The world snapped back into motion, but the weight of everything that had just happened still lingered in my chest.

  "I said stand down. I don’t wanna repeat myself," the soldier barked again, his voice edged with irritation.

  I blinked, adjusting to reality. "Oh, sorry." I lowered my sword, exhaling slowly as I tried to regain my composure.

  Behind the soldier, Quart was already being restrained by the Demon Slayer Corps. Their presence was suffocating, an elite force that rarely appeared unless dealing with true threats. Glowing chains of magic wrapped around Quart’s massive frame, binding his limbs as runic symbols flickered across his skin. Even as he struggled, the chains only tightened, his resistance meaningless against their specialized containment spells.

  They dragged him out of the arena, disappearing through the gates.

  I just stood there, unsure of what to do. My heartbeat was still unsteady, my fingers twitching as if waiting for another battle to start. But it didn’t. The fight was over.

  Then, a familiar voice came soaring down from above.

  "I— I guess KELVIN WINS FOR THE IMPERIAL FLAME OF AUREWYN ACADEMY!" Ozaki’s voice rang out, a bit shaken, but still carrying its usual enthusiasm.

  The crowd erupted into cheers, chanting my name, but I barely processed it. My mind was still replaying what had just happened—the battle, the sudden intervention, him.

  I turned, ready to head back to the waiting area, when an unfamiliar voice called down from above.

  "Mr. Kelvin, please come here."

  I looked up. It wasn’t King Albrecht himself, but one of his servants, standing in the royal viewing box, staring directly at me.

  ...

  I wasn’t the only one summoned.

  The room was already filled by the time I arrived—students, some familiar, some strangers, all carrying an air of tension. The Demon Slayer Corps stood along the edges of the chamber, their presence alone enough to suffocate the air with authority. Their weapons remained sheathed, but their hands hovered near their hilts, as if expecting something to happen.

  At the center of it all, King Albrecht rose from his throne. His movements were slow, deliberate, as he stepped away from the grand seat of authority and onto a floating podium that extended out over the chamber. His golden cloak billowed slightly, his regal presence commanding absolute silence.

  Then, without warning, a massive screen materialized above us.

  It was a kingdom-wide broadcast. Whatever he was about to say—it wasn’t just for us.

  "Dear citizens of the Vraxis Empire," Albrecht’s voice rang out, deep and steady, but laced with a grave undertone. "As many of you already know, the Great Divide is decaying day by day."

  The screen flickered, switching to live footage of the border. Soldiers lined the walls, thousands of them. Siege weapons stood at the ready, magic barriers flickering faintly over their formations. Their armor gleamed under the sun, yet there was something unsettling about the way they stood—rigid, motionless, waiting.

  Albrecht exhaled, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on the screen again.

  "I do not say this to instill fear. I say this because it is the truth. The Great Divide—our last defense against the horrors beyond—is reaching its limit. And today… may be the day it finally falls."

  A heavy silence followed.

  No cheers. No murmurs.

  Just the weight of his words settling over us like an inescapable shadow.

  King Albrecht let the silence hang, allowing the weight of his words to settle over everyone. Then, he raised his hand, and his voice carried with the strength of a ruler who had seen wars, victories, and losses alike.

  "But we are not powerless."

  The screen flickered again, showing mages strengthening barriers, engineers reinforcing walls, adventurers preparing weapons, and soldiers training in formation. It wasn’t just an army—it was an empire standing on the brink, refusing to be swallowed by the coming storm.

  "We are the Vraxis Empire. We are the sword that has held the darkness at bay for centuries. And today, we stand once more—not as nobles and commoners, not as students and veterans, but as one."

  A murmur spread through the room, quiet but growing. Soldiers straightened their backs. Students clenched their fists. Even the Demon Slayer Corps, warriors who had long faced nightmares beyond comprehension, nodded in silent approval.

  "I will not lie to you," Albrecht continued, his voice steady. "This will not be easy. Some of us will fall. But hear me now—every sword lifted, every spell cast, every shield raised will decide the fate of this empire. And if we stand together—if we fight together—then we will not fall today."

