Chương 55: Chapter 114: Transported

[Relentless Sentinel]," Ophelia cried out, her manasoul forging into a golden wall within her." [Stalwart's Retaliation]!" She slashed apart the frothing dark liquid, including the tentacle hiding within its depths. Sneaky. She hadn't expected them to be devious. All this time, she had been shielding herself against basic strikes from every single tendril she had been able to taunt and draw towards herself, and so far, they hadn't displayed any signs of advanced intelligence. Till now, that was.

Ophelia was constantly surprised she was still standing in the middle of the chaos.

The air itself was on fire around her. Every breath stung her lungs like she was inhaling bees. Her armour was receiving a shellacking like never before. She was certain it would split, crack, and leave her exposed at any moment. And yet, she still fought on. There was no giving up. Not for a Mage Knight of Androvia. Not against a foe like this. Prismatic magic flared along the length of one tendril as it assaulted her directly. She was ready with her shield, of course. Ready to throw them off.

Then strike back as her trusty sword got empowered by every blow she deflected. But it wasn't enough. The foreign magic jetting through the Manabreak seemed endless in volume and power. Cutting down one tendril just seemed to make two more rise in its place. And it wasn't like they had a way of pushing the floodwater back into the gargantuan rent, especially not when the whole rent seemed to be pouring out the liquid darkness. So, they were getting pushed back.

Even Ophelia herself, despite having sworn that she wasn't about to let anything happen to Arcoryx under her watch, was forced to retreat step by step.

"What's going on?" she growled.

"What is this magic?"

"You don't want to know." Ophelia didn't turn to look, but through the din of spells and gushing water, she still managed to recognize Milva's voice. Her magic was pretty impressive. The Head Miner was clad in armour constructed of mana, several mana-constructed arms rising off her shoulder to fight back with her. Some of those arms were trying to burn away swathes of the dark flood with flaming beams, while others were fighting off any of the tendrils that got too close.

"You suspect something terrible, don't you?" Ophelia said. The fact that Head Miner didn't answer was all the reply that she needed. This thing they were fighting… it wasn't normal. This wasn't even some malformed state of the Living Mana the Miner Mages always fought against. No, this was on a completely different level." [Saviour's Bulwark]," she cast, renewing her defences. They weren't going to last long at this rate. She wasn't going to last long.

"I must attend to my miners," Milva said. There was a note of resigned determination that brooked no argument.

"Good luck to you, brave Mage Knight." She jumped off. The woman was surprisingly sprightly despite her seeming bulk. Ophelia focused on standing her ground for as long as she could. She had been slowly coming to terms with her own state for a while now. Ever since that fateful meeting with Ryland on the train, she had been training herself to accept her lot in life. She'd get where she wished. Eventually, she'd grow. All she had to do was be patient about it. And survive whatever this madness was, of course.

Which she wasn't sure she'd make her way out of. Not even when the rest of her fellow Mage Knights came to support her. Sir Bruten had arrived, and he had brought Solverfel and a few others as well. Far above them, she managed to spot a few Senior Wardens getting in on the fighting too. Ophelia wondered just how many of them were outside the mine, preparing for when this mad magic inevitably emerged from its bounds.

"Don't fall now, Lady Ophelia," Sir Bruten said.

"I just arrived."

"Great timing." She bashed aside a tendril that would have shot towards him, since he was busy repelling a massive chunk of floodwater.

"At least I won't be dying alone to this insanity."

"Very fatalistic of you, no?" Their banter was cut short when the magic took on an even worse intensity. Everything felt as though it was combusting, burning and sparking out of reality. Now Ophelia really felt like getting out of the mine before everything detonated in her face. There was so much chaos, she could hardly see anything properly. A lot of weirdness passed her by, a lot of things that she would normally have paid a great deal of attention to.

Like what was that odd, large ball of black energy she had seen a while back? Had she just spotted some of those tendrils coming together to form a strange figure? Were the tentacles with their shimmery, oily magic eating the Living Mana?

