Azyen Vayne


    The soul and fate of a mancer are tied to the Flux Shard they bond with. For a mancer, this bond is both a sacred blessing and a relentless curse.


    When that bond is severed—when the Flux Mark etched into our very flesh dies—we usually perish with it.


    But I was spared that fate. Not by fortune, not by design, but by the cruel hand of circumstance. The synchronicity with my shard was low, a weakness I once cursed, but in that moment, it became my sole lifeline.


    My life wasn’t taken—but it was hollowed out. I hadn’t lost everything. No. What remained was far worse: a shattered existence, stripped of meaning.


    Flux Shards are more than tools of power. They are semi-sentient entities, born from the living veins of the planet’s flux—a force older than time itself. Binding with a shard isn’t merely an agreement; it’s a symbiotic gamble, a merging of soul and will. The shard grows with you, feeds from you, adapts like an alien parasite or a living AI beyond comprehension.


    Like many mancers, I had tethered my shard to my emotions, using them to power my abilities. But when they extracted my shard from me, they didn’t just steal my power. They stole a part of me.


    Losing the connection severed something deeper than flesh—shattered the very core of my being. My heart felt torn asunder, my senses dulled, and my world plunged into an abyss so dark it devoured the light of hope itself.


    That was when I discovered the truth no lesson could teach: the greatest agony isn’t found in broken bones or spilled blood, nor in the ruin of the body. No, true torment is felt in the tearing of the soul. Whatever pain they inflicted upon my flesh was nothing compared to the excruciating void left behind by the absence of my shard.


    I saw it with my own eyes after the extraction—my shard, pulsing faintly within the cold, unfeeling device my teacher held aloft. I screamed, begged, and raged against the injustice. But they stood unmoved, deaf to my suffering.


    They abandoned me in the wilderness, my body a ruin of shattered bones and torn sinew, bleeding out onto the cold, uncaring earth. The damage was unspeakable, the kind that no potion could undo. Even if I somehow clung to life, I would be a shadow of what I was—less than ordinary, a husk unworthy of the name “mancer.”


    The dream I once held so fiercely—to rise, to become a force of change, to master the Flux—died in that forest. The hope of ever reclaiming my place among the mancers? Gone, lost to a future as impossible as pulling the stars from the sky.


    They fled when the fog came, not even granting me the mercy of an ending. My so-called mentors turned their backs and fled, leaving me to face the unspeakable terrors alone. Not even a flick of their wrists to spare me the torment of what was to come. For them, I was already dead.


    They left me to rot—a forgotten failure, cast into the maw of despair. But they should have killed me. Because I am still here. And what remains of me burns with a hunger they will never understand.


    . . .


    I rested on my sword, crouching lazily in wait. Darvus, the chief''s grandson, stood within the circle, watching me. We exchanged cold smiles, letting the audience sense our simmering animosity.


    Above us, the ancient ribs of a long-dead beast arched over the village, covered in moss and creeping vines that required burning frequently. These massive bones cast striped shadows, one falling directly over the circle, shading us from the fierce sunlight—perfect for what was about to unfold.


    The common villagers gathered at the circle’s edge, forming an outer ring, each face expectant as they awaited the chief’s arrival. Today was my chance to prove myself in battle, and, hopefully, to win respect for my master in the eyes of the villagers.


    I felt ready, though not at my peak. The blue robe I was wearing was uncomfortable and stiff. Yet under it, my Flux Mark pulsed with vigor.


    I was used to the streamlined, custom uniform from the academy—this borrowed garment restricted my movements. But I couldn’t complain; without any coins of my own, I was fortunate to wear anything at all.


    Shut up, Azy, and focus, I told myself.


    ''Shut up? Why? Is there a need?''


    ''Paula, the eggs are not cooked properly.''


    ''Should we tell them? I am pregnant.''


    SILENCE! I howled within my mind, startling the spirits and suppressing the noise. My control over them remained tenuous at best. From time to time, they clawed their way back into my consciousness, wreaking havoc.


    While awake, I could muster the strength to subdue those damned fragments of spirit. But when they emerged in my sleep, I would awaken to utter chaos, their voices blending with my own until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.


    One day, I will send you all back to purgatory. Vermin of existence.


    Pulling my mind back to the moment, I raised a hand, gesturing to the villagers. “Step back, all of you. If anyone gets hurt—or worse—it’s not my problem.”


    It was unlikely that anyone would get injured, thanks to the runic circle’s protective barrier. Still, I needed their full attention; otherwise, my boredom might drain my enthusiasm before the fight even started.


