ThatHumanMage
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128. The Players (II)
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 11:36:32 +0000 UTC[A/N: I am going to get this schedule under control good lord. You'd think I'd have figured it out by now.]
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Luscien Genevisc wasn’t special. Perhaps to some he might have seemed that way, but he didn’t think he was, and he was fine with that.
And perhaps to some, the wind that whipped against his face as his karuda dashed across the ground at blinding speed might have felt exhilarating, but Luscien could only think about how uncomfortable it was to ride the giant bird.
Besides him, Eryndor’s mount shot ahead, and Luscien caught his mentor’s booming laugh as it rode the wind back to him from atop the garishly red creature. It was a good match for the man’s ridiculous yellow and red hair, along with his red cape which billowed frantically in the wind. A lesser piece of cloth would’ve been frayed or torn by the speed, but a spirit knight’s clothes were made to withstand such things.
Without encouragement, the karuda ran up one of the stone dunes, launching itself a good twenty feet up, spreading its wings to glide effortlessly through the air, even with a man atop it.
Luscien’s own mount let out something like a scoff and shook its head, covered in dull brown feathers, and his opinion of the bird improved somewhat, knowing it shared in his annoyance.
Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that at the very least, his bond seemed to be enjoying himself. Kita’s ears flopped atop his head as he stuck his snout into the wind, the rest of his body comfortably snug inside Luscien's backpack. The little two-tailed fox was as happy as could be.
He tried to distract himself by admiring the landscape as they tore through it. The ground, mostly stone with patches of grass growing in some areas, was formed unevenly, with narrow slopes and jagged ramps of stone jutting out of the ground. It was like the stone had been blown into waves in some places, only to freeze midway through its movement. It was a karuda’s paradise, with plenty of natural ramps to run up and glide off of, over and over for miles.
What was the term Professor Sezim had used? Ah that was right, manaform. The uneven distribution of aura and disruption of the landscape, usually after large battles, lingered as ambient mana levels settled back to normal, resulting in strange landscapes which resisted change due to natural processes such as erosion.
Had a battle taken place here? He wasn’t sure—history wasn’t a particular passion of his, even if he did well enough in his classes. Still, the theory made sense. The ridges and crags did look like the aftermath of something violent. He made a mental note to look up the region when he next got the chance. Professor Sezim was always insistent on connecting field experience with what they’d learned in class, and he was one of the instructors Luscien respected most.
The wind picked up again as the birds reached another rise, Eryndor’s karuda taking the incline with boundless energy before launching into a glide once more. The man turned his head slightly to shout over the wind. It was a testament to how loud he was that Luscien actually heard him.
“You’re brooding, young Genevisc!”
“I’m just thinking, sir.”
Not to mention, you’re not even that much older than me.
“What was that?”
Luscien didn’t reply. Eryndor wasn’t a bad mentor, in fact, he was quite a good one, respected for his skill, especially for someone not yet thirty. But he was just a bit too much for Luscien’s taste.
Which was exactly why he wasn’t looking forward to this assignment. They’d already been riding for nearly three days, and had almost a whole month left ahead. And to think, nowadays the distance between Taravast and Ord could be traversed in less than a week via metalway.
Perhaps by the time he graduated, progress would be made on a metalway westward, or at the very least, he would avoid any such assignments like the plague.
Eventually the strange earth gave way to a vast rift in the earth, the orange river canyon, if he wasn't mistaken. It was interesting to see it in person as opposed to paintings, which were unable to truly convey its scale.
Karuda were a preferred method of transport for exactly this reason, as rather than searching for a path, they were able to leap off the ridge entirely and glide for miles across the vast gap. For that same reason though, they weren't often ridden by commoners. Even Luscien felt a bit wary as he gazed down at the ground so far below. If they fell, he'd have to use two tails—no, all three, just to be safe.
But his karuda flew true, landing halfway up the other side and hopping from ledge to ledge without issue. With each step, each hop, Luscien could feel mana pulsing through the beast’s body, an innate technique for dispersing heat, allowing the birds to run for far longer than most other species. And so they ran on.
They arrived in a small village on the edge of a river as the sun dipped over the horizon, Eryndor paying generously for a room at a small inn and stables for their karuda. The innkeeper was serving a noodle dish, and Eryndor was deep into his second bowl.
“These noodles are delicious!” He shouted after slurping down the broth, openly praising the innkeeper. “Mister, please bring me another bowl!”
“Please, sir, you don’t need to praise me so much. I’m honored someone like you would stay the night here to begin with,” the man laughed disparagingly.
