A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1), D'Artagnan Rey [best romantic novels to read .TXT] 📗

His mouth gaped as he stared at the sword now made from the light inside it. He held it out in front of him, examined it, and watched as the light danced through the blade. It shimmered in his hands and while it looked incredibly fragile at a glance, it felt like something so much more—far beyond any cantrip he had seen cast before and even different than Wulfsun’s armor. He finally understood why Zier and the others had shown such an interest in it.

“Well, it certainly looks pretty,” Wulfsun taunted. “But unless your plan is to distract your opponent with a shiny toy, it won’t be much good if you don’t put it to use.”

Devol moved his gaze from the blade to the Templar and responded with a small nod. “I agree,” he answered, took the weapon in both hands, and adjusted his stance to indicate that he was prepared to attack. “Once more, Wulfsun!”

“Aye, there you go!” his opponent bellowed and bent his knees as he clapped once. When he opened his hands, an orb of yellow light appeared that began to grow and surround him. “This defense of mine is absolute,” he declared and the barrier around him shimmered. “I can’t move while I keep this in place but nothing has ever broken through. Think you can be the first, boyo?”

Devol’s response was to swing his sword back as he leaned forward and prepared to charge. He stared at the man, who returned his gaze with his now-familiar smirk. In silence, he inched forward rather than initiate a running attack. His focus remained on keeping the light in place, but now that it filled in the entire blade, it seemed to fit naturally.

It felt right to see what it was capable of. His pace increased and soon, he pushed into a full sprint. He did not yell or utter a challenge but surged toward his adversary’s barrier with all the zeal he could muster.

Wulfsun placed his hands against the barrier as the boy approached and drew a deep breath. Now that the light-created weapon bore down on him, he felt more apprehension than he had when the blade was double his size. The boy planted his feet just short of him and drove the blade toward the barrier to strike it dead center. A blast of light flared from the sword and his shield turned a brighter yellow.

“By the Astrals, that is bright!” Zier yelled and Jazai shielded his eyes as he squinted to see who was winning through the flurry of light and Mana around the combatants.

The young Magi’s majestic remained thrust firmly against the front of the magical barrier. The shield remained a deep yellow color where the weapon had struck, and the area around it glowed a slightly less bright yellow hue. Devol continued to press the blade forward and took a couple of steps so the weapon was positioned against his ribs, which enabled him to press it harder against his opponent’s resistant magic.

The Templar was surprised by the power he faced and even struggled a little. Not only could he feel the blade push slowly into his shield, but the entire front half of his barrier also felt like it was under strain. He had been able to withstand cannons, giant monsters, and all manner of different weapons with this defense and a simple sword thrust shouldn’t cause it to buckle like this.

He attempted to use his Mana to strengthen it as much as he could, but using it already took an immense amount of concentration to maintain and stretched his Anima to its limits. There wasn’t much Mana to spare for repairs and reinforcing his defense at this point. He looked through the blinding light at the boy, who continued to press his attack. The young Magi gritted his teeth with more determination than he had seen in an adversary in some time.

If the blade pushed through, he wasn’t in any position to avert its strike quickly and it was pointed directly at his chest. It was somewhat disconcerting. If it could wreak havoc on his shield, he did not want to imagine what it would do to his insides.

Devol could feel the weapon digging with relentless slowness into Wulfsun’s barrier and was determined to persist with the pressure. Everything he had been taught about majestics rushed through his head. They responded to his desires and were an extension of himself. If that were true, it would not buckle before he did and he would not let that happen until he showed the commander everything he had.

Quickly, he moved his bottom hand over his top, pressed both against the top edge of the handguard, and finally bellowed another resolute challenge and pushed with everything he had left. The blade of the majestic dug in deeper and cracks appeared in the shield. His opponent began to back away a little and Devol took a large step back before he lunged forward and drove the blade through. The resistance shattered and he took another step and maintained his momentum with a forward thrust to pierce his opponent’s chest plate.

The giant clasped his meaty hands together and with a roar, pounded his gauntlets into the blade. His attack was powerful enough to force the weapon toward the ground and it dug into the dirt. The boy gasped in shock and stepped back to draw the blade out, but Wulfsun looked at him, his fists still clenched together, and swung them to catch him in the chest. The majestic was yanked out of the dirt and the young Magi was catapulted several feet. He almost flipped entirely before he plummeted to a hard landing. His weapon landed a few feet away from him.

Devol coughed a few times before he grimaced and tried to catch his breath. He wiped the dirt from his face as he retrieved his sword, planted the blade into the dirt, and held it