Chapter 23 – The Weight of a Sword

  The training grounds had gone eerily silent.

  The noble Tobias had challenged—Adrien du Cressac, son of a Viscount, Earth mage—stood stiffly across from him, his jaw clenched tight. His fingers twitched against the hilt of his sword.

  He had clearly never expected the provocation to go this far.

  Tobias, however, looked bored.

  “You can use magic if you want,” Tobias said, rolling his shoulders. “I won’t.”

  That made the watching nobles tense. Even Lucien’s red eyes flickered with something unreadable.

  Jessica, standing at the edge of the courtyard, said nothing.

  She had no intention of stopping this.

  Tobias reached behind him, gripping the hilt of the Moran family sword.

  And in a single motion, he lifted it with one hand.

  The air shifted.

  For a moment, there was no sound except the faint creak of the leather grip under Tobias’s fingers.

  The Moran sword was a monster of a weapon.

  Nearly as long as a man was tall.

  Thicker and heavier than any proper dueling blade.

  A knight’s longsword was meant to be an extension of the body. This was not.

  This was a crusher.

  A breaker.

  A weapon that existed to end things.

  And Tobias was holding it like a rapier.

  No strain. No struggle.

  One-handed.

  A few watching nobles involuntarily swallowed.

  Jessica didn’t flinch, but when Tobias lifted the blade, he met her gaze.

  It wasn’t hostility.

  It wasn’t challenge.

  But it wasn’t nothing either.

  His green eyes, so similar to hers, were shadowed with something deeper—resentment, frustration, maybe even hurt.

  Jessica knew what he was thinking.

  You couldn’t bear the weight of it.

  You gave it up.

  I never will.

  The moment passed as quickly as it came.

  Tobias exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip. The veins in his arm flexed, tightening beneath his sleeveless uniform.

  He turned away from her.

  And then, as if nothing had happened, he looked at Adrien.

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  _

  The Battle Begins

  Adrien moved first.

  A wall of earth erupted between them, reinforced with layers of compacted stone—a barrier that should have been unbreakable without magic.

  Tobias didn’t stop.

  His breath came out slow. Controlled.

  Then he swung.

  The impact wasn’t a clang of metal.

  It was a detonation.

  CRACK—

  The entire barrier exploded.

  The shockwave sent dust and debris flying into the crowd, making some students instinctively stumble backward.

  Adrien barely had time to react.

  Chunks of shattered earth struck him first.

  A jagged shard sliced across his cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood. Another tore through his uniform, ripping fabric open along his shoulder.

  The noble staggered back, stunned.

  But Tobias wasn’t done.

  The moment the barrier shattered, Adrien lunged forward, sword raised. He aimed for Tobias’s open stance, trying to take advantage of the fact that the heavy blade should have slowed him down.

  Should have.

  But it didn’t.

  Tobias pivoted.

  Instead of lifting the massive sword for a downward strike—he turned.

  A sharp, seamless 360-degree rotation, using the sheer weight and momentum of the sword itself to build force.

  Adrien’s long noble-styled hair, loosened from the force of the impact, flowed freely around his face as he leapt forward.

  For half a second, his vision was clear.

  Then—

  The blade swung upward.

  SHATTER.

  Adrien’s sword exploded into fragments.

  The shards floated midair, glistening like shattered glass, suspended for a breath of time—

  Then—Tobias’s sword kept going.

  The sheer reach of the weapon carried forward—the flat of the blade catching the strands of hair that had loosened and floated around Adrien’s face.

  FWOOOM—

  The force alone tore through the air.

  Adrien flinched violently.

  Then—half of his noble-styled hair drifted to the dirt.

  His breath hitched.

  His hands trembled.

  And then—he lost his grip.

  His fingers, slick with sweat, failed him—his remaining grip on the ruined hilt slipped.

  The shattered remains of his sword dropped to the ground.

  The moment the steel left his fingers, the watching students gasped audibly.

