The Harvester

“| Attention, everyone! Emergency quarantine inbound! |” 

 

When the supernova and lightning met courses, every single refracting glass of the Arena shut down and showed no more than a blanket of obscurity. Sensing danger, the spatial layer had been temporarily disjointed from the building and buried deep beneath several strata of security.

 

The spectators outside the Arena were facing a black screen on their devices but the ones inside held their breath as their seats shook like an earthquake was going on. Then, much to their terror, splinters cracked open in the glass, with a very worrying noise accompanying it.

 

Elora, who was among the regular spectators, sank in her seat as she tightly hugged a surprisingly cute plushie of Rakna; something that some businesses had started selling, as well as portrayals of the ‘Exalted Nine-Tailed Wolf, Obsidian’.

 

“Your Majesty…” The elven girl, turned Pavilion Master, muttered worriedly.

 

In the VIP rooms, Rakna’s group was mostly the same, but none of them were truly in a panic. They knew he wouldn’t do something as stupid as throwing his life away in this battle. Especially to one of his own attacks.

 

However, when the image returned to the glass wall with a temporary visual static, they couldn’t help but gasp in shock nevertheless.

 

* * *

 

The spatial layer had been devastated beyond words. There was no denying it. Yet, it did not exactly fit the description of ‘destroyed’ either. The sky, now freed of clouds, neither held a sun, stars, or even a moon. It was a whirlpool of darkness caught in spatial anomalies.

 

As for the canyon itself… not even a single speck of dirt, stone, or grass remained. But it wasn’t as if they were gone. No, they had been turned into something completely different.

 

For miles, farther than the eye could see, every single bump of the landscape, every single blade of grass, and particle of soil had transformed into an immortalized piece of scarlet crystal. It was like a valley of rubies, stunningly beautiful, yet dark and ominous from a lack of light source.

 

Only the remnants of some energy that had seeped into the crystals seemed to provide some sort of lighting instead of the now erased firmament and thus gave the atmosphere a reddish hue.

 

It was silent for a long while until a patch of crystal cracked and exploded upward. From inside, a hand emerged and pulled the rest of its body up. With a groan, Rakna stepped out of the hole, his clothes haggard, though already on their way to repair themselves. The crystals he had broken in his wake disintegrated slowly, crimson embers briefly flickering before dissipating.

 

“…” With a quiet gaze, he took in his surroundings. His wings had already retracted inside his body to heal since they had taken a substantial amount of damage. Thankfully, it was nothing grave and he was essentially left with no injury, not even counting his regeneration.

 

“…my eardrums were busted though,” the therian grumbled. The spectators who heard him nearly face-faulted at the underwhelming remark. With a huff, he stood back up and lifted Sonata, which he hadn’t let go of for even a second. It had come out unscathed too.

 

Following him, a rumble of thunder echoed and lightning burst out from underground a kilometer or so away. It blew away a chunk of crystal and a figure rose from within.

 

“…looking good, old man,” Rakna uttered blankly and a chuckle was heard.

 

It didn’t sound old though. Not at all. The one who came out of the crystal was a tall man with black hair combed ever so slightly backward but with a few strands wild enough to fall forward. He had pale skin and sharp silver eyes with slitted pupils. He had handsome features and sported a grin that was as equally charismatic as it was punch-worthy.

 

On his back, a majestic pair of black and silver wings were deployed. At first glance, they appeared to be draconic in nature with their skeletal structure. Yet, they had feathers layering the nets, as if an angel fallen from grace.

 

Similarly, shimmering dark scales could be seen creeping up the man’s collar as well as covering his arms and turning his hands into claws, almost like flexible gauntlets.

 

“Alright,” the man cracked his neck and twirled his wrist a bit. “I’m closer to my prime now,” he said with a pleased huff and crossed his arms. “Now kid, second lesson,” he declared and Rakna rolled his eyes.

