Chrysalis
Chapter 990
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
Slowly. Patience was required. The sharpest blade couldn't be forged in a day. The metal had to be unearthed, refined, smelted, shaped, heated and cooled over and over again until the final temper had been achieved. The perfect weapon was the work of a lifetime.
And so was Orrina.
She was the Legion's weapon, its sharpest and most perfect. She had been forged over many years, placed in the fire, moulded, quenched, then thrown back into the heat once more.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
As she repeated the mantra and controlled the air that flowed into her body, so too did she influence the mana around her. It pulsed, rising and falling along with her lungs. Vast quantities rushed into her body, were contained, and then released. Each time she drew it in, the energy within her grew that little bit more rich, more vibrant. It wouldn't be long now.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
past fell away. Her joy. Her sorrow. With each breath, more pieces of her heart and mind were released into the dark, where they could not reach her. All that would remain was the pure core: her instincts, her training,
that rolled off her in dense waves felt as if it would cut
A final time.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
of energy that begged for release. Her mind had been reduced to the point of a blade, nothing remained to cloud her
opened
construct of complexity and engineering so profound it was nothing short of a miracle. A fitting partner for her. She was the greatest the Legion could
her singular focus. With measured steps, she
pool of intense light, so vibrant and filled with power it
Liquid mana.
One last time. Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
on either side of the opening and smoothly lowered herself in,
Agony.
came into contact with this new power source and found a delicate equilibrium. If she were any less saturated with mana, she would have died
as she was, Orrina found the straps that bound her in place, tying them off expertly before she reached up
armour hummed to
feel herself meld with the metal, her unique skills, possessed only by the chosen few within the Legion, coming alive. The pain continued, but she didn't feel it; these were the
of metal in front as if they weren't even there. Her body moved, the armour moved, and
out to her right, the gauntlet closing around the hilt of her beloved sword. Blade in hand, she strode forward, perfectly balanced, as each
same sound came from her left and right as her fellows emerged from their pens, ready to fight. This was a rare occasion, one
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