Chapter 600: The Psijic Visit

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"Hya!"

"Hwa!"

*Tack* *Tack* *Tack* *Tack*

Two Wizards started fighting in a distorted mirror realm dimension physically with their staves.

"You are good for a human youngling. How about this?" The Elderly Elf coated his staff with lightning as he descended with it towards Jon.

"Piss off!"

Effortlessly, Jon pushed the attack away without suffering out a single setback.

"You are strong, but let's see how well you cast spells. Lightning Cage!" The Elderly Elf said as he created a large arc of lightning around Jon.

"Reflect!" Jon unleashed the power of his staff to reverse the magic on its caster and even improved it, "Faraday's Cage!"

The elderly elf was completely encased in a cylinder network of lightning which blocked his Magic from going in or out and even started draining away his Magicka.

"Dispel!"

He made a gap through the cage and teleported right through.

"Conjure Greater Storm Atronach!" Jon started filling the area around the Elven Mage with pesky atronachs as the latter started to find trouble dodging all that.

"Ethereal shift." The Elf escaped all the pressure by phasing his own body away from physical harm as he immediately started widening the distance between him and Jon.

"Where to?" Jon asked but the Elf stopped not too far and returned to his normal form.

"Feel the wrath." The Elf mustered a terrifying amount of magic towards Jon transforming it into a gush of flames.

Jon didn't move a finger but only he smiled as a figure appeared from the void brandishing a bone blade and cutting the wave of fire apart, extinguishing the flame as it steps into the limelight.

"Your Wrath can never beat that of mine." Jon laughed with all his evil thoughts projected into the Magicka around him.

The elderly elven mage felt the pressure of the creature summoned by Jon as it locked its focus on the man. Dangerous vibes were vibrating through the atmosphere as a battle was about to erupt.

"Honestly speaking, a mage of your caliber is rare to see in this land. Maybe you are the man we were told to avoid." The Elven Mage said.

"Name is Jon Dare."

"Ah! It was you indeed." The Elven Mage held his forehead, "Listen, I am not an enemy and we didn't realize that the girl from the prophecy is your wife."

"I know you didn't. You people have been staying out of the affairs of Mundus for quite some time now." Jon replied.

"So you realized who we are."

"The Monks of Artaeum."

"Impressive."

The man and elf seemed to have come to an understanding.

"I apologize in advance for the fight that broke out due to our misunderstanding…" The Elf said as he dropped his hostility but he stopped as he saw Jon putting on a confused angry expression.

"The fuck, man! We're fighting!" Jon said.

"I thought we're done…" The Elf wanted to reply but Jon interrupted immediately.

"Done? We're done when I say we're done." He said with a gangster's face while cracking his fist, "Round 2?"

"Yes?"

"Thought you would never ask."

Jon leaped up in an arc of momentum with his hands flashing with Lightning.

"Double Cookies!"

The mage sighed and teleported away before Jon lands and destroys the place around.

"So you're the kind of guy who turns it into a fight?" The Elf asked.

"It is better this way." Jon didn't seem to be ceasing his madness any time soon.

"Very well, I'll entertain you, Jon Dare."

"Let's do it then, Monk."

"My name is Quaranir."

While being very gentlemanly and respectful this whole time against the wild character that is Jon, Quaranir decided to give Jon a piece of his mind.

"Overflow!" He closed his eyes and spoke and the power within him started to rumble.

"Eye of Magicka!" Jon noticed a spell which he wasn't familiar with, thus he decided to observe the situation he's up against now that the monk is serious.

What he saw almost took him by surprise. No matter how it looked, Quaranir was no longer breathing air like a normal Mortal but he was actually breathing Magicka.

This felt like a mix between the Altmer racial power known as "Highborn" that helps them take the Magicka directly from the surroundings and immediately utilize it into Magic with no Magicka cost.

Still, Jon has a counterpart.

"All-Maker! Azura!"

Calling two blessings at once, Jon summoned the Root of Power and the Dawn Beauty making the Magicka ripple around him.

Quaranir opened his eyes as they started emitting the powerful golden light of Magicka. Jon also opened his eyes and his eyes were filled with blue light.

Two different aptitudes of Mysticism were about to clash.

Quaranir immediately floated in the air and his arms moved him creating many afterimages each of them casting a spell. Jon didn't fall short as he immediately projected an unimaginable number of Magic circles all entangled together like a paradox.

