Artes.

How would it be like to describe artes to a person who had never experienced it before? It was a difficult question to answer, much like trying to describe breathing to a lifeform that had no concept of breath— the action of it, the feeling of it, and the process of it.

Questions of this nature were best left to the scholars of Aquae, who spent their lives toiling away in pursuit of the study and research of artes and its applications. If asked, they would answer that it was simple instinct.

For an Arcanian to cast an arte, it was second nature— an instinct absolute produced from eons of natural selection and accumulated evolution in an aether rich world. At its most basic levels, it was like a fledgling bird moving its wings for the action of flight. No different than breathing, it was a reflexive action happening in a person's developing years long before they would even be aware of it. Yet, without awareness and control, the result would be but a simple and subtle radiation of aether.

Learning how to control that reflex was the first and most crucial step towards casting a proper arte. Secondary to that would be coming to an understanding of the limitations of artes and what they could and could not do. The awareness of which, stemmed from the realization that fundamentally aether was the quintessence of energy and that the casting of an arte was an application of that energy to do work. Meaning—

—It was possible to gather the earth using artes, but it was impossible to create earth out of nothing.

—It was possible to generate heat, even where there was no fuel to feed a flame.

—It was possible to freeze something solid, but ice could not be made from nothing.

From there, one only had to learn upon the trial and efforts of countless generations before them to reap from the same rewards, just as our ancestors have done and their ancestors before them as well. It did not require a thesis level of understanding of how artes worked to cast them. Just like how one did not have to go to culinary school to follow a recipe, the only thing that an arte required was the knowledge of the steps to take to cast it, and the knowhow to take them.

Speed played no role in the product. The only thing that mattered was the precision to not make a mistake towards the desired end– one way or another, sooner or later. Hence why aethertech, which contained the knowledge and knowhow of an arte, and its predecessor artefacts continued to remain so valuable in the global market no matter how much time passed.

…

Moments after the supply of aether had been cut from the drones and the supporting artes stopped…

Yajinn truly had to make an effort to figure out an arte which could solve their current predicament. The issue with the manticore was no easy task to handle. The deeper they delved into their memories, the more absorbed they became and the less aware of their surroundings they ended up. All until they were so absorbed they were eventually standing isolated in a world of their own silence.

What they needed was an arte capable of blowing away that veiled hiding arte in one go. Maybe that would not be that hard to do as a standalone thing, but they also had to take into account the fact that they could not see what they would be aiming at. Meaning they had to either use a hundred times more firepower spread across a large enough area in an attempt to hit it, or have someone willing to bite the bullet to lure the manticore into the open and potentially eat the hit along with it.

It would be optimal if that did not happen, but in case of that, Garmr would be the best person to do it. With the exo-gear and a couple layers of barriers, she should be able to soak the hit and walk it off later. No, rather they should erect a barrier around the manticore instead. That way, they would be able to concentrate the attack and keep everyone protected at the same time. Perhaps they might even be able to kill the manticore in one hit with this.

"Let's go with that then…"

With those parameters in mind, they queried through their mental library of knowledge for an answer. Yet, no matter how deep they searched, no such miracle invocations arose. In retrospect, it was obvious that this would be the case. They were, after all, a support caster and not an offensive one so the arte they looked for was of a scale which they had no experience or knowledge casting.

Was it all meaningless then? No, not quite. Though they lacked the established repertoire and toolkit of a proper offensive caster, their background as an aethertech developer led them to being a far more resourceful person than most. The field was rife with new problems to solve after all. If they did not know of any arte to blow away the veil in one go, then it was simply a problem which facilitated the development of a new arte to solve.

"If you're homeless, just get a home. Broke? Just stop being poor." Yajinn murmured. "Arteless? Just make one from scratch. Easy."

The process of developing a new arte was in many ways simultaneously incredibly simple and infinitely complex. To set the bar low, as long as one understood the feeling associated with casting an arte, it was easy to make the smallest possible adjustments to it in order to change the end result. In that sense, anyone could create a "new" arte the same way anyone could have their own take on making an omelette.

