Marktavious Nicholson
Magic has been the great equalizer for each of my more dangerous encounters, the moment I exited Astana. I have used my wit and words to navigate the world within the city walls, but on each occasion I've stepped out of the walls of the city, my hands were forced. I hate having my hands forced. Though I will say I am beginning to hate it even less these past few hours. While I enjoyed a good fight as much as the next guy, I couldn't fathom Q's obsession when it came to old-fashioned fisticuffs. I had always imagined that straight-up exchanging blows had no place in my distinctive battle style, yet I've bottled myself in that regard nonetheless.
After punching Drajkovane between his eyes, a light bulb faded into existence within my mind. In that moment, as darkness crept into my vision, I focused on the burning sting in my knuckles, which seemed to pulse in time with my racing heartbeat, each thud echoing with primal satisfaction. As my knuckles laid that vampire out, I saw the whites of his eyes and felt a thrill coursing through me, setting my core ablaze. I finally came to understand his perspective. Fighting in general was fantastic, but fighting with everything I had at that moment made me feel like I was on top of the world.
However intense that feeling was, it could not overshadow the darkness that eventually enveloped me. One might assume that I would have grown accustomed to these spells of unconsciousness by now, but each experience remained distinct. The world and its magic had altered my body at the molecular level, so that each time I lost consciousness, I felt profoundly different sensations than on Earth.
As the darkness receded, it gave way to a green fog, signaling the birth of a new environment. Typically, I anticipated finding myself in the fields outside the Hidden Grotto, as this had become the usual location where I reappeared.
That did not come to pass. The fog grew denser by the second, then erupted into purplish flames, ensnaring the area. These were not my flames, but ones I had seen Sine manifest. I assumed she had decided to brute force herself into my mana space, but that was not the case.
The flames engulfed everything in sight, with even the air itself seeming to bend and warp from the power. Instinctively, I raised an arm to shield my eyes, feeling an involuntary shudder race down my spine at the sheer ferocity of the flames. The heat from it was so intense that sweat formed on my skin, only to evaporate instantly, leaving my skin tingling as though the blaze had kissed it.
"Damn... what now?" I hissed, but my answer was made clear.
The flames began to combust until a large rift was formed a few feet away from me. Out of the rift, ash sprinkled down and coated the floor in a pile reminiscent of snow. I crouched down, scooping the pile of ash in my hands. Its scent wrinkled my nose as my enhanced kitsune senses were overwhelmed by the pungent, sulfurous aroma of the collected ash. My hand was streaked with the flaky, pale gray substance, but it didn't bother me. There must be a reason why I was brought to this moment, but the reason eluded me.
I stared into the pile of ash, an uneasy tension building within me as a thought slowly crystallized. The color and scent of the ash triggered a primal sense. Both elements were familiar because I had just witnessed their origins, not only from Sine's flames, but from Drajkovane's magic as well. This ash was the end product of miasma, a realization that struck with dread as I pieced together the evidence.
My mind scrambled to process the implications, but the eerie calm was shattered when a pair of sharpened claws suddenly emerged from the rift. Their movement was deliberate and menacing as they gripped the edges and wrenched them wider. A moment of stillness hung in the air, punctuated only by the unsettling silence. Piercing blue eyes illuminated within the darkness, and a deafening roar erupted from the portal. The accumulated ash in front of the portal scattered, disturbed as if by an unseen current, heralding the return of something truly monstrous. The Miasma Kroc had returned, and it sought vengeance.
The muscular body of the creature pushed its way through the rift like a snake shedding its skin. The ground shook once its feet slammed onto my side of the rift. The muscles on this creature bulged underneath its scales as its tail swayed with unfathomable power. If there were any vegetation present, no doubt the mere presence of the Miasma Kroc would wither it into nothing.
"You... here... not... dead?" The Miasma Kroc bellowed. "and... unharmed..."
