CHAPTER 19: Irregulars

When we arrived, the scene before us was nothing short of a hellish masterpiece, and it hit me with the kind of force that stole my breath and left me gasping. Novalie stood at the very heart of it, utterly untouched, like some kind of warrior goddess, completely absorbed in the madness around her. She didn't even notice us approach. The chaos? She was part of it. Her phantom, an eerie silhouette of flame and shadow, whirled around her like an extension of her will, casting fiery destruction with every flicker of movement. Goblins screeched and howled, their faces twisted in terror as the flames engulfed them, a reflection of something primal, something ancient and untamed. It was beautiful. Terrifying. Mesmerizing.

But it wasn't just the power of the magic that had me frozen in place, it was her. Novalie, with that deadly calm, the kind of serenity that comes when you've long since accepted your fate in battle, stood her ground against an entire horde of enemies.

Mother's voice cut through the madness, quiet, almost disbelieving. "Another irregular." The weight of the words hung in the air, as though something had shifted, something neither of us could ignore.

Before I could even blink, a goblin had slipped past our defenses, its filthy claws reaching for us like a nightmare in the flesh. But neither Novalie nor Mother saw it. Too absorbed in the chaos, they were blind to the danger creeping closer. My body, however, didn't need to be told what to do. It moved like instinct itself, a rush of adrenaline flooding my veins.

Without a thought, my fist shot forward, fueled by strength I didn't even know I had. The impact was a sickeningly satisfying crunch, the goblin's body exploding in a spray of gore and viscera. For a split second, I could've sworn the world stopped, everything frozen as I stared in shock at my own hand. What the hell had just happened?

"Was that...my Colossal Strength?" I thought, dazed. "In this body?" I looked down at myself, a strange mixture of confusion and awe settling in.

But there was no time to process it. A shadow loomed, a massive orc, tusks gleaming like knives, swinging a club that could crush us all. It was as if the world slowed down, the air thick with the promise of imminent violence. Without thinking, I sprang into action. My leg shot out, and in what felt like an eternity compressed into a single heartbeat, my foot connected with the orc's midsection.

The orc soared into the air as though gravity had taken a day off, its gargantuan body twisting in the air before slamming into the ground with a sickening crash. The earth itself seemed to shudder under the weight of it, the orc's bones splintering like dry branches underfoot. I stood there, panting, my heart racing. What the hell was going on?

Sure, I wasn't exactly big. I was barely taller than a goblin, which, let's face it, isn't exactly an intimidating sight and I was a few inches taller than Novalie, who, in comparison, looked like she could've been mistaken for a well armored gnome on a particularly ambitious day. Yet, here I was, wielding the strength of a giant, one that defied the limits of my form. I might have been small, but in that moment, I could've crushed a mountain if I wanted to.

I stared at my hands, almost in disbelief. But then I realized something, a truth that settled deep within me like a stone. Though my body may be small, dwarfed by the immensity of giants, I was still a Colossal, a lion is still a lion even if it's just a cub that may never grow and a lion doesn't lose its bite just because it's small. Before I could go any deeper into that existential crisis, the battle around me continued, undeterred, unrelenting. I gripped my axe, unsure of what to do next. My swing was awkward, but the moment the blade made contact, something incredible happened. The air seemed to part before it, the axe slicing through the horde with an ease that defied reason. The weapon practically guided my hand, cutting through goblins and orcs like butter under a hot knife.

It was unlike anything I'd ever done before. Here, in Terra, I felt the raw pulse of power coursing through me, as if the very earth beneath my feet recognized my worth. It felt like it wasn't me. It was me, but it wasn't. The world of Caelum, should have seen this. Hell, I was pretty sure I was grinning like an idiot as I cleaved my way through the ranks.

In the midst of it all, I barely noticed Father and Novalie's dad locked in a deadly dance of their own. Orcs and goblins swarmed them in overwhelming numbers, yet the two stood their ground like titans among ants. Their skill was nothing short of magnificent, but then something else caught my eye. A streak of fiery red, it was Xanthe's bird. It shot through the air like a comet, leaving a trail of flames in its wake, reducing the goblins and orcs in its path to little more than ash and bone.

The bird flew back toward me, its feathers burning with an ethereal blaze that could outshine the sun itself. It circled above me, the heat radiating off of it almost unbearable.

"What in the blazes was that?" Novalie's father spluttered, his eyes wide with disbelief, watching the bird swoop overhead, leaving destruction in its wake.

Father, grinned like a man who'd just discovered the world was actually a comic book. "Well, would you look at that," he chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "The kid was right. The goose? Actually a damn phoenix. Who would've thought?" He shook his head in amazement, still laughing like he'd won the lottery.

The chaos began to die down as the dust settled, leaving us in a strange, exhausted kind of peace. No lives had been lost, but there were plenty of bruises, broken bones, and aching bodies. We'd faced down monsters, monsters that the knights of the capital should've been here to handle and we came out on top. A strange blend of triumph and exhaustion filled the air as night began to fall, the village erupting into a celebration that could rival a festival.

We didn't sleep. We danced, our feet moving to rhythms as wild as the night itself. Laughter rang out, loud and free, as mugs of ale were raised in cheers. The tables were laden with food, and even the adults, faces flushed from drink, joined in the revelry.

But it wasn't just the victory we celebrated. No. It was us. Novalie and I. The "irregulars." The youngest to awaken such powers and the village's hope for the future. The weight of their gazes was heavy, filled with awe and unspoken expectation.

I could feel their eyes on us. The pressure building with every cheer, every raised glass.

Novalie, ever the clamorous one, simply smiled. Her cheeks flushed with pride.

That was when it happened. Her father, pushed through the crowd with a purpose. He marched straight up to my father, eyes hard and calculating.

"Kid, I've never seen a phoenix before," he said, his voice low and laced with calculation. "I could pay you a lot for it."

Father didn't even look up from his mug, too busy enjoying the chaos. "The goose is not for sale," he said flatly, dismissing the man with a single sentence.

The tension between them was thick enough to choke on, the way they exchanged sneers. It spoke volumes. Rivalry? Friendship? I wasn't sure, but it was definitely there.

Then Novalie, broke the silence. Her voice, steady and calm, sliced through the air like a balm. "We aren't merely irregulars, we could be the youngest to ever exist, the youngest in all of history." She said, her eyes flicking between her father and my father.

Her words were a spark, lighting a fire that no one could see but all could feel. Irregulars. Mages and swordsmen, those with powers that defied the natural world. No one had abilities like ours.

Most mages could manipulate the elements, fire, water, earth, air, common, though powerful. But then there were the rare ones, like those who wielded the element of darkness or light, forces so elusive and unpredictable they could shift the very fabric of the world. That was the power we had awakened, the kind that made people whisper our names in awe and fear. But with power came danger, and with it, the shadows of a future we could not yet see.

Her father's face softened, a mixture of disbelief and awe. He couldn't quite comprehend how his daughter had come into such power. That's when I understood why she called her ability "mother." He muttered something under his breath about how it resembled his late wife, whose life had been tragically claimed in the act of bringing Novalie into the world.