"Fall back!" Milva cried. The Head Miner's orders cut through the magical pandemonium. She had to be amplifying her voice with a spell, or maybe she just had a Glyph of Amplification. Whatever the case, Ophelia, the other Mage Knights, and the Wardens all heard her. And they all fell back. The foreign magic was just too intense. The tendrils it was hiding in the flood of that dark liquid were growing too severe, too strong, all in such a short time too.

And why did it constantly feel like the longer Ophelia fought, the weaker she was getting? It almost seemed as though the tendrils had drained her somehow. Sir Bruten hammered away a tentacle that could have crushed an entire apartment building by itself.

"So, what's the plan then?" Ophelia didn't have ideas. The Senior Wardens were looking upwards like they desperately wanted to retreat farther. And where was Milva in all this mess? Most of the Miner Mages looked like they had already retreated. She was thinking of doing the same. Her armour was literally breaking down to dust, her barrier spell cracking and splintering. Any second now, the volatile atmosphere would get through, and then she'd be in horrific levels of trouble.

It hurt to consider retreating like this. She was supposed to make a stand here, the bulwark to hold back the tide till they fought it off. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. That was when the magic flared to life. Awe-inspiring, impossible magic. Ophelia found herself freezing. She had been just about to turn her head to see the reactions on her compatriots' faces, so now, her head was stuck at the oddest angle.

At least it gifted her a perspective through which she could see everything that was going on. It wasn't just her. Everyone else and everything else was petrifying too. The rushing Miner Mages, the planks of the broken platforms, the flooding dark liquid and its tendrils. Even the magic in the air, including those that had been deleting this entire cavern of the Manabreak, was now still as though it was caught in a painting rather than existing in reality.

If Ophelia wasn't frozen in time, she'd be gawking at the spell circle overtaking everything in existence. It was enormous. Where had it come from? Surely she'd have known about any magic of that nature in the city, like how Arcoryx kept that massive Warding Inscription for protection. Even worse, it kept growing wider, kept overlapping with everything in her vicinity. At this rate, it would grow to rival the city's defensive Inscription in a minute or two. Normally, she'd have been alarmed. And she was.

She was frozen solid for crying out loud, like time refused to work. The only relieving bit was that everything she had been struggling against had stopped too. There were so many Glyphs condensed into that enormous spell circle, Ophelia was soon overwhelmed by it all. A good thing too because it wasn't done being magical just yet. All the Glyphs in the spell circle joined together before turning black. The entire spell circle turned darker than nothingness.

A golden crack thundered through the apocalyptic spell, and just as Ophelia was swallowed up in it, she faintly wondered if this insanity was how she'd meet her end. Then she blinked as the world reappeared.

"What…?" Her voice was working again, which shocked her as much as her sudden ability to move again. And the fact that they were over the sea, of course.

"What just happened?"

"Calamities curse me," Sir Bruten said.

"Where are we?" When Ophelia properly looked around, she was tempted to curse as well. They really were over the sea. Specifically, the Baroness Sea. When she twisted to look around, she recognized the shoreline in the distance as well, including the glints of the city at the far edge of her field of view. Gildharbour. What in all the blasted Realms was she doing here? She hadn't come alone. Of course, there was Sir Bruten, but it wasn't just him either.

The Senior Wardens were here, as were several of the Miner Mages, including Milva. All of them were standing on rocky outcrops that floated out of somewhat familiar black rifts, edged with crackling golden energy. The same energy that had ripped through the entire mine, and probably most of the city above it too, all coming from that insane spell circle. Distant splashing drew her attention away. The black liquid had come too, still continuing to pour out of the Manabreak that had come along with them.

Ophelia squinted. Wait. No. That wasn't the Manabreak. Instead, there was a rift edged with the same golden cracks in the shape of the Manabreak mine. Oh. Everything that had been plunging out the Manabreak was now plummeting into the ocean through the rift. All the tendrils that sought to assault the miners and everyone else with its supremely volatile magic were now just drowning in the sea. That was… she wanted to call it incredibly smart. Ingenious even.

But truthfully, she was just still trying to get over her awe. To enact this level of magic was mind-boggling. Ophelia could not wrap her head around it at all.

