Cultivating Talents [LitRPG Mana-cultivation]

Acella strolled down the hallway, her steps light yet hurried. Students rushing past her parted like the sea as soon as they got close. Their faces beamed with adoration, overtaking the panic that had settled on them moments before.

By the lake, at least some of these fools have some sense about them.

After a few minutes, Silkmon and the head instructor came into view at the end of the hall.

"Mistress Acella, what is your wish and how may I be of service?" the instructor said, his back straightening as she stepped closer. His long white hair draped down his back as he swayed from foot to foot. The man wore finely pressed red robes. He'd probably thrown them on just minutes before.

"Get as many students as you feel will be able to handle a small crowd of mortals. I want them guarding all four directions of the dojo," Acella said, eyeing the man closely. His face didn't even twitch at hearing her command.

Her gaze shifted to the passing students as they rushed by. Would they even be able to form a cohesive defence? Her presence could do only so much. If they buckled under the pressure, someone would get hurt.

"Also, bring me Dale. He should be able to lead a squad and help any of the mortals who are being troubled by this chaos," Acella said. "If we can use this to build some favour, we could see ourselves benefiting from this mess."

Dale's fellow students respected him. He should be able to correct some of them and get them acting properly again. She smiled. From outside, the sounds of panic and chaos on the streets of the slum drifted in.

"As you command, mistress," Instructor Opel said sternly. He yanked on the collar of a passing student—who yelped with fright—pulling the boy along with him as he made his way towards the dojo entrance. He grabbed a few others along the way.

"Are you sure we should seek to benefit from such chaos, mistress?" Silkmon asked, watching the instructor's retreating figure. Her hand hovered over her sword hilt, fingers twitching.

"Better to benefit than to suffer. I can only hope that this is not a city-ending threat, or nothing we can do will matter," she said with a heavy breath, her gaze drifting between the students who still ran around like headless chickens.

—- —- —- —-

A wave of mana slammed into Diabolite, wrenching him from his soulscape. The pressure bore down on his body, almost pushing against his skin. His eyes snapped open, his gaze focusing on a distant spot on the roof of his meditation hall. Blocked by the wood, the power still came through in growing pulses of strength.

By the Great Lake, what is happening in the city? Are we under attack? No, that shouldn't be the case; no one would dare.

Outside his meditation hall, footsteps beat down the marble corridor, hurried yet slightly composed. It was Malfus. He could panic at, though when needed, he was a steadfast man. If this had energised even him, something had to be going wrong.

"My lord, my lord! I have news. The city is in a state of chaos!" Malfus cried, barging through the hall door and sprinting down the red silk carpet that lined the centre of the room.

Strange. The mana thrumming from Diabolite's core fluctuated as the pressure from this unknown source grew. Narrowing his eyes at his long-time servant, Diabolite's gaze flickered to the still-open door. "Speak, Malfus, what is the problem?" he demanded.

His servant came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his meditation pillow and dropped to a knee. His red hair flickered about, sweat dripping from his brow. When was the last time Malfus had been so stressed? Perhaps when Drogen had gone to raid the goblin nest after the death of his sub-captain, Hilda? But even then, Malfus had had some composure.

Fifty years would surely have made Malfus grow firmer.

"Above the sacred lake, my lord." He looked up, meeting Diabolite's eyes. "A huge sphere has appeared, and it's growing. The mana fluctuations the sphere is giving off are quite concerning," Malfus said, his eyes frantically moving about the room. "From what I've gathered, Core Formation cultivators around the mansion have been knocked from their meditation."

A thin orbit of fire motes swirled around Malfus, dancing around each other as they zipped by before sinking back into his skin and clothing. Their intensity grew with each second.

Another wave slammed into Diabolite as the pressure bore down on him. "And you said this disturbance is coming from the centre of the city?" Diabolite asked, pulsing his mana core, forcing his Orbit Domain to expand and cover half the meditation hall.

A relieved sigh escaped Malfus's mouth as he nodded. "Yes, my lord." Malfus shivered, glancing back at the meditation room door. His once-hurried breath settled down as he rested a hand on his chest.

The pressure appeared not to affect Malfus in the same way, though it still caused the man some discomfort. But how was that useful? Surely, if it were an attack, it would give a cultivator far too much time.

In the distant halls, the sounds of servants bustling around pricked at his ears. The steps and whispers of his family members were among them.

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"Where is my brother? Has the Phoenix company made its move yet?" Diabolite asked, raising his voice a little. Resting his hands on his silk meditation pillow, he pushed off, coming to his feet in a smooth motion.

He pulsed his core again, pushing back the pressure. Knowing his brother, he'd be cordoning off the area and working with the smaller mercenary groups to get a handle on things.

"Commander Drogen returned yesterday from Twodan." Malfus's knees buckled a little under Diabolite's gaze, his eyes tightening. "He had taken to recuperating in his cultivation chambers, but given where he normally is, he is no doubt being forced from his activities. Shall I summon him?"

He hadn't left yet? Then it would be best if he handled things here. The elders needed to be kept in check. Diabolite reached within his core, pulsing a wave of mana. It bubbled past his skin, ejecting in small waves as the motes bled into the air.

