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“Run from the inevitable, young human,” the chief taunted him, not having moved a single step.

He suddenly stopped with a stomp the wooden below his boots, holding his staff forward as he unleashed a large wave of wind to stop the hail of seeds that soared towards him.

There! I can do–he thought.

“Ghh-!” He winced.

His thoughts were interrupted as pain struck throughout his entire body, focusing on his compromised forearm as the roots seemed to dig in violently. It didn’t take more than a moment for him to realize what happened:

It reacted in response to me using magic? What the hell?! He thought.

The chief bellowed, stroking his silver beard, “Nature’s Gift collects the mana of those its seeds are embedded in. That mana is used for its own life essence; growing and becoming more splendid. Of course, using a spell just means you’re speeding up the process. It’ll drain you until nothing is left; do you know what happens when you reach absolutely no mana?”

He understood well what that meant already.

After using the spell, the blue-petaled flower had manifested a thick, emerald stem that stretched down, producing more, smaller flowers along its length that seemed ready to fire more seeds.

Though to the surprise of the chief, the boy’s expression seemed to calm as he stood himself straight, steadying his breathing.

“So, that’s it, huh?” He said with an exhale.

“What?” The chief replied.

He raised his staff, “Thanks for explaining it to me. I know what to do now.”_.

For a moment, the colossal elder seemed surprised, but then brushed it off with a small laugh, “A bluff will not aid you to avoid death.”

Ignoring the chief’s words, he began to focus as he slowly breathed in, and out, repeating the process as he held his catalyst forward, aiming it directly towards the flower.

I just have to put it all into one move, he thought.

As he focused himself, he had to fight against the agony in his forearm; the pain nibbled at his concentration as his arm quivered, but he remained looking forward.

What I need is…something destructive. But, I can’t miss it, either. It has to land, or I’m dead. You taught me the perfect spell for this, Celly, he thought.

The air became noticeably more moisturized within the isolated room, even felt by the chief as he raised an eyebrow.

It was the swirl of mana around the boy, beginning to take the shape of loose, unformed water particles that soon coalesced.

“Great spirit of the torrents; wrath of the rivers, lakes, and vast seas, flowing never in rest, but seeking; through my body, the stride of water roams free…” He calmly said, raising his staff up.

The gesture of his staff invoked the streams of water to encircle him, swirling around in a grandiose entrance.

Just weaving the spell caused the roots to grip into his flesh with further intensity, causing blood to seep from the pores of his forearm as his entire body was strained, but he focused anyway.

A spell of this degree seemed to invoke a real reaction from the village elder for this first time as the true strength of the elite magecraft could be felt.

“Don’t delude yourself into believing I’ll let you do as you please!” The chief exclaimed, waving his staff.

The elder commanded the monstrous plant to begin firing again; though the bands of water shielded him from most of the high-velocity seeds, multiple made it through–piercing into his body.

“Ghh…” He winced, trying to maintain his concentration.

Seed bullets sank into his flesh; through his chest, stomach, legs, and even one into his neck, the roots began to spread, causing the plant to mutate further.

With the next evolution of “Nature’s Gift”–the petals shining and gathering some sort of natural energy, the chief invoked it to begin charging a new attack, but the blonde-and-black haired boy had finished his own spell weaving–

“Awaken and soar through the world! Dragon Hurricane!”

Birthing into the vast chamber, three, massive dragons born of aqua soared forth, flying through the room and nullifying all of the seeds that shot towards the boy as they defended him with their sheer size and aggression towards the enemy.

“…Tear that plant apart, Dragon Hurricane!” He commanded, falling to his knees as the roots spread throughout his body.

“No-!” The chief roared out.

With ferocity not unlike the apex predators of fantasy, the gang of water-born dragons roared out, sweeping through and shredding the flower with their fangs and claws, not stopping as they pulled it apart in their flight.

It was even more viscous than he had intended, but his desperation was invoked through the maws of the beasts; the dragons, though of water and not flesh, displayed utter brutality in reducing the flower to nothing but scraps of nature.