  The murmurs turned into cheers.

  "To the soldiers who have sworn to defend these lands, your courage will inspire those who follow."

  The screen showed ranks of warriors, their armor gleaming, their gazes hardened with resolve.

  "To the students, young but fearless, your potential is the fire that will forge our future."

  The image shifted to students from the academies, gripping their weapons, their expressions shifting from doubt to determination.

  "To the adventurers, the ones who fight not for kings but for their own code, know this—today, your strength will be the difference between survival and annihilation."

  The screen flashed with mercenaries, mages, and lone warriors, each standing ready to answer the call.

  "And to every citizen of Vraxis—your hands, your will, your prayers—they all matter. This empire stands because of all of us."

  The air vibrated with the sheer force of the gathered voices.

  Albrecht’s gaze burned with intensity as he raised his hand high.

  "We will not run. We will not break. We will fight, and we will endure."

  The cheers erupted, a roaring wave of resolve and fury. It spread beyond the room, beyond the palace—through the cities, the towns, the barracks.

  King Albrecht exhaled, a small but unshakable smile forming on his lips.

  "The Great Divide may fall... but Vraxis will not."

  King Albrecht extended his hand toward Lia, his expression unwavering yet firm.

  "And to the Kingdom of Aurewyn," he declared, his voice ringing across the hall and through the broadcast, "the closest to the border, know that you will not stand alone. The Vraxis Empire will support you."

  Gasps rippled through the room, and murmurs of approval followed. The Kingdom of Aurewyn, though mighty, was the first line of defense against whatever horrors would spill forth if the Great Divide truly collapsed. To pledge Vraxis' aid meant the empire was fully committing to this war—not just defending their own lands, but ensuring the survival of their allies as well.

  Lia, standing among the gathered students and warriors, nodded with a composed yet grateful expression. She did not bow, nor did she falter—her kingdom’s pride would not allow it—but there was unmistakable respect in her gaze.

  "This is not just Aurewyn’s battle," Albrecht continued. "It is a battle for all who value their homes, their families, and their future. We will stand together, and together we will prevail."

  The crowd erupted into cheers once more, the air heavy with a mix of determination and urgency. The weight of war loomed over them all, but in that moment, it no longer felt like a battle for survival.

  It felt like a battle they would win.

  ...

  At the border.

  A soldier yawned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "God, this is boring," he muttered, tapping the shoulder of the man next to him. "Hey, cover for me. I need to take a number two."

  His comrade barely glanced at him, too busy staring into the dark horizon. "Yeah, go ahead."

  "Thanks." The soldier hurried toward a tall enough bush, already fumbling with his belt, before suddenly freezing.

  He forgot something.

  Grumbling under his breath, he turned back toward the post. "Hey, I forgot to give you my ke—"

  His words died in his throat.

  The key slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground with an eerie clink.

  Silence.

  His breath hitched. Just seconds ago, his comrades had been standing there—talking, shifting in their armor, breathing.

  Now, they were gone. No, not gone. They were piled up. Bodies stacked like discarded dolls, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, lifeless eyes staring into nothing.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Atop the mound of corpses stood a figure.

  A man—or rather, a demon. Clad in a sleek black suit, his messy dark hair falling over a blindfold that obscured his eyes. Yet somehow, despite that, the soldier knew the demon was looking directly at him.

  Beside him, a massive, towering figure loomed—a Kapre, its skin dark as midnight, smoke curling lazily from a lit cigar between its lips. A massive backpack was slung over its shoulder, as if this were just another day on the road.

  The soldier barely had time to sweat.

  A flash of movement—too fast to comprehend.

  His world spun.

  And before his brain could catch up, his head was already rolling across the blood-soaked ground.

  "Ahh, are all humans this weak?" the blindfolded demon mused, tilting his head slightly as if genuinely disappointed. His voice was smooth, almost bored, like a critic unimpressed by an amateur performance.