There was no anger in its tone, only confusion. I don't blame him. A few moments ago, or the last time I was in here, he had snapped onto my arm like a feral beast. You wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me. While my clothes were tattered, even my injuries from the outside fight with Drajkovane have disappeared. To be more accurate, it was as if the variant of my being within the mana space had encountered no damage.
"I'm not dead. Something as weak as you couldn't kill me. Hurt me? Yes. That is definitely accurate, but to kill me? Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
The Miasma Kroc listened intently to my words. Its eyes flickered with curiosity before opening its maw to speak. Miasma dripped from each of his teeth as a gator-like growl rolled from his throat. His tail wagged slowly before slamming against the ground. He was challenging me, or so I thought.
"Fox... Sanctuary?" he asked.
I was confused by his meaning, but quickly understood what he was talking about. He was referring to what I mentioned to him prior about my mana space being considered Fox Sanctuary. I could see the gears whirring within whatever lay behind those crocodilian eyes. He seemed to be genuinely considering my words and explanation.
"How... I overcome... Fox Sanctuary?" He asked.
His question shocked me, not by the words he spouted, but by their earnestness. He wanted to know the answer and expected me to provide one. There was a low growl rattling from his throat. I assumed he took my late response as a form of defiance, but it wasn't that. He was merely breathing. It was terrifying, but a part of me had a certain audacity. Whether it was my instincts or some other supernatural understanding, I desired to humor him. I stepped forward, displacing clouds of ash as I met the creature's gaze.
I had failed to conquer this monster in our initial encounter, unable to avenge my son's injury inflicted by him. This failure weighed heavily on me, intensifying both my sense of responsibility and frustration. More than any adversary I had faced thus far, he challenged me within the source of my power. Despite this inner turmoil and my conflicting feelings of anger and inadequacy, I still opened my mouth to speak,
"You are a creature altered or formed from miasma. Yet, you've managed to steal on top of corrupting the mana within my core. Even in the real world, I can feel your presence like a fog over my heart..."
I stretched a hand in front of me and caught some of the flittering ash. While an objective affront to my delicate senses, I understood that it had a purpose. I may be ignorant of it at first, but only because I failed to see the bigger picture. He may have injured Fawkes, but he did not kill him. He had the chance on two different occasions, yet he chose to ask questions.
To overcome the Fox Sanctuary, you must convert mana to miasma at a rate far superior to the resistance my mana provides. Stealing mana alone is ineffective, as I continually replenish it from my environment and will do so until I perish. You could, at most, siphon some of my mana to sustain yourself, but that is your limit. While defeating you might take time, you could never defeat me. Here, in my realm, my power is absolute. Miasma Kroc, you cannot overcome the Fox Sanctuary.
The Miasma Kroc gave me a flat, unreadable stare, his tongue flicking across his lips as if he were anticipating the taste of my flesh once again. I considered whether he possessed an ego—surely, all sentient creatures do in some form. Given our exchange, I could almost feel the sting to his pride in the air. For a predator of mana, hearing from his would-be prey that he stood no chance must have sounded not just like an insult, but heresy. Predators, after all, are driven by instinct to hunt those they believe themselves designed to overcome.
"I... exist..." he stopped, considering his following words. "Absolute... mana..."
I scratched my chin at his words. He attempted to ponder his meaning, and when I thought I found an appropriate response, I spoke, "You could. I don't think you and I necessarily have to be enemies. You may have attempted to feast on my son and me, but there is more to you beyond a monster. Hell, you might not be a monster. Well, you don't have to be one."
"Don't understand..." he grumbled, stepping forward. He met me and loomed over me like a nightmarish abomination.
It would be so easy to reach up and gouge an eye out of this creature. He was a parasitic invader, one who could cause significant problems later. A dark, primal urge within me roared to life, a visceral image of my hand plunging forward, tearing through scales and vital tissue. For an instant, I savored this macabre vision, a pulse of violent desire coursing through me.
Yet even as these instincts surged, I chose restraint, recognizing that violence, while tempting and perhaps even warranted, was neither necessary nor aligned with my intentions in this moment.