“…Huff…”

As he looked down, he found his theory to be proven correct: the roots withered and died out within his body, breaking down and falling from the entry wounds of the seeds. Though it didn’t solve all of his problems–a hefty amount of mana had been drained, and many holes, though shallow, were drilled into his flesh.

Blood seeped out through various points of his body, but he returned to his feet.

“Healing–”

Just as he intended to cast a healing spell on himself, he found the three water dragons he’d summoned be wiped out by the chief.

“–Huh?”

There was a clear miscalculation in his evaluation of the Outrider chief; though the elder was a mage, he still possessed a mighty body not unlike a living mountain. With that size and the strength of an Outrider, the chief used his claws and staff to dismantle the water dragons.

“It seems I was wrong to treat you as a child playing pretend with a wand,” the chief said, slamming his staff down to disperse the final water dragon, “…I’ll crush you with everything I have.”

At the very least, the water dragons did leave some bites on the chief’s body, leaving him with bleeding bite marks as he huffed as well, feeling fatigue of some level.

“…Sure thing,” he said quietly, regaining his breath, “I’ll do the same, then.”

Saying that, a look of sharp resolve was embedded in the eyes of the young boy; standing tall as he was, seeping blood from various holes, yet looking forward with determination, the presence he gave off was not of a child.

From here on out, I’ll use everything, he thought.

–

[The Bottom Layer of The Temple | Bruman]

Left with the two lesser spirits gifted to him by Emilio, the young Verma warrior carefully walked along the unlit floor of the temple.

He gulped, constantly glancing around constantly and looking over his shoulder.

“Why’d I have to be the one to come down here…?” He muttered to himself, hugging his spear.

It was dark and grimy; the walls were no longer made of smoothed wood, and now hardened, blackened soil that was mixed with the smell of iron.

There was hardly any light, in fact, there was none; the only source of light were the lesser spirits that tagged along with him, which left him in his own little bubble of luminescence, being surrounded by mysterious darkness.

“…C’mon…” He mumbled anxiously.

The young warrior continued moving forward as his bare soles walked across the clammy dirt floor, soon finding the dirt walls shifting into a new appearance as he ventured further down the dark corridor.

“–” He stopped in silence.

There were cells embedded in the walls; stone prisons that imprisoned the “food” of the Outriders. The sight of it made his stomach churn as he covered his mouth in disgust and abhorrence.

It was the “feeding ground” for the chief of the Outriders; a dungeon of “gourmet” for the wicked elder.

His hazel eyes had their glimmer fade as he stood there, now seeing the depths of depravity that the Outriders sunk into firsthand; decrepit bodies were left in the cells, most of which were long dead.

It’s…terrible, he thought.

A cough was heard, and some faint breaths met his sensitive ears–there were still living prisoners. This prompted him to gulp down his fears and move towards one of the dingy cells carved into the wall of the dungeon.

Inside the cell he was standing in front of, there was a demi-human girl; a mouse demi-human. She was understandably frightened; covered in bruises and hesitant to even look at him.

“…I’ll get you out of here…” He said.

Before he could move to open the cage, a stomp echoed through the shadow-filled basement. The loud, imposing step made him freeze as he remembered a simple concept.

If these people are precious “food” to the chief…then it’s probably guarded, isn’t it?…That guard is coming this way by now, isn’t he? He thought.

Being right there, amidst the grotesque horror, he questioned why he was there–he questioned the resolve that brought him this far.

I remember, he recalled.

Confronted with fresh dread, memories naturally flooded to the front of his mind; these recollections resurfaced at such a sensitive time to support his resolve.

[The scenery of the tranquil forest filled his mind. On that day, it was particularly beautiful; sunlight caressed the towering leaves as the light warmly shined over the flower-filled field. It was a sight he remembered many times; children playing happily in the flower.]

That’s right. I came here because I have people to protect. My little brothers and sisters…I’ll stop the Outriders so they never have anything to fear. They won’t have to share a forest with them, Bruman thought.

The stomps continued coming down the hall. They were heavy and dense with a malicious aura. As he glanced over into the cages at the shivering prisoners, it seemed the footsteps belonged to an entity they all feared.

He gulped and held his spear tightly, “…Don’t worry. I’ll save you!”