The blinding white flash of the Life Step subsides, leaving behind a throbbing, high-pitched whine in my ears.
I blink rapidly, trying to clear the whiteness from my retinas. The vertigo hits me a split second later a sickening, lurching sensation in my gut, as if my internal organs have been rearranged and put back in slightly the wrong order. The world spins violently to the left, and I have to widen my stance, digging my boots into the ground to keep from face-planting. I will never get used to that fucking power.
I swallow the bile rising in my throat and force my equilibrium to reset. As the dizziness fades, replaced by a dull, aching headache, I once again find myself wondering what the absolute fuck just happened.
I train my eyes up front, ignoring the sounds of retching and groaning coming from some of my fellow young Elites.
My gaze locks onto the command triad.
The Lieutenant Viges is on his hands and knees, dry-heaving onto the floor. Hila, the forgettable teleporter, is slumped against him, looking like a marionette with its strings cut. Her face is grey, her eyes rolled back in her head. This may be the first time she doesn't look bored.
But it is Evanora who draws my attention.
She is kneeling on the ground, her pristine white robes pooling around her like spilled milk. She is trembling, fine tremors running through her frame. Her head is bowed, her hands clutching her chest as if trying to keep her heart inside her ribcage.
And she is crying.
Tears are flowing freely from her wide, unblinking eyes. But they aren't clear. They are pink. A bright, neon pink that matches the unnatural shade of her irises. They drip down her pale cheeks and stain the stone floor like diluted blood.
I stare at her trying to dissect her.
"Is her trigger for utilizing her mark to this extent pain?" I wonder puzzled. Every Mark has a price. Although If she just facilitated the teleportation of hundreds of soldiers and a massive stone structure across a continent, crying pink tears might be getting off easy .
I run through the possibilities of her power in my mind. She created the building in the courtyard. She linked with the teleporters. She seemingly amplified their range a thousandfold.
Creation? Amplification? parasitic leeching?
I glance around, momentarily distracted from the sobbing Proctor. The room we are in the building she summoned is still solid. Sadly however there are no windows here in this room where they sorted us.
They turn into mist, then into light, then into nothingness. The ceiling vanishes, revealing a night sky choked with clouds. The floor beneath our boots shifts from smooth conjured slate to cobblestone.
The sudden exposure to the open air brings a rush of warm wind.
General Icepelt walks up to her. He looks energized, the travel apparently having no effect on his monstrous constitution. He claps her on the shoulder a heavy, camaraderie-filled gesture that would have knocked a lesser person over.
He whispers something in her ear. I catch the movement of his lips, but the words are lost to the wind. Evanora nods once, stiffly.
The General turns, his cape billowing. He proudly glances around the city we found ourselves in, spreading his arms wide as if he owns the very air we breathe.
"Welcome to Verion, Awakened," he booms, his voice rolling over the recovering students. "Welcome to the City of Grevona."
I look around.
My breath catches in my throat.
We were indeed dropped into the middle of a city. But it isn't the muddy, trench-filled ruin I expected. It isn't a military camp.
It is magnificent.
Grevona is more advanced than anything I have ever seen, even from what I remember seeing even in the capital although to be fair I have not explored Lusa at all. The buildings are tall, constructed of a seamless, pale stone that seems to repel the grime of the war. They are elegant, sweeping structures with high arches and glass domes that catch the ambient light .
And the light...
The streets are illuminated, but not by the flickering, smoky orange of torches or gas lamps.
Tall, silver pylons line the boulevards. At the top of each pylon sits a massive, cut crystal. They glow with a steady, cold blue light—pure mana luminescence. It is clean. It is bright. It banishes the shadows with a clinical efficiency.
I realize, with a start, that the entire city is powered and more technology advanced then most of the Avrael the west is a gold mine. This is what the Empire is fighting for, I realize. This isn't just land. It's the technology they can harvest and create with Mana Crystals. It's their way of finally unitining the entire continent under one banner. The General claps his hands together, the sound sharp in the crisp air. He gestures to the north, where the city skyline ends against a backdrop of a mountain range some ways in the distance. I vaguely recall from my lessons that it was the only mountain range in the entirety of Verion and inside those cannons lie almost 90 percent of our mines.
"This city is the farthest north we have secured," he announces, his voice dropping into a briefing tone. "It is the tip of the spear. The enemy controls a decent portion of the country starting after here, as well as our biggest mines."
He points to the crystals glowing above us.
"That is why we are here. The Federation wants these crystals for themselves. But we will not let the Chaos ridden garbage have them."
He starts walking down the wide main boulevard.
