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.
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, and
rolled off her in dense waves felt as if it would cut the air.
A final time.
Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
in a violent torrent. A storm of energy that begged for release. Her
opened
nothing short of a miracle. A fitting partner for her. She was the greatest the Legion could produce, an example of martial perfection. Her equipment
singular focus. With measured steps, she moved towards her armour, her balance
at. A shimmering pool of intense light, so vibrant and
Liquid mana.
One last time. Breathe.
In. Hold. Release. Hold.
her hands on either side of the opening and smoothly lowered
Agony.
flowed through her 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 the moment she dropped in, but this was far from the
ease, even submerged as she was, Orrina found the straps that bound her in place, tying them off expertly
hummed
possessed only by the chosen few within the Legion, coming alive. The pain continued, but she didn't feel it; these were the moments she
thick plates of metal in front as if they weren't even there. Her body moved, the armour
that split her face as she reached out to her right, the gauntlet closing around the hilt of her beloved sword. Blade
came from her left and right as her fellows emerged from their pens, ready to fight. This was a rare occasion, one that hadn't happened in her entire career. Ten of them had been called up for this action. There was
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