Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

When the Sky Let Go

The gloomwing and I remained frozen in place. I sensed we were locked in some bizarre staring contest, though it had no visible eyes for me to meet. Its tall, sleek figure appeared like a dark gray statue in the fading light. The ruins around us, broken stone and uneven walls, blurred its outline so well that I could scarcely distinguish the creature from the crumbled debris. Only the faint reflection from the pond behind me hinted at its shape, rippling through the quiet darkness.

Water droplets fell intermittently from the cracked ceiling, echoing in the silence. A light drizzle had begun, its soft tapping on the broken roof adding a hushed tension to the air. Despite being taller than me, the gloomwing did not seem massive, more lithe—like a creature of stealth and shadow rather than brute force. If it wanted to attack by surprise, it easily could have. Yet it chose not to.

I could only assume its reason was curiosity. Perhaps it wanted to see how its meal had gotten back up again. It clearly did not regard me as a threat, and for a moment, I was reminded of Markus, how he had been so unfazed when preparing to fight me.

Without my noticing, the gloomwing began fading even further into the environment, its edges blending unnaturally with the gloom.

[Kara]

[Attention, gloomwing is activating its invisibility. Stay in the light to reduce its effectiveness.]

So this was magic, the power to bend reality. If this counted as a "minor" magical ability, I could not begin to imagine what a "major" one might look like. I shook my head, refocusing as I caught a soft noise behind me. Instinctively, I hurled my body into a leap, vaulting from the building's first floor to the second.

I felt bones protest and crack faintly under the strain of such a high jump, but I also felt a strange sense of triumph. Kara had been right about my new capabilities. The moment I landed, a rush of air signaled something barreling toward me—something unseen, certainly the gloomwing. The second floor offered no real shelter; it was wide open to the elements, with half a wall missing and the sky overhead dimming fast.

In desperation, I attempted another jump, aiming for the roof to have what is left of sunlight. This time, my ankle gave a sickening crack, and I barely caught the edge of the shattered ledge with my fingertips. Scrabbling to pull myself up, I heard a whip-like sound from below. At the last second, I managed to roll onto the rooftop, but something sharp speared straight through my leg, lodging itself deep as it exited on the other side. I gasped in pain, the building's stone cracking a heartbeat later as an invisible force slammed against it.

I collapsed onto the rooftop, bleeding. The gloomwing could have ended me right then, but it seemed content to stand on the opposite side of the ruined ceiling gap, partially visible in the weak light. It was unmoving again, a silent statue, watching me struggle to my feet. Blood trickled down my leg. I thought briefly that maybe the creature was an illusion. Yet it was real—terribly so—and once again I felt its cold, unblinking attention fix on me.

The gloomwing blended further into the darkening surroundings as daylight bled away. My arsenal had dwindled to just two daggers. I had improved since my fight against the diremaws, but I doubted it was enough to handle a creature like this.

Sensing my readiness, the gloomwing launched itself at me without warning, great nails extended. I barely twisted aside in time, its nails raking the empty air where I had been. It soared upward, wings beating once, then vanished into shadows. My eyes darted around, straining to see any hint of movement. It dove again from another angle, so swiftly I could only react on instinct. This time, I threw all my weight into a leap, hearing fresh bone cracks in my leg. I evaded its grasp by the narrowest margin, buying a few more precious seconds.

"Any ideas?" I asked Kara silently, my heart pounding.

[Kara]

[Focus on its wings. If you can remove its flight capability, you might have a chance—even though a minor one.]

Easier said than done. Still, it was the only plan I had.

The gloomwing rushed me again. I braced, dagger raised, trying to guess which angle it would come from. At the last possible moment, it switched direction mid-dive, striking with a vicious precision that left me no time to defend. A flurry of nails impaled my torso, tearing through organs in a single, agonizing movement. Then the nails retracted, ripping out of my flesh in an instant.

Pain blotted out everything. My vision pulsed red. But as I reeled, a part of my mind—the library—reacted. I felt the agony vanish, replaced by a numb, cold focus. Blood still poured from my wounds, but some newly rearranged fragment of consciousness refused to let me collapse. The beast, noticing my abrupt shift in demeanor, seemed faintly intrigued. It rose again to the air, disappearing into the twilight.

Minutes passed. I stood with daggers ready, scanning every corner. The gloomwing's invisibility was total; only the distant hush of the rain and my own ragged breathing reached my ears. My mind told me that in a normal fight, fear would be devouring me by now. But I felt no fear. Perhaps the library had replaced that fragment of me with another. I almost believed the gloomwing had left.

Then it struck again, silent as a gust of wind. Its nails punctured me from behind, countless sharp points slicing through muscle and sinew. More blood stained the rooftop, spattering against the cracked tiles. Dizzy and trembling, I realized it was toying with me. It hadn't targeted my vital areas, but left me bleeding from numerous cuts, enough to kill me slowly if I did nothing.

But at that moment, I finally realized my vision would not help me as the night approached. Instead, I closed my eyes and focused on my newly enhanced olfactory sense. Luckily, it took only a few moments for me to catch a clue. My own blood now coated its nails, giving off a faint metallic odor my heightened senses recognized. I could smell its approach even if I could not see it. Strengthening my grip on the dagger, I forced a shallow breath, pretending to give up. I let my shoulders slump, as though all hope had fled.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

At the last possible moment, I caught the reek of blood in the air behind me. Feigning defeat, I whirled at the final second and hurled one dagger. The gloomwing tried to jerk aside in mid-dive, but in doing so, it twisted its body just enough for my dagger to slice into its left wing. There was no roar or scream—no mouth to voice it, but I heard it crash hard near the gap in the ceiling, smashing stone as it fell.

