The silence after Ragna's little laugh was like a wet blanket. Everyone stared at her. Bandits on the ledges, knights in front of the wagons, and also me.

  She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand like she'd just finished a stew, not a fireball.

  "Hits different from dragon breath," she muttered. "Less spicy."

  Why's she talking like she got a taste? As I recalled, I was the one standing in front of her, facing the dragon's breath, not the other way around. Look at her trying to act cool.

  The man who I assumed was the leader of the bandits found his tongue first.

  "What in the mountain's arse are you supposed to be?" he shouted down.

  The mage beside him still had her hand raised somewhat, frozen between casting another spell or pretending the first never happened. “What is that girl…”

  Ragna planted her club on her shoulder.

  "Hungry," she gave a grunting answer.

  That earned a few nervous laughs from the younger bandits. Their older comrades shot them looks that shut it down quick.

  I stepped up beside her until we stood between the wagons and the Red Ridge ledges. Heat still bled from the scorched stone.

  "Before everyone kills everyone," I said, "maybe we talk."

  The bandit leader’s head snapped toward me. Up close, the aura rolling off him felt heavier.

  [6th Ascension].

  The mage too. The bowman on his right was also the same. Among the dozen others, there were a few 5th Ascension. Strong company for rocks in leather and rust.

  Interesting when the king of Thalassaria was also 6th Ascension. These bandits were pretty strong.

  "Talk?" he echoed. "You walk into my toll-road, swallow my mage's spell, and you want to talk? I, Garrun, don't talk.”

  "You are talking right now," I pointed out. "And your mage started with the fireball, you saw how it ended. Maybe take a hint and take up the offer?”

  I wanted to be sure what we're dealing with before intervening.

  Garrun spat over the edge. "Walk away, strays. Which barbarian tribe are you from? Go back. This isn't your fight. We want what's in that wagon. Leave, and I'll forget I saw you."

  That gave me enough context. They were not poor bandits starving in a mountain, they wanted something in that wagon.

  "What's in the wagon?" I asked.

  He snorted. "Not yours."

  The knight woman stepped forward from the shield line. Blood stained her armor, and her shoulder hung at a bad angle, but her spine was straight. Her visor was up, showing a face that might have been pretty before exhaustion carved lines into it.

  "Enough," she said. Her eyes fixed on me. "Respected Valtherian. Please help us, and House Marcellis will pay you in gold."

  She was direct, and she recognised who we were. I appreciated that.

  "Why should I?" I asked.

  Her jaw tightened. "You are of the same blood as the Magmaborn who broke the Serpent, correct?" She glanced at Ragna, then back to me. "Your tribe is the people of heroes, whereas these men are paid killers, not toll-takers. I know you guys can't just stay quiet and watch this…!"

  She was making assumptions. Just because a tribe produced a hero didn't mean everyone else there would be the same. Gerholt was special.

  The Magmaborn. His name carried weight even out here, in Ethenia.

  Garrun barked a laugh.

  "You stupid bitch, you really think they're Valtherians? Why would they leave their island and come here?" he asked. "You're delirious.”

  "Please," she kept begging me. "Help us."

  All eyes landed back on me. I rolled my shoulders, considering this.

  The air tasted of dust and leftover magic. Three Sixth Ascensions versus one me and one Ragna, a Fifth and Fourth Ascension respectively. The numbers weren't ideal, but we'd seen worse.

  "Your name?" I asked her.

  "Elayne Thorne."

  "Nice name." I let the axe spin once in my hand to find the weight. "My name is Thorvyn Valteria. As an adventurer, I expect to be paid the appropriate amount for this mission."

  She blinked, then let out a short, heavy breath that might have been a laugh if she weren't half-dead.

  "Done," she said. "If we live."

  Garrun's face twisted.

  "Enough talk, then," he grumbled. "Archers! Mage! Put them down!"

  The battle had been announced. Ragna whistled from beside me. Arrows lifted along the ledges. The mage began to chant, hands filling with light and heat. The tall bowman beside Garrun raised his own weapon, and the air around his arrow thinned as he drew.

  I smiled and I met their gaze. In a breath, the color of the sky changed. My body let out small trembles and the ground beneath my feet shattered.

  The Mantle of Valteria flared.

  It tore out of me in a rush. Crimson light exploded from my shoulders and unfurled into a vast, howling cape that clawed at the sky. The air thickened. The ground hummed.

  Animals screamed.

  Birds burst from cracks and scrub-brush higher up. A fox bolted from under a rock and fled downslope with its fur on end.

  Bandits swayed.

  The really weaker ones dropped where they stood. A few simply sat down, eyes rolling back as their bodies decided that staying conscious was a bad investment. One pitched forward onto his own knife. The others stumbled under the weight of the Mantle's presence.

  Behind me, the knights cursed and braced, and even Elayne's jaw clenched. But as they were my allies, they realized they were feeling better instead.