Fire motes gathered around him as he drew in his orbit. Using the denser concentration of power, Diabolite's feet lifted off the ground, his body rising into the air. His focus shifted to the growing power just past the roof. "Curious indeed. Tell Drogen to watch over the estate; I shall investigate this matter myself. If the city is under attack, I should lead the charge."

Shrouded in fire, Diabolite willed himself forward. He blew past Malfus in a gust of wind, blitzing through the manor's halls.

In moments, Diabolite was shooting through the air, heading to the centre of the city. Heading to the sacred lake.

Above the lake, an enormous sphere of mana gathered, growing even now as he got closer. His core thrummed again, pushing back the pressure. The level of mana the sphere wielded seemed almost unnatural. This wasn't the power of a Mana Ignition cultivator. His core hummed with strain, a sneer coming to his lips as he took in the size of the growing sphere.

As he drew closer, the mana sphere was practically the size of a small mountain looming above the city. A few feet to his side, Delia stood. Her green hair flowed behind her like a waterfall as her emerald green robes flapped subtly. Ever curious, Delia stood on her cloud of green mana motes; the concern that should be there when facing such an unknown was absent.

Delia's green eyes shifted to him as her green motes of mana swirled densely around her, most of them moving to her feet, filling the light cloud. She gave him a tight smile.

"This is perplexing; never in all my two hundred years have I seen anything like it." Delia stroked a hand through her green hair, her gaze wandering over the sphere. "This power goes far beyond the Mana Ignition realm. Could it be the sect's doing?" She crossed her arms, mana motes buzzing as she hovered to the side, slowly circling the sphere.

Diabolite's core pulsed further. Fire motes gathered in thin lines, lashing this way and that, keeping him afloat. It was mana-intensive, and he wouldn't have long, but projecting this much power was necessary.

"I would hardly claim to know anything about the sect's goings-on," Diabolite said. "But this is not like them. If they had something this powerful, wouldn't it be deep within the sect stronghold?" He condensed part of his orbit domain into a thin line and inched it towards the sphere, attempting to probe it.

A square of ice shot in from the distance; the man standing casually atop it held his hands behind his back with a gentle ease. Wearing blue robes, with his silvery blonde hair whipping in the wind behind him, he gazed at the growing sphere with some curiosity. The Frostkeep ass had arrived.

The blue-robed man hovered down, his chin held high, arms crossed, judgment swimming through his pompous and almost uninterested gaze. "I would suggest against that," Blaine sneered. "With the fluctuations coming from it, any perceived slight could be taken as an offensive action and lead to retaliation against you."

As usual, the ass thought he knew better; the man was a joke. Diabolite clenched his fists, mana motes gathering as flames sparked across his knuckles. He spared Blaine a glance. "Oh, go stuff your hole, you frosty bastard. The day I take advice from you is the day the Flamelights leave this city," he said with a scoff.

I'm the only one who even has the guts to push into the unknown. If I don't, you two will simply wait for the city to be crushed under the weight of an unknown force.

His line of domain continued to inch closer, fire motes bouncing around within its boundaries. As he closed in on the sphere, the air sparked, static dancing between his domain and the sphere's churning surface. A light force of resistance. He pushed on.

But in an instant, a crack split the air, and a bolt of lightning arced off the sphere. It shot towards Diabolite, forcing him to pull back his domain. Though it wasn't enough, the crackling energy slammed into him, and his domain shattered. Wind rushed past, and an instant later, stone exploded around him as his body slumped.

Diabolite pulled on his core, mana surging through his body and seeping through his flesh. He used the back of his hand to wipe the blood leaking from the side of his mouth. It crackled and hissed, evaporating an instant later as his Orbit Domain re-expanded.

"That went well," the frosty ass said, his feet padding down onto the street as he landed on the pristine but cracked tiled stone. "Was the pain worth it?" Blaine asked with a dead stare. The fool no doubt laughed within himself. He needed to be taught a lesson.

Delia landed delicately onto the shattered stone tile a few paces away, her boots crunching on rubble as her green cloud of mana motes dissipated and swirled back into her orbit.

"Could you sense anything within its mana fluctuations?" Delia questioned, shifting a few paces from Blaine, her Orbit Domain growing slightly, green motes buzzing.

Several dozen mortals and their servants ran around in panic, some screaming. One woman clutched the body of a dead child. A large piece of rubble, a few meters from her, had blown off the boy's lower section. The child's blood and flesh clung to it.

Diabolite scoffed, spitting onto the stone at his side, his saliva hissing as it burned against it. Mortals were far too weak. "You were right about one thing, Delia. The power within that ball is far stronger than that of the Mana Ignition realm. I'd dare say that it goes beyond that," he said. Fire motes flocked to the dirt on his body, burning it away until layers of steam and ash fluttered off.

"A bold claim for someone who hasn't even gotten a whiff of the upper realms," Blaine chided. His cold gaze shifted back to the enormous sphere looming in the sky.

Movement caught their attention. A door—not there moments before—shimmered with a strange blue light, the runic symbols on its surface pulsing and a counter ticking down above it. The door radiated power, static arcing off it and zapping the surrounding stone.

What were they seeing right now? The door had the same mana fluctuations as the sphere. If the city wasn't under attack, then what was going on?

Delia took a step towards it, but as she closed in, the door shifted, appearing again further down the street. "The doors are more than likely related to the mana sphere," she said, glancing back at them. "But the question is how, and what will that mean when the timer above it reaches zero?"