"What is miasma, but not another state of mana?" I turned my back to the creature and pointed into the distance, letting my gaze linger on the purple flames flickering beyond. Drawing in a slow breath, I focused my will.
"I can see in your eyes that you are not some mindless creature. There isn't a desire for flesh or blood. Violence isn't inherent any more to you than it is to me. Yet, the fact remains that you have attacked Fawkes in his home. While your desire to live is admirable, your methods are unacceptable."
"My... methods?" he questioned, leaning his snout over my shoulder,
"Hungry... I feast... on stronger... until I... stronger. Best... way. Only... way."
"Or," I counter, raising a finger in the air.
"We find another way. A way that doesn't require me purifying you out of existence."
The Miasma Kroc growled at my words, but I didn't turn to face him. Instead, I focused on the purple flames, and I tamed them. While my first thought was to purge them, I opted to reshift their role, and as a result, their color changed. The flames warped into an emerald color, one I soon associated with the usage of my mana when using Mana Command. The flames danced higher and hotter before the edges of the fire formed rifts in the air. I reached toward them and replicated the actions I witnessed the Miasma Kroc perform.
My flames latched onto the rifts and began tearing them open. The rifts were spreading quickly and approached our location with such blinding speed that the Miasma Kroc was startled. He bellowed a roar, right next to my flicking ears. I didn't appreciate it, but no words of disapproval escaped my mouth.
I focused more of my power on my Astral Art, weaving the mana within my core to manifest these flames to devour all that I wished not to be present. The unfamiliarity of this world was gone the moment the emerald flames brought forth the rifts toward the Miasma Kroc and me.
"Purifiy?" The Miasma Kroc asked, but his words were interrupted by pained hisses.
"This... purifiy?"
His hisses were an overexaggeration by my calculation, as they stopped as soon as he realized the change of scenery. There was only one place I had in mind, and that was the location I had last left Fawkes. Once the emerald flames subsided, we found ourselves back in the plains of the Hidden Grotto.
"Old Man?"
Fawkes' words were the first thing I heard when my senses recalibrated, and my heart fluttered for it. My tail began to wag mindlessly as I turned to my left to find him resting on the ground. My magical barrier remained stable, which meant he was unharmed from any further attacks that the Miasma Kroc could have thrown in my absence. His orange and white fur was matted with dirt and blood, which was a far cry from when I first met him.
The head of the small fox rose immediately, but there was no confident smile on his face. He watched me with a seriousness that unnerved me. I expected him to be happier to see me, but I got no warm welcome back. I could forgive his lack of enthusiasm, though, since the Miasma Kroc had manifested next to me out of the same emerald flames. Fawkes's hair stood on end as he slowly stood, then stretched his legs behind the barrier.
"You have finished that beast off yet? It's a nasty interloper, Old Man! Look at it!" Fawkes growled. He bared his teeth and his tail puffed as a warning.
The Miasma Kroc wasn't keen on Fawkes's defensiveness or his presence. Immediately upon his remergence, he aggored onto Fawkes so quickly that even I got whiplash. His previous docile demeanor switched up like a switch had been flicked, and he charged the barrier before Fawkes. Before I could address the small fox, the Miasma Kroc's claws lashed out, but the barrier remained impregnable by its means of attack.
No matter how many times it clawed at it, nothing changed. Even when he threw his weight against it, the Miasma Kroc found no way to bypass the strength of the barrier.
Within the barrier, Fawkes was growling and yipping like a mad fox. It was kind of adorable if I were to be honest, watching him snarl and jump around like that. While I was entertained, I knew this shouldn't have gone this far. Focusing my mana, I erupted green flames in front of the charging Miasma Kroc, which earned a loud hiss from him. His eyes widened, and he scrambled to halt his momentum, but he was too big and fast to do so.