However, there were limits to the degree of liberty one could take. At the end of the day, arte A was arte A, and that was not enough to facilitate Yajinn's current needs, nor did they have unlimited aether to work with to bruteforce arte A until it worked in this context. To truly meet their needs, what they needed to do was to be smart about their work, and to do that would mean to build from the ground up and synergize the components of many constituent artes.

Yajinn visualized the drones as anchor points on a map and got to work designing an arte that would be over a dozen layers of complexity: Area designation, soil allocation, material compression, negative pressure barrier, heat generation, etc. Given enough time, they could have simplified the arte gracefully, but that was the least of their concerns at the moment. Not only did they not have enough time for that, they were already running on fumes. It was hard enough to concentrate and all they really wanted at the moment were char siu skewers and yakult.

Fortunately for them, they had gotten their VAF up and running. Just like with support artes, offensive artes worked just as well through an array formation. Because of this, it gave them much needed leeway in terms of cutting corners, adding extra redundancy, and being sloppy with their arte work.

Yajinn opened their eyes.

"Yeah… this feels about right. It should work," they mused. Being an elemental spirit, they were particularly sensitive towards minute changes in the environment. And even standing from this far away and separated through a barrier, they could sense the slow shifting of the earth as it rearranged into one place. The arte laid low and was ready to go.

Then, Yajinn finally noticed their surroundings.

"Hey, where did everyone go?" They asked Iteza, their voice fully conveying the splendid amount of confusion they had at the moment. After all, they were sure that they had not taken that long.

"While you were busy, the manticore chased Krakjen and Jackie away. Nemeadas and Garmr went after them." Iteza said briefly. "Look, there they are now."

Following where Iteza was pointing, Yajinn saw the small forms of the others appearing from behind the hill. Krakjen was being supported by Jackie, while Nemeadas was guarding them closely. However, there was one person notably missing.

…

"Garmr's holding back the manticore! She needs help!" Jackie shouted. She was panicking hard and made no attempt to keep herself calm. After all, both she and Krakjen had faced the manticore head on and only narrowly survived due to Nemeadas's timely intervention. Justifiably, Jackie was worried for Garmr's life.

"Soon." Nemeadas told her. His demeanor was calm, but they all knew how thin of a facade it was. All he wanted to do right then was to turn around and run to Garmr's side. But for him to do so now would be to defeat the purpose of her buying time for them to take Krakjen to safety. As a matter of fact, when they finally made it to the ADVs where Yajinn and Iteza were, he quickly jumped inside the mobile armory to grab a handful of things that he thought he would need.

"Jackie, take care of Krakjen. I will go back for her." He said.

Yet, there was no need as before he could take off, the fight had come for them.

…

The manticore horrified everyone as it appeared out of the woodworks and broke through the top of the hill like a specter of pure wrath. Its shimmering visage had mixed with the burning crimson flames of Garmr and lit it up like a vengeful spirit. Garmr, as well, bared her wrath alongside her teeth and she fought back even as the remainder of her guildwear burned away to reveal her exo-gear in full.

Indubitably, the two were locked in a deep struggle.

Her blade rended its flesh and left behind many gaping wounds. And at the same time the manticore's claws and fangs had caused her many injuries that shredded through even her specialized exo-gear's defenses. But where the beast left wounds on her, bloodflames spewed out and covered both of them in beautiful and destructive flames that were even hotter than before. This was her blood fresh, and it was teeming with her essence not left to deteriorate in a vial.

The beast roared. She roared. Together, they both had thrown caution to the wind and traded blows unto death.

Garmr cut, and she cut, and she cut. Claws, joints, tendons, face, neck— there was no order of preference. Whatever dared to meet her sight, she cut and she stabbed and she gashed. Even as she would be hit and blown back, she would rebound back with even more ferocity.

There was no stopping her.

—Slowly, Garmr's mind clouded and her vision became dyed in red.

In the chaos of the fight, her bloodflames inevitably splattered across her sword. For a brief moment whenever it happened, the sword would spring to life, showing a brilliant luster of Alabaster Gold that hinted at its nature as the precious blade of her people. It was the wrathful sword whose woes would never be made known again. Yet, it looked as if it was weeping as her bloodflames dripped from its body.

"———!"

Her mind clouded. She heard something.