  Ragna's eyes lit.

  "Now that is the Valterian fire!” She roared for my stead. While the Mantle roared toward the sky.

  I moved.

  Aura flooded my limbs, sliding under my skin like molten iron. The world lost some of its color, replaced by red edges. The distance between me and Garrun shrank.

  Arrows flew.

  They met the Mantle and slowed, their lines bending. Some snapped in the air. Others struck aura sheathing my arms and shattered, leaving stinging lines instead of holes.

  The mage's second fireball came, bigger than the first. It broke against the Mantle like a wave against a cliff.

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  The tall archer's shot cut through it all.

  His arrow carried focus. The air around it blurred. It cut a tight line straight for my chest.

  I shifted my grip and brought the axe up. Blackglass met wood. The shaft splintered, but the impact jarred my arms enough that I felt it through the Mantle.

  “What a strong aura!” Garrun shouted but he was already charging down the front of his ledge, greatsword in both hands.

  I met him halfway up the incline.

  Our first clash cracked the stone under our boots. His greatsword came down in a diagonal cut that would have split a wagon in two. I caught it on my axe haft with both hands. Aura screamed against aura, my red against his yellow. Shock ran up my arms and rattled my teeth.

  He grinned.

  "You were more a lot more intimidating from a distance, barbarian," he said through his beard, Aura surging out of him.

  “I think I’m stronger up close," I said. Then I twisted, letting his weight slide past, and slammed my forehead into his.

  The axe bit for his sword arm. Aura sharpened the edge until it felt like thought.

  He tried to yank back. But he was far too slow. The blade tore through leather, mail, and meat. His fingers went slack. The greatsword clanged down the slope.

  He roared and swung his left fist. Aura flared around his knuckles. The punch hit my ribs and sent me sliding a full stride down the incline, while he grumbled to calm his pain.

  A Sixth Ascension fighter type is no joke. The reminder was not needed, but the body insisted on giving it. My stomach hurt.

  Vorlag, the Domain Lord, was much stronger physically. But he hasn't used Aura. Maybe he didn't have it. I heard while 5th Ascension was the minimum awakening requirement for Aura, not everyone unlocked it then.

  Above, Ragna moved.

  She leaped past me like a thrown spear, straight for the mage. Scales erupted along her arms and shoulders as she shifted into her hybrid form.

  The mage tried to start another spell.

  Ragna hit her like a falling tree.

  Both of them crashed onto the ledge in a tangle of limbs and scales. The bandits nearby scrambled away, tripping over each other.

  "Handle your side," she yelled. "This one is mine."

  I ignored Garrun for a brief moment, even as he tried to charge at me. I focused on the annoying Archer next, whose blows were trying to take my head off.

  He was already nocking another arrow, eyes fixed on me. I drove Aura down into my legs and pushed off the ground.

  Aura amplified things, it seems, and using them on my legs made my leap carry me faster. The world blurred. I reappeared halfway up the slope and to the archer's left.

  He loosed anyway. The shot went wide, but not by much. It brushed my shoulder hard enough to leave my arm numb for a second.

  My axe came in low for his knees. He jumped, nimble for a man that size.

  He dropped, twisted, and slammed his bow across my face like a staff.

  That one surprised me. The blow bounced off the Mantle but forced my head aside.

  I stepped in, crowded his space, and let my right hand go from the axe to seize his bow.

  "I'll be taking this," I said.

  He snarled and tried to wrench it free. Mana flared in his arms. I just learned something new. So [Archers] use Mana?

  My Valtherian Physique flared back – it wouldn't lose against someone who didn't even have Aura. The wood cracked and snapped.

  He grabbed for the broken end as a makeshift spear.

  My axe moved first.

  It took his hand at the wrist.

  He stared at the stump, then crumpled to his knees with a scream. Blood soaked the rock. The Mantle pressed down on him, smothering whatever will he'd been gathering for a last strike.

  Four lesser bandits charged downslope toward me, while two more broke and ran.

  I lifted my axe and swung it in a wide arc, more gesture than serious strike.

  Aura went with it.

  A crescent of red tore free from the blade and screamed away. It caught the runners in the backs of their legs and cut them out from under themselves. They dropped like sacks.

  I froze for a half second, more at the sensation than at the result.

  Well. That's new.

  No time to admire it.

  The four charging bandits hit the slope a breath later.

  I stepped forward to meet them, not back. The first spear lanced at my gut. I caught the shaft with my free hand and yanked him close along his own weapon and buried my forehead in his nose. Cartilage crunched.

  The others tried to flank.

  My axe spun in my hands. Aura rode the edge like a second metal.

  One throat opened under the cut.

  The other man flinched back too late. The blade sheared through his jaw and carried on. Notifications were filling my vision but I chose to put them away for now.