  The Kapre beside him exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, watching the soldier’s severed head roll a few inches before stopping. “Human?”

  The dying soldier's thoughts raced, drowning in sheer panic. I gotta warn the empire... The border control... The border has fallen! But—

  SMASH.

  A sickening crunch echoed through the air.

  The demon hadn’t even looked his way. With a casual flick of his wrist, something invisible—something unstoppable—obliterated what was left of the soldier’s body. Blood splattered across the dirt, painting the once-quiet outpost in violent shades of crimson.

  The Kapre sighed, shaking its head. "Messy."

  The blindfolded demon simply grinned. “It’s fine. No one’s left to complain.”

  And with that, the demons stepped over the remains, walking deeper into the empire’s lands.

  ...

  Everyone had already left the royal box. The air was quiet now, the weight of everything that had happened still settling over me. I found myself in a private chamber, alone with Lia and Veyrin.

  "You guys are going, right?" I asked, already knowing the answer—but needing to hear it anyway.

  Veyrin gave a small scoff, crossing his arms. "Of course we are. We're not going to leave our kingdom behind." His gaze sharpened, protective and stern. "And don’t even think about joining us. This isn’t your fight—not yet."

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Lia stepped forward, her voice soft but resolute.

  "Don’t worry, Kelvin," she said, her eyes meeting mine. "We… I won’t die. Not until our promise has been fulfilled."

  Her words hit deeper than I expected. The kind of vow that carried weight far beyond just words.

  A soft glow began to emanate from the two of them—golden and warm, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. It shimmered across their bodies, growing stronger until their forms were outlined in light.

  And just like that… they were gone.

  Vanished into the ether, leaving only silence behind.

  I stood there for a moment longer, staring at the space they had just occupied.

  "...Stay alive," I muttered to no one in particular.

  "Who are you talking to?" a sudden voice cut through the silence behind me.

  I turned quickly, instinctively reaching for my weapon, but stopped when I saw who it was.

  Reinhardt, the President of the Imperial Flame, stood just inside the room. His long coat trailed slightly behind him as he stepped forward, arms casually crossed. A slight grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, like he’d been watching the whole time.

  "How did you get here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  "I walked in through the door," he replied, tilting his head toward it.

  I blinked. The door hadn’t made a sound. No creak, no footsteps, not even the faintest shift in mana. Nothing.

  I let out a slow breath. Maybe I was too overwhelmed. Everything had happened so fast—Lia and Veyrin disappearing, the king’s speech, that demon at the border. My senses must’ve been dulled by the chaos.

  Still, something about Reinhardt felt off. His presence, though familiar, carried a strange weight today. Like there was more going on beneath that calm, easy going exterior.

  "Look, you don't have to be so on edge. We're on the same team, remember?" Reinhardt said, raising his hands slightly in a disarming gesture. "But seriously… do you have some kind of regenerating skill? I could've sworn you didn’t have a left arm before."

  "Huh?" I blinked, then looked down at my left arm.

  It was there. Whole. Solid.

  I flexed my fingers slowly, curling them into a fist. It moved smoothly, like it had never been gone. No pain. No stiffness. Just... back. The weight of it, the feeling of my palm—it was real.

  This had to be Aedrys' doing. Some lingering effect from his power, continuing what my body couldn't finish on its own.

  I quickly opened my UI, heart thudding in my chest. I needed to be sure. Double-check if this was real—if my arm had truly returned or if I was caught in some illusion I didn’t understand yet.

  The UI flickered into view, familiar and clean—its glow casting a faint hue over my face.

  [SYSTEM]

  [Name]: Kelvin

  [Class]: Former Sergeant (Aerospace Engineer)

  [Level]: 25

  [STATS]

  [STRENGTH]: 48

  [VITALITY]: 125

  [AGILITY]: 69

  [ENDURANCE]: 50

  [DEXTERITY]: 57

  [Weapon]: C13314 (Mythical) — Durability: Infinite

  [Skills]:

  — Piercing Lance

  — Regeneration

  — Weapon Transfiguration

  — Enhanced Reflexes (Passive)

  — Logic Gate

  [Condition]: Stable

  [LIMB STATUS]: All restored

  There it was. No warnings, no system alerts. My left arm was fully registered as "restored." Even the internal indicators—nerve response, muscle status, mana flow—all were green.

