PART 13: THE SECOND OVERTURN

  Chapter 044

  V – From Below

  —TROTTO—

  Rippling Magic ? Lv. 29

  —TYLLIDA—

  Rippling Magic ? Lv. 24

  —KALLANOR—

  Telekinetic Magic ? Lv. 59

  Rippling Magic ? Lv. 27

  The three kings knelt and pressed their palms to the ground. Combining the power of the three men, veins of magic surged across the land to the far reaches of Armiton. Kallanor used his threads to carry the soldiers away, removing anyone who would become a target of the massive spellcast.

  Once the veins vanished, the ground began to shake. The rubble flattened even more, and Luminar felt her stability falter. She rose into her phantom form, her ghostly feet standing in her place as she levitated.

  “Fleeing is the only good thing she can do,” Tyllida said, “so we shall bring her with us to where no shadow is left hidden.”

  “That’s right,” Trotto added with a lowly grin. “We ought to show her what we are made of!”

  “Agreed,” Kallanor whispered ominously.

  Stone and dirt cracked. Lines of corruption rippled through the region, leaving no stone unmoved. Then, all at once, the edges of Armiton began to detach. The circular landmass started to flow, carried by pure magic. It stretched a hundred meters from one end to the other. The land was lifted, hauled up with impossible volume, like a small mountain rising into the sky. A massive crater was left behind.

  Everything inside the region of Armiton was lifted into the clouds and beyond—trees, roads, fountains, gardens, bricks, rivers, bridges, and the Armiton HQ. Soldiers still inside the building instantly fled the scene. Like ants on a rising cliff, they jumped off with every rune, map, and armor before the land climbed any higher, emptying the HQ.

  As for the servants, led by the Housekeeper, she rounded them all up at the edge. She activated her TM and began tearing off a chunk of land, slamming her threads into the earth to create a division. The ground started to break. Suddenly, the land split—

  but the challenge didn’t end there.

  That chunk refused to leave the main body, even while it was separated from it. Magic seemed to magnetize the piece as tightly as possible. The Housekeeper summoned more threads and pushed the land away. The ground trembled, caught between the pull and push of two opposing forces.

  —LEFAULTA—

  Telekinetic Magic ? Lv. 35

  Lefaulta raised her chained hands and released her magical threads for assistance. The strings shot through the air and slammed into the main land. Both women screamed with urgency, pouring all their strength and focus into forcing it apart, until the chunk of land finally fell.

  All the servants screeched as gravity sent them plummeting. The Housekeeper and Lefaulta looked down at the earth and reacted without hesitation.

  The Housekeeper jumped off and free-fell. Between the ground and the falling land—

  Telekinetic Magic ? Lv. 39

  —she summoned threads of magic above and below, sending them crashing into both ends. Then she pushed—putting every ounce of strength into slowing the falling chunk.

  Telekinetic Magic ? Lv. 35

  And Lefaulta used her powers to catch all the falling women, pinning them in midair. She knotted the threads around the chunk like a ribbon, securing herself and the servants inside.

  Just as the land slammed into the earth, the Housekeeper bolted away. Lefaulta grabbed the servants and leapt into the air. Dust and debris erupted as the impact hit. The Housekeeper spun and caught Lefaulta with her threads, reeling her in. Once Lefaulta was on the ground, she released the others, dropping them hard enough to knock the wind out of them—but not enough to kill. Just enough to fill the air with groans, which made her grin wider than she realized.

  But the main land of Armiton kept rising.

  Tons of boulders and loose dirt, partially held together by magic, fell away, crashing down with immense force. Dirt exploded into the air. Waterfalls of stone and soil poured from the floating mass as it rumbled and groaned. The colossal land kept rising—higher and higher—and it didn’t stop. Its vast shadow fell over the kingdom of RrodKa, swallowing the sun and blotting out the clouds.

  And at the peak, at the center of it all, Luminar stood. Just as the kings had, her system flared, declaring its second condition fulfilled:

  Augurbind — 2/5 Conditions Fulfilled

  Condition #2: “Shall the lords raise their land with the oppressor, so that the world becomes a witness to whom they belong.”

  But the kings paid it no mind and readied their stances and systems. Eyes glimmering, muscles slick with sweat, they glared at Luminar, who seemed less composed than before.