Luscien spooned some of the broth to his lips, sipping patiently. It was exquisite.
“Nonsense!” Eryndor insisted. “You are my elder, not to mention our host! It is only natural I would give you your dues! And on my honor, this soup could compete with any in the capital!”
The man grabbed the bowl which Eryndor had emptied reverently. “Thank you sir, I’ll make you another bowl right away.”
The door to the inn slammed open and a frenzied man burst in, breathing heavily. “Orvil! There’s a group here from Riverside. They say that the bloodridge marauders attacked at sunset.”
Everyone turned. The innkeeper—Orvil, apparently—froze mid-step, the empty bowl still in hand.
A second later, a small group of people stumbled in behind the man. Their clothes were travel-worn, their faces strained and streaked with sweat and grime.
“They burned the storehouses,” a man amongst them rasped. “Didn’t even take it, just burnt it all. They took all the actual valuables ”
Eryndor rose, calm but deliberate. His presence seemed to suddenly fill the room with heat.
“How many?” he asked, tone steady.
The man hesitated. “Maybe a dozen, channelers all of them.”
The innkeeper’s face was pale. “Spirits… They’ll come here next, Riverside is just north of here.”
“There were others,” the young woman whispered, eyes hollow. “A woman, and a farmer with a cart. We… we had to leave them, but they were following us.”
“We can send a message for assistance to the nearest city, but…”
“It will not arrive in time,” Eryndor said firmly. “Do not worry! I will resolve the matter myself. You have my word. Genevisc, with me.”
He strode towards the door, the only one moving in the room which had suddenly fallen still. Then, he knelt before a boy that had stumbled in with the group. He was no older than ten, and his body shook with fear. Eryndor placed a strong hand on the boy's shoulder.
“What is your name, boy?”
The boy looked up. “S-Silek.”
“You did well Silek, you made it here safely. I’m sure it was not easy. You are very brave.”
The boy blinked, startled by the praise.
“You made it to me, so there is nothing left to fear. You are safe now, do you understand?”
The boy could do nothing but nod.
“Good! Now wait here with your family.” He turned to the innkeeper. “Mister! Please serve them all bowls. I will pay for them when I return!”
Luscien followed him out the door.
The village was quiet in the dark, and the air was cool, but Luscien could feel a faint heat beginning to gather around his mentor. He didn’t need to use his mana-sight to understand what was happening.
Eryndor’s cape flared out behind him with each step as they rushed down the road at a blistering pace. They passed the last building, then the last fence. Then it was just an open road ahead, fading into the sky which bled orange behind the hills.
Luscien ran beside him, uncertain. “What’s the plan?”
“Our first priority is the other survivors that fell behind,” Eryndor’s voice didn’t drop even slightly. “We’ll ensure they make it to safety. Use your bond, young Genevisc.”
Pulling Kita’s senses increased Luscien’s own by an extreme margin, and as his hearing sharpened he could hear crying around the bend ahead, he could smell the blood on the wind.
“Around this corner,” he said, voice tight. “But I think—”
Eryndor shot ahead without waiting, quickly leaving Luscien behind.
“One tail,” Luscien whispered, drawing further on his bond. A tail of fire sprouted behind him, and his feet caught alight as his speed increased, letting him just barely keep up.
They rounded the curve, coming into view of a toppled cart, its wheels still spinning slowly. A man knelt beside it, a young farmer from the look of him, bloody but alive. A woman was held at knifepoint, struggling in vain against a towering man holding her firmly.
The man in town had been right, there were about a dozen of them, fanned out in a loose semicircle. The leader stepped forward, dragging the woman with him. His long strands of dark hair stuck to his cheeks with sweat. A jagged scar split his face, and a thick red aura bubbled around him—blood. It was a rare aspect, one Luscien had only heard of.
Kita growled from atop Luscien’s shoulder, his fur bristling.
Eryndor stepped forward into the firelight. His red cloak stirred behind him as he drew his blade, the edge gleaming.
“I am Eryndor Kaelburn!” Eryndor’s voice rang like a bell, drawing the attention of the men who had yet to notice them. “Second class Spirit Knight of Taravast. Lay down your weapons and release these two. You will only have one chance to be spared my flames. If you do not comply, I will be forced to show you the five forms of the Kaelburn family.”
The bandits stared for a moment, then chuckled.
“You’re bluffing!” one of them yelled.
Another laughed. “No real spirit knight would dress like that!”
The leader didn’t laugh. His eyes narrowed as he dragged the woman forward, holding his knife against her throat. “Unless you want her blood on your hands—”
Eryndor’s voice cut in. His smile never dropped.