  I exhaled in disbelief. “It’s back… it’s really back.”

  Reinhardt stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined my arm. “So it is. Damn. A regeneration that advanced… That’s not something you get from just normal skills.”

  “It’s not a normal skill,” I muttered, keeping my voice low. “I guess you could say it’s a divine blessing.”

  Reinhardt’s expression shifted—just a flicker of something between curiosity and caution—but he didn’t press the topic.

  “So,” I said, changing the subject, “why are you here, anyway?”

  He leaned back slightly and gave a shrug. “Oh yeah. Right. As students of Aurewyn, you’d expect us to be out there helping, right? But the headmaster gave strict orders—we’re to stay put. Actually, all the students who attended X-Day were told the same.”

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t like it. Not one bit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. Like something’s coming, and we’re being kept out of the way for a reason.”

  He let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “But that’s about it. Oh—have you seen Eli around?”

  “Eli?” I asked, frowning. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Hmm. Oh well.” He raised his hand in a half-wave as he turned toward the door. “See you around, Kelvin.”

  Then, without another word, he stepped out and vanished down the hallway, leaving the room quiet once more.

  I stood there for a moment longer, alone again, staring at my hand—still flexing, still whole. That divine energy still lingered beneath the skin, faint but undeniable.

  Having both of my arms again made me feel… whole. More flexible, more balanced. The very first thing I did was head straight to the training grounds.

  I pulled out my weapon—C13314—its surface shimmering with a subtle glow. Naturally, the first form I tested was a sword. My swings were sharper now, more fluid, less restrained. Each movement flowed with purpose, clean and uninterrupted. Then I switched to a spear, feeling the familiar weight settle perfectly in my grip.

  That’s when it clicked.

  During combat… I could switch between forms seamlessly. Not just as a gimmick—but as a rhythm.

  I needed to test this.

  First, I lunged forward with the sword, slicing clean through the practice dummy. The moment the blade passed through, I transfigured it into a dagger mid-movement, slashing upward in a close-quarters combo. I stepped back, hand shifting without pause as the weapon lengthened and reshaped into a bow. I loosed an arrow in a heartbeat—and before it even struck the target, I transfigured the bow into a spear and hurled it forward.

  “[Piercing Lance]!”

  The energy surged through the weapon, the ground tearing in a jagged line as the glowing spear crashed forward, amplifying the momentum of the arrow with terrifying force.

  Smoke rose. The dummies were gone. The air sizzled with residual mana.

  This wasn’t just versatility.

  It was dominance.

  And I had only just begun to scratch the surface.

  "Wait... Mana?" I muttered, confused.

  I quickly pulled up my UI, eyes scanning for anything out of place.

  [SYSTEM]

  [Name]: Kelvin

  [Class]: Former Sergeant (Aerospace Engineer)

  [Level]: 25

  [STATS]

  [STRENGTH]: 48

  [VITALITY]: 125

  [AGILITY]: 69

  [ENDURANCE]: 50

  [DEXTERITY]: 57

  [MANA]: 0 (+1)

  "Mana... I have mana?!"

  I stared at the stat, stunned. It had always been zero. No fluctuations, no hidden potential, just a flat line where others had entire pools of energy to draw from. I’d built everything I had through steel, grit, and instinct.

  But now, that tiny (+1) blinked at me like a secret trying to be heard. Not enough to cast anything, not yet. But it was there. Real.

  Was this because of Aedrys? The Binary energy? Or was something inside me finally waking up?

  Whatever it was, this wasn't just a fluke.

  Something had changed. And I was ready to find out what.

  "Where do I start?" I asked myself quietly.

  But that could wait.