  Because to a knight—losing grip on one’s blade wasn’t just weakness.

  It was disgrace.

  He had lost his sword, his stance, his breath—everything in a single exchange.

  His uniform was torn from flying debris, his sword shattered, his body kneeling in the dirt, his hair cut away like an afterthought.

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  The last of his pride fell with it.

  He was still kneeling.

  He hadn’t moved.

  Because he couldn’t.

  Tobias let the sword’s momentum settle. The veins in his arms flexed beneath his sleeveless uniform as he rested the massive blade against his shoulder.

  Then, with a smirk just shy of cruel, he tilted his head.

  “Go get a haircut.”

  His voice was casual. Bored, almost.

  Then he lifted his sword back onto his back as if it weighed nothing, turned, and walked away.

  Jessica let out a slow exhale.

  Tobias had never been elegant.

  And he never needed to be.

  Because when you wielded a weapon like the Moran blade...

  You didn’t win fights.

  You ended them.

  _

  Lucien and Hannelore Begin the Investigation

  Hannelore Eisendreich did not resist as Lucien von Hohenfeld dragged her out of the training grounds. She could walk just fine on her own, but apparently, that wasn’t relevant.

  Her cold blue eyes flicked to his hand gripping her wrist.

  “You’re manhandling me,” she stated, voice flat.

  Lucien scoffed but loosened his grip slightly. “And yet you’re still coming along.”

  Hannelore didn’t argue. She had already assessed the situation. Lucien had decided she was going to be involved, and dragging her like a sack of grain was more about annoying her into participation than actual necessity.

  She could dig her heels in, force him to release her, and continue training.

  Or—she could endure this mild inconvenience, let him talk himself in circles, and eventually have something useful over him.

  She allowed herself to be led. For now.

  When Lucien finally stopped, he turned to face her, arms crossing over his chest. His red eyes glinted with something sharp.

  “I need you for the investigation.”

  Hannelore blinked. “No.”

  Lucien sighed, rubbing his temple. “I haven’t even explained why yet.”

  “You will anyway,” she replied evenly.

  Lucien’s smirk twitched. He enjoyed their verbal sparring more than he let on.

  “This whole thing—” he gestured vaguely, “—is connected to the mana surge. Jessica’s acting weird. She knows something. I don’t like it when she knows things before I do.”

  Hannelore tilted her head slightly. “That sounds like a personal problem.”

  Lucien ignored that. “I need someone who actually has a brain to help sort through the mess at the site. Everyone else is either avoiding it or too busy pretending they weren’t helpless without magic.”

  Hannelore exhaled slowly, as if considering it. Then—

  “No.”

  Lucien rolled his eyes. “And why not?”

  Hannelore gave him an unimpressed glance. “Because I don’t care.”

  Lucien narrowed his eyes. “You should.”

  “Why?”

  “Because something is off.”

  “That is vague.”

  Lucien exhaled sharply. “Jessica noticed something.”

  Hannelore’s brow twitched slightly. “And?”

  Lucien’s smirk sharpened. “You don’t think that’s interesting?”

  There was a pause. A flicker of something unreadable in Hannelore’s expression.

  Then, smoothly—“I think Jessica has a screw loose.”

  Lucien chuckled. “She does.”

  Hannelore continued, unbothered. “And yet, you trust her ‘nonsense’ enough to drag me into an investigation?”

  Lucien tapped his fingers against his forearm. “Jessica’s nonsense isn’t normal nonsense.”

  Hannelore gave him a slow, assessing look.

  “...You’re taking her words too seriously.”

  Lucien shrugged. “She’s survived too much to ignore.”

  Hannelore stared at him for a long moment.

  “...You trust her that much?”

  Lucien shrugged again. “I trust that her nonsense isn’t nonsense.”

  Hannelore’s expression remained unreadable.

  Then, after a brief pause—

  She sighed.

  “Fine.”

