*BOOM!*
An explosion resounded far behind, echoing through the halls. With a quick sigh, Umbra sunk deep into the shadows and disappeared entirely, her figure gone in a matter of seconds.
Picking up his feet and pushing onward, Lieren made a mad dash for the deepest halls of the labyrinthine halls of Mad Hatter's base. His eyes were alit with Manavision, wide open and searching for any noticeable vestiges of mana around.
Surely, a door made to seal a room full of important and expensive valuables would have the strongest available security implemented on it.
'…Probably,' Lieren inwardly chided.
*Taptaptaptaptap*
…As dozens of doors; wood, steel, or otherwise passed by his figure, stampeding footsteps echoed over yonder, his Enhanced picking up on the fading echoes.
Just like that, not even a dozen seconds later, Umbra's barrier had been utterly decimated. It was no surprise, really. Twenty Adorned with their own list of spells were more than a match for one young mage's erected barrier all by her lonesome.
Gritting his teeth, his face and back wet from perspiration, Lieren continued his mad dash while barely staying ahead of the large group of Adorned heading his way, hunting and prowling him like a small prey in the jungle.
His lungs aflame with the distant and unfamiliar feeling of near exhaustion, Lieren pushed the thoughts away and closed his eyes to blink. When he opened them, his eyes seemingly grew brighter as he Enhanced Manavision even further, barely raising its efficacy.
Then, he glance back for the smallest fraction of a second as he rounded a particular corner, eyes wide open and filled with primal animosity, like a prey being hunted, running for its life, but still pushing forward.
Invisible Abjuration.
Distorted, illusory arrows streaked through space at an amazing speed from his line of vision, successfully hitting a Rogue—the supposed class of people with exceptional agility. With an unnatural sound, the arrow expanded rapidly, tearing through the Rogue's left shoulder, as it had been hit by a miniature cannonball or a one of those so-called "flintlock pistols" he has read so much about in the north quite a bit. He didn't quite know what they were, but interest had been piqued.
'…Stop thinking unnecessary thoughts!' Berating, Lieren reminded his wandering self to focus on the more dire matter: staying alive.
Bouncing back to his feet, he ignored the hurling curses and profanities being thrown at him from behind by the injured Rogue and cast his gaze on a particularly magical door at the end of hall with intricate and sinister engravings etched into its frame.
So far, based on his base-level investigations, that magic-imbued door is the most likely vault that he was looking for. Whatever magical artifacts, items, or equipment would surely be kept there.
He thought so, at least. Failure is always a possibility, one he rather not meet. Using his barely-above speed and agility against the almost two dozen Adorned right behind his tail, Lieren made a mad dash for the vault door, coating his brilliant dagger's edge with Enhancement, sharpening it even further.
Because of his wild mana's innate effect of being unruly and indomitable, the coating—an application of external mana control—was much harder, required more concentration, cost more, and was a great loss in terms of efficiency. Nevertheless, imbuing the blade from within clearly didn't cut it.
So instead, Lieren desired to cut the door and its intricate and sinister engravings apart. Raising his dagger as he neared, Lieren suddenly felt his body grow exponentially heavy, alike his battle with Scorpio—where a sudden heavenly weight befell them like some kind of divine punishment. Though, this one seemed to be of a much, much less significant in terms of power.
Still, it was enough to slow him down.
But not enough to stop him. Drawing a crude line in the air with his dagger, Lieren ran his blade down the cold metal and sliced the door apart… or so he thought.
'If only it was that easy.'
Clang! His dagger skidded off the enchanted metal, his pitiable strength and weapon unable to pierce, cut, nor damage the steel door. Gritting his teeth, Lieren felt his back grow hot as a blade, like the one he uses, ripped through his skin.
Despite his desperation, his mind was still barely unclouded. He just managed to Fortify his skin in time to fend off some of the damage.
But nowhere near enough. His body, mind, and soul had been battered from the torture Mad Hatter had put him through Brad, the taciturn and merciless torture master. Shaking the obfuscating fog clouding his vision, he Enhanced his body more than usual, feeling his muscles groan and whine under the unnatural magical strain he put it through.
Despite everything, Lieren was still a ten-year-old child. His body had not properly acclimated to his magic's strength. Such a herculean task would require years of physical training, maybe more.
…But now wasn't the time for such thoughts.
Spinning on his heel, he swiped his blade across the man's extended arm, Enhancing his body at the very last second… Only to miss, stunned in bafflement of his opponent's agility.
These people were of a much greater breed than him in that their experience put them well an above his currently diminished state.
"…!!" A cold shiver ran down his spine. Using Manavision to look past the crowd of almost two dozen people, he saw a familiar sight at the very back of the group of goons.
A small lantern hang on a guard's hand, bright balls of light illuminating from within. Beside the guard holding a lantern was another guard with a bow and glowing arrows.
'They caught up! Oh no!' Lieren gaped, barely dodging an incoming blow from a different goon.
Just then, a sudden realization dawned on him. It was like an epiphany, a manifestation of his intuition, a testament to his talent… whatever that was. It was difficult to describe the feeling. Lieren began accumulating Fortification.
And then, he refocused in front of him, to the half dozen people wielding close-range weapons, all aimed at him. These people, Lieren finally realized, were the frontal assault team. With them in front and constantly swarming him, the casters at the back had no choice but to hold their spells and wait for an opportune moment. Considering Lieren's size, height, and above-average agility and speed, it was hard to find a golden opportunity to cast their spells, which reduced the trouble for the little boy somewhat.
But all things had their limits. There were still six-or-so people trying to kill him. That much was enough to put him near Death's Edge, the ending of all that exists.