 

“That spell was nice. Honestly, it’s good to the point I don’t understand some of it myself. I have no idea how you turned the terrain into this,” the Demon waved at the view. “It’s as if… yes; as if you first destroyed everything, but then absorbed the remnants and converted them into a new matter which you used to replace what was lost...”

 

Arimane paused and squinted his eyes. “Actually, scratch that. You didn’t absorb shit. You skipped straight to the ‘conversion’ part, didn’t you? Let me guess… transmutation?” He theorized. 

 

“I guess that works… crystallized destruction. As a figure of speech; you killed this canyon and the crystal that’s left is its carcass. No wonder some of my wounds felt clogged up; you transmuted my flesh after damaging it, stopping it from healing. Well, you can get rid of it easily by shattering it yourself and letting it heal. Rewinding my body’s age crushed it in that manner.”

 

Rakna groaned frustratingly.

 

“{He got it in one…}” Fray spoke up in amusement.

 

“Well, whatever,” the God rolled his shoulders, getting rid of some additional discomforts brought about by his rejuvenation. “Point in case, that was dumb. You didn’t need to get hit by it as well. If this is the first time you use this spell, however, I can give you some slack. Next time, make sure to tweak your magic formation so that the gravitational field that collapses the star redirects the output in a shape or direction that doesn’t include you in it.”

 

The therian’s eyebrow twitched.

 

“Anyway, lesson over. What’s next, kid?” Arimane smirked.

 

With an exasperated sigh, Rakna raised Sonata. “Transmutation is the right word,” he said and his uncle blinked in confusion. “Even if my Neverwinter Star is meant for pure destruction, my ‘true’ star bleeds into it and adds an extra step to the destruction. Same thing for my Everfrost.”

 

As if to show an example, the therian produced a wave of turquoise star energy that tore into the scarlet crystal ground. The temperature plummeted and shards flew into the air, encapsulated into ice-like gems. “It adds an extra step to the process of freezing. But instead of perpetuating a state of destruction, it encapsulates its targets in perpetual suspension.”

 

“Uh, so you also have the opposite star…” Arimane hummed. “Quite nasty as well. Both stars would be substantially effective against immortals and highly regenerative creatures.”

 

“Frankly, I’ve barely learned this yesterday,” Rakna shrugged and dismissed the frost. “I had a big awakening not long ago and it altered my magic a bit. But my newest star… is a bit unruly. So, how about it, old man? Willing to apply some of your ‘expertise’ to help me with it?”

 

Arimane snickered. “Sure. Let your third lesson begin. Bring it.”

 

* * *

 

“Oi, Gretta…” Undertaker narrowed his eyes. “What kind of dragon is that guy?”

 

“…” She didn’t answer and bit the inside of her lips. “…a Dragon God. Some form or another. I don’t know… I heard the Eternal Night God had draconic heritage but had no idea it was this much. This is not just some random bloodline. It’s intertwined with his divinity along with something else… a much darker presence. It’s like… right, a Dragon of Evil. There’s something demonic mixed in that goes past just his title of ‘Kind Demon’. Or else he wouldn’t have those feathers.”

 

“Wasn’t there something about that in the Cross of Old Eden?” Lionel interjected. “We never got to see the whole information in it, but you did, right, Boss?”

 

“Yeah… I directly touched the thing. Creepy as hell,” Treiber grunted. “Angra Mainyu. Forget demon or devil, this guy is basically the reincarnation of the one known as the Original Evil.”

 

“…right, then, quick question,” the silver-haired man pursed his lips. “What happens if we let this guy continue to grow in power in the middle of the System?”

 

“Hah!” Undertaker let out a small laugh despite himself. “One of two things. Maybe the System gets a fist shoved up its ass and we get freed, or we all die today,” he said and pulled out a new deck of Tarot cards and placed one down. When he turned it over, he cackled. “I’m betting on the latter.”

 

“Fucking wonderful…” Lionel groaned. “Can we do something?”