“I must ask you to let go of her.”
Flames exploded at his feet. He launched forward in a streak of red and gold, heat erupting in his wake.
The leader’s hands dropped to the ground, the stumps cauterized without so much a drop of blood. The knife fell with them, and the woman stumbled forwards.
For a moment there was silence, then the man screamed, jumping back as Eryndor put himself between the woman and the bandits.
“Kill him!” The leader roared.
The bandits surged forward, desperate to escape their fates. Eryndor dove into them. His blade danced once, twice, and two bandits fell, their bodies consumed by white-hot flames. Eryndor burned through the attackers like fire through dry grass. Within a few seconds, only the leader remained.
He held out his arms, the stumps where his hands had once been were seared closed by the heat of the flames, without even a single drop of blood escaping.
“Die you bastard!” His voice cracked with rage as a manifested mass of blood aura—gathered while his companions died—surged forwards, sharped to a point as it raced towards Eryndor, whose back was turned.
Eryndor whispered, only audible thanks to Luscien’s bond. “Second form, Scorching Halo.”
He spun, a full-circle arc of white flame sweeping out from his blade. The blood technique met it and evaporated, unraveling into red mist before burning away as the halo of flame continued forward, streaking through the leader’s midsection and bisecting him.
Amidst the cleansing fires, the road was quiet again.
And then of course, Eryndor's voice broke it. "Ah! Unfortunately you were too weak to see more than one!"
Luscien sighed.
***
They left the village the following afternoon, Eryndor leaving behind a large sum to help house and feed the refugees while they recovered.
He insisted they ride away at a slow trot, same as when they’d come into town, for reasons Luscien could only begin to guess at.
“Sir?” Luscien prompted in the silence.
“You have a question, young Genevisc?”
“Yes, sir. I was just wondering… why did you choose to take me on as an apprentice?”
Eryndor’s eyes widened a bit, an uncharacteristic expression on the man’s face. He stared at Luscien for a few seconds before the smile found its way back, and he turned to face the road ahead.
“I find your family’s technique fascinating! And it seemed to me we were something alike.”
Luscien frowned. Me? And him? He’d sooner believe the sky would crash into the sea. They were both flame channelers, that much was true, but as far as Luscien was concerned, that was where the similarities began and ended.
“Do you know what a spirit knight is?” Eryndor asked.
Kita sneezed, and Luscien absently reached back to scratch behind his ears.
“Well, I suppose it’s just a rank isn’t it?”
And a prestigious one at that. Second class spirit knights and above were granted immense freedom in both the missions they were assigned, as well as how they carried them out. Luscien’s father had been a spirit knight, as had his grandfather, and so on.
In recent memory, none had achieved second rank, or even reached past the sixth tail in their inherited technique, but from the time he was little, Luscien had heard them ramble about his talent, and how he’d be the strongest Genevisc in generations.
But he didn’t believe talent was what made someone special. And as far as he was concerned, he was completely ordinary.
“That’s incorrect,” Eryndor said cheerfully. “A spirit knight is an ideal, something that exists in the hearts and minds of the people. It is our responsibility to live up to that ideal.”
Luscien resisted the urge to roll his eyes. A job was a job, no matter how much meaning you tried to assign to it.
Eryndor laughed, seemingly reading his face. “You don’t believe me! Well, that’s just fine. I see potential in you nonetheless! I’m looking forward to these next few months!”
“I still don’t understand why we have to go all the way out to this city,” Luscien grumbled. Another month on karuda before they reached their destination sounded like hell.
“Patrols like this are standard duty!” Eryndor smiled. “I make this same trip each year, though admittedly, I don’t usually stay for such a long time.”
Each year? Luscien couldn’t imagine. But also, something about the way Eryndor’s eyes shifted made him think that wasn’t the whole story. He found it hard to believe the crown would send a second class spirit knight like Eryndor on a courtesy visit without good reason.
They passed over a hill, out of sight of the town, and Eryndor picked up the pace, karuda trilling happily as he finally let it run. As Luscien followed, he filed the thought away for later. The true nature of their mission was likely something he wasn’t trusted to know, or perhaps it was something he’d only find out when they arrived.
Something was coming, he just didn’t know what.
But he followed Eryndor anyway.
Towards The Spirit Tree.
Comments
Zachary Simmons
Crossover of a lifetime lol
James Faulkner
Naruto and Rengoku on a field trip haha
im Panda
Bro thinks he's Naruto with his little tails. Thanks for the chapter, these new characters seem interesting so far
