Orlan had no idea how long it had been since he started, under such utter focus time seemed to slip by. Occasionally he reached out to grab some magical reagent to assist him, crushing a healing gem to support his weakened body, quickly chugging some water to stave off dehydration, nothing that took more than a moment. Which was all the time he could spare from maintaining his advancement. Even as the pressure lessened, his sixth sphere coming together and beginning to support the pressure of mana within him, he didn’t let up. Too many had failed in the last few moments of advancing tiers, relaxing as they felt the end approaching only for the sphere to rip itself apart, sending powerful mana ripping through their bodies.

  The Protector, however, had been through this before. He refused to relax until the instant the advancement was complete, and likely not for a few minutes after to ensure his sphere was intact and not leaking. Such a leak could indicate the sphere wasn’t finished, or that the understanding of himself and his mana wasn’t compatible with that tier. But as he felt the last bit of pressure relax he paid careful attention for any signs of a leak.

  It was then that a rumble caught his attention, opening his eyes for the first time since he began the process of advancing. The Anchorheart chamber was unusually dark and cold, moisture beginning to condense along the floor and walls. Orlan slowly turned his head, the dried blood along his neck cracking and falling to the ground, looking up to see something unexpected. There was a large swirling cloud within the chamber.

  Sparks of lightning jumped within the cloud at random, not bright enough to provide any meaningful light but large enough to generate the dull rumble he’d heard. Even as he watched the number of lightning bolts increased, first forming rough concentric circles around the room that were worryingly reminiscent of spell casting.

  Reaching out with his newly enhanced senses, along with those of his Anchorheart, to feel the mana condensing above him. It had started shortly after he’d begun his breakthrough, from what he could tell. It was as if his advancement had drawn the attention of someone. Extending his senses outwards he tried to find the caster of the spell that was slowly coming together above him, but found himself unable to. Out to the very reaches of his senses all he felt was the gentle influx of mana.

  The mana itself felt wrathful, angry and powerful, like the hand of a vengeful god descending upon the world.

  Runes began to form in the odd spell taking shape above him. If he’d been anywhere else his first instinct would be to run away from the sixth sphere spell seemingly cast by no one, but here, he couldn’t. It was locked onto the Anchorheart chamber and if it managed to damage or destroy the Anchorheart, Orlan was screwed regardless of where his body was.

  Gritting his teeth Orlan forced himself to his feet, lifting his hands and calling forth his newly enhanced mana, only to freeze as the odd, wrathful mana above him slammed down, crushing his spell before it could even appear. To crush a spell like that you had to be at least a full realm above the caster, if not more, and have an excess of mana.

  Shaking himself, instead of trying to cast another spell he reached out to pull his spear from his personal space, breathing a sigh of relief as it appeared in his hand. Countering an inherent ability was possible, but far more difficult than a spell. Orlan quickly pulled his armor out and onto himself, the spirit of his spear seeing annoyed for having been woken. With his advancement it had advanced as well, and had been bathing in his empowered mana, eagerly sucking in the new power.

  “Sorry, Kayla,” Orlan muttered as he summoned his greaves directly onto his legs, “someone’s trying to kill me, I need your help.”

  The spirit grumbled in protest but turned its attention to the spell above him. Half the runes were in place, which itself was odd. The caster of the spell had to be at least in the divine realm to crush his spell earlier, so to cast a sixth sphere spell should have taken seconds. Perhaps it was a limitation of casting over a distance?

  Regardless, Orlan forced his tired, weakened body into motion, a single rift step took him to the top of his Anchorheart and a dozen feet below the clouds. If he couldn’t use spells, he’d have to rely on his inherent abilities. He scanned the runes, recognizing some of them, but not others. He’d never been great at reading spells on the fly, that had generally been Nallia’s job.

  Nallia!

  Orlan reached out to his knights only to find the bond oddly still. It wasn’t broken, he could feel their presence, it was more like they simply weren’t awake. Even if it was night at least some of them should have been awake. Pushing his senses out again he located Lailra and Nallia, only to find them meeting in a nearby room and, seemingly, frozen in place.

  The entire island was frozen from what he could tell, leaves floating mid air without motion, the wind utterly still and no one he could sense so much as breathing.

  The spell above him was messing with time, he realized, looking at the nearly completed spell above him. That’s why it seemed to be casting so slowly, it wasn’t. By the outside world’s reckoning it would cast in less than a second, only Orlan, caught under it would see it form.

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  To mess with the flow of time itself, from a distance, without being traceable was an immense amount of power. A divine realm caster might be able to manage it, the divine realm was referred to as such for a reason after all. Their powers pushed at the very bounds of the world.

  The last rune flickered into place above Orlan. Setting his stance atop the sloped peak of the Anchorheart he held his spear up, pushing mana through his void strike inherent and into his spear. Dark flames erupted from the blade of the weapon, the spirit within understanding his intent. Void mana was corrosive to anything, even other mana. While any hope of disrupting the spell itself had been lost when he realized the spell was being cast by a divine realm mage, the void mana could still eat away at whatever effect it had.

