Chapter 226 - Out of the Desert and Into the Storm

Torry slid across the floor, dragged bodily by Jiran’s aura. Mana Venom struck him in the chest, but unlike with !Dorik, he didn't immediately fall into convulsions. He shook his head, blinking and groaning, then seemed completely fine. His gaze wandered the room, as though looking for something important he'd misplaced.

The last Meersvant stared at Torry with tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't say anything, simply waiting his turn with a tightly clenched jaw.

Yes! Looks like !Dorik's dose was too strong, or I applied it too quickly. I’ll have to remember to be careful when manipulating lower-tiers’ memories. Crazy that works to begin with. Sure, the description said it would work, but to actively wipe out specific memories as they appear on an ongoing basis is, well, crazy. So long as my Venom is in their manapools, they won't be able to perceive me. Since I laced it with Enthralling Touch, and their own membranes are locking it all in, every breath they take is going to prolong the effect, potentially indefinitely.

Now for the real stretch. If this works, I'll be able to return any time without fear of being ambushed.

Jiran blocked his senses, fully focusing with all his minds as he formed the next ball of Mana Venom. As he'd learned when creating the black lightning, he wove his skills together, creating several layers of intent-driven purpose. Once completed, he held the ball above his palm. It looked just like the noon-day sky, pulsing with shades of green and purple. Mana Omnis plumbed its depths, scouring for any inconsistencies or flaws. He found nothing wrong, though with most of what he was doing being new to him, he wasn't confident in the least.

As ready as he could be, he dragged the heavy seeker closer and pushed the skill through his back.

Mana Venom rapidly sank into every part of the Meersvant’s body, making subtle alterations before converging in his manapool where it wrapped around the slumbering parasite. With the old sedative venom overridden by the new, the man jerked awake. He was on his feet in a flash, spinning around with his arms raised defensively.

His gaze passed right over Jiran to land on the crying Meersvant that had yet to be subjected to Mana Venom. Jiran’s heart was pounding as the two stared at each other, and after a short moment, the lower-tier shook his head, blinking several times in confusion.

“Who are you? Where are we?” The seeker snapped, not slowing himself enough for the tier four to understand and the man simply stared back at him, still looking dazed. Realizing his mistake, the seeker popped his lips, then repeated himself at a more reasonable speed.

“W-we don't know where we are. Our name is Bornix, convict R3782, Sir. Last we remember, we were preparing breakfast in the Temple of Endings. This place looks similar, but we don't recognize it.”

Jiran jumped to his feet, pumping a fist in victory.

It worked! It actually worked! This has got to be one of the most ridiculous things I've ever done. To think Mana Venom can hijack the seeker’s Identify skill to infect anyone he looks at. Now, every time he uses it on another Meersvant, they'll forget everything related to me. If the sight portion works, then the touch aspect of it definitely will. Didn't look like the aura one worked as that would have taken hold first. It was the weakest effect though so maybe it just takes longer.

The seeker was far from satisfied by the non-answer, “You must know more than that! Who brought us here? Who captured us?!” He grabbed the bars of their cage. With bulging muscles, he tried to pry them apart and they groaned, only giving a millimeter by the time he fell back panting.

Good, looks like they'll free themselves easy enough. No point waiting around to watch the show. Time to go home. Are they okay? Am I about to return and find out everyone I love is dead? All this time, I forced myself not to imagine the worst, but now that it's time…

Jiran stepped onto the teleportation pad and removed his glove, placing his hand on the pedestal’s gem. It slicked against the anxious moisture on his skin, the sweat having nothing to do with the desert heat. He fed it a touch of mana and the device thrummed to life, the nearby Meersvants none the wiser.

[Finlest Empire]

[Jeweled Isles]

[Valley of Melodies]

[Sanctuary]

Finally, each of his potential destinations were brightly lit. With several times the required mana nestled in his Armament, Jiran quickly fed the gem. As he focused on the Finlest Empire, he hesitated.

Hold on, if I want to get back to the battlefield quickest, I should go to the Valley of Melodies and take one of the portals we created for the Timberlings or Forkara. That will save me flying across the entire empire. Besides, we moved the People to the valley before the battle started, with everyone in one spot, I'll have a better chance of getting a current update on the situation.

When the portal split the air, the first thing he noticed was a downpour of heavy rain thick enough to fill the Timberlings’ valley to the brim within a moon. The clouds weren’t visible, he could barely see beyond the tips of their ancestral trees. A ring of heavily armed women stood guard on the banks of the rapidly swelling pond, completely surrounding their side of the portal. They took no notice of him, unsurprising since the portals could only be seen by those he invited with his party system.

Jiran recognized one of them and a grin split his face. In one swift movement, he stepped through and removed his helmet. She spun toward him at a crawl. After getting used to the movements of the tier four Meersvants, seeing a tier three’s speed was eye-opening. He waited patiently as she dove across the water to slam into his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

“Great Spirit! For your return, we have yearned!” Tears thick as sap leaked from Knife’s eyes and slowly trailed down her cheeks. The more than a little psychotic second in command of the Sect of Conflict refused to let go, her graphene-reinforced, bark-like skin scraping against his armor.