  “Your Augurbind means nothing,” Trotto said sharply, “if we defeat you beforehand. We will make sure your fall comes before your conditions are fulfilled.”

  “A Throne’s Elect,” Tyllida followed. “This is the last resort for any endangering circumstance. We’ve lifted a massive portion of land into the air, and it has become a battlefield to claim authority over the other.”

  “Whether that authority is kingship or life,” Kallanor added, “the Throne’s Elect will be settled once it has been initiated. Luminar, welcome to the Throne’s Elect.”

  Trotto laughed mockingly and pointed a finger at her. “That look,” he said. “You seem to take fond of this. Does it bring memories, hm?”

  Luminar looked around, taking in how calm the kings were. The combined magic that formed this floating land—this Throne’s Elect—had drained much of their energy. Even so, their bodies remained still and deliberate. Something was planned.

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  “W–well, well. I have seen this coming, considering the previous king’s frivolous attempts, so it’s a pleasure to play another round of your games,” she said. “But by the time this land falls, there—yet again—will be no one left to sit on the throne against my will.”

  Trotto and the others ground their teeth.

  Quick Speed ? Lv. 56

  Quick Speed ? Lv. 60

  Quick Speed ? Lv. 59

  Fluttermorph ? Lv. 73

  Quick Speed ? Lv. 32

  And the second round began.

  …

  Far beneath the floating island, Donnor ran through the streets with Vynelor in his arms. He weaved through the roads, finding no trace of servants, soldiers, or any people. He turned through corners and slipped into alleys piled with trash, until he finally ducked into a small inn. Just as he expected, even the smallest buildings were empty.

  He had room to move without being seen. All he had to do was wait until the fight between the authorities was decided. But even that was dangerous, especially for this child.

  “If the kings find out this child is the reason for Luminar’s behavior…” he thought, his stomach tightening. “Everything could change. For now, everyone thinks she’s gone rogue.”

  He glanced through the windows, knowing he had to keep the boy hidden. Ernol would be searching for them, and his men wouldn’t be far behind. The simplest solution was obvious: Donnor could turn the child in. Just hand him over to the enemy. One decision, and Luminar’s political collapse would end. Order would return. But…

  Vynelor blinked weakly, hissing from his wounds. His system strained to repair his body inch by inch. Burned flesh flaked away as new skin slowly replaced it. The process was agonizingly slow. He curled tighter in Donnor’s arms, his body cold and shaking. Looking up, he asked in a frail voice, “Dad? Who are you?”

  Donnor said nothing. If he just turned this boy in, then what? There was no malice in the child’s eyes. Hearing his voice, nothing had ever felt more wrong. And yet, he had to choose. Everything happening beyond these walls hinged on that single decision.

  He set the child down on a seat, resting his head against the armrest. Stepping back, he said, “Rest, child. Don’t move. I’ll be back.”

  Then he stepped out and shut the door behind him, leaving the boy alone. He avoided standing out in the open street. Just around the corner, he found a staircase leading upward and took it, climbing until he reached the rooftop. Contaminated air, thick with smoke and dust, filled his senses. He lifted his gaze to the sky.

  He looked eastward, toward the land of the rich bordering the land of the poor. The evacuated crowds had piled up against the wall. People squirmed and shoved through the mass. Commotion erupted among men, women, and children. Everyone pressed against the gate, some even begging the guards to let them through to the other side. Most were refused and scattered back into the region, doing whatever they could to escape the unimaginable threat overhead. All their heads were tilted upward, a massive shadow hanging over them.

  Then Donnor turned west, raising his eyes to the floating land of Armiton. The air was haunted by the deep grumbles of the enormous mass. It hadn’t been cleanly torn from the earth, and jagged rock still clung to its underside like spines. Rubble and stone rained endlessly back to the ground. The space between the land and the crater was barely visible, choked by dust and the lack of stability. It looked like an inverted crown. Somewhere above, he knew the battle was unfolding.

  “So this is the Second Overturn,” he whispered. “Who can understand you? Even I cannot.”

  He was just about to dwell on RrodKa’s future—and on Luminar’s words—when he heard a door open below. His focus snapped instantly. It was the door he’d left the child in.