  Power gathered above him, all six rings of runes lighting up as mana gathered in the center of the spell, directly above him, only to suddenly descend like a bolt of lightning.

  Orlan let out a scream, half in pain and half in defiance as the divine mana tore through him, only partly disrupted by the void mana in his spear. At first, blinded by pain and panic, he didn’t realize what was happening. But as he felt the mana gathering around him and the Anchorheart he realized it wasn’t an attack, at least not in the proper sense. The spell was granting him divine mana, forcing him to bear the power of a mana he couldn’t manage. If he let it settle within him it would crush his spheres, killing him.

  Simply trying to push the mana out of his body would work, but it was slow, too dense for his spirit to properly control. Above him he sensed more power gathering to unleash a second bolt of power, if he didn’t deal with what was within him now, the second would certainly kill him.

  That left only one option, reaching for his void strike inherent again, he channeled void mana into his body. This was one of the first methods of using the inherent ability he’d learned, figuring it out instinctively within seconds of arriving on the other side. Dark flames burst from his body, eating away at the glowing mana trying to force its way into his soul.

  The outward force of the void mana pushed the divine mana back, just as the spell above him pulsed again, dumping more unwanted mana into his soul. Gritting his teeth so hard he was sure one cracked he pulled the divine mana itself into his void strike inherent. The flames that produced were so dark they seemed to swallow light itself, eating away not only at the mana around him, but were more powerful than even his natural resistance to the void, his skin and flesh beginning to flake away under their heatless burns.

  With this method he managed to deal with most of the divine mana around him when he felt a third mass of the divine energy fall upon him, this mass was greater than the previous two combined. Even forcing it through his void strike wouldn’t be enough. Orlan’s mind raced through his other inherent abilities, rift step was out, the mana was technically his, it would just follow him. He might be able to stuff some of it into his personal space, but he didn’t know how long it could hold such power, and volatile energy.

  Those were his only three inherent abilities, or, at least they were. He could have a new one from advancing, but it would be risky to use without some preparation.

  Then again, not using it would virtually ensure his death.

  Reaching out he shoved mana into his most recent sphere, hoping that it had some ability that would save him.

  In an instant the pain vanished, his body no longer felt weakened, and even the cold, wet wind brought by the odd spell was gone.

  Opening his eyes he found himself standing on an almost featureless stone floor that stretched out as far as he could see. The only object in view was the Anchorheart, but not as it appeared normally. It was a mass of runes, lines of mana and pulsing energy, it was the spirit of the Anchorheart, how it would look if one could see past the stone.

  Just above it was a swirling funnel of mana that fed the Anchorheart, what should have been the dark purple color of Orlan’s mana was being tainted by the golden light of the divine mana, slowly coming closer to the Anchorheart itself.

  “Is this my new inherent?” Orlan asked aloud, his voice echoing against the infinite distance around him. The understanding used for this sphere had been the world within his anger, the truth behind it and reason for it. Was this some kind of spiritual world?

  Seeing the golden mana creep closer to the Anchorheart, Orlan shook that thought off, he’d worry about it later. Instead he reached out like he would if he were altering his Protectorate, and instantly several spears of stone lanced out to stick into the mana vortex from the ground around him. It had little effect, of course, but it proved to him that he could control this world much like he did his Protectorate. Focusing the tips of the spears twisted within the swirling mana, forming a series of runes. The very runes that made up his void strike. And then pushed his mana into it.

  A pillar of dark flames shot up from the stone runes, engulfing the entire vortex of mana, rapidly burning away anything that couldn’t handle the corrosive mana. The golden mana fought back, but in this odd world it could only approach from within the vortex, making the void mana far more effective than before.

  For several long minutes, or perhaps it was hours, Orlan stood, maintaining his focus on the vortex. The divine mana struggled to get past the torrent of corrosive energies, drops of it slipping through now and again, but a more focused blast from the Anchorheart directly quickly deal with such leaks. Orlan could tell that if even a single drop of that mana made it into the Anchorheart it would wreak havoc. Much like his spear, the Anchorheart was bound to him and thus as strong as he was, it could handle his now sixth sphere, ascendant mana. But the divine mana, which was a minimum of ninth sphere, it would be like putting a drop of nitroglycerin into a car engine.

  A big bang, bits of engine flying away, and then death.

  But finally the flow of divine mana tapered off, slowing and eventually stopping. Orlan waited to see if more would fall from the infinite sky of this odd realm, only to find himself being pulled out of it. He was once more standing atop the Anchorheart in the real world, the clouds of mana above him were dispersing.

  His body was a mess, by entering that odd spirit world his body had been left open to the divine mana and he was now covered in burns. But, oddly, parts of his body had been tempered by the divine mana, not unlike how he tempered himself before advancing.

  Exhausted beyond reason his foot slipped on the sloped stone of the Anchorheart and he fell to the ground. Moments before he hit, ethereal vines formed beneath him, cushioning his fall as Lailra rushed in, shouting something. But Orlan was unconscious.