  The fight wasn't over just yet. Garrun was glaring at me, looking frustrated that he was unable to stop me from killing his comrades. His grip tightened around his greatsword.

  Aura boiled around him in a yellow-gold haze. He came down the last stretch of slope like a boulder.

  "Come on then, whelp," he shouted. "Let's see how much scream your cloak has."

  He assumed, since I'd been fighting so many people, I was running low on juice.

  I met him at the base.

  This time, I ducked under his strike. The greatsword whistled over my head and bit deep into the stone. Sparks flew.

  I stepped into his guard.

  My axe hacked for his knee.

  He kicked. Aura in his leg met Aura in my blade. The shock almost tore the weapon from my hands. The Mantle helped, but not enough to make us equal.

  Fine.

  I had more than Aura. I was just relying on it to check how far it could carry me, and it carried me long enough. I could end this now.

  I tapped into Elemental Fury, and it let out a spark of fire and then lightning. Crackles crawled along my arms and into the axe.

  Garrun wrenched his sword free of the rock and tried to bring it down in a cleaving blow.

  I drove [Tempest Strike] through my muscles and met him halfway.

  The axe hit his blade near the hilt.

  Lightning exploded.

  The force rattled my bones. It also ripped his grip open. The greatsword spun away, clattering down the slope and disappearing over the edge.

  He lunged, hands out for my throat.

  I stepped aside and let his weight carry him past, then drove my shoulder into his ribs. The Mantle wrapped around us both.

  His footing went. We went down together.

  We hit the stone in a tangle. He got one knee on my chest and started hammering fists at my head. His aura reinforced his knuckles. But my Mantle softened the blows. Still, every other punch still snapped light behind my eyes.

  I grabbed his wrist with one hand and his throat with the other and squeezed.

  His Aura met mine. For a second, it was like trying to choke a bonfire.

  Pain lanced through my grip. My fingers dug in anyway. My Physique was far too strong compared to him, veins full of too much mana, too much oxygen, too much stubbornness.

  His hits slowed.

  The Mantle pressed down on him from behind, adding its weight to my hands.

  He thrashed once, hard enough to make the world jump, then sagged. I withdraw my hand for just half a second and then punched his windpipe inward.

  His Aura guttered and went out.

  I shoved him aside and rolled to my feet, chest heaving. My ribs felt like someone had played drums on them with sledgehammers.

  The Mantle still loomed over the slope, vast and snarling. Bandits that hadn't fainted now lay on their faces, too cowed to move.

  Up on the mage's ledge, Ragna finished her work.

  She had the caster pinned under one knee. The woman's staff lay snapped a few paces away. Ragna raised her hand and smashed her fist into the woman's chest. Something cracked, and the mage went limp.

  We probably looked like savage killing machines to outsiders. But I didn't care. I was well past feeling guilty for killing criminals.

  Ragna pushed herself upright, breathing hard, and looked over the bodies.

  "That was a good warm-up," she said. "I'm still hungry though."

  A few bandits farther up the ridge turned tail and started to run.

  I lifted my axe and let Aura ride it again. I wasn’t sure how it worked, but I tried to replicate the feeling from earlier. Another red crescent tore away from the blade and arced out. It caught them at the first bend in the path.

  The new trick left a strange emptiness in my arms, like I'd thrown something heavy and my muscles were still waiting to feel it land.

  Mantle of Valteria, huh. This is a cheat. I had a feeling normal Aura users couldn't do all this.

  The ridge went quiet except for the wind.

  The Mantle's pressure eased as I let it withdraw. The enormous crimson cloak shrank, folded in on itself, and slid back under my skin. The world's colors came back.

  I let the notifications wash my vision.

  [You've slain a Mountain Bandit – Level 83!]

  [You've slain a Mountain Bandit – Level 76!]

  [You've slain a Mountain Bandit – Level 46!]

  [You've slain a Mountain Bandit – Level…!]

  ….

  [You've reached Level 57!]

  “I'm Level 49! Thorvyn, Thorvyn, check my que-” Ragna began to shout hit I shot her a warning look. She fell quiet.

  The strange fact that I could see quests by command was supposed to be a secret. And right now we had a lot of eyes on us.

  My body hurt. My ribs, my shoulder, the side of my jaw. I tasted iron. The level ups helped, they were easing the pain in real time, but it still hurt.

  But I maintained a strong form. In front of me, the knights were still between wagons and drops, but the formation had loosened. Elayne stared at me as if she hadn't quite decided whether I was on the same side as gravity.

  The other knights’ knuckles were white on their shields. The younger knight to her left looked like he was caught between awe and the urge to cross himself in whatever prayer they used here.

  I loosened my grip on the axe and let my shoulders drop.

  "We call that a successful mission, ladies and gentlemen," I said with a wide smile. “I'm looking forward to my payment.”

  They flinched anyway.

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