  He ran to the edge and looked down. Half-expecting Ernol or a soldier, his eyes widened when he saw Vynelor stepping out instead. The boy shuffled into the middle of the street, glancing around in confusion. With shallow breaths, he moved forward, limping, one arm clutching the other. He hissed with pain, every part of his body screaming for him to stop, but he kept going.

  “What is this kid doing?!” Donnor muttered, racing back down the stairs. He grabbed the child’s wrist and pulled him into an alley, out of plain sight.

  As they crouched there, Donnor held the boy in front of him. “Hey, I told you to stay inside—”

  Telekinetic Magic ? Lv. 26

  Magic threads lashed across his vision and slammed into his face and shoulder, hurling him aside. He dropped Vynelor as a result. The child staggered out of the alley, unable to move any faster than a shaky walk.

  “Dad,” Vynelor whispered through healing lips. “Where are you?”

  The hit hadn’t taken much of Donnor’s health. Nothing critical. But the look on his face was something else. He pressed a hand to his reddening cheek, stunned. Frozen on the ground, he stared at the street, trying to process what had just happened.

  “What magic was that?” he muttered, though he already knew.

  He sprang back to his feet and hurried after the boy. Vynelor had healed noticeably since before. His torso and arms were almost fully restored. Only his legs still lagged behind.

  HP: 81 / 129

  Donnor reached out. “Kid, we have to hide again—”

  Vynelor spun, eyes glossy with tears, cheeks drained of color. “Who are you?”

  “I’ll explain when we hide—”

  “No! I want my dad!” and the threads re-released from his palm.

  This time Donnor was ready. He leapt aside as threads burst from the child’s palms, unnervingly precise. They twisted through the air with clear intent, latching onto whatever they could—loose bricks, glass shards, broken pots, scattered boxes—and hurled them at him.

  He dodged the barrage, using his own TM to block what he couldn’t evade.

  Telekinetic Magic ? Lv. 58

  He sent his threads toward the child to seize him. But as he did, the air tilted toward Vynelor. Donnor felt something coming. Something he never expected for a little child to possess—

  Incantation Magic ? Lv. 21

  From the boy’s hands, a high-intensity beam of scorching magic erupted toward Donnor. The light swallowed the buildings and the sky, bleaching everything white. Donnor’s breath hitched. “Incant…? Oh sh—!”

  Incantation Magic ? Lv. 44

  He switched from TM to IM instantly. A blazing beam burst from his skin, meeting the child’s attack head-on. The two forces collided and exploded into a storm of color—gold from Vynelor, red from Donnor. In an instant, red overwhelmed gold.

  Donnor cut his IM the moment his beam reached the boy. Even that brief contact burned Vynelor’s hand and sent his small body flying backward. Donnor snapped his TM back on and caught him before he hit the ground. One thread wrapped around the boy’s waist, another locked his wrists. He lifted Vynelor into the air and drew him close.

  “So,” he said quietly, almost in awe, “you’re the rumored child of the wilderness. My sister chose you, huh?”

  The boy only wailed louder. Trapped, unable to use his hands or legs, he collapsed into sobs. Every breath was a broken cry of “Dad” or “Wallan.” Each sound tugged at something in Donnor’s chest. For a moment, he forgot all about the power this child held. Seeing him like this—small, burned, and desperate for his father—dragged the same question back into his mind.

  Luminar, is this what you wanted?

  Suddenly, a shadow fell over and painted the ground. “Be still, Commander Thallion.”

  Donnor raised his head, hearing the voice coming from above. A soldier settled on the rooftops, eyes glaring down to meet the one below.

  Then more appeared. They circled around Donnor, causing him to look around, unsettled.

  Then a trace of pebbles trickled from the other end of the rooftops. One shadow loomed among the rest, hovering over Donnor. He felt a sudden weight he was familiar with. He thought the RM would have lasted longer. But he was wrong.

  “And here I was wondering why my men never reported you crossing the border. Turns out you never left, haha.”

  Donnor looked up. Ernol.

  “Found you.”

  The paranoid man stood atop the rooftops, sword in hand, unease flickering behind his eyes. A massive shadow swallowed his form, leaving only his glowing stare to pierce down at them. Across the surrounding rooftops, soldiers stood with him—his men. Blades drawn. All eyes locked on Donnor.

  “Your obsession with that child really intrigues me,” Ernol said. “Hand him over… or we do this the hard way.”