The manticore swiped with its claws. She cut into its palms. As it reeled, she went for its throat. But she did not see the other claw smash down at her. She was slammed into the ground hard. With her laying prone, the manticore grappled her. It pounced on the opportunity and clamped down with both its claws and crushed her bones tightly. However, Garmr moved just a half step quicker and was able to wedge her sword against its palms to stop it.

In a fit of rage, the manticore twisted its body in an arc and flung her off. She hit the dirt with her back and skidded against the grass until she rolled back onto her feet.

Her mind clouded. Her vision deepened.

The manticore's tail stung from behind it. She parried the blow and splintered its many spines. They stabbed into her arm, but burned up in her bloodflames. She charged back into the fray. The tail came at her again. She batted it aside again. Over and over, she fought back against it and was stung many times until she was able to close the gap.

When she arrived, she looked like the visage of a fiery demon.

"———!"

She heard it again. Who was calling her? It was loud. Was it a cry?

The manticore closed in on her with its jaws wide open. But she deployed her barrier shield above her head and kicked down hard with her feet. She stopped the beast's crushing bite and held its mouth wide open. It was an opportunity and she stabbed her sword through the roof of its mouth with a sickening crunch.

The manticore cried out. Seizing from the pain, it twisted its head and body like a fish out of water. But she held on tightly. Garmr would never let go of her sword, and after it thrashed against the ground several times more, it spat her out finally. The process shredded the flesh on her arm as if she had put it through a whirlwind filled with knives.

"———!"

Her mind clouded. A cry…

…

In her head, she heard it, the confused and frightened shouting, the screams of agonizing deaths, and the single terrified wailing of a child that echoed in her head. She heard it all clear as day.

Yes… those were her own cries that she heard. It was her own ears ringing, her own chest clenching, and her own breaths that were choked with fearful tears. These feelings all belonged to her as the onslaught of the Alabaster Lord continued. Friends, family, young or old— none were spared as their woeful bloodflames were used to temper the relic blade.

She was the miracle not meant to be.

"Live, love, and repent… for the sin deeds of your people."

She alone survived.

She was the let survivor and, with the precious blade as her shackles, she alone would have to serve as the final pallbearer of her people. That was the price to be paid for a miracle.

That was her eternal everburden.

…

Spitting out a piece of dirt and grass, Garmr climbed to her feet using her sword as a support. Bloodflames ran freely down her arms and drenched her body well. Her head pounded as if a sledgehammer repeatedly hammered against it. Her heart beat so quickly it felt like it was about to explode. And everything from her muscles to her bones ached as they were left bloodied, fractured, or bruised.

However, despite touching so closely to death, she never felt more vibrant and alive. Pain was the proof of her living, of her existence. As long as her pain continued, death would never come to her. She pulled her sword free of the ground and she was ready to continue. The manticore too, was starting to make its way back onto its legs. Soon, a victor would be decided between them.

"———!"

Her mind clouded. She heard the cry again and it motivated her to settle the score.

Yet, before she knew it, she was struck down to the ground by a rough tackle from an unknown party. She fought back. Her arms were pinned against her body, but her teeth were free and she bit down tightly. However, what made her stop in her tracks was the taste of the blood and the familiar calming scent that suddenly enveloped her senses.

There was but one person in the world who it belonged to.

"Neme…?"

This knocked her back to her senses, and her senses were heavily confused. The entire time, she had fought with the manticore alone and she became so absorbed in her struggle that she failed to take notice of her surroundings. Now, when she looked around, she had already made it back to where it all began before she even knew it.

In the air, she saw Yajinn's drones encircling the manticore before then a barrier domed over the battlefield where she had just been taken out of. The manticore was heavily wounded, but even then, that barrier would not be strong enough to hold it for long. She needed to go back in and finish the kill before the beast could recover—

"Do it now, Yajinn!" Nemeadas roared to give the signal.

"Go to hell, you manticore bastard!"

With Yajinn's shout, the world shook. The ground below the manticore fractured and terrible jets of black ash exploded out. It was like a volcanic event the way it enveloped the barrier in an instant, then overwhelmed it. The barrier shuttered, cracked, and shook as it struggled to contain the raw power squeezed tightly within.

And then after a few more moments, it could no longer… and the barrier shattered as the overwhelming tide of black ash billowed forward and swallowed everything up.

…

…