by TurtleMe
The Beginning After the End
Book 7: Divergence
TurtleMe
Contents
195. Next Stage
196. Questioning
197. Torn
198. A City Within
199. Return
200. Responsibilities
201. Allocation
202. Traitor's Request
203. A Poem
204. Enemy Territory
205. Lost Words
206. Brother’s Consent
207. Coordination
208. Enemy Territory II
209. Deployed
210. Awaiting the Horde
211. Awaiting the Horde II
212. A Promise
213. Enemy Territory III
214. Welcoming Gift
215. Two Versus an Army
216. Battlefield
217. Decisions Made
218. From Leader to Soldier
219. Army Approaching
220. The Weight of a Choice
221. Backtrack
222. Dim Tunnels
223. Future’s First Step
224. In Her Element
225. Dim Tunnels II
226. Carried Back
227. Shared Affliction
228. Punishable Actions
229. Above Limitations
230. Anchor
231. Field of White
232. Resounding Horns
233. Dim Tunnels III
234. Following Orders
235. Tainted Blood
236. Treason
237. Dim Tunnels IV
238. Remembrance
239. Wavering Pillar
240. Darkening Grey
241. Expired Arrangement
242. Hidden in Sand
243. Passage of Time
244. Reconciliation
245. Hope and Trust
246. Two Loves
247. On the Surface
248. Day of Rebirth
249. Walking Catastrophe
250. Dear Old Friend
251. Not Alone
252. His Name
253. Gone
Afterword
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195
Next Stage
STEFFAN VALE
“Oh Great Vritra,” I muttered under my breath as one of the Shields lost his footing and was nearly trampled by the herd of mana beasts.
“Shields, keep up those defensive panels! Don’t let any of the beasts stray from the pack,” I barked. With the Shields properly chastised, I looked back down at the mysterious black ore in my hand. I had been ordered to crush it once the beasts had been successfully relocated to the Elshire Forest.
I watched as hundreds of corrupted mana beasts were herded between tall translucent panels, which had been conjured by the Shields. It was a peculiar sight. Monsters that would normally avoid each other—or attack one another—shuffled along in a stupor. Spiders large as hounds, immense wolves with ridges of dark bone jutting from their hides, and even serpents with heads on both ends—all manner of creatures “marched” together, unaware of anything but the unfightable urge to move, one sluggish step after another. Several unads—non-mages—served to protect each of the Shields just in case any of the beasts broke free.
Even unads have their uses. Better one of them dies than a mage.
My gaze swept over the unads, encased in iron and wielding weapons of steel—which they couldn’t even strengthen. Pitiful.
I turned to the Sentry assigned to my force, Ashton, a lanky man with bangs that covered his eyes. “Can you get a read inside the forest?”
He put his palms to the ground, concentrating. “My range is cut to about a fourth inside there.”
“Looks like you’ll have to go in with us.”
He stepped away from me, his eyes wide. “What? That’s not what—”
Before he could say more, I grabbed the Sentry by the throat and pulled him toward me until we were eye to eye. “Look. I don’t care that you Sentries think you’re special because of your voyeuristic tricks. You’ll be with my personal Shield and Caster, as safe as I can make you—safer than you’ll be if you keep talking.”
The boy gripped my forearm with trembling hands and let out a choked grunt that I assumed mean “Yes sir.”
Merciful Vritra, he’s not going to make it far as a soldier if he’s scared to go anywhere near a battle.
“You’ll be fine,” I said, releasing him. “Now form the mental link with me, and only me. Something tells me you’re not very good at multitasking.”
The Sentry nodded, placing two fingers on my temple and closing his eyes in concentration.
‘C-can you hear me?’ a familiar voice rang directly in my head.
How is it that you stutter even inside your own head, I thought.
‘I can only do one-way transmission of mental communication. I won’t be able to hear back from you.’
“Okay,” I said aloud, rolling my eyes. Though I wasn’t impressed with the boy’s skill, his presence meant that my Shield and Caster wouldn’t have to stay so close to me and could rely on feedback from the Sentry.
Turning my attention back to the task at hand, I watched as more and more of the corrupted beasts disappeared into the thick, hazy forest—home to the elves in Dicathen. As soon as the last of the monsters, which we’d herded out of the northern Beast Glades, were deep inside the dense array of trees, I held up the black ore.
“Unads—nonmages—front line positions with weapons ready. Strikers—behind them with your Shields and Casters close. Prepare to charge on my signal!” Several teams of mages had been on standby, watching the Shields shepherd the mana beasts into the misty trees, but they burst into action at my order, taking up their places along the edge of the forest.