He crashed into the flames, and a pained roar shook the area. Wind blasted around us as the power behind his shout was fueled by the impure miasma. While normal flames would have been extinguished, these flames proved unique in their resistance. The miasma within the region began to be swallowed, including the Miasma Kroc itself. He immediately realized who was responsible for his predicament.
That sharp crocodilian gaze shufted in my direction, and while his figure was engulfed in emerald flames like a cloak, he didn't falter in his charge. I met his charge head-on, avoiding his initial claw strike with a well-timed sidestep to his left.
I clenched my fist in emerald flames, then slammed it into the throat of the Miasma Kroc. A guttural gurgle was squeaked from his maw, but he had no time to retaliate. I channeled my power into my legs before leaping several feet into the air. His gaze followed up, but he proved to be too slow to react to my descent.
"Eternal Bind Root!" I barked as I plummeted toward him like a comet.
Roots erupted from the ground, ensnaring the legs and tail of my target. There was no fear in the eyes of my opponent, but I didn't expect to see any. Since my spell immobilized him, he did the only thing his simple mind could think of; he opened his mouth. Rows of dripping teeth greeted my arm as I plunged my fist into his throat.
With a speed far exceeding my own, his jaws slammed closed onto my shoulder. Pain shot throughout my body as bones cracked, and my shoulder popped out of its socket.
My legs buckled on the awkward landing, but I managed to recover. In any other situation, or perhaps if this were to happen outside of my mana space, then I would have lost that arm. I was sure that with a bite force that would put a Tyrannosaurus to shame, the Miasma Kroc could rip me limb from limb if given the chance. It was just that powerful; its miasma was just that powerful.
That left me with only one option: don't give him the opportunity. Fawkes could be heard as he yelped in panic and distress. He ran in circles behind the barrier, shrieking at the sight of his Old Man having his arm feasted on like a chicken tender.
"No! No! No! Not again! Not Again!" the fox shrieked as he frolicked in a circle.
"Calm down! I'm doing just fine!" I barked. My strained voice may not have invoked much confidence, but he wasn't a mind reader.
"How can I possibly calm down now! If he kills you here, then-"
"You have little faith in me, son, but you are young and inexperienced. I can forgive you for your actions. We haven't had enough time together for me to teach you the ways of the Nicholsons properly, so pay attention to my words."
I glanced over to the young Fox as the weight of the Miasma Kroc's bite began to mangle more of my arm. His arms wrapped around me as he started the early stages of a death roll. I will not pretend that this shit didn't hurt like a motherfucker. I was likely crying tears, but I managed to manifest a smirk on my face.
"The cunning warrior attacks neither body nor mind," I declared between gritted teeth. I returned my attention to the Miasma Kroc as the snapping of roots guided my haste. "He attacks the heart. Always attack the... heart!"
Upon my words, the emerald flames upon my arm ignited with fury. In its desperate desire to inflict monumental damage to me, the Miasma Kroc forgot a crucial lesson. My flames didn't just harm it on a surface level; it harmed the very essence, keeping it sustained. While difficult, my wrist twisted against its tongue, and I managed to grip his uvula.
That act was the coup de grace needed to seal its fate. I focused all of the mana into producing my emerald flames, igniting even my blood, which he likely drank.
"Miasma isn't to be feared, but respected. The same as one might respect water, because with enough time, it can move mountains! In this case, I'll expedite the process! Now... Fox Hunt!"
The way to defeat the Miasma Kroc was the same as defeating Drajkovane. Seize the source of their power and turn it against them in one major counteroffensive. For Drajkovane, it was the crystal, but for Miasma Kroc, it was my mana space. The miasmaic creature began to sputter as the flames erupted from the corners of its mouth. His eyes widened in a frenzy of confusion, then distress colored those blue eyes. He began to choke on the massive inflow of the mana conversion that occurred within the back of his throat.
With Fox Hunt activated, I pulled and converted the mana from his miasma into fuel from my flames, effectively weakening him and choking him simultaneously. This was the power of a kitsune; no, this is the power of Marktavious Nicholson!