  Lucien’s smirk returned in full force.

  Hannelore raised a hand before he could gloat. “But if we find nothing, you will admit that you dragged me into this for no reason.”

  Lucien chuckled. “Done.”

  Hannelore exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  Jessica Moran, you absolute maniac. What have you gotten me into this time?

  _

  The Plan & The Problem

  Lucien shifted gears before she could push further. “The site is swarming with people, but they’re not looking for what we need.”

  Hannelore crossed her arms. “And what exactly are we looking for?”

  Lucien grinned, eyes sharp with mischief. “Something with runes on it. Some kind of device. Probably broken.”

  Hannelore gave him a blank stare.

  “Oh,” she said dryly. “That’s not vague at all.”

  Lucien shrugged. “We don’t need specifics—we just need to find what doesn’t belong.”

  Hannelore tilted her head slightly. “Why don’t you just ask Jessica?”

  Lucien exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to take her too seriously while she’s injured and breaking things.”

  Hannelore raised a single eyebrow. The first true sign of her amusement.

  “So, you don’t want to waste her time,” she mused. “But you’re perfectly fine wasting mine?”

  Lucien smirked. “Obviously.”

  Hannelore let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers together as if debating whether or not she could kill him and get away with it.

  “...You are exhausting.”

  Lucien grinned. “Yet here you are.”

  Hannelore gave him a long, unblinking stare. Then, after exactly three seconds of silence—

  “Fine.”

  Lucien smirked. “Fine?”

  “I will go,” she said, voice cool, controlled. “But if you waste my time—”

  She tilted her head slightly, a sharp, almost delicate movement. The perfect imitation of noble condescension.

  “—I will make sure Jessica hears about your little fixation.”

  Lucien’s smirk vanished.

  Hannelore turned, already walking ahead.

  “I assume you can keep up?” she called, voice smooth.

  Lucien muttered something under his breath. Then, with a smirk—he followed.

  The investigation had begun.

  Chapter 24 – The Lightning That Strikes Twice

  The path to the surge site bore the scars of the battle that had taken place days prior. The ground was uneven, torn apart by bursts of unstable magic. Scorched remains of monsters, fractured stones, and lingering traces of mana disturbance spread across the area like echoes of the past. The deeper they moved into the field, the heavier the air became—not with magic, but with the unnatural stillness of something unfinished.

  Jessica had been the first to notice something was wrong. Now, as they walked, Lucien found himself irritated by the nagging thought that she had sensed something none of them had.

  Ahead, knights stood watch, overseeing the perimeter. Unlike the academy’s elite class, these weren’t trainees—they were warriors. They carried themselves with purpose, not arrogance, and their armor wasn’t just ceremonial. These were men and women who had seen real battles, who knew how to fight without relying on magic to save them.

  The academy had sent knights who wouldn’t collapse if a second mana suppression event occurred.

  As they neared the center of the battlefield, Hannelore spoke without looking at either of them.

  “What do we do if monsters attack?”

  Her tone was cold, analytical—as if she were discussing an inevitable inconvenience rather than a real concern.

  Lucien smirked, glancing at her. “Optimistic, aren’t you?”

  Edgar, however, answered without hesitation. “It wouldn’t be like last time.”

  Lucien followed his gaze toward the knights stationed at the front. “Obviously. These aren’t students. They’re real knights.”

  The ones sent to investigate weren’t here to learn. They were here to handle whatever came next.

  Hannelore didn’t seem reassured. “So... strong like Tobias?”

  Lucien immediately scoffed. “Oh, gods.”

  Edgar, on the other hand, actually thought about it. He looked toward the knights, considering, before he nodded. “If that’s the standard, then yes.”

  Lucien let out an exaggerated sigh. “One mention of Moran’s brute of a brother and suddenly we’re all sentimental.”

  “I’ve always paid attention to Tobias,” Hannelore said evenly.

  Lucien blinked, stopping mid-step. “Excuse me?”