Many spells flew towards Jon from all different directions as Jon's Paradox of Spells started dealing with them one by one in a systematic succession. Jon's spell was even evolving itself by analyzing the opponent's magic before taking precautions.

"Such a thing!" Quaranir was impressed by the monstrous spell he just saw.

"You're crazy good yourself." Jon said, "I hope that's not the last of your tricks, monk."

"Hardly."

"Perfect."

Both men shifted from their locations and appeared a fair distance ahead after exchanging a few melee attacks in which Quaranir realized it would be hopeless to fight Jon like that.

He retreated with strange footwork leaving more steps on the ground than two feet can ever make and stood away with his hands clasped together. The spell he cast afterward created many images of himself on all the locations he stood on in the past few moments. As that happened, each of the images started casting a ridiculous amount of spells.

"This space is safe right?" Jon asked.

"Yes." Quaranir's copies replied… then they all started to feel worried.

"Fine."

Jon seemed like he was completely taking it easy but the appearance of Pride right next to him was giving off the vibes that he is casting something terrible.

The thing about Quaranir's spells is that most of them were Temporal Magic meaning that all his copies were actually Temporal Clones. Once they felt what spell Jon was casting, they all showed signs of panic.

"What is that?"

"I don't feel good."

"Defend ourselves."

The Temporal Clones tried to react but Jon was already releasing a very terrible spell.

A spiral of energy started to dance in the so-called Mirror Dimension ripping the very essence of space and time apart. It looked like a storm but it was something that shouldn't exist in the imagination of a sane person.

A Temporal Storm.

The last time such a thing was witnessed by anyone was by Jon and the young Nurina during their journey in the Chaos Realm (2 years or 200 years ago). Creating such a thing could only be achieved with the Elder Staff of Power and Fate, the staff that can turn Jon's imagination into Reality.

The Temporal Clones of Quaranir were all obliterated without offering a shred of resistance to the mighty power of the Temporal Storm. The Elderly Elven Mage himself was in so much awe that he could no longer stay in one place and needed to stop this spell before it goes out of control.

From his sleeves, he sent out countless scrolls which carried runes of unknown origin that made even Jon question what he was seeing.

"Is that Binary Enchantment?" He asked, "No. It is way too similar."

His signature secret technique of enchanting objects was strangely similar to these runes that even carried hints of both Anuic and Padomaic energies.

Jon raised his staff not willing to let this opportunity go as he let his mental perception seep through the inner workings of those runes which he comprehended just rather quickly.

"Why are you trying to dispel it?" Jon asked Quaranir, "This level of runic harmony can't stabilize the temporal flow of the storm."

"YOU MADMAN!" Quaranir shouted, "This has escalated way too much! How could you create something you can't control? It must be contained."

"Hm?"

Jon realized that Quaranir was misunderstanding something and with his power, he stopped the Temporal Storm immediately. Actually, he stopped it so perfectly that it was in time in front of him.

A temporal storm has no form or appearance since it occurs on the fourth dimension of existence known as Time. The only way to describe it is by imagining the Space being cracked and broken like a piece of glass or a mirror then those cracks keep going in a spiral of destruction leaving in their wake a level of destruction that nothing can repair.

The way Jon stopped this temporal storm was so effortless that even Quaranir, who was floating midair, lost focus on his spell and fell from the sky barely able to stop himself from landing awkwardly.

Jon looked at him with a natural face while holding Pride over his shoulder.

"How… how did you do such a thing?" Quaranir asked in awe as he fixed his stance.

"Let's finish this duel and I'll tell you."

"Finish this duel? No. I'll have to postpone it." The Elf said, "How? Just how the Ritemaster mentioned nothing about you?"

"What in Oblivion are you talking about?"

Jon couldn't help but feel uncomfortable towards Quaranir's strange behavior who was almost lost in thoughts and checking Jon and the frozen Temporal Storm up and down.

"You are… an Unforeseen Anomalous Entity!" Quaranir called Jon something which sounded very rude.

"Excuse me?"

"Just… don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

Quaranir immediately disappeared from his place and left Jon making a dumb face.

Who is Quaranir? He is one of the Game's NPCs. He is the Altmer Psijic Monk who visits the College of Winterhold during the questline of the College of Winterhold. Jon was waiting patiently for the Psijic Monks to arrive in order to test them and finally analyze the mystery which most people of the Elder Scrolls fans were unable to crack but as soon as he was about to see what an actual Psijic Monk is made of, the old fellow bolted out and went off somewhere.

It was then when Jon realized that he may have become a little bit overpowered.

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