Ra’azel

Nayra glimpsed something in the corner of her eye and turned. Her spear and new shield ready for battle. She used all the boosting perks she still had available and focused her technique to increase her stats. She downed potions, boosting and regeneration, preparing.

In the distance she could sense a battle, and with black wings on her back she jumped forward. Ready to join in.

Power filled him, he burned his Soul to augment his attributes. The body Ra’azel was in accepted it with no strain at all. If he had done this in his old body, he would’ve torn himself apart.

The rune string had been carved on his Soul long ago, but rarely used. It was a greater version of the string that he had taught the Unchained, that only Berion had ever truly mastered.

It enhanced all of his power, all that he was. But he didn’t like using it. There was always a cost. The Unchained were too eager to gain power that they didn’t even care to learn and understand. To burn one’s Soul in this manner meant to cut away a piece of yourself forever. A Soul could regenerate the damage, the injury or what was spent, but it would never recover what was lost. It fed on the spark of ingenuity, on the definition of one’s being. It was a sacrifice, not just a simple boost to be used carelessly.

Ra’azel didn’t know what he would lose, but he didn’t see any other option. His body moved faster than his opponents, and he manipulated his Soul in the same breath. Expanding tendrils of Soul that he used to carve runes without his arms, one of which was numb and unusable to him until the part of his Soul that was an arm grew again.

They attacked him, and he retaliated. He felt his power breaking them, hurting them, and he was elated. He hadn’t felt this powerful since before he was betrayed. Still, he focused, he didn’t want to let arrogance be his downfall. His mind was his greatest weapon, and so he knew that all it would take was one lucky hit. He had to finish them quickly, kill them one by one.

He picked a target, the one that moved through the shadows, hiding behind a tree. He carved three runes and pieces of his Soul flowed into them. This place restricted Essences, but they were still there, he could see them, feel them. It could not exist without Essences. One wouldn’t be able to see, to hear, to breathe or think without them. This place was making him weaker, slower, he could tell, in the same way that that aura in during the battle before had.

He didn’t have time to spare. Ra’azel rushed at his target, barreling straight through the tree. She moved, trying to escape, three runes flashed into existence, written by his Soul.

Dor—Ka—Ha

A blast of strengthened force exploded forward from over his shoulder. The shadows rose around the woman, protecting her. He grimaced, he very nearly used more destructive runes, but he held himself back. The stronger the runes and the strings, the more of his Soul they drained. He couldn’t afford to use obliteration or annihilation.

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He dashed forward instead, as her defenses broke while blocking his attack. He raised his hand, spread his new claws and swiped feeling reality tearing in front of him.

Before his attack could reach her, a spear smashed into his side. His scales held, but he was pushed off-course, his attack missing the woman who escaped through a Shadow.

He turned and glared as another joined the fight. He could feel the earth vibrating as someone ran toward him, he could feel the wind picking up. He was outnumbered. He was stronger, more powerful, smarter, more experienced. But even the greatest could fall.

He focused and carved runes at speed he had never carved them before, smaller ones that worked without the need for him to pour his Soul into them.

Dozens of attacks lashed out, utilizing the Essences around him. Blades of Wind, shards of light, blades of darkness. They flew in all directions, forcing his foes to dodge.

He turned and saw the Reaper dodging an attack by jumping to the side, and Ra’azel carved a powerful rune string.

Lom—Ha—Dor—Gor

As the Reaper dashed forward toward him, Ra’azel’s rune string boosted him. Suddenly, the Reaper’s leap took it farther and faster than it intended.

A second rune string blossomed next to him just a fraction of a second later.

Go—Nem—Shi

His trajectory was altered, and the Reaper smashed into the woman with the spear, taking both of them down.

He carved and sent attacks flying in their direction. Then jumped away and stomped onto a shadow. The ground cracked, the world flickered as he wished for light. His will battled the will of this world, and won for a moment. The forest was replaced by desert at midday, the blazing sun scorching everything and banishing all shadows. He was getting the hang of that, it seemed.

The woman appeared beneath him, struggling beneath his foot. He reached down with his hand and grabbed the arm holding the dagger. With a roar, he pulled the arm off, tearing it away at the elbow. She screamed as he pressed his foot, heard her ribs cracking. Her body crumbled, twisted and changed shape into a black furred creature that sank roared at him.

His Soul carved a rune to attack, and a gale of wind struck him, banishing the desert and sending him flying back into the forest.

Ra’azel raised his head and growled. “Gnats,” he cursed them as he saw Zacharia floating in the air, directing the wind around him.

Zach poured three healing potions on his chest, and drank two. The flesh had healed, but the bones and spine were another thing. He couldn’t feel his legs, and he didn’t have the time to wait for the healing to take its course. He wished that it had been a killing blow, but alas it hadn’t. He was far too sturdy for that.

His armor, his spiritual tool was damaged, his connection to the plane of Wind diminished. Still, he called to it, asked it to pick him up, to aid him.

His body rose from the ground, held up by the wind, and he turned his eyes at the battle in the distance. He could feel the Wind around him, understand it. His armor was giving him insight into the deepest concepts and ideas behind the Essence of Wind.

His mind flashed, ideas and thoughts moving too fast for normal people to grasp. Knowledge was sorting through the information stored in the Repository in the Castle of Knowledge. All that was recorded about the Wind, all that the Spirits and visitors knew.

The plane of Wind was not like Time at all. There were so many people who touched its plane, whose voice helped shape it. But for most all of them, Wind was freedom. It was flight, it was the desire to experience and wander wherever they wanted. It was also destruction, it was the creator of storms, of forces that could rip the earth asunder and cleave mountains.

Zach could feel his mind pressing on it, his own ideas. He knew that he could try and change it, shape another Way. But he didn’t want to sully what so many shaped, not in a way that could help him. So, instead he just called to the Wind with an open heart. He let his Soul touch it, and he conferred his meaning to it.

The Wind listened, and it answered, as an old friend always would. A notification blared in the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. The Wind carried him to battle, and he raised his hand seeing a shimmering area of space where world flickered from a forest to a desert.

He unleashed his attack as he rejoined the battle.