Ascension of the Outlander

Alex was unconscious, lost in the darkness that had swallowed him whole. The battlefield was silent except for the sound of flickering flames and the heavy breathing of those who had survived.

The surviving Blackfang warriors had fled, terror gripping them as they left behind the corpses of their fallen. Even the most ruthless among them had turned tail, unwilling to face the unnatural void that had consumed their comrades.

But one man had stayed behind.

Vaelin Korr, the leader of the Blackfangs, stood in the wreckage of the battlefield, his sword still in hand. He did not run.

He watched.

He had seen wars. He had seen magic beyond comprehension. He had fought knights, assassins, and sorcerers alike.

But this?

This was something else.

His cold eyes studied the bodies of his fallen warriors—men who had been standing just moments before, now dead with no visible wounds.

It wasn't just death.

It was erasure.

Something had stolen their Essence.

Something had taken them beyond the veil of death itself.

And that something was lying unconscious in the dirt before him.

Vaelin exhaled slowly, lowering his sword slightly.

'What the hell is this boy?'

Mira and Roderic stood between Vaelin and Alex's unmoving body, their weapons raised.

Mira was bleeding, her body battered from the prolonged fight. Roderic's armor was cracked, his breath ragged.

They had already fought an army.

Now, they had to fight a monster.

Vaelin rolled his shoulders, his presence suffocating the battlefield. Unlike the firecasters or the reckless Blackfang warriors, his Essence was controlled—cold, precise, and utterly refined.

"You should be running," he said, tilting his head. "That shadow? That thing that just happened? It wasn't your doing." His smirk widened. "So why stay?"

Mira spat blood, wiping her mouth. "Because we're not leaving him."

Vaelin chuckled, amused. "Loyalty? Admirable. But pointless."

His Essence flared—black, violent, filled with the weight of someone who had killed more men than they could count.

And then he attacked.

Roderic barely had time to react before Vaelin was upon him.

Their swords collided, the force of the impact sending out a shockwave that shattered the ground beneath them.

Roderic gritted his teeth, his Essence surging to meet the attack, but Vaelin's strength was too much. He staggered back as Vaelin twisted his blade, aiming for his throat—

Mira intercepted, her daggers clashing against Vaelin's sword in a blur of motion.

She moved like a ghost, striking three times in a single breath, but Vaelin saw everything.

He sidestepped, his movements too clean, too efficient.

And then he countered.

Mira barely dodged, flipping backward as Vaelin's sword passed a hair's breadth from her throat.

She landed on her feet, her heart hammering.

This was the difference.

Essence was not just raw energy.

It was a system. A hierarchy.

A warrior's ability was determined by their Essence Rank, and those ranks were divided into nine tiers:

• Initiate Rank – Those who had awakened their Essence but lacked control.

• Adept Rank – The foundation of all trained warriors, where discipline shaped raw Essence into a weapon. (Mira and Roderic were here.)

• Ascended Rank – The first level where warriors became something beyond human, their control over Essence refined to a razor's edge. (Vaelin stood here.)

• Master Rank – The level where warriors could wield Essence instinctively, their bodies and weapons moving with terrifying efficiency.

• Grandmaster Rank – The final level where warriors could still compete with mages in mass combat. After this point, warriors specialized in single combat, whereas mages began excelling in large-scale destruction.

• Legend Rank – The few who reached this rank were remembered in history, their names carved in time.

• Mythic Rank – It was said that only a few in an era could reach this stage, their power defying logic itself.

• Transcendent Rank – Those who had surpassed mortality, bending Essence as if it were part of their very existence.

• Abyss Rank – The final stage. No one truly knew what awaited those who reached this level. It was legend, whispered in forgotten texts.

Vaelin was an Ascended warrior.

Mira and Roderic? Only Adepts.

And that gap was the reason they were losing.

But warriors weren't the only ones who trained Essence.

Mages had their own system, known as The Nine Candles of Arcane Flow.

A mage's power was determined by how many candles they had lit within their soul. Each candle represented an accumulation of Arcane Flow and knowledge, the fundamental foundation of magic itself.

Each stage was as follows:

• First Candle (The Flicker) – The initial stage, where a mage awakens their Arcane Flow but struggles with basic spells.

• Second Candle (The Spark) – A mage begins to harness elemental magic but can only sustain small spells. (The Firecaster from the Blackfangs was here.)

• Third Candle (The Kindling) – A mage can now cast multiple spells efficiently, able to fight without depleting Arcane Flow quickly.

• Fourth Candle (The Flame) – A battle-ready mage capable of offensive and defensive spells without excessive drain. (Corresponds to Adept Rank in warriors.)

• Fifth Candle (The Inferno) – The last stage where warriors and mages are evenly matched. After this point, mages gain the advantage in mass combat. (Corresponds to Grandmaster Rank in warriors.)

• Sixth Candle (The Beacon) – A high-ranking mage capable of battlefield-wide spells, altering the course of war.

• Seventh Candle (The Wildfire) – Mages at this level can reshape landscapes with a mere thought, affecting entire armies.

• Eighth Candle (The Eternal Flame) – They hold power beyond mortals, bending reality itself.

• Ninth Candle (The Ascendant) – The final stage. Mages at this level can reshape entire worlds with a mere thought.

The Blackfang firecaster, who had burned parts of Riverend, had only reached the Second Candle—still weak compared to true battlefield mages.

That meant stronger mages existed.

Much stronger.

And Alex?

Alex had no rank at all.

Not yet.

Roderic roared, his Essence flaring as he swung his greatsword in a crushing arc.

Vaelin caught it on his blade.

Not blocked. Caught it.

He held back Roderic's full power with a single hand.

Before he could react, Vaelin struck, cutting deep into Roderic's side.

Mira lunged, aiming for Vaelin's throat—

But he was faster.

His sword whispered through the air, slicing across her arm.

She flipped back, gritting her teeth.

They weren't winning this fight.

Vaelin smirked, turning toward Alex's unconscious body.

"It's time I take what I came for."

Mira and Roderic forced themselves to stand.

They wouldn't win.

But they wouldn't back down.

And so, they charged.

One last time.