  The first thing I did was sleep.

  ...

  In the morning, the first thing I tried was leveling up my mana by killing monsters. It felt like the most straightforward method—gain experience, grow stronger. I’d done it before with my other stats, so why not mana?

  But it didn’t work.

  No matter how many beasts I cut down, how efficiently I moved, or how deadly my strikes were, the mana stat remained unchanged. Still stuck at 0 (+1). It was like trying to fill a broken cup—nothing I did made a difference.

  So, I turned to knowledge.

  The next place I went was the city’s grand library. As I walked through the streets, I couldn't shake the weight in the air. The tension was everywhere. People clutched their cloaks tighter. Murmurs of fear floated through the markets. Everyone had heard the king’s speech. The Great Divide was failing, and the looming threat of a demon invasion made even the bravest pause.

  Despite the unease, I pushed forward.

  Once inside the library, I searched relentlessly. Shelf after shelf, I gathered every book I could find that mentioned mana. Ancient scrolls, theoretical guides, even dusty tomes written in half-forgotten dialects. I piled them on a corner table until the stack was taller than my chest.

  But one book stood out from the rest.

  It was old, with a deep blue leather cover and golden letters etched in a language I almost didn’t recognize—yet somehow understood.

  “The Laws of Mana.”

  I opened it carefully, the pages worn and slightly brittle. The first chapter immediately caught my attention.

  “Mana is not something earned. It is awakened at birth. One must be born with the spark.”

  So that explained it. Why nobles always seemed to possess magic. Why commoners rarely ever did. It wasn’t about training or effort—it was about bloodline and chance.

  Luck.

  The book continued, stating that mana exists in everything. It flows through the world like oxygen—unseen, essential, and ever-present. Everyone lives in it, breathes it, but not everyone can use it.

  I flipped to another page, curious. A new metaphor emerged.

  “Mana is like a clock,” it read. “As one practices and channels mana, the clock ticks forward. But with every completed cycle, the clock must reset—forcing the user to refine, rebuild, and reawaken their essence stronger than before.”

  I turned another page, and this time, I found illustrations—etched drawings, stylized and powerful. They depicted the Five Stages of Mana Awakening. Each one more surreal than the last.

  Siga ng Alab

  The Flame’s Spark

  The humble beginning, where a mage first ignites their magical essence. At this stage, one can conjure basic elemental magic—tiny flames, flickers of ice, or minor healing spells. It's the first breath of magic.

  Pundasyon ng Sigwa

  The Foundation of Storms

  Magic gains shape and strength. Spells become tangible and aggressive—firewalls, blades of wind, freezing barriers. Healing becomes reliable, enough to mend deep wounds. The mage begins to influence the battlefield.

  Pait ng Hangin

  The Bite of the Wind

  A realm of advanced mastery. Here, mages command the elements with precision—summoning lightning, controlling storms, and even distorting dimensions. Healing evolves into restoration. Magic becomes a true force of nature.

  Hantungan ng Liwanag

  The Horizon of Light

  A near-mythical tier. Only the most gifted ever reach it. Spells at this level defy natural law—resurrection magic, light-based teleportation, and the bending of physical reality. Mages here are often revered as legends.

  Pag-iral ng Kadiliman

  The Existence of Darkness

  The final stage. A domain whispered about in fear and reverence. This is the realm of Saints, Demon Lords, and Divine Protectors. Magic here bends time, shatters space, and reshapes existence. A place where power transcends humanity.

  I sat there for a long time, staring at that last stage.

  Pag-iral ng Kadiliman.

  A level far beyond anything I could imagine. Yet... something about it called to me.

  I closed the book slowly, a mix of awe and curiosity swirling inside me.

  If mana is awakened, not earned... then what was that +1?

  Was it my awakening?

  Or was it something new entirely? Something outside the rules?

  I stood up from my seat, a quiet determination forming in my chest.

  I needed to find someone who had defied this system—someone who wasn’t born with mana... but still found a way to wield it.

  A rule-breaker.