Once confident that each team was in place, I crushed the black ore in my fist, releasing control of the horde of creatures. Vicious growls, snarls, and roars could be heard from within the forest as the mana beasts woke from their sedation.
Several unads carrying supplies began handing out vials of rancid liquid for the soldiers to spray on their clothes. Expensive and temporary, but it would prevent the corrupted beasts from attacking us.
Once this task was complete, a tense silence fell over the company as everyone waited for my signal. I flexed my hands, eager to finally see some action and to utilize my newly unlocked crest. Not even a season had passed since I had trained my initial mark to form my crest—truly praiseworthy for an Alacryan who had just turned eighteen—yet I found myself thirsting for more. Just like my father, I wanted to be granted the privilege of entering the Obsidian Vault and, if I proved strong enough, acquire an emblem.
I looked forward to returning to Alacrya. I knew my father would survive the trials of the Obsidian Vault, and I wanted nothing more than to see what sort of emblem he would claim from within.
Perhaps he’ll be blessed with a legendary regalia! If so, the House of Vale will soar within all of Vechor, perhaps even within all of Alacrya.
Yet I knew that my father wasn’t capable of claiming a regalia; he was only a mid-tier mage, even considering the relatively young age at which he attempted the Vault. Already I knew myself to be his match in power, though he was twice my age. While I respected his strength and talent, he was just a Shield, whereas I—
A loud crash resounded in the distance. With my basic senses enhanced by my crest, I was able to hear fai
nt yells. An elven patrol must have found our beasts.
Glancing behind me to make sure that the signaling artifact, which would guide us back out of the forest, was in its proper place, I steeled myself.
“Charge!” I roared, tapping into the power of my crest to sheath my entire body in protective mana.
The non-mages surged ahead in a cacophony of war-cries and clanging iron, no doubt or reluctance in the face of death. Behind them, the mages strode forth with a steady confidence, some chanting, others stone-faced and watchful.
I was certain that it was my own bolstering presence that filled these troops with confidence—confidence that stemmed from both my strength and mentality. It didn’t matter if the Dicathians had strange, versatile magic; for me, this mission was simply an opportunity to succeed and to receive more accolades—achievements to further my blood waiting for me in Alacrya.
I weaved through the maze of trees, unable to even see my own feet because of the dense fog. However, it was easy to spot the battle between the elves and the corrupted mana beasts we had let loose on their land.
Though outnumbered, the elves were holding their own against the rabid beasts. Glowing arrows—shot with astonishing accuracy—fell beast after beast, small and large. The forest itself seemed to come alive to trap and choke several of the larger monsters.
Nearby, an older elf caught my eye. She had no weapons, but she conjured deadly blades of wind that sliced through several beasts at once.
She was my target.
“Seren, focus shields on me and stay at a distance with Mari. Ashton, stick close to them and relay my position in case I’m in danger,” I ordered, picking up my pace. Polygonal panels of mana hovered around me to defend against any projectiles, while a faint hum sounded from behind me as Mari began charging her magic.
I channeled mana through my crest and unsheathed my sword, which had been strengthened by a powerful instiller. The blade ignited with a jagged fire that tore and seared rather than burned.
Mana continued to circulate through my crest and out to the rest of my body, strengthening my limbs. Power rushed through me as I dashed forward into the thick of the battle like a true Striker, my sword blazing like a beacon to my troops.
The first elf in my path, a lean young mage with short hair and stern brows, turned to me, eyes widening. His mouth moved and wind began gathering around his dual daggers, but it was too late. My sword smashed through his parry and I felt it strike a layer of mana before carving into his flesh. Surprise and pain flashed across his face, then he collapsed at my feet.
So even a weak mage like this is able to protect himself with mana. How odd. These Dicathian mages, while versatile, are just as slow as I’d heard though. Primitive fools.
Around me, many other mages had already engaged with the enemy elves. The tide was rapidly turning in our favor. My soldiers drew the elves’ attention, allowing the mana beasts to run amuck. The corrupted beasts were deadly in that they didn’t care for their own safety and viciously attacked anything in their way.
As I neared the elf using wind-blade magic, Ashton’s voice rang once more in my head.
‘Her mana readings are a bit different, b-but she should be around the lower end of a mid-tier mage. Your Caster is readying her spell to single-target. Proceed with caution, and I’ll let you know when to get out of the way.’
So this is what it’s like to have a Sentry—even a half-baked one—accessible. No wonder they’re considered valuable despite not having a single form of offensive or defensive magic.
When I had unlocked my mark after the awakening ceremony, the fire magic it granted me allowed my flames to take on a jagged nature that tore at anything in its path—a rare, upper mid-tier mark. However, after I had mastered that magic to the point that I could evolve it to a crest, I was able to utilize it in a whole new way.