A group of soldiers approaches us from a side street. Markless soldiers as they wore no cape neither do any of them have the eccentric eye color that marks them as an Elite. These men and women look hard and weathered showing no signs of unease despite standing in front of hundreds of Awakened.
They salute the General sharply as they fall in step behind him.
He continues speaking, not breaking his stride.
"This city has been turned into a vanguard position as we push north and take back all the towns and cities they have taken," the General says. "It is a fortress disguised as a metropolis. But we cannot stay here. We must push. First, though, we need to get you all assigned to your new units. Despite the face we deployed you early and have given you all Officer ranks the King has advised it best to put you all into the Tutorage of more experienced soldiers. So you will treat the enlisted with respect they deserve and they will return it. Understood?"
"Yes sir" everyone responds.
I follow the group, my boots clicking rhythmically on the pristine cobblestones. I glance at my cohort. Lucian looks a little amused. Vihaan is looking at the dark alleys between the buildings, likely imagining what he could kill in them. Zaria is walking with her held high noble bearing unaffected. Niko is staring at the streetlights, pulling out a notebook from his ass apparently and taking notes on something. Dominic and Imara look fine as well both talking quietly to each other.
I feel a flash of panic as I can't spot Rye then I realize that she was not with us any longer. I feel a moment of sadness then i let it go and refocus on the more pressing matters at hand.
Evanora is walking behind the General now, flanked by the recovering Hila and Viges. She looks untouchable again, the pink tears a distant memory.
I narrow my eyes.
How?
The question itches at my brain. I cannot let it go.
I close my eyes for a split second, reaching out with my mind. I knock at the wall that separates my mind from my bonds.
Lucian, I project.
He answers immediately sounding just as amused as he looks. "My good man, looking good over there! Get rid of that scowl and maybe some local Verion chick will take a liking to you!"
"I'm not scowling!"
"You're scowling right now"
"Whatever, What do you think her Mark is?"
"Who?"
I sigh irritated "Who else would I be talking about fool? Evanora obviously!"
He chuckles and replies "OHHH her, yea i gotcha"
I see Lucian glance at me out of the corner of his eye. He rubs his chin, musing.
"It is insane, he responds, his thoughts turning baffled. Is she a two-mark perchance?
I consider it. Two-mark bearers are rare the only one I know of and the latest one being the Kings own Son. The arguments as to why more than one mark is borderline impossible is that soul is not able to bear the strain of that much divine power. Anomalys do exist though. I am a prime example after all.
"She creates the building, Lucian continues, which seems like some variation of Object Creation or Architecture Magic. But then she was able to use the teleporters as well? Seems like two marks to me.
I frown, watching Evanora's white cloak swirl around her ankles.
"Maybe it's not two marks", I theorize, testing the logic.
Meaning? Lucian asks.
Meaning she did not do the teleoperation herself, I reply. Think about it. She held hands with Hila and Viges. She needed them. Almost like she was a conduit, not the source. Maybe when people are inside her Domain ( the building she creates), she can boost their powers? Like she has full control over everything that goes on inside it. You do remember when we first arrived in Lusa how impossible the inside of that building was.
Or maybe, Lucian counters, she can utilize them herself. Maybe she can borrow marks? Or hijack them? I shiver slightly. That would be terrifying
"Depending on what exactly her Mark is, it could be the case but i'm not sure she can borrow marks that would seem to defy all logic we know about the Rite of manifestation and how marks are applied to the soul. But she clearly has tapped into her full potential via her Soul Sea, so who knows."
Lucian grunts mentally. I guess. But her power seems OP as fuck, if she can create that space and trap enemies inside, what could they do?
"Die" I reply
He snorts.
"It is overpowered, I agree. But everything has a cost. Her trigger may be terrible."
"Lieutenant Daath!"
The General's voice snaps me out of the mental conversation.
I sever the link with Lucian instantly.
"Sir!" I respond, stepping forward.
We have arrived at a large building that seems to be some type of barracks.
"You are different to the others" he says quietly so only I can hear. "The king has told me to give you men to lead as a "strike force" he says he wishes to test something."
I frown. But the general doesn't stop "Sadly though we will be splitting you from you year one cohort." 'It's not good for development to keep you all together."
This causes me a flash of anger but before I can say or do anything the general raises a hand forestalling any arguments.
"You can take three of them with you. You'll be assigned another five or so soldiers, two which will be awakened."
I stiffen and sigh in frustration.
"Lucian, Vihaan and Imara" I reply.
The general nods "Very well, get some sleep then, the soldiers here will direct you all to bunks. Tomorrow you meet me outside before dawn and I will personally introduce you to your new commander. Colonel Aric Caldera."