I could no longer see the beast once night settled in. Only the faint gleam of blood, trickling from some unseen shape, assured me it was still there. "Have I actually defeated it?" I wondered, half-dazed with pain. Then suddenly, the gloomwing lunged forward, seizing me in its grasp, and before I could react, we were airborne.

A rush of wind tore at my hair and battered my already-injured body. The creature held me in a vice-like armlock, pinning my arms so I could barely move. We climbed higher and higher until I could not see the city anymore, only the fog. My legs flailed helplessly, searching for a foothold in empty air. Fear spiked in my chest as I realized just how far we had ascended, I could barely make out the ruins, the pond, or anything else except a sea of swirling mist.

Yet I refused to surrender. Struggling against its grip, I twisted and wrenched my shoulders. Finally, I worked one hand free—the one still clutching my dagger. Gasping in the thin air, I managed to jam the blade into what I hoped was the gloomwing's neck.

In that brief moment, its invisibility failed. I glimpsed the beast up close, with dark wings spread wide. My dagger slid out as a gush of blood followed. The creature's wings stopped beating, its limbs loosening around me, though our momentum carried us upward for a few more seconds before gravity's pull took over.

"What now?" I asked Kara silently, feeling my stomach lurch at the sudden pause high in the sky.

[Kara]

[Brace for Impact.]

There was no more time to think. We started to plummet. The gloomwing's grip slackened enough that I slipped free, tumbling away from it in midair. The wind roared in my ears. My velocity increased with each passing second, and I felt sick to my core. Kara had indicated we were up so high that there was no chance of surviving the crash. Every gust of cold air tore at my wounds, and my eyes stung, but I could do nothing to stop it.

Soon, the foggy expanse of Araksiun came into view below. From this altitude, I spied distant silhouettes—towering walls that ringed the city. It was another reminder that Araksiun was not the entire world. If only Elina could see this, I thought. She would have loved the proof that something existed beyond Araksiun.

But my thoughts kept cutting in and out. The beast that hoisted me here was surely dead, though it likely would have dropped me regardless. Now, there was nothing left but the inevitable impact. I braced myself for another agonizing death. Or it would have been agonizing, had a piece of my mind not suppressed pain. All I felt was the cold, jarring awareness of the damage about to occur.

The ground rushed at me, impossibly fast.

I closed my eyes.

An instant later, the long sleep claimed me.

***

The forest appeared first, then the library—my internal mindscape. There, countless fragments of my thoughts reassembled themselves, playing out flashes of the fight with the gloomwing. I recalled each shortcoming: my struggle with air pressure at great heights, my failure to notice the stealthy creature before it chose to reveal itself, and how I ultimately won only because the gloomwing abandoned its best advantage—the stealthy, clever strikes it could have used to end me right away.

It all replayed as if I stood outside my own body, watching from afar. I realized how the beast's anger and curiosity led it to fight me head-on rather than ending me in a silent ambush. Had it maintained its initial strategy, I would have been doomed.

Among these reflections, I saw glimpses of the gloomwing's ability to meld with its surroundings, a form of minor magic so advanced I could scarcely imagine more powerful abilities. Something within my mind tried to replicate that blending technique but failed due my incapability of harnessing mana outside the long sleeps.

It was such a strange sensation. I knew that only mana could allow this peculiar overlap of reality. A separate part of my mind kept offering me glimpses of its decisions, guiding me toward the creation of what it called a "core," a means of harnessing mana outside the long sleeps.

I felt that need settle deeply in my thoughts, so profound that I knew I would never ignore it once I woke again. It had become an imperative, and though I recognized I was forcing myself to accept it, I could not deny its importance. It was past time to form this core and finally harness mana in my waking life. As that resolution took hold in my consciousness, I sensed something resonate with it: mana itself.

For an instant, I felt as though I stood in a vast chamber, where countless versions of me sorted through memories and the fights. But there was another presence in that space—the fog. I felt its warmth, indescribable yet unmistakable, as though it possessed a unique signature that no one could replicate. I resonated with it, and in turn, I sensed my heart changing, as if bracing for a momentous shift. The piece of my mind that orchestrated these changes seemed to nod in agreement, and in that moment I understood exactly what was being done.

This deeper consciousness observed how magical beasts harnessed mana through a single core and deemed their method inherently inefficient. By concentrating all mana in one focal point, they restricted its flow and severely limited its dynamic capabilities under layers of rigid control. Instead of adopting the same approach, this part of me devised an alternative: to circulate mana throughout my body by merging it with blood.

It drew inspiration from hemoglobin—the protein in red blood cells that transports oxygen and imagined a new molecule, "managlobin," designed to bind mana alongside oxygen. In this way, mana would flow through my entire body, empowering every cell and offering constant access to its power. Unlike cores, which constrained mana flow to prevent corruption, this system welcomed mana's inherent state: free-flowing and ever-present. The intent was not merely to harness mana, but to become one with it, not simply to enhance my tissues the way magical beasts did, but to integrate mana into my very being.

To support this transformation, specialized pathways, which the other part of my mind labeled "manalytic channels," began forming within my heart and vascular system. These newly formed routes allowed mana to move swiftly and efficiently in harmony with my body's natural processes. The result was not just an organ that circulated blood, but one that sustained physical vitality and magical energy together in seamless synergy.

And so, with this conviction burning into my very core, the long sleep continued. My mind retreated into that deep slumber, fully occupied with orchestrating the next phase of my evolution. It felt as though I had stepped off the edge of a cliff, embracing the unknown.