 

“In our dreams,” Gretta scoffed. “Did you see that thing just now? Forget the Demon, that kid over there just blew up a damn supernova! Out of crystal… somehow?! Destruction crystallized?! What does that even mean?! I’m not even sure anymore I can fight him, much less Eternal Night!”

 

Treiber huffed and leaned back on his seat. “How sad. We’ve been here for decades and more, and here we have a kid already on his way to surpass us in less than a year.”

 

“So, what? We pray for the best?” Lionel asked incredulously.

 

“Yep,” the mercenary leader replied cheerily. “Cross your fingers and enjoy the show.”

 

“…fuck, I hate this shit.”

 

* * *

 

Rakna whirled his weapon in an off-handed manner and, out of nowhere, purple flames flickered where he stood and he disappeared. A beat later, a massive gorge was carved into the ground in the same alignment that Sonata’s edge was spinning.

 

Arimane’s eyes widened a bit and brought up Karma to parry another frontal attack. Yet, this time, despite blocking the strike, a large gash immediately opened up across his chest. He coughed out a handful of silverish blood in surprise but from experience, didn’t step back.

 

“As expected, old man,” Rakna nonchalantly said through the deadlock of their weapons. “I wanted to cut you in two with this but it looks like you’re tougher than earlier already.”

 

The draconic man’s mouth twitched. “First of all, there’s no old man here. I’m dashing, all right?”

 

“{I know who you got your sense of priorities from now,}” Fray deadpanned.

 

“And two,” Arimane narrowed his eyes at the black and purple aura coating both Sonata and Rakna with a protective film resembling glimmering obsidian. “You got much faster… but that only lasted an instant before you got much stronger. So, you’re redistributing ‘resources’ so to speak. I see.”

 

The Kind Demon moved one foot back and using his elbow, he struck the flat side of Sonata to get it off Karma. He then lowered his center of balance and at an even greater speed, rammed his knee into the therian’s stomach.

 

Rakna grunted and flared back to a safe distance.

 

“Thirdly,” Arimane dusted his coat boringly and in the blink of an eye, both the wound and clothes were repaired as if nothing had ever happened. “That slash… it didn’t cut me. It felt closer to being afflicted with the ‘status of being cut’… Is that your third star’s power?”

 

“…transmutation,” Rakna blankly said and obsidian began to materialize in his free hand until it abruptly expanded into a large slab with a sculpted edge and purple flames raging inside. “You got closer to my power’s true nature than you probably realized with just that word alone.”

 

“…”

 

“The Obsidian Star is the actualization of my soul into magic,” Rakna uttered. This was something he had realized not long ago. This was most likely why his Manifestation had always been available to him. Because his magic does not come from his soul; it’s his soul itself. 

 

“As such, my star embodies a part of the concept my existence has been heading toward,” he added and raised the obsidian cleaver. “One specific aspect of alchemy; transmutation. There is no doubt that my magic is sharp. I could conjure a small knife and it would probably cut through metal like it’s nothing. But this cutting ability is more of a trigger than an outcome.”

 

“A trigger?”

 

Without saying anything, Rakna swung the large slab and muttered, “[Natcattira Pirippāṉ.]”

 

Overcome by a sense of danger, Arimane disappeared in a burst of speed and where he stood, the very air was split. A disturbingly thin line was carved into the crystalline ground and continued on for thousands of meters.

 

Immediately after, a brittle noise echoed and the slab in Rakna’s hand shattered into bits, releasing the flames inside which quickly faded away as if it had exhausted itself.

 

“…I get it,” Arimane smiled. “The cut acts as the trigger for the transmutation. When you swing that thing, or even Sonata coated with your aura, it will metamorphose whatever it cuts into. The damage it inflicts is less of a consequence, and more of a transmutation to turn something into nothing. But the energy it would require though… mana can’t do that on its own…”

 

He was interrupted when Rakna snapped his fingers and cast Forger of The Stars. The sound of a hammer hitting an anvil resounded and hundreds of weapons fell from the abyssal sky. Burying themselves in the crystal, the metal composing them perceptibly vibrating.

