhelming power squeezed down on her, choking off her cries. Gaping and gasping, Amalia gathered herself and turned around. She didn’t know how long it took, but mercenaries had left the fold by the dozen. Still gasping, she heard their cries about the Sentinel already escaping.

No, Amalia thought, fighting back against the weight on her spirit. It’s not Ranvir. This doesn’t feel like him. It’s too strong, right? She couldn’t be sure at the moment. She continued her search, discovering who’d attacked her.

The old man, Stelios, knelt on the ground, bald head shiny in the sun. He held one arm above his head, the other supporting his weight. His clothes were entirely dry from his initial Ability, all the rainwater instantly evaporated. The hems were even a little crispy.

Above him stood Kyriake, holding his hand in an iron grip of her own.

“Kyri…” Amalia managed, before choking off a gasp. She glanced around, her spirit already accommodating the high-Urityon’s power. Her foot was in pain, but now that she wasn’t stepping on it, she could still think. Alexis was lying in front of her breathing quietly, almost as if afraid she was going to gain Kyriake’s notice.

“Amalia,” Kyriake said. “Any reason I shouldn’t kill this man for his attempt on your life?”

Amalia gaped once or twice, still looking around. Why was Kyriake here? Had she discovered what happened? Had she come to save them?

“Why are you here?” Amalia finally managed, her body and mind returning to sync.

“I was given a message to arrive on this day,” Kyriake replied. “It wasn’t entirely sure why, but the message carried the King’s seal.”

Amalia nodded. That made sense. In a world where Arkrotas existed, you did as they asked, Goddess of the Night, you did as their friends asked, just in case.

“Kill him?” Kyriake repeated.

“I- I don’t know,” Amalia stuttered. “I think maybe we should wait until the King’s messenger reveals themselves?”

“As good a reason as any,” Kyriake replied, letting Stelios go. He dropped to the ground, going entirely limp. Amalia realized she might’ve just been feeling the backwash from Kyriake’s attention. Confirmed when Kyriake’s mountainous spirit lifted from the area entirely. Amalia took her first deep breath since entering the fold. Alexis gasped like she’d never taken a inhaled to her lung’s full extent in her life.

After that, things went quiet. Tension filled the air. Kyriake dragged Amalia into the shadows so she could recover. Stelios might’ve missed his attack, but the flames had still seared her to the bone.

The clearing around the fold was split in two. On one side, the merchants hid behind Mercy’s Redoubt. Most of them looked ragged and worn. Few of them had any injuries, but Amalia could feel the exhaustion in their spirit. There was the occasional fresh member who’d gotten trapped on the other side of the fold, but they seemed in no more of a hurry to fight.

On the other side stood Kyriake. The leader of Legea’s Sentinels. Her green tassel hanging proudly displayed from her shoulder, announcing her position as second only to The Sentinel, after which the organization was named. A Tier 20 with over 180 Levels to her name. Her shoulder carried the weight of three tassels, the green of a Warden, the gray of Administration, and the revered black tassel outlined in white awarded only by the Sentinel themself.

Amalia was mostly occupied with recovering her mobility, so she didn’t catch the change in Kyriake’s demeanor. She only noticed when the mana exuded from the fold stilled entirely. Gasping, Alexis grabbed Amalia’s hand and scooted in behind her, pulling her arm painfully. She endured, squeezing the girl’s hand comfortingly as the entrance collapsed.

A single mote of purple energy hung in the air, rapidly bleeding into Korfyi’s natural space mana. Then, eruption. Mana denser than Amalia could summon filled the sky, horizon to horizon.

Bright blue and gray brewed together, slowly forming the eye, the center, of a storm. Amalia couldn’t comprehend the level of energy contained within the mass. She and Ranvir had, in the matter of a couple days, created a storm could rip roofs off buildings. The storm now spinning up before her eyes would rip buildings from foundations. Before it was done, it would kill people by the tens of thousands. They would have to rewrite maps.

Then the clouds parted and revealed the sun.

Air cracked as the world shook. The Orykto fold’s entire mass of energy stilled. The sun seized all of it with a single outstretched hand, like one of gods reaching out from beyond. Mana moved. Though it was far beyond the usual range of her soul-sight, Amalia could still easily track them by the sheer quantity.

Water mana was poured into the lakes, rivers, and tributaries that riddled the country-side. The water absorbed as much as it could, but there was so much of it. Air mana was fed into the winds, and down between the trees of the forests. Still, there was too much for nature to readily absorb.

Then some of it was funneled into the distance. So far, not even Amalia’s senses could continue tracking it. Except another sun had risen. She could feel it accepting the mana and doing the same their sun was doing.

She wasn’t sure how long the suns worked, before Amalia recognized that these were not entities of nature. The raw force of life, but simply people. Or somewhere close to them.

Finally, she could see him. He hovered in the air, wearing a simple robe, edged in cold. His hair was long and wet, hanging limply to his waist, barely touched by the gale winds rushing about him. He didn’t resemble his statue much.

King Phormos of the statue had a heroic build, wide shoulders and powerful frame. This man was thin, narrow, almost eel-like, with long grasping fingers. And finally, Amalia could see why people called the generalized manipulation of mana absolute, for this man was the pinnacle. His power was absolute, and he hadn’t yet worked a single Ability.

Amalia licked her lips, realizing she’d been staring for a while. She wasn’t sure how long, but the fold’s energies were mostly gone. Frowning, she examined their surroundings again.

“Where’s Ranvir?” she uttered the words so quietly, not even a braced specialized in Perception could hear her. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Where’s Ranvir?”

Kyriake jerked as if coming to awareness. “Something flew into the trees. If he survived, he’ll be there.”

“Are you not coming?” Amalia asked.

“I- don’t think so,” Kyriake whispered. Just then, the remaining mana shuddered and King Phormos let his hands rest by his side. Mana rushed into their surroundings, instantly conjuring up a storm. Or rather, some bad weather. Mostly a bit of wind and rain.

Amalia didn’t know if she should be impressed someone had blunted a storm that would’ve ripped Legea up by the foundation, or disappointed that the Arkrotas hadn’t dismissed it entirely. Then again, perhaps she should just look to Ranvir, if she could find him.

“Come, Alexis,” Amalia whispered. King Phormos descended then, crooking a finger at Kyriake and someone in the merchant caravan.