Chapter 34 : I Rise !!

For now, it was the most practical form of concealment.
A bracelet of liquid—ever by his side, yet subtle enough to pass unnoticed.

Not only could its shape be altered, but its size as well.
At Curtis ’s will, the spirit swelled, its body expanding in a smooth, rippling bloom.

“Heave—ho.”

He bent and lifted the now-bulky mass of water. It had grown severalfold—large enough to require both hands.
The weight was no illusion. The more it grew, the heavier it became.

So… its minimum size is enough to fit inside a clenched fist. But the upper limit… seems tied to how much water it’s consumed.
Not infinite, then—but vast.

It made sense. The spirit’s body was water.
And with that came mass, weight—resistance.

As a bracelet, it was featherlight. But when expanded to the size of a football, it bore heft.
Curtis  squeezed it from both sides—

Fwoosh!

The sphere resisted, then burst, spraying out in a shudder of damp collapse.

Not as fragile as a water balloon, but far from unbreakable.

Yet even as it spilled apart and ran like a puddle over the ground, the spirit itself remained.
Intact. Unharmed. Alive.

Fitting, for water—resilient by nature. The shape may break, but it flows again with ease.
Even re-forming required magic, but barely—a whisper of power.

The spirit, once again a glistening orb, drank greedily from the river at Curtis ’s silent command.

Endlessly it drank.
Where it put the water remained a mystery.

If the weight of its consumed water had matched its physical presence, Curtis  wouldn’t have been able to lift it at all.
But the spirit obeyed different laws—those of magic, not physics.

Let it be. Fire spirits float in midair and blaze without fuel. What about any of this ever made sense?
Curtis  wasn’t about to dissect it. He’d take the benefits and leave the questions unanswered.

As Terty began to shift restlessly behind him, Curtis  sensed it was time.
The spirit, too, gave its signal—it could drink no more.

With a shimmer, it slithered into bracelet form once again and coiled neatly around his wrist.

There it sat—quiet, unassuming, and yet impossibly dense.

He lacked a proper tool to measure volume, but…

It’s holding more water than I used for the entire siege wagon, isn’t it?

At first, when the spell [Spirit Creation] began to form, he had assumed he’d receive something like Redna’s—
A fire spirit.
A partner of flame to match his water, complement his strengths with fierce elemental contrast.

That would’ve been useful. Fire was always useful.
And with Flowweaving already in his grasp, having another element would’ve widened his range.

But now?

Now, he no longer felt the least bit disappointed.

Because synergy was nothing if the core was weak.

Flowweaving—while powerful—had limitations.
It had not yet reached Gold-tier mastery, and even when it did, it would always rely on environment.
Water must be present to be bent.

But the water spirit changed everything.
Even if it did nothing else—even if it merely served as a bottomless reservoir—it was worth its weight in gold.

And it was already far more than that.

A tank. A channel. A reservoir of force.

It was a faithful companion, from its very first level.

As for fire? Plenty of flame-wielders in the world. I’ll borrow from one of them when the time comes.

The thought passed through him as easily as a breeze.
Curtis  smiled, shameless and amused.

Two days passed.

Gaud, who had for weeks provoked Narok without pause, now sat in eerie silence. Not a single move.
There was no secret strategy at play—just the gaping absence of their keystone.

Redna was dead.
And without her flame, their momentum had crumbled.

While Gaud fumbled in disarray, Narok finished its preparations.

And on the third dawn, they struck.

It was not like Gaud’s war of attrition, where businesses were seized and duels staged for appearances.

No. Narok declared their intention with unflinching resolve—
They would march directly on House Gaud’s estate.

Bruno himself rode at the front, his voice steady and low.

“Gaud chose multiple battles to flaunt their dominance, to show the city their unshakable strength. Win once, and it could be called luck. But win again and again… that becomes power. And they had it—while Redna lived.”

“But now?”

“Now, the moment she died, it unraveled. They’d built their empire on one flame. When it went out, the whole tower fell with it.”

Curtis  nodded.

“And that’s why we strike now—before they can rebuild.”

“Exactly. Thanks to you, we’re already on higher ground. And with a single, decisive blow, we can end it—without needing Gaud’s slow theatrics.”

“Provided we win, of course.”

“You doubt we will?”

“Not unless I catch a stray arrow to the eye.”

“You won’t,” Terty said. His voice was solid stone. “You’ll be guarded with our lives.”

Curtis  offered a small smile.

They had gathered every blade and shield they could muster.
Though the Silver-ranked warriors would carry the battle’s weight, the hundreds of Bronze behind them lent mass and menace.
The march was thunderous. The mood—electric.

Ahead stood the gates of Gaud’s estate, as vast and fortified as Narok’s own.

Thwipthwipthwipthwipthwip—!

A volley of bolts screamed through the air—loosed by crossbowmen hidden behind stone and battlement.

Ping! Ting! Tting!

The assault met shields and swords.
Narok had prepared.
Bronze warriors held the front with tower shields; Silver blades cleaved bolts from the air.
No fatalities. A few injuries at worst.

And around Curtis , a wall of protection had been doubled. Bruno had known he would be a target—and had guarded him accordingly.

Still, the bolts whistled past. Dozens aimed straight at him.

None struck home.

“Now, then…”

Curtis  extended a single finger.

The enemy’s gates were within reach—within Flowweaving’s grasp.

A massive sphere of water surged into existence overhead, summoned from the bracelet and bloated with stored power.

Then—launched.

KRAAAANG!

The gates shattered beneath the blow, splinters of ironwood and stone raining down in a flood of ruin.

“Let’s finish this.”