 

“Old man, do you know how long those swords will stay there?” Rakna asked.

 

“Well… that depends. Are they complete spells or constructs?”

 

“Constructs.”

 

“Then, a few days, give or take,” Arimane replied and Rakna showed a rare smug smile.

 

“Wrong. They’ll exist forever. Even if broken, the pieces will exist forever. Even if they’re in places my mana cannot reach or my link to them is broken, they will never dispel.”

 

The literal God showed a strange expression. “Kid, that’s just… matter creation. Nothing about the star you showed me can do--!” He interrupted himself as he came to a realization.

 

“Looks like you got it,” Rakna huffed and planted Sonata on the ground, before reaching for one of the many weapons he had just created. The one he picked was a longsword with a black blade and a purple hilt. 

 

“The transmutation doesn’t just apply to the edge. It’s a two-way street. Any flat section of the obsidian transmutes the forces it comes in contact with and hoards it as a supply. Whether it be sound, light, wind, any volatile atom, or even ambient mana; it swallows it. That energy is then depleted through the edge to fuel the ‘cutting transmutation’.”

 

“…”

 

“If I use up the entirety of the energy in one swing, the construct breaks. However, if I make objects that have a normal edge but retain their absorbing properties…” Rakna paused and smiled. “The construct becomes self-sustaining solely for the fact that it exists.”

 

Arimane silently listened and looked around with a hum. “Then… the more ‘energy’ you stock in your star, the more dangerous your ‘slashes’ become. The supernova… you transmuted the force behind it through your aura, didn’t you? Then fed it to Sonata’s edge and your spell just now.”

 

Rakna smiled wordlessly, a system notice ringing in his ears.

 

◈

Calculating New Statistic… Obsidian Points…

Currently Stored OP: 4 657/????

---

Analyzing… Analysis Complete.

Every second, 10 OP are lost and passively converted into 10 MP. If the mana pool is full, the Obsidian Points will gradually scatter in the air due to the Host’s body and soul rejecting the surplus of unmanageable resources. Otherwise, the points can be expended in battle and absorbed through the Host’s aura. Reversely, Obsidian Points can be generated with mana but at a steep cost.

Note: Spell Constructs have their own reserves and are not connected to the Host’s. But they can be bestowed a certain amount of OP during the moment of their casting.

◈

 

The Obsidian Star had turned him into a transmutation engine. Whenever he used his aura, some portion of any incoming force would be absorbed, stored, and passively turned into mana. The sad thing was that absorbing anything other than actual spells or great energies did nothing for him.

 

His body couldn’t manifest the ‘Obsidian Star’ to literally conduct millions of nuclear fissions with the surrounding atoms for example. His aura was just an extension of the real star contained deep inside his soul and had obvious limitations. His spells were a bit less limited, but still restricted.

 

However, he was pretty certain that his Obsidian Manifestation, specifically the Internal Release, could change that. And he also knew that one day, he would climb over this hurdle. The ingredients were almost all there. Soon enough, the ideal Philosopher’s Stone would be born. 

 

And that day, he would be able to do far more than just cutting things; creation as a whole would become his playground. Rakna was wholly aware that the Crystal Sage had made sure he would.

 

“Hm…” Arimane tilted his head curiously. “Then, you got hit by your supernova on purpose?” 

 

“Nope,” Rakna replied shamelessly. “It’s terribly ineffective. I would have been better off tanking a few of your lightning bolts than whatever that gave me. So, thanks for the lesson, old man.”

 

The not-so-old man snorted and ran a hand through his hair. “Hm… that’s going to be a hard lesson for me. Well, I guess I can give you advice on how to use it. Don’t hesitate to try and cut me to pieces if you want,” he grinned wickedly. “I’ll do the same.”