CHAPTER 113

  THE OFFICIAL FLIGHT

  The mountain air bit through Theodred’s training robes, cutting to the skin like the edge of a dull knife—persistent, without poetry. Above him, the sky sagged with weightless clouds, grey and unmoved. And beneath him, nothing. Only the void between him and the shale basin hundreds of feet below.

  “Ha! this is a bad idea,” he cursed, jumping the highest cliff he could find in Clandor.

  Just a few days before, he had received the skill etched in words, understanding those he thrived as a human, not as an elf.

  Made preparation, followed steps. The concept of the skill was to transform aura into buoyant lift and directional push. However, as he covered himself with his bright white aura, they gave him speed, not the weightlessness he wanted.

  He had started as he was instructed, wearing heavy weights all around his body that made him feel like a snowman in the heat of summer. Even taking a few steps was a challenge, and Reina’s skill parchment said to use aura to make it lighter, but when he put off those weights, his body adapted in an instant. Putting him back to square one.

  That’s why he was here, the highest cliff of Clandor, jumping.

  “Nothing comes without risking my life—” he fell and fell and fell.

  The aura came, shrouding him, his body trying to adapt to the situation. He needed to levitate, he needed the flight, and it came when he almost touched the ground.

  It was like when he affixed people with his VoidZone. There wasn’t a single movement. He knew a moment of distraction would stop this phenomenon. He needed to learn how he had activated this, his body had to memorise the experience.

  After a while, his concentration broke, and he gracefully hugged the ground.

  “It’s not bad for the first try. Well, it’s easier compared to how much thinking I have to do while controlling the Blessing of Wind.”

  Dusting off, he trekked, no, he ran uphill with tremendous speed and jumped again.

  He repeated this free fall like a madman pursuing research. Even improving a bit by bit, but that was not fast enough. Not to his standards.

  “Ugh! god damn it. How? I’m following what she wrote— maybe she is not a good writer—”

  “Bitching about your teacher behind her back.” Reina resurfaced at the top of the cliff where he was resting for a bit. “Lightcloak isn’t about flying,” she said, eyes on the horizon. “It’s about the refusal to fall.”

  “That’s a nice way to say I fu—flunked very hard.” He exhaled, steadying his aura. The edges of it frayed, reacting to his tension like dire wolves at the scent of blood. He closed his eyes.

  “Try it again,” she said. “Weight Shedding. From the diaphragm.”

  He expanded his aura—slowly, like unfurling a wounded limb. The sashes clung to him like soaked funeral wrappings.

  “Too heavy,” he muttered. “I can’t get the lift.”

  “No,” Reina said. “You just have to let go.”

  Her tone wasn’t cruel, but it landed like a slap. He opened his eyes. She was watching him now—not with anger, but something worse. The same patience one gives a child who might never grow teeth.

  “Lift doesn’t come from wings,” she said, “but from knowing what to let go.”

  “I have let go?”

  “Yes” she asked. “You think you can rise into the sky with you covering yourself with aura. You still use it like a tool—don’t make it a part. Your skin. It should not be stored inside and summoned whenever you wish but always present. Let go of the boundaries you are holding your aura.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Theodred flinched. “Then everything will be leaked out. I’ll have nothing left—”

  “Do not underestimate the light mana property. Let go,” she cut in, quiet and precise. “Your Aura remembers where its origin is, that’s how light aura works, it needs a source, always. Fly.” She urged.

  He looked away. Below, the valley sprawled in silence. He could almost see his future bones among the ghost roads beneath. If he let go of the aura, he’d have nothing stopping his fall. Nothing saving him.

  “You said this was about balance,” he said finally.

  “It is. But you balance by surrendering. Not gripping tighter.”

  He turned back to her. “You sure it will work?”

  She smirked faintly, and for a moment, she almost looked young.

  “Because you’re too damned stubborn to die on the ground.”

  She stepped back, motioned toward him, and with a swift kick, he was launched down the cliff.

  “Let go!” She shouted.

  “Fuck this. You mad woman.” Hans cursed inside and followed. With an explosive aura release, he was losing a massive chunk of aura with every fraction of a second.

  “It’s not working—”

  “It will work. Trust yourself.”

  “Now or never, Hans.” He calmed himself. “Fly.” He shouted as his will imposed something on the aura.

  For once, he was levitating. Thinking of movement, and something pushed him in the direction. “Oh crap! This shit works.” He analysed himself. The aura was almost down to ten percent of his reserves.

  “This is an expensive experience, and with this. My tank will always be empty.” He thought. “Just how taxing are her higher skills?”

  He looked above, but Reina was never to be found. Was she there or did I have just a delusion? “No. The kick to the butt is still hurting. I guess she is not the type to sulk for long.”

  He regenerated his lost aura with Regenratio and began his climb once more. The hours turned days, and now days into weeks. He was surviving outside the place, living in a rented cottage by the cliff.

  He even became famous as an insane man for being jumping from the top again and again.

  His aura was increasing, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to reduce how much he exhausted in mere levitation. It was very slow. Far slower compared to his Blessing of the Wind pendant.

  But his efforts were showing results. The more he practiced exploding his aura, the more his aura began to cling to him like glue. As if it didn’t want to let go of him.

  “Like Chris and grandpa, she doesn’t have the need to turn aura into projectiles. Probably that’s why she doesn’t have the launching or shooting skills. All because of this special trait.”

  He could finally feel the viscous liquid-like aura surrounding him, but he was very fast in it. It expanded like a little shroud. Covering him by a foot.

  “So this is Lightcloak. I get the name now,” once again he stood at the cliff, but his eyes didn’t search the ground this time. He looked high, at the clouds and the birds. The sky beast flying around.

  He closed his eyes.

  His aura coiled around him. It pulsed with heat and strain beneath the surface of his skin, an unseen storm begging to form. He could feel every knot opening, his muscles realigning, stretching, his breath not wanting to leave his lungs.

  He crouched slightly, palm flexed. The wind shifted—sharp and cold. Almost metallic.

  Then he leapt. Almost a jump of Rudolf’s calibre.

  But gravity greeted him like an old friend, dragging him back to the rock with unforgiving hands. His boots struck the ground with a thud that rattled his teeth. A groan escaped his lips—half pain, half fury.

  Again.

  He stepped back, focused.

  This time, he didn't leap with his legs. He released. “Time to defy gravity—”

  His aura surged outward like a tidal wave breaking from within, and for a heartbeat the world fell silent.

  Then came the lift.

  The ground dropped away in an instant—violently, beautifully—and he was no longer standing, or falling, but rising. The wind howled past him, trying to strip him down to nothing, but his aura held. Not rigid. Not desperate. Just present, expanding, alive.

  The pressure around his limbs equalised into harmony. The muscles in his jaw relaxed. For the first time in a while, he felt free.

  Just sky.

  And in that moment, Theodred flew.

  Not perfectly. Not clean. His arc wobbled like a drunk skybird. But the wind caught his aura and didn’t throw it back.

  The peak fell beneath him. The clouds grew close. And the world—scarred and cruel—seemed, for a breath, almost willing to forgive him for everything.

  He let out a breath that had waited a lifetime to be released.

  Below, the wind scattered loose stones across the hilltop.

  He didn't look down. Only ascended further and further.

  Looking at him tearing the clouds, Reina from her window smiled. “Now he is ready.”

  She turned. “Husband, send a letter to the Shadow family. I’ll be visiting them in holy grounds.”