Slowing to a cautious walk, I sheathed my sword and circulated more mana through my crest. My body erupted, shrouding me in an armor of fire and releasing four floating sickles of jagged flame. They orbited around me, ready to strike with only a thought. It was a powerful ability, but it required that I concentrate entirely on controlling the fiery sickles.
My target let loose another blade of wind, killing two more beasts before turning her full attention on me.
‘S-Shield prepared to guard the attack.”
Unlike the dagger-wielding elf I had just killed, her mouth didn’t move when she cast her spell, letting loose a blade of wind meant to cut me in two.
I sprinted forward, my movement empowered by the flames enveloping my body. Two polygonal shields were layered in front of me, prepared to take on the wind blade. The first panel broke upon impact and the second cracked, but the spell was dispersed.
Just as I was able to get in range to send my sickles out, I heard the Sentry’s voice in my mind.
‘Duck!’
Without hesitation, I dropped to the ground. Although the sudden movement broke my concentration on controlling the flying sickles of flame, I avoided the mana-clad arrow that sizzled through the air. The arrow crackled like a bolt of lightning overhead—I knew that relying on the shield was a risk better not taken.
I need to end this fast. I can’t waste too much mana on just a single enemy; there are many yet to come.
The drawback of using the full form of my crest was the amount of mana required to keep it up. Each of the four sickles also cost mana to maintain; something I would need to improve upon if I ever wanted to be able to control more orbiting flame-sickles.
Pushing off with both my hands and feet, I dashed toward the elf, who was just about to release another blade.
One sickle arced down toward her clasped hands, but despite the speed of my blitz, she was able to dodge, withdrawing her hands and allowing the blade to flash harmlessly past. The momentary distraction allowed me time to slam a burning fist into her breastplate, shattering it and sending her flying backwards into a tree.
Releasing my flame-clad form to save mana, I drew my blade to end the elf. I nearly dropped the sword, though, as a terrifying presence gripped at my very soul.
‘S-S-Steffen. G-get out of there. Now!’
I wanted to—I wanted nothing more than to escape, to flee like a rabbit that smells a fox, but I found myself on my knees, clawing at my chest, unable to breathe.
What in Great Vritra’s name is this suffocating presence?
I tried to crawl away; it was all I could manage. I cared not to save face in front of my soldiers. If I didn’t get out of there, I knew I wouldn’t live to feel ashamed.
That was when he landed in front of me. His striking blue eyes, which radiated power, gazed down at me in annoyance.
I was the son of Karnal Vale, heir to the House of Vale! Yet in front of this boy, who appeared no older than me, I was nothing—not a warrior, not a leader, not a mage. Nothing.
My body trembled and convulsed as a palpable power radiated from him, crushing me to the ground with the weight of a mountain.
Distantly, I heard a slight hum, then a beam of pure frost bombarded the boy. I flinched and rolled away, avoiding the icy nova that exploded around him. A fleeting sense of hope allowed me to get back on my feet as I tried to run away, but I didn’t even get two steps before a searing pain radiated from my right arm and the ground slid out from under me.
I toppled forward, unable to brace my fall. My right side had gone suddenly numb; it was with vague detachment that I saw my arm was gone, severed by a spell. Blood pooled crimson below me, soaking my uniform and the ground alike. Fighting through the haze of shock and disbelief, I used my left arm to try and crawl again, unable to get up. Feeling the wild tinge of desperation seeping through the shock, I looked around hopefully for my teammates, only to find Seren, Mari, and Ashton fleeing.
My vision dimmed as I found myself eye-level with grasping roots sprouting from the ground. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
ARTHUR LEYWIN
I surveyed m
y surroundings. The once lush, green forest was stained with blood and littered with corpses. Even the thick fog did little to cover up the aftermath of the battle.
“Thank you, General Arthur, for your aid.” The female elf’s voice was hoarse with pain, and she winced as she attempted to bow.
My eyes lingered on the corpses; too many were elven soldiers who had died trying to protect their home. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. This could’ve all been avoided had I arrived before the beasts were herded into the forest.”
The elf shook her head. “Please don’t apologize. The outcome of this battle would’ve been very different had you not come at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to gather my men.”
With a weary smile and a nod, the elf limped away, occasionally bending down over a prone form to check for signs of life. Other elves, those still capable of movement, gathered to her, each one wearing the same sad, stoic expression.
Is this what Agrona meant when he said the war is progressing to the next stage?
This marked the first assault on Elven territory, and even if this particular strike had been beaten back, it had done its job.
Until now, Sapin had taken the brunt of the attacks, which had made it easy to allocate resources to a central place. Now, though, our enemies were striking Elenoir as well. How would the Council choose to handle this?