"Who in the world are all of you?" The sudden voice dragged Ophelia's eyes upwards, where a somewhat familiar girl was floating above them all. The familiarity hardened into recognition. Acrypha Lowen. One of the foremost students in the first year of Arcoryx Academy. She had been there during the defence of the city against the Incursion, fighting not only valiantly, but far more impressively than anyone her age should have. Ophelia was also not going to forget the girl's performance during the duels either.

Yet, none of that explained why in all the Realms was she was floating over the sea. Or why she was with Ryland of all people. Ryland. Him. The shock lasted less than a second. Right. Of course. How could she be so stupid? Who else did she know who was capable of rifts? Who had the power to bring about devastating magic?

"Don't be alarmed," Ryland said.

"This is all part of the plan." Ophelia was tempted to ask what plan? But her immediate attention was fixated on how he and Acrypha appeared to be stuck to a Glyph that had somehow pierced through them. What kind of magic was that? Just looking at the Glyph was giving her a headache. Its blood red power seemed to lock down her ability to focus, and she wrenched her eyes away from it. While Ophelia hadn't voiced the clear question in her mind, the same couldn't be said for the others.

Sir Bruten asked what was going on. His confusion was echoed by a lot of the miners and the Wardens who had been teleported to their spot above the sea as well. Ophelia didn't blame their determination to find out what was going on at all.

"I brought you all here," Ryland said. He still hadn't moved from his location, yet his words resonated with the sort of power that made all others quiet down and listen properly.

"Or else the Calamity that has come alive would have destroyed you and Arcoryx City along with you." That fully shut down all subsequent questions. A Calamity. They had been fighting against the rise of a new Calamity. The implications of that staggered Ophelia. Probably everyone there too. The sheer unbelievable thought that she was on the pages of history now, having witnessed and even fought against a Calamity of all things, was almost impossible to fathom.

Had Ophelia only survived because there had been others to take the heat for her? Would she have died in the mines if Ryland hadn't intervened with his awe-inspiring magic?

"How did you even bring us all here?" Sir Bruten asked.

"Sub-Academ Ryland?" The use of his title grounded Ophelia back to the present. So ridiculous. Would any actual sub-Academ be capable of transporting not just over twenty people but also an entire Calamity across a whole nation?

"I believe you've seen my magic in action," Ryland said. He took a deep breath, like he was about to launch into a massive explanation of all the intricacies of his magic, but then he froze.

"Suffice it to say, I rifted everything touched by the Calamity, including the Calamity itself, away from Arcoryx City. Via a spell circle I had Inscribed on the city a while back." That was so preposterous, it more or less ended that line of questioning. Wrapping their heads around magic of that level was going to take some effort.

"But this isn't over, is it?" Milva said.

"I understand why you would bring us all here, but…" Her eyes weren't on Ryland. Instead, they were focused solely on the fact that the endless surge of dark "water" hadn't ended yet, nor the outpouring of those dark tendrils.

"Correct," Ryland said.

"This is far from over. We will all need to work our hardest in what is to come." As if his words were foretelling the future, the ocean started roiling. Storming. Waves surged about on the spot where the dark water was still falling, the surface slowly starting to bulge as though something enormous was determined to break out of a cocooning membrane. The sight harrowed Ophelia.

She hadn't even seen what was coming out, yet the terror that she'd have faced off against something of that nature deep underground, far away from light and hope and humanity, was sending a spear of pain stabbing through her heart. For even without seeing the horror, the magic pulsating out of it felt impossibly wrong. And as if that wasn't bad enough, the sky over them all turned red all of a sudden. What in the world was this magic now?

Because she felt as though she was looking at someone slice a carcass, grab a hold of both sides of the flesh, then spread it out wide open. A deep, forceful look into a wound, into the depths of horrific taboo that should never have been seen. She could hear several others retching, her own bile rising to match the sickness.

"Ah, a Wound Corridor." Ryland tutted.

"It appears the Order is here too."

"Sadly for them, you're here, sir," a younger voice near Ophelia said. She twisted around to see a boy. Wait, Viren? She was about to ask what he was doing here and where in the Realms he had popped out of, but then, the strange Glyph locking Ryland and Acrypha in place finally shattered.

"Indeed," Ryland said, his form rippling with rising power.

"I am here." Then he met the crimson wound in reality head-on.