The knight stepped forward with the lives of others pressed against his back like unseen hands refusing to let him fall.
He did not possess special moves. He had never awakened a skill. No blessing had descended upon him like divine rain at birth. He was born ordinary—painfully, stubbornly ordinary—yet he chose to walk forward as if the world owed him something greater. He kept moving toward the dream engraved into his soul, carved there not by prophecy, but by memory and fire.
Slash
Kaelen's first strike carved a thin, precise line across the monster's torso. Too precise. Too narrow. The wound split cleanly—
—and sealed just as cleanly.
Flesh folded inward, knitting itself together with a sickening ripple.
Swoosh
The monster's fist came swinging toward his skull.
Kaelen twisted at the waist, boots grinding against stone, coat snapping in the air as he avoided it by a breath's width. The wind pressure from the punch scraped across his cheek.
But unlike the mindless beasts they had fought before, this one watched.
It learned.
The first attack had been bait.
"Khuk!"
A second blow came from below—faster, heavier. Kaelen raised his sword in time, steel meeting flesh with a brutal clang. The impact rattled through his bones. His boots tore trenches into the earth as he was forced backward.
The difference in strength was monstrous.
Warm liquid filled his mouth.
He spat blood onto the ground.
Unshaken, he tightened his grip. His knuckles whitened. His forearms trembled—not from fear, but from strain.
"WHAAAH!"
He roared as he swung again, pouring every ounce of weight and frustration into the arc.
Plshh!
This time, the monster's blood sprayed outward in a thick, dark burst. The wound remained open. It trembled—
—but did not close.
So that was it.
It could regenerate, but not infinitely. Not perfectly. Enough force could overwhelm its control.
Simple in theory.
Nearly impossible in execution.
From somewhere behind him, Kaelen could hear the clashing steel of his teammates. The rhythm of desperate survival. He did not look.
He did not hesitate.
His world narrowed to the creature before him.
"Kheee—!"
The monster's scream tore through the air.
And something inside that scream slithered into everyone present.
Fear.
Sudden. Crushing. Instinctive.
It was not just rage. It was agony—a wretched, distorted plea wrapped in hatred. A scream that demanded death, yet refused it.
Kaelen's opponent was only slightly larger than a human. Compared to the other two monsters rampaging elsewhere, it lacked overwhelming brute force.
But it possessed intelligence.
And that made it worse.
Clash!
Slshh!
Two rapid exchanges forced Kaelen backward again. His boots skidded. He drove his sword into the ground, using it as a brace, breath ragged.
"It's too narrow…" he muttered under his breath.
His attacks were sharp, but not decisive. Like trying to cut down a tree with a kitchen knife.
The monster's right arm swung toward him again. Kaelen angled his blade, deflecting the trajectory, sparks spitting outward. Another strike followed—he ducked under it, rolling to the side.
Then—
PLSHH!
The earth beneath him ruptured.
Tentacles burst from the ground, slick and writhing, lashing around his ankles.
"Uhh—!"
They tightened, trying to drag him off balance.
Kaelen slashed downward, severing one, then pivoted on his heel despite the pull. He forced his leg free, boots tearing skin as he ripped himself away. Blood soaked into his socks, but he did not slow.
His blade moved as his will commanded. His footwork shifted in tight arcs, breath syncing with motion. Every strike was measured. Every dodge stolen by fractions of seconds.
The monster adapted.
A feint high—Kaelen raised his guard—
A sweeping kick low—he leapt back—
Tentacles shot forward again—he spun midair, cutting two apart before landing.
The ground cracked under the beast's next stomp. Stone fragments erupted upward. Kaelen shielded his eyes, then charged through the debris instead of retreating.
His shoulder slammed into the monster's torso.
They both staggered.
He drove his elbow into its jaw.
It responded by grabbing his collar and hurling him across the street.
Kaelen crashed through a broken cart, wood splintering around him.
"…Damn… its strength is insane," he breathed, pushing himself up with shaking arms.
His ribs screamed in protest. His lungs burned.
Still—
One way or another, I will kill you.
The battle stretched on.
Kaelen's stamina thinned like a candle nearing its end. Sweat blurred his vision. Each swing grew heavier.
The monster did not tire.
"Hey… shouldn't we help them?" Rose whispered, eyes wide as she watched.
"No. Not yet."
Noa remained seated, gaze sharp and unblinking.
He observed Kaelen with unsettling focus.
Kaelen had not used a single skill.
Yet his swordsmanship surpassed the others who had.
His footwork. His timing. His restraint.
Even Noa's self-taught blade felt crude in comparison.
Could this be the one?
Noa leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming as if watching a rare performance rather than a life-or-death struggle. Still, he kept one peripheral eye on the civilians.
He was not irresponsible.
Just… selective.
…
Kaelen's blade struck again. And again. And again.
Each wound inflicted only marginal damage.
His arms grew heavier. His breathing fractured.
Not yet!
I have to reach that place at least once.
His dream dragged his exhausted body forward.
Then—
Something warm.
Deep inside his chest.
Not pain.