    And if, by chance, the barrier failed? Well, that was their problem. If Darvus had the power to force me to get serious, a single energy blade could send many unfortunate souls to the afterlife.


    But from what I knew, Darvus was a 1st Sky geomancer, one rank below me, though he was older. He’d accepted this duel, assuming we were evenly matched. Perhaps we were—two years ago.


    I''d hidden myself well. Though, same could not be said about the grin curving my lips.


    “Warning those beyond the circle of your power? Bold words for someone your age,” Darvus remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. “Trying to impress the girls, are we?”


    "I see none to-" I started to reply, but a brash voice interrupted.


    “Can you even project your flux, kid? See of your fight, no need to worry about reaching us.”


    "Yeah, that''s right. Don''t get distracted by us."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    I gazed in the direction of the two.


    The first to open his mouth was a man in his early twenties—a local “genius,” they called him, one of the few mancers who had reached the 2nd Sky. Quite the achievement, I’d admit, as many mancers never manage to improve their synchronicity with the shard. Yet I wasn’t convinced he’d reached it on pure skill rather than external help.


    207? That''s your karmic score? I asked myself after witnessing the golden numbers hovering above his head. You can''t be a good man.


    “Why don’t you step forward and test it?” I asked. “Maybe you’ll be a bigger challenge than little Darvus here. Or you could both take me on—I couldn’t care less. I’d still find time to rest on your broken backs along the way.”


    If your karmic score was in the negative, I would''ve picked you as a target to kill.


    “Hah! Did you all hear that?” the man laughed, turning to the crowd. “This brat wants to challenge me!”


    “Not my fault it took you thirty years to reach 2nd Sky. Your life’s greatest achievement that makes you so arrogant,” I replied coolly, “I’ve already reached it. In half your time, smug, old man.”


    “I’m not even close to thirty, boy! Need glasses?”


    “Oh, that’s what insulted you?” I replied, smirking. “Not the fact that it took your lazy ass twice as long to get to the 2nd Sky?”


    Darvus, not wanting to be left out, shot me a glare. “Why are you provoking him? Are you mad?”


    “Just be quiet, weakling. The 2nd Skies are talking now,” I said, dismissing him with a wave. “Well, old man? Shall we get started?”


    Rising slowly to my feet, I stretched, making a show of my disinterest. “I don''t care for the chief''s presence. Shall we start?” Unsheathing my sword, I turned to the crowd, gesturing with a flourish to draw their eyes. "Eh, everyone?"


    I wanted their attention, every bit of it. Their focus, their excitement, I fed on it; I drew strength from it.


    ** "What''s with Azy today?" Marvin asked, surprised at Azyen''s unusual behavior. He and Girath stood on a nearby rooftop, keeping a safe distance along with the other mancers spectators.


    "He wants revenge, though I advised him against it," Girath replied, narrowing his eyes as he focused on his pupil. **


    With so many eyes on me, their attention focused like the heat of a blazing sun, I felt an intoxicating surge of energy, a thrill that coursed through my veins and electrified every fiber of my being.


    I craved this feeling—this raw, unrelenting power that surged within, filling me with strength so potent it threatened to consume my reason. It burned bright and wild, a storm that could either elevate me to unimaginable heights or hurl me into the abyss.


    My emotions, fractured and dulled, could no longer serve as the source of power for my shard. So I asked myself: if not emotions, then what? What could possibly fuel my abilities?


    Many mancers bind their shards to the mind chakra, drawing on conviction and order to fuel their powers. But I could not bear the thought of wearing my mark so openly, displayed on my forehead like some badge for all to see.


    Others choose the neck or stomach chakras—centers of communication or willpower—but neither burned brightly enough within me to fuel what I required.


    So I chose the unthinkable. The second chakra.


    The center of creation. The wellspring of raw, untapped potency. A place most mancers feared to tread.


    This chakra, brimming with primal energy, is chaos itself—a force that terrifies even the bravest of souls. It is the seat of desire, creativity, and life’s most volatile forces, where passion and power collide in a whirlwind that defies control.


    I embraced the risk. To channel such power was to stand on the edge of oblivion, but I had no fear. I knew It might lead me astray, act as a burden for my mind and test my control, but I had no better option.


    For power such as this demands a price, and I was willing to pay it.


    "Do you really want to face me? Won''t Girath interfere?" The stupid man’s voice pulled me out of my reverie. He cast a glance toward my master.


    "First, state your name if you''re going to talk to me," I replied. "You seem to know who my master is, but beyond you being a 2nd Sky, I don''t know shit about you. And second, if my master thought he needed to intervene, I wouldn’t be standing here right now."


