Ael had been grilled for an entire week, a newly awakened sparring against the Guild Master from dawn to dusk, and the Phoenix Guild had never seen anything like it. Whispers of envy and awe rippled through the corridors. New recruits gawked, older members shook their heads in disbelief, and some even admitted admiration in hushed tones. Seven days of watching a rookie survive, adapt, and improve under Lyra Emberfall's relentless guidance had everyone talking.
Ael, however, did not care about the gossip. He moved quietly, humbly, but always with purpose. He didn't flaunt his accomplishments; he understood the value of restraint. After all, envy could easily turn potential allies into enemies, and for someone about to step into their first raid, allies were more valuable than fame. His focus was singular: control over his Ether, his mysterious and unclassified energy, the layer above mana that was still untapped by most awakeners.
Ether was not an element—it was a void, a pure, malleable energy. It shimmered silver, sometimes tinged with pale purple, and defied traditional magic. While mana could be harnessed, directed, and shaped by known elements, Ether required intuition, instinct, and careful restraint. It could not be burned, frozen, or crushed; it absorbed, reflected, and manipulated. Mastery of Ether demanded both creativity and discipline.
Walking into the training room on the seventh day, Ael felt an unusual twinge of anticipation. Today would be the last day he trained under Lyra before his first raid. The thought made his chest tighten with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Every session for the past week had pushed him beyond his perceived limits, and yet he still hungered for more, his mind calculating the unknown possibilities that lay ahead.
"Hello, Guild Master. You look… rather beautiful today," he said, a subtle attempt at flattery learned from observation, hoping it might temper her sparring intensity just slightly.
Lyra's lips curved in a half-smile, her eyes narrowing with amusement. "I see you're trying to butter me up… again," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. "You know, it's working just enough to make me lenient in the beginning of the session, but don't expect me to go easy on you entirely."
Ael allowed himself a small, careful smile. He had learned quickly over the week that acknowledging her presence and subtle humanity often softened the blows—both physical and verbal—that she delivered.
"Your Ether element is remarkable," Lyra continued, circling him as she spoke. "The way you've refined it into Ethereal Weaponry is impressive. You can create and wield deadly weapons without harming yourself, and that takes precision and intelligence beyond what I would expect from a new awakener."
Ael straightened slightly. "I named it Ethereal Weaponry to avoid confusion. Since I can create different weapons as long as I understand the weapon I am creating, I didn't want people thinking it was different spells."
He then erected his barrier.
"And this barrier," she added, gesturing to the protective field that shimmered faintly around him, "it's adaptable and resilient. I've tested elemental attacks, fire, ice, lightning, even more exotic forms, and none find an advantage against it. There's a reason we haven't discovered a counter to Ether yet. You've made something unique here. With a stronger core, you could be untouchable at your level."
Ael allowed himself a quiet sense of pride, though he knew restraint was important. He had spent countless hours shaping Ether, pushing and pulling it, learning its behavior in different circumstances. He reflected on every weapon form, every defensive posture, every combination he had tested. The subtle nuances—the way Ether resisted overextension, how it flowed naturally without aggression—had taught him patience, creativity, and timing.
"I've also been refining the barrier's dynamics," he said, shifting slightly. "It contracts, expands, redirects. It doesn't just block—it manipulates the incoming force, using its momentum against the attacker."
Lyra's eyebrows lifted in genuine approval. "Calculating… yes. That's rare among new awakeners. You're not just using raw power; you're thinking tactically. The combination of instinct, intelligence, and Ether manipulation… remarkable."
He nodded quietly, focusing on the lesson beneath her praise. Ether was versatile, but its potential to overwhelm was always present. He knew that with every spell, every strike, he had to calculate not just force, but consequence.
"I have one more thing," he said, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "A spell you haven't seen yet. I can only maintain it at full strength once, or I risk draining all my mana. Do you want to see it, or leave it to your imagination?"
Ael had referred to Ether as an element, to avoid any mix ups, so he still referred to his ether levels as mana.
Lyra's expression shifted to a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Oh? You think a puny spell from a new awakener is enough to impress me and keep me on my toes, eh? Sure, go ahead. I want to experience it myself," she said, her confidence radiating with every syllable, eyes sparkling with intrigue.
Ael's chest tightened with anticipation. He knew the spell would not harm her—she was far beyond its reach—but it was not about causing damage. This was about scale, raw potential, and presence. His S-rank spell, Sun of Oblivion, consumed Ether directly. Even partially casting it required his entire 200-point Ether pool.
He closed his eyes, centering himself. Ether surged within him, cold, void-like, and intangible, shimmering silver with hints of purple. It was not fire, not ice, not lightning—it was everything and nothing, a living, untouchable force. He extended his hands, shaping the Ether. It coiled and pulsed above him, forming a dense orb of energy. Tendrils extended outward, writhing like living threads of consciousness.
Lyra's sharp eyes widened. She instinctively leaned back, though her body remained poised. This… is unlike anything I've ever seen, she thought. It doesn't strike, burn, or crash—it reaches, it pulls. It's a threat in essence, in possibility, in existence itself.
The orb hovered above them, a miniature void sun radiating silver-purple light. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with tension. Its glow was almost blinding, but it carried weight, an intangible pressure on the spirit itself.
Lyra felt the pull immediately—not physical, not even magical in the conventional sense, but existential. It's drawing at me. Not my skin, not my body… my essence, my mana. One misstep, one lapse in concentration, and it could drain me completely. And yet… she couldn't deny it was beautiful, almost intelligent in its presence, aware and alive.
Ael guided the Sun forward. The tendrils stretched, pulsating with silver-purple energy, moving as if with intent. Lyra could feel the threat, even without suffering harm. The pull was subtle but undeniable, like a silent predator testing her resilience.
It doesn't attack, burn, or crush—but its potential to erase a weaker opponent is terrifying. A creature at the same level, perhaps even above… obliterated. Mana, life-force, essence… gone. Oblivion concentrated into one spell.
The Sun hovered mere inches from her, tendrils pulsing with a deliberate, patient hunger. Lyra's heart quickened. She could feel her energy being measured, weighed, tested. Space itself seemed to bend around the void-like sun.
"Impressive," she whispered. "You… actually made something that made me step back. It doesn't attack the body—it reaches for the core. Any weaker being wouldn't survive even a glance."
Ael retracted his hands. The orb dissolved into silver sparks. Exhaustion hit him like a physical blow. Every muscle ached, vision blurred. Maintaining even a fledgling Sun of Oblivion had drained him completely, a stark reminder of the toll it demanded.
Lyra's gaze softened, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You… have something dangerous, Ael. Terrifyingly dangerous. Not just impressive—it's existential. I've never felt anything like it."
He allowed a small, weary grin. The spell had left no harm, yet its presence, void-like hunger, and potential for annihilation left a mark. He felt the world would begin to notice him. His powers were not just strange—they were terrifying.
He sank to one knee, hands brushing the floor, shallow breaths. The Sun of Oblivion was gone, but its shadow lingered, a promise and warning.
"Don't use this spell unless it's a last resort," Lyra said, tinged with amusement. "I can see the toll it took. For your first raid, it won't be necessary. Keep it hidden. Your other spell suffices—but you've created something apocalyptic if you had the mana for it."
She handed him a note. "Rest. Your first raid is in the Green District, where an E-Rank rift appeared. I'll handle your team. Just arrive at the address tomorrow morning."
"Thank you for everything, Guild Master. I won't disappoint," Ael said, standing slowly, exhaustion evident. He left the room, leaving Lyra deep in thought. His powers had revealed potential beyond comprehension, and she knew this young Awakened was only beginning to explore them.