Not blood.
Something… gentle.
***
The city burned like a fallen star choking on its own ashes.
Towers cracked and crumbled under collapsing roofs. Stained-glass windows melted into rivers of fractured color. Smoke spiraled into the sky, swallowing the moon until even light seemed ashamed to linger.
Bells rang somewhere in the distance.
There was no one left to hear them.
Shadows of shattered statues watched over streets littered with broken banners. The flames did not roar.
They whispered.
They crept like starving animals through homes and market stalls.
In reflections of burning puddles, the city flickered—alive for a heartbeat—
—before dying again.
"No! Mom!"
A boy—no older than ten, dark blue hair matted with soot—reached toward the woman who shoved him away from the collapsing doorway.
"Go… and hold your sword," she whispered, her voice already fading. "Run… and live long enough to remember me."
Her words were softer than the wind.
Then she fell.
Like a candle extinguished by indifferent fate.
The boy's ocean-blue eyes flooded. His chest convulsed with sobs he did not understand.
Still—
He ran.
"HELP!"
"KYAAH!"
Step. Step.
Flames devoured voices he would never hear again.
Sacrifices were made for a purpose.
And that purpose was his survival.
"Sniff—"
Clutching the wooden practice sword with both hands, he turned a corner—
Swoosh!
A blade descended toward him.
CLANG!
Another sword intercepted it.
Steel screamed.
Amid fire and chaos stood a single figure.
Wounded.
Bleeding.
Unyielding.
The boy's breath caught—not only at the sight of real armor, but at the knight's posture.
He stood like a wall carved from resolve.
"Tch… where did you come from?" the knight muttered between breaths. "Doesn't matter. Just run. I'll save everyone I can."
There were twelve armored enemies surrounding him.
Twelve.
The boy's voice trembled on its own.
"Why… aren't you running?"
The knight smiled.
"Because I want to become a royal knight."
He tightened his grip.
"And a royal knight does not run while people are still screaming for help."
Light gathered along his blade—not flame, not spell. Something deeper.
As if the sword itself had decided.
"Watch carefully, boy. This is how a royal knight stands."
"Remember this moment. Not the fire. Not the death. But how hope fights back."
The blade glowed.
The world burned.
But hope refused to kneel.
That day, the boy did not dream of revenge. He dreamed of standing where that knight had stood. Where that knight wanted to reach.
***
Kaelen coughed blood.
And his sword began to glow.
Swoosh.
Unlike Noa's dark, predatory aura, Kaelen's light was pure. Warm. Blue like a clear sky after rain.
The Aether around him did not gather.
It recoiled.
Pressed outward by something heavier than technique.
Intent.
Existence.
The blade formed.
Not a spell.
Not a Skill.
But pressure given shape.
[Aura Blade]
Kaelen had never awakened a skill.
Even now, he did not.
He forced the world to acknowledge his will.
[Blade Projection]
The light extended beyond steel. Not magic. Not learned form.
Just the projection of being.
His aura did not coat the blade.
It became the blade.
"What the—"
Noa shot to his feet.
"He just learned it… and advanced it?"
A grin tugged at his lips despite the sweat on his temple.
"I… I can't believe it," Rose whispered, hands covering her mouth.
"Kheeeh!"
The monster staggered back.
For the first time—
It feared.
"KHAAAH!"
Kaelen lunged.
Each step cracked the ground.
The monster swung wildly—Kaelen sliced through the arm mid-motion.
Tentacles erupted from below—he twisted, aura blade extending and severing them before they reached him.
The creature tried to retreat.
"You fought long enough," Kaelen said quietly, breath shaking. "I will carry the weight of ending this."
One step.
One breath.
One swing.
WHSSHHH—
Blue light cut through flesh, bone, and fear alike.
The monster split apart, fragments dissolving as if erased by a higher authority.
Silence followed.
Kaelen swayed. Then collapsed.
As darkness closed in, faint voices brushed against him.
"Thank you…"
"Our blessings…"
"Keep moving forward…"
The warmth faded.
---
Even though Kaelen won, the other three knights were still struggling.
Seeing this, Noa sighed.
"Well. I suppose sitting dramatically won't solve this."
He stood.
"Rose. Hand over your sword."
She blinked. "Ah—okay! I'll come with you."
"No. Your sword is enough."
He took it from her hands before she could argue.
"B-but—will you be okay?"
She believed he was strong.
But three at once?
He smiled.
"I'm much stronger than I look. It's a curse."
[Blink]
---
"Damn… these things are strong!"
"How long do we hold on?!"
"Reinforcements should—"
PLSHH!
SLSHH!
PLSH!
The three monsters surrounding them split apart in an instant.
Dark purple aura devoured their regeneration, chewing through flesh like acid.
"…What the hell is that?"
"I don't know."
"It's… dead?"
A voice echoed from the side, near where their captain had fallen.
"You're something else," Noa said lightly, adjusting his grip on Rose's sword. "Seems even I'm inside your story if I suddenly show up to save you. Try not to make it a habit."
His smile was easy.
His aura was not.