Mad indeed, Alnea thought to himself, as he noticed the fanatic look in the Fire Servant’s eyes. And the way he kept killing his own followers, pushing the rest of them to the edge of despair. He did not even let anyone rush ahead, forcing them to just stay in place, and keep on casting their Glyphs and Arcanas. In vain. Though, in a sense, his tricks did get their desired effect, forcing Alnea to deliberately slow down his steps, and observe from a distance. If stopping him was what the lunatic was aiming for, that is.

  Maybe the Whitebud Wanderer had some other plans in mind. Still, he should know that just some Glyphs and Arcanas could never hurt him. Even if he did not slash through them, they would still never be able to reach him. Unless they could fool the Glyph Arrays inscribed in his robe, just like the weapons in the hands of his followers. But those were not ordinary weapons. They were weapons inscribed with the Glyphs of Decay. That too, of an extraordinary origin.

  To deceive the Glyph Arrays, even if only for a moment, that his master herself had woven, the Glyphs inscribed on their weapons were not the kind that just any clan could get their hands on. It had to be the kind closely guarded by the clans specialising in the lineage of Decay. And clearly, neither the Lotus clan, nor any of its allies matched that description. Though neither did most of the other clans in the Tes Domain.

  As descendants of the Wanderers chosen by the Gods from Cretes’ pantheon, it was not a surprise that most of the Wanderers of the Tes Domain preferred the lineage of Creation over other lineages. Rather, the ones choosing other lineages were the outliers in their clans. Unless their Roots also belonged to the lineage of Creation. Even then, there were quite a few people, who still chose to become Scholars of Creation. Simply because the Glyphs handed down by their patron Gods belonged to the lineage of Creation.

  Though, over the millions of years since the dawn of Wanderers, each clan had gathered Glyphs from other lineages through either war or negotiations, those were just some of the most superficial Glyphs. The kind that most clans would care about. Like Fire Ball, or Lightning Arrow. Glyphs with strategic effects, like the ones inscribed on the weapons carried by the Wanderers in front of him were not the kind that any clan would allow to leak into circulation among other clans.

  Regardless, none of the clans in the Lotus clan’s alliance should have such Glyphs in their collection. And even if they did, the Wanderers in front of him did not have those Glyphs carved on their Spirits. Neither did they have Arcanas with similar means. Again, an inevitability, brought upon by the bias of their patron Gods, that not even millions of years of independent development could wash away.

  Only the clans like the Enhalls, who never discriminated between lineages to begin with, could have Arcanas with means similar to those that the Weapons of Decay could achieve. And the Wanderers in front of him were surely not from such clans. Unless they bared their weapons, and rushed in at him, they had no hope of breaking through the defences of his robe.

  Yet, the lunatic still directed all his followers to keep launching their attacks from a distance, killing anyone who dared to disobey his orders. Even those who tried to rush towards Alnea. And he did not give them any time to rest or readjust their Hearts. Rather, he seemed to be deliberately inducing confusion and panic in their midst. It was as if he was afraid that they would not make any mistakes. Had the lunatic given up already?

  Alnea took one glance at the Fire servant, before quickly rejecting that thought. The gleam that he saw in the lunatic’s eyes was not something that a man who had given up on himself would have. And he did not think that the person, who had played hundreds of Wanderers with just his words and empty promises, would make such a simple mistake. In the end, he could think of only one reason that would explain the lunatic’s actions. He wanted his followers to fail. But that did not make any sense.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Even if the Fire Servant was trying to lure him into a trap, there were better ways to go about it than killing his own followers. Or wasting their Spirit Power. At the rate those Wanderers were manifesting the Mysteries of the Origin Sea, he did not think they would be able to last longer than a few minutes. And that was if they did not lose themselves to their panic. Or get killed by their leader. As things stood, the Whitebud Wanderer was just washing away his advantages with his own hands.

  On second thought, what was he complaining about? These Wanderers were the same people who were clamouring to torture him a while ago. And if not for their clan’s mission, or the Fire Spirit’s intervention, they might have killed him already. No one should be happier than him to watch them kill each other. Especially since he could also hone his use of the Golden Lightning while he was at it.

  Clearing his Heart, and deciding on his actions, Alnea sped up his steps once again, but instead of rushing towards his enemies, he circled around them, always staying within the reach of their attacks, yet never getting close enough to fall into any traps. The kind that he had fallen in with Zain. He was not so stupid as to fall for the same tricks twice. Though, from the way they were acting, it did not look like they had prepared any traps.

  Still, Alnea chose to keep his distance, and continued practising his control over the Primitive Golden Lightning of Life. And the first thing he tried controlling was the amount of lightning surging out from within his chest. The Golden Lightning gave him unparalleled speed, not an invincible defence. Wrapping it around his entire body was meaningless. And wasteful. There was a reason why the Lightning Stream Style focussed mostly on legs.

  The Golden Lightning, however, refused to listen. No matter how sacred and peaceful it was, in the end, it was still just a type of lightning. The only thing unique about was its shade. And the Concepts and Mysteries it carried. Or represented. It was hard to tell. Though, to Alnea, both were the same. At least for the moment. Regardless of what the lightning was, he had to make it obey. And the only way he could think of was with Resonance.

  There were other methods too. Safer methods, that could be used over a period of time to tame the lightning. Like increasing his affinity with the element. Or diving into the Origin Sea to explore the Mysteries of Lightning. Even actively seeking a lightning storm to get struck by its bolts was not out of the question. But those were all methods that would take time. A lot of time. And time was one thing he did not have.

  So, despite its dangers, Alnea chose to resonate with the lightning anyway. Just not in the way he resonated with his Roots. Instead, he reached out to the lightning and introduced a trace of it into his heart. And his Heart. Both were a necessary part. One held his life, and the other, the key to his life. And only through resonating with Life, could he hope to control the lightning.

  No, not control, Alnea corrected himself, as he immersed himself in the flow of lighting, weaving his way through all sorts of Mysteries manifesting around him, moving like a lightning himself. There was no point in trying to control lightning. Restraining it would only dull its edge. Maybe even destroy it altogether. Only when left unrestrained, would it—

  No, not exactly unrestrained, Alnea corrected himself once again, barely stopping himself from rushing into his enemies. Leaving lightning unrestrained may sharpen its edge, but it would also make it a dual sided blade. One little mistake, and he would end up hurting himself. And even if he did not make any mistakes, a scattered lightning was not going to be of much help. Though the latter part was true for everything in the world.

  When scattered, even the greatest of forces would grow weak, yet, when focussed, even the weakest of forces could accomplish astounding feats. And lightning was anything but weak. It was one of the five Elemental Series of both, the lineage of Creation, and the lineage of Destruction. The things it was capable of was far beyond his imagination. All it needed was just a little guidance, something to direct it on the right path. Like his Aspects. And the will to Protect.