CHAPTER 13: Attack

"The Obsidian Torrens Academy was founded centuries ago when the Empire was just a kingdom. It is an unpopular theory, but some scholars have argued that Maceria was the First Emperor Obsidian's birthplace, not Omidisar. This is why the Torrens Academy in the Empire's Capital Kingdom is named the Omidisar Torrens Academy while ours here in Maceria is named after the Empire itself. "

-History Lecture Series 313, Lady Martina Trevovsky

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Obsidian Torren Academy, Kingdom of Maceria, Obsidian Empire

Aramar 11 AE

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Yvaine's mind went blank and the next thing she knew her hands were in the gauntlets hanging by her belt. Immediately, the gauntlets snapped into place. She formed fists, testing the fit and Yvaine felt the familiar surge of power course through her being as the Aerium stones glowed on her palms. Her Aura became one with the stones and she had full control of the surrounding wind.

Yvaine's body acted on its own. She danced. A familiar dance her body memorized from Torrent Theory class. She has been practicing the movements in her spare time. The wind followed her command – well, her arms – as she swayed to and fro, building its power.

Having built enough potential energy, she jumped to gain momentum and pushed her palms forward when she landed – one foot in front of the other, widely apart. Given the size of the monster ahead of her, she needed good grounding. The Torrent obeyed and a powerful gust of wind blew at the Vilkasvarg on top of the other student.

The creature lost its balance and was thrown a good three meters away from the fallen student. Yvaine did not stop, continuing her onslaught. Every graceful swing of her arms sent powerful surges of wind at the creature, further distancing it from Keys.

But the creature was not alone. Time seemed to slow down and Yvaine felt a familiar dread. Another Vilkasvarg was behind her, its claws outstretched in a full dive.

Then just before its claws could touch her, it was suddenly thrown violently to the side and in its place midair was Ser Marcus, his leg in the process of withdrawing from the kick he just delivered. By the time Yvaine turned her head around, Ser Marcus was gone.

She returned her focus to the Vilkasvarg that attacked Keys but it was nowhere to be found. Ser Marcus's doing. So Yvaine just ran over to the fallen Keys who was in the process of standing up. He was cupping his right shoulder with his left hand and blood ran from his shoulder down his arm.

She took Keys's left hand from the wound and wrapped it around her neck and supported him up. Her right hand found the wound and pressed down to staunch the bleeding. Then she punched the ground with her left fist and a strong gust propelled them both violently forward. Just in time, as another Vilkasvarg landed on the same spot narrowly missing them both.

They shot through the air like a bullet towards the safety of the black walls. Aeris is one of the basic but most effective Torrent when accelerating movement. A short distance just before smashing into the stone walls, she expertly maneuvered them upwards with her free hand and they were now flying on an inclined leap skyward.

Around her, she saw the other students also flying through the air and they easily scaled the eighty-foot walls of the Academy. She felt relief at the scene. At least she was not alone. Technically, they were not yet allowed to use their gauntlets but it is precisely for incidents like these that they were provided nonetheless. A sort of insurance for whenever they officially venture beyond the Academy's walls.

As Yvaine landed on the ramparts, white light glowed at certain points on the wall's surface. The lights blazed just in time. The field before the walls were washed with an unnatural white radiance that reached the edge of the forest. The Revenants have arrived at the walls.

The creatures that were just emerging immediately shielded their heads and retreated to the darkness behind the trees. The unfortunate ones that were too far out screeched in pain as they struggled to retreat. They dropped to the ground and labored to make it to the safety of the shadows behind the trees.

The continued onslaught of the white light assaulted their dark essence. Dark miasma fiercely rose from their bodies like smoke escaping a fiery burning flame and their bodies warped violently.

The creatures began to lose their hulking size and revert to their human forms – naked, sickly, and emaciated, with barely any muscle or other soft tissues. Some creatures left nothing but their human skeletons. Even in death, the corpses continued to emit tendrils of smoke, like wisps of black steam that rose from the skin's pores.

Smoking withered corpses littered the field before the wall. The beastly shrieks and screams continued to retreat deeper into the Asphodel forest, away from the burning white light. Then everything was silent.

She gently laid Keys on the floor. He was deathly pale from the blood loss. More than that, dark veins marred his exposed pale skin, radiating from the bite outward. It was as if black venom slowly worked its way from the bite, bulging out his veins. The black veins were most noticeable at the base of his neck, spreading from the shoulder like a fibrous root thirsting for water.

Yvaine has never seen that many corpses in her entire life. Likewise, she has never seen that many Vilkasvargs. Dread slowly crawled within her as she tried to comprehend what just happened. At what's about to happen. Keys lay dying on the ground and her gauntleted right hand was still red with his blood. She knew better than to take it off at the moment.

The clinking sound of armored footsteps told her of Ser Marcus's approach. Without a word, the Martial Class instructor scanned Keys, found the wound, and clicked his tongue. In the next moment, Keys was on his thickset arms, comfortably hanging like a ragdoll.

"Go to the infirmary and have a Cleric take that off for you," Ser Marcus said, indicating her right hand. Then he leaped to the ground behind the walls, some eighty feet below.

Yvaine knew better than to be amazed at the feat. Academy Instructors amazed her at first. But in the last three years of her conscription, their superhuman acts have integrated into her norm. She was in a school for the gifted – or cursed – after all.

With her burden gone, she sat with her back against the stone walls of the battlements, and the fatigue of the conflict washed on her like a strong tide. Yvaine retched on the walls.