Chapter 32: Mana’s clash
As the forest canopy gave way to the familiar arrangement of tents and structures, Jorghan noted several changes.
The settlement had expanded, with new ground works and what appeared to be permanent foundations being laid.
Most significantly, three additional airships were moored at the expanded dock—sleek vessels that radiated the quiet confidence of military engineering.
They were never just traders and researchers, he realized.
This was always a beachhead.
He landed Chycor, its wings creating a vacuum behind its landing; the air rushed past him and around the creature.
Jorghan swiftly landed on the ground with a quick jump from its top.
He looked around, and he could see soldiers moving around, carrying the rifles; he was quite surprised to see such machinery in this world. What stood before him had surpassed the reach of his fantasies, a vision greater than Jorghan had ever thought possible.
He had a flicker of doubt about what they would be coming back here with—the very beast linked with the Nor’vacks.
Well, there’s no point thinking about that now. I am already here. Jorghan sighed heavily as he made his way towards the camps.
The guards at the perimeter post noticed him, and they could see him walking towards them
Their recognition was immediate; after all, he had been the talk of camp a few days ago.
A little boy lost in the thick forest talked about how he was brought back by Yvonne.
"Hey kid, what are you doing here?" they asked him, looking at him with strange expressions. They also saw the giant winged beast, a little far from where they were standing.
"I came to meet Lady Yvonne. Can you take me to her?"
The guards looked at each other, confused, but they still sent the word to Yvonne. As they thought it wasn’t something they could deal with.
Jorghan stood there, his hands folded, lost in thought.
The soldiers looked at him funny. His little frame and his childish face seemed completely different from his actions.
Within a couple of minutes, a soldier came and asked Jorghan to follow him.
Jorghan made his way into the camp, his eyes wandering here and there, taking notice of everything around him.
He was shown to a tent that was much larger than the one he stayed in, entering the tent, he was greeted by the smell of alcohol and cigarettes.
"Welcome, little one," boomed a voice, grasping his gaze towards the center.
Jorghan saw a man dressed in black pants, a white tunic, and a waistcoat; he seemed like a man from that period to Jorghan.
Then his gaze took in the people present in the tent. Dr. Revin was standing, his gaze locked on Jorghan, and beside him, sitting on a plush cushioned chair, was Lady Yvonne.
She showed no surprise at his return, merely gesturing for him to sit across from her at the same map-covered table where Doctor Revin had examined him days earlier.
The former man walked towards Jorghan and examined him, his gaze studying him totally.
"I am Vice Lord Brenal Radulff. You can call me Brenal, and I heard a lot about you, young man," he said.
He stretched his hand for a handshake.
Jorghan narrowed his eyes.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hand to meet the man’s.
A sudden surge erupted.
[Warning: Hostile Energy Detected]
[Mana surge initiated]
The air cracked, and a flood of raw magical force burst forth from Brenal like an ocean storm breaking its banks. It rolled outward in waves, warping the very air and making the ground shiver beneath its weight.
To ordinary eyes, it would have seemed like nothing but a strange gust of wind.
But to those attuned—like Yvonne—the truth was staggering.
Her eyes narrowed at first, squinting against the brightness only she could perceive. Then, when realization hit, her pupils dilated, her jaw tensed, and her breath caught.
Brenal was using his mana force to test the boy.
No! What are you doing?
For before her, Jorghan did not falter.
[Mana onslaght]
[Mana used 33%]
Instead, his own energy burst out to meet Brenal’s.
It erupted from his small frame in a tide of shimmering force.
The air between the two powers boiled, clashing and writhing like two storm fronts colliding.
The tent groaned, its wooden stakes straining in the ground, canvas snapping like a sail caught in a storm.
The magical clash between Jorghan and Brenal rolled outward in violent waves, and the poor shelter could not endure. The tent’s ropes snapped free, stakes were ripped from the ground, and the entire structure was plucked into the air.
For a heartbeat it hung suspended, twisting in the whirling surge of power—then the force hurled it aside. Canvas flapped and poles splintered as the tent was thrown end over end, disappearing into the tree line with a crash that sent birds shrieking skyward.
The clearing stood open now, stripped bare, every eye drawn only to the two figures still locked in their storm.