Dodging a blow from a metal club with spikes, Lieren used all his wits and intuition and barely managed to redirect his body mid-motion. His bones and muscles ached in response.
And then, ignoring the ongoing battle, a suddenly flash of light lit up the room.
*Shing!*
Lieren's blade glanced off a goon's steel plate armor, bright sparks trailing as steel met steel. Glancing sideways, he noticed a familiar ball of light heading his direction, then split into three smaller versions.
They were about a meter away from him.
*BOOM!**BOOM!**BOOM!*
They all exploded in order, one after another, right where his approximate location was.
"Invisible Abjuration: Libera."
Space distorted as several illusory arrows manifested in Lieren's periphery, reaching forward at random directions.
"…!!" The goons flinched, backing away, then even further when the balls of fire neared.
*Shrieeeeek!*
And then, loud, piercing sound shattered the atmosphere. Lieren glanced back at the enchanted vault door, the one with intricate and sinister engravings etched into its frame.
A small and tired grin crept up the side of his face as he saw the ruined and destroyed door, a hole barely able to fit his size in its frame created by the three explosions.
'Now! I have to go there, now!'
Without another thought, Lieren dashed forward, using his accumulated Fortification to Augment his resilience and endurance to brave through the searing heat permeating from the three explosions.
There was still wisps of fire in the air, and the humidity had risen considerably from the resulting heat. His hands felt like they were on fire as he just barely managed to brave forward with every inch of his life on the line.
Hopefully, his intuition had been right.
Hopefully.
And it had been, for the most part. Just not in the way he was expecting.
Entering the room behind the now ruined door with sinister engravings, Lieren quickly shifted his Manavision to trace residual mana in objects.
As soon the scene reflected in his irises, a sudden bombardment of varying colors of different shapes and sizes assaulted his battered mind, almost frying his brain on the spot. Luckily or unluckily, he just barely managed to keep things together by distracting himself from the mental attack by biting his lip so hard that it drew crimson blood.
Then, amidst the various items, he saw a familiar mix of colors. Then, he instinctually turned off Manavision and found a very, very inconspicuous item: a simple pendant; there was a simple chain, on which hung a simple metal brooch with an unadorned gem in the middle of it. The unadorned gem was bland and lifeless; if it had been alive before, then it surely wouldn't have been now.
"Finally…" Sentimental over his precious proof of participation, Lieren stopped for a second, then remembered his current goal: live and survive the current predicament he found himself in.
Just as he reached for the pendant and hung it over his neck, a sudden thought entered his mind, 'Wasn't I supposed to do something else?'
With all the recent happenings, and the unexpected torture he had been submitted to upon awakening in the turbid lower dungeons, he had forgotten his original mission, the reason he even agreed to enter this place.
'Right, how could I forget? Mysta told me to serve as a sacrificial lamb, find and infiltrate the Hatter's base, gather enough intelligence against him, and as—he suspected—as a sort of beacon for allies to find the base of operations. How could I have forgotten something simple?!' He mocked, then activated the enchantment of the pendant and willed his Resistance to thicken and cling to him more, effectively cutting off his mana regeneration rate exponentially.
However, this way, his vital signs and magical signature would be completely hidden. He inwardly chuckled.
'Heh, one can even call me a Rogue, though I doubt official channels will agree with that. In the eyes of a true Adorned, I'm still just an inexperienced kid, after all.' Completely unlike the almost two dozen Adorned he was currently facing, whose psyche and willpower had mostly been taken over by the Mad Hatter's Accomplice powers.
The goons were mindless, but still powerful. Their wills had been taken over, replaced, and rewired to fit the Hatter's wicked plots, therefore disabling their imagination. This is one of the, if not, the most debilitating thing an up-and-coming mage can submit themselves to. Or, in the case of the goons, be forcefully subjected by a malign person.
After all, imagination was one of the key things Adorned needed in order to create spells.
Feeling a cold shiver run down his entire body, he glanced aside, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he faced the approaching goons and held his dagger's obsidian hilt to make his stand… as well as his escape.
'Round two, I guess…'
Just as Lieren prepared to cut down and then parry two incoming blows, a sudden, almost prophetic sensation overcame him.
"…Huh?" Because of that, he was a moment too late to react to the first blow—a menacing metal club with spikes that looks like it can crush bone and skull.
With a grunt, piercing, blinding pain spread all across his whole torso as the club dislocated his shoulder—Lieren had tilted his head when the odd sensation overcame him, which made the blow miss his prone body, fortunately.
But not even a wonderful stroke of luck was enough to keep him safe. As the bludgeoning blow spread shockwave all across his body, his knees fell to the ground, and his mind gradually felt more and more foggy. Soon, even keeping his eyes open became a chore, then a task, finally turning into an atrocious battle of willpower between him and the power of dreams.
Lieren could not keep himself awake.
Confused and baffled, his body slumped to the ground unceremoniously, his pendant clinking against the ground as he fell forward, thoughts fading; consciousness waning.
By now, his lucidity had all been expended.
And that's when he noticed it.
The other people were being subjected to the same drowsiness, as well. Amidst his sunken stupor, he just barely managed to see goons falling to the ground with a loud thud, losing lucidity much at a much faster route then he was.
Lieren gaped, feeling his eyes droop from drowsiness. Before he fully could, however, a different figure walked in—different from his, the goons', Brad the torturer, or the Mad Hatter.
It was somebody different, wearing a flowing robe and a pointed hat. Clouds of fog surrounded that figure, yet still, a symbol he recognized
On the man's robe was the symbol of the Council of Manas: a book with a wand crossed together.