He patted her head, unable to wipe the grin from his face, “It’s good to see you too, Knife.” Jiran had ample time while speaking slowly to observe and appreciate the scenery. The air was clogged with moisture and heavy with wood and floral notes. Thunder cracked and rumbled, the sound muted by the ridiculous quantity of density-thick rain. His aura stretched out, canvasing the nearby guards. They each eyed him with varying degrees of relief and outright joy, reminding him of their fanatical belief that he was some sort of savior.

While waiting for Knife to respond, he recalled his conversation with the first Timberling; a massive version of these same women that starkly reminded him of his encounter with Gheratross. He had promised to do everything in his power to protect her children, and being back in the valley she had created so long ago was a potent reminder of his determination to do just that.

Knife looked up through Jiran’s fingers that were still patting her slickened hair. Her features had returned to the typical carefree grin he was used to. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, her words a sharp, melodic tune, “You are late! Those branch chewers have been in a nonsensical debate for two days straight! With you there to translate, the matrons can o-or I-ahem-you could simply stab them, which I would not hate…”

There she is. Same old Knife.

“No clue what you’re talking about but you can fill me in on the way. Where are we going? And more importantly, where is Mayalyn? Is she safe? What about Olive, Niya, and Cameron?” Jiran lifted them in the air, nodding deeply at the guardswomen who saluted with arms crossed over their chests.

“She is present at the command tent. To the center of the shelterwood, take us you should.”

Jiran didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled them through the rain fast enough to not hurt Knife. She threw her head back and roared with adrenaline-fueled laughter as the forest she knew so well turned into a blur. He saw their mana well before they arrived. Tens of thousands were crammed into a relatively small series of clearings. They ranged from the Timberlings at tier three, to the Forkara and Imperials at tier seven. Even knowing each of his party members’ mana colorations by heart, he couldn’t spot them in the press of bodies.

None of the rankers are here, but plenty of lower-tier Imperials.

“What happened? Why is everyone here?”

“We were forced to retreat, though not in defeat. A powerful army came from behind. Between them and the Graymin, we were in a great bind. Through the portals we ran, at Olive’s command.”

Jiran shook his head, frowning. While he had come to enjoy their rhyming, he wished it was a little easier to get more specific details out of them, “An army attacked you from the south? Who were they? Why would they do that when we were fighting the Graymin? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Knife pointed to a dense collection of tents and people that were littered by more than a few tier sevens, “Why does it matter when their skulls will be shattered? All this debating is beyond infuriating. Now that you have returned, it is time for the talking to be adjourned. My knife yearns to take a life.” 

Jiran nodded, for once in complete agreement with the crazy woman. He didn’t know who was responsible for attacking his people, but when he found out, blood would be spilled. 

Over thirty auras slammed into his as they approached the largest tent. All but two quickly parted. He batted the holdouts aside and flew closer without further contestation. Two Imperial guards outside narrowed their sights on him. He ignored them, his focus on a singular person he sensed within.

The moment his aura touched her, she gasped and spun toward the tent’s exit. He could immediately tell something was wrong, the smile she had for him every time they were reunited was replaced by a seriousness he wasn’t used to seeing in her, yet still she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was outside in a flash of living lightning, her energies zapping outward and into the storm even as its downpour soaked her.

Mayalyn squeaked in his ear as Jiran wrapped her in a crushing hug, her lightning absorbed before it could hurt the many nearby bystanders. Her scent invaded his nose and all he could think about was how stupid it was to not remove his armor so he could actually feel her pressed against him. She pulled away first, her hands cupping his cheeks. Their eyes locked, and neither were capable of forming words. Jiran wanted to stay right where he was for an hour and completely lose himself in her deep golden-brown eyes. Unfortunately, an incessant banging on his aura from within the nearby tent was proving far too distracting.

He glanced at the offender, an Imperial soldier decked out in fancy armor covered with pins and medals. The man wore an angry scowl as his fist rapped repeatedly. Mayalyn followed his gaze and burst into snickering laughter, the sound music to his ears. “This feels familiar, does it not?” She purred, gazing longingly into his eyes.

Jiran grunted his own laugh, “Sure does, what’s this guy’s deal? I’ve only met one other person this tired of living.”

She laughed again, “He does not matter now that you have returned. You are late! So late that there is no time to hear your tale!”

“Knife said the same thing. What’s going on? Who attacked you and—”

Mayalyn’s finger softly pressed against his lips, “Shh, I will explain quickly, then we can deal with that biffloon.” Her previous concern came back in full, her words and tone full of remembered pain, ”We held off the Graymin for several days after you left. During that time, we were ambushed repeatedly by small forces from the Church of the Voice.”

Burning rage sparked and Jiran’s eyes flew wide but Mayalyn didn’t allow him to interrupt, “Your scout formations allowed us to spot them in advance, and Mark the Hiss annihilated most before they could cause us harm. Yet the attacks did not relent, growing more numerous until an army of several hundred thousand arrived. They were on the brink of attack when it happened.”

“What?! What happened?” The tension gripping Jiran's heart reached a crescendo, his minds imaging the worst.

Mayalyn took a deep breath, her body stiffening, “They… Olive. I-I am sorry, my Aajiran. She was taken. I failed to protect her.”