"We were making progress, but it appears you will find coexistence impossible with Fawkes so long as you are stronger than he is," I declared, ripping out his uvula.
A trail of flames connected his maw and my fist as he eradicated the organ with pure mana. He stumbled with heavy stomps while clenching his throat. He scratched at himself, but even his claws failed to fully penetrate his scales. Blood coated my arm, a combination of my own and the Miasma Krocs, but both soon were cleansed. The mana I stole from him was used to repair my mangled arm, and when it finished, I pointed my open palm in his direction.
The emerald flames sputtered from existence from my palms, but were replaced instead with green wisps. They latched onto the Miasma Kroc, who bellowed from pain. I would imagine this would be akin to having your blood pulled directly from your body.
"I can not allow such an imbalance; thus, as King of this domain, I shall recifty!"
The creature's scales began to buckle under the pressure building within its body. Blood and fire erupted from the fractures as I continued the magical conversion within its body. My eye of Sine began to flare, and with it, I could see what I was attempting. Within the core of the Miasma Kroc state, there are two states of mana: Pure Mana and Miasmaic Mana.
If pure mana was akin to water, the maismic mana was ice. Both states could coexist, but an imbalance between them could prove lethal. I filled the core of the creature with so much pure mana that the flames began to consume its core itself. His flesh began to wither, and his roars deafened our sensitive ears.
"Old Man... w-what are you doing?! This is dangerous! Y-You don't know what you are doing?! These two shouldn't be able to exist like this! You are making his mana-"
"Nebulous," I finished through gritted teeth. A strain on my core brought a wave of pain throughout my body that rippled across the mana space itself.
The ground around us began to split into fractures as the nebulous state of the incredible amount of mana present began to affect not only the Maisma Kroc, but me as well. I felt as if my mana was going to rebel and fracture my soul into fragments, but I continued. The wind around the mana space began to reach hurricane level, flattening the land around us. I had used roots from the ground to anchor both the howling Miasma Kroc and me. Even the barrier around Fawkes began to crack.
"Fawkes... Sharpen your mind! Focus and use your senses, and bring about the end! Use my body as the catalyst!"
"But! But! There is no reason to go this far! What are you trying to do? You can just depower and kill him! Why are you trying to-"
A booming roar splintered the air around us, and for a moment, I couldn't hear a single thing. Not the roaring of the violent wind nor the panicky yelp of my Spirit Beast son, nothing. Only me and my thoughts, but his question remained.
Why am I doing what I am doing? Why go this far? Why save this creature? The answer was simple: I wanted to, and I could.
The Miasma Kroc broke free from my roots once more, but he was in a frenzy. He had no idea what I was doing to him, but one day, he would appreciate the effort I was putting into this next effect. If I were to become the author of a narrative so fantastical that my friends and I can look back on it with smug satisfaction, then I need to be greater than I am. I don't need to be merely great; I need to take a page from my son's book. I needed to be magnificent. So, I followed my instincts and closed my eyes.
I lowered my stance, snapping from my own root bindings to form the growing nebulous mana into my right fist. Blood exploded from the limb out of strain, but the incruing mana forced my healing to work overtime. I was using every ounce of the mana in my core, and even borrowed some from Fawkes. Match that with the converted mana boiling within the Miasma Kroc, then it was very likely that my core would shatter from being overfilled. However, this was the path I needed, no, wanted to travel.
'To craft a fantastical narrative, one needs to be fantastical, and to move on to a new chapter in one's life, the old one needs to be closed. Fawkes, Qayshuan, Bonner, Claire, and even you, too, Mikangleo, I lay our fates on the success of my power. On my skills and on my knowledge. So... Watch me soon. Our world will never be the same after today.'
My eyes flew open, and the Miasma Kroc was right in front of me. He snarled with a ferocity that would stop the heart of a weaker man. I was not a weak man. The air around me first warped as the mana space itself was used as an offensive weapon.
"Mana Nebulous: Ragnarok Kitsune Blow!"