CHAPTER 37: Rise of the Vraka - Part 1

  Eiran lay sprawled on the streets of Fhon. The stones scorched his skin, with the hot air seeping into his ears and nose from their cracks. Fire and destruction, alongside columns of black smoke, darkened the sky.

  He tried to rise but his body was devoid of strength. The steps of someone walking over the ruins made him turn. The man was in his early thirties, his skin pale with prominent cheekbones. His eyes were a thin grey, almost white, and he was smirking.

  “What? If you want to know why I did this, seek me. I am Ashtrel.”

  ***

  The clanging of steel and commotion piqued Eiran. His isolation cell was as dark as always, but the commotions outside were unusual. He sharpened his hearing with Prana.

  “What’s going on?”

  “A prisoner has escaped. He’s freeing the others.”

  “Who could do that?”

  “Fool, who else but Keragan?”

  “Hey, you! Lord Hazar ordered us to hold our ground at the first floor!”

  Clamor. Hurried footsteps. Then silence. He was not sure what was happening outside, but this was his chance. He united his two Prime nodes much like two masses of ice that thawed and merged, a technique he called Confluence, and Prana flooded his body like a breached dam.

  He had yet to master Prana techniques, but he could control it. He touched his palms on the iron door, drawing a vast amount of Prana from the combined nodes and releasing it. The Prana surge, shimmering like water, warped the door off its hinges and concaved the cell wall.

  Unforeseen by him, the iron plate almost struck a tall man with white hair. Fortunately, the man parried it with his gleaming, mirror-like sword. But now the man perceived Eiran as an enemy ambushing him.

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  Unexperienced in Prana duel, Eiran was unsure what to do if the man attacked. Especially since there was something about him that gave away his overwhelming strength, as when he was with Sciast.

  A youngster with short hair then arrived, informing the man that he was not an enemy.

  “Help us if you are not an enemy,” he said. Eiran nodded.

  The man's followers arrived. They are preparing to storm first sublevel. But the way they addressed him left Eiran speechless. Vraka Keragan.

  Vraka Keragan?

  Was he the Vraka Keragan of Kargadin, one of the finest fighters of the Inner Realms?

  He had to put his astonishment aside as Keragan's group rushed towards the iron platform. Keragan’s glance invited fighters to join, but he remained still. Who was he to join an elite raiding crew like them?

  As the iron platform creaked upwards, Zeke’s words flashed in his head. His face tensed. This was a serious issue.

  “Stop! We could die!” He pushed through the crowd. His shouts caught attention, but no one heeded him.

  He then leapt and tackled Keragan until they both fell. Kirya stopped the platform, and one by one, its passengers disembarked.

  However, in his attempt to stop him, the Vraka felt under attack once more and kicked him in the stomach. The blow flung Eiran against the wall. Keragan's strength made him reconsider how powerful a Prana Decima could be, and he said it as a passive Decima with a pair of Prime nodes.

  Eiran doubled over, his vision swimming and his spine cracking. He tried to explain his actions but kept coughing from the kick. Raising one hand, he gestured for a stop, but the Vraka would not wait. His sword slash was already halfway.

  Eiran threw himself to the side, rolling on the ground as the giant sword gouged the stone wall. Upon standing, his hands went signaling once again. However, without removing his sword from the wall, Keragan sliced sideways at chest height and adding a new mark to the wall. Eiran crouched to keep himself intact.

  “In all of Kargadin, only Farkas and Barga dare and capable of facing Keragan in a single combat,” Haran's words flashed.

  Prime nodes fused, and a white aura enveloped Eiran. Activating Confluence doubled his maximum Prana, thereby drastically enhancing his physical capabilities. With Confluence, plus the training from the two figures in the white room, he evaded swing after swing, each potentially inflicting a terrible wound.

  His eyes flickered to the crowd, searching for someone who might resolve the situation. There was no one. They were more interested in watching the fight than anything else.

  “That boy is holding up against Keragan? Who the hell is he?”

  “Incredible that he's still alive after so long against Keragan.”

  “Why have we never heard his name before?”

  Eiran moved with such agility that he found it hard to believe himself. He could not believe the shadow practice had granted him all this prowess. Yet, it was the reality.