    "Are you drunk?" Darvus interjected with an annoyed huff. "Ready for another few months in bed? Now I understand why you''ve got beaten to a pulp. But to think you have not learned your lesson even after that..."


    I felt my emotions hiding in the corner of my heart as I opened my eyes wide in preparation to attack. "You dare open your mouth when you know nothing about me? DO YOU WANT TO BECOME MUTE?"


    [ Warning: Flux Corruption rising to 12%. Unstable state detected. ]


    The notification from my shard echoed in my mind, stopping me from lunging at Darvus.


    "Don’t throw away your future over some reckless stunt, kid." A man in a green robe on the rooftop called down to me.


    His call awakened me from the trance like state I entered. I blinked repeatedly to clear my vision. I was about to kill Darvus. Realization dawned upon me. I still carry that trauma.


    "Thalon, why waste your breath?" someone in the crowd scoffed. "He’s of age. Let him make his own choices. If he wants to fight Plaedus, just enjoy the show."


    At fifteen, one wasn’t considered a child anymore; we were old enough to work, drink, fight, and make our own decisions. In these lands, experience taught best, even if it was sometimes fatal. Many married young, hoping to savor life before it took its toll.


    “I was supposed to follow the same path,” I muttered under my breath, frustrated.


    Turning to the man in green, I bowed respectfully. “Thank you for the advice, sir.” I appreciated anyone who cared enough to offer it. “But despite appearances, I’m not arrogant. Fighting a 2nd Sky is within my abilities. No one below the 3rd Sky here can defeat me easily. Perhaps with runic cards, but with their raw strength? Not one.”


    My words stirred the crowd; the noise of both praise and insult was music to me. It didn’t matter what they thought, only that their attention was fixed on me.


    So buzzing with excitement. I feel like hugging myself.


    Blood rushed through my veins, pulsing in sync with my mark as Plaedus stepped forward to accept my challenge. No turning back now. I’d either fight or channel my passion in… other ways.


    ''You''re still a virgin,'' Eno''s voice whispered in my mind, taunting.


    Shut it, I thought. I’d choose love over fighting if the choice was here. But that wasn’t an option now.


    "My name is Plaedus, son of Morfis the guard. Present yourself and let’s see if you’re a real 2nd Sky or just talk."


    "I am Azyen, son of Girath the Hound," I replied, dropping into a stance. "Come at me, old man."


    Plaedus growled, pounding his spear against the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust. “Block this!” he shouted, swinging his spear as Darvus was forced out of the circle.


    Dust whirled around Plaedus, twisting into brown blades that traced every arc of his spear’s movements.


    That’s how a 2nd Sky mancer should fight—fusing his element into each attack, honing his skills to deadly precision.


    "You''re far beyond anything Darvus could offer," I praised. My sword, simple but infused with my flux, glowed with a fierce purple light as I slashed through the air, releasing a sharp, thin blade of energy. One after another, these violet arcs shot toward Plaedus’ feet, disrupting his footing.


    I don’t need to counter your technique head-on. Throwing off your rhythm is enough.


    Plaedus cast a murderous glare my way, but he was forced to shift his stance.


    Now, you''ll either launch your attack without completing your technique, or divide your focus—dodging my strikes while waving that dust. Let’s see what would you choose.


    Plaedus dodged a few of my blades before deflecting one with the hilt of his spear, then sent his accumulated dust blades hurtling toward me.


    "Predictable."


    There was no way an incomplete technique like his would break through my defenses, not with my training, and certainly not with my Astral Triad passive engaged.


    A natural fit for my animancy, Astral Triad I divided my spirit into three parts. One remained within my body, while the other two split off as spiritual forms, trailing my movements like spectral afterimages. When I swung my sword, two phantom hands swung after me.


    Dust clouded the air, hanging thick after each strike I shattered.


    Plaedus thrust his hand forward, directing a fresh wave of dust into my face.


    "I don’t need to see you."


    I sensed him closing the distance in an instant. What I could also sense was the sharp line of his spear-tip aiming straight for my side.


    I blocked it.


    The ring of metal clashing against metal echoed, silencing the crowd. Not only was I deflecting Plaedus’ spear—but I was doing it with my eyes closed.


    I didn’t need to see him with my physical eyes. In the darkness behind my eyelids, my Ethereal Vision I took over, revealing his bluish, spiritual form on a black background. I could clearly see the moves of his weapon.


    "Is this all you’ve got?" I asked, readying a counter as soon as he left an opening.


    Plaedus only smirked. In an instant, his spear flared in a fierce, fiery red.


    Damn! I’d fallen into his trap.