  Hannelore didn’t elaborate. She kept walking, not even sparing him a glance.

  Edgar side-eyed her briefly but said nothing.

  Lucien narrowed his eyes slightly, studying her as if seeing something new. Then he shook his head, scoffing to himself. “Well, that’s unsettling.”

  If she heard, she didn’t acknowledge it.

  Lucien clicked his tongue, choosing to focus back on the actual discussion. “So, the Moran family is historically under-recognized. What a tragedy. Should we take up a petition?”

  Hannelore didn’t dignify that with a response.

  Edgar, however, muttered. “...It does make you wonder why.”

  Lucien shook his head, choosing not to engage further. They were close enough to the surge site now. The knights ahead straightened as they approached, their sharp gazes flicking over them, assessing.

  Lucien barely acknowledged them. His focus was on the ruined battlefield ahead.

  It was time to see if there was anything left to find.

  They stopped near the remains of a shattered rock formation, remnants of the explosion still marking the earth. Lucien crossed his arms, watching as Edgar stepped forward, stretching his fingers, preparing to release a controlled pulse of lightning.

  Hannelore exhaled sharply, her usual impassive tone carrying a note of preemptive disappointment.

  “Aetheric electromagnetic fields can be difficult to conceptualize.”

  Lucien smirked, already anticipating what was coming next.

  “I will simplify.”

  There was no actual simplification.

  “Magical residual energy, when left uncontained, disperses into environmental mana as latent potentiality. However, certain materials can retain an unstable state of ionization, which, when subjected to external frequency variations—such as elemental lightning—can trigger unintended resonance feedback.”

  Edgar looked like he wanted to leave.

  Hannelore continued without pause.

  “In theory, if the device is still storing mana, then an electric field—especially one designed to probe frequency anomalies—could penetrate the material composition and disrupt its equilibrium. This disruption would either produce no effect or, in a worst-case scenario, generate a chain reaction by interfering with the secondary chamber’s containment structure.”

  Lucien, casually resting his elbow against a broken stone, looked at Edgar. “You get all that?”

  Edgar blinked. “So... I just need to send out the lightning and see what bounces back?”

  Hannelore stopped walking. Turned her head. Stared at him for exactly three seconds.

  Then: “Yes.”

  Lucien exhaled dramatically. “Oh, my gods, just open your mouth and blast the waves. Try to catch the difference in your throat.”

  Edgar frowned. “...What?”

  Lucien gestured vaguely. “You know, like a bat. Just feel the energy with your body, maybe let out a hum—”

  Edgar, wisely, ignored him and did it anyway.

  A pulse of lightning shot outward—crackling faintly, probing through the disturbed soil.

  A sudden, violent blast of force erupted from beneath the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust and sending a short-range mana shockwave outward.

  Some of the knights muttered curses as their own mana surged unnaturally.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Again? Really?”

  Unlike the students who had fallen apart under magic suppression, these knights weren’t shaken—they were just irritated.

  One of them clicked their tongue, flexing a gloved hand as their mana channels struggled to regulate. “Damn recoil. Hope you magic lot are happy.”

  Lucien, without missing a beat, grinned. “I’m always happy.”

  Lucien’s flames sputtered, unable to hold form. Edgar’s lightning barely reacted.

  Hannelore’s magic remained untouched.

  Water gathered to her fingertips, spiraling into shape as if completely unaffected by the mana instability. Unlike fire or wind, her magic wasn’t about raw force—it was about control.

  The first monster lunged from the treeline.

  She moved her hand smoothly, precisely. A whip of pressurized water shot forward, cutting through the air like a blade and slamming directly into its head with crushing force.

  Lucien clicked his tongue, watching. “Oh, sure. Your magic works fine.”

  Hannelore blinked once, then answered without any satisfaction.

  “It takes a lot of control to make ice.” She flicked her fingers, another pressurized wave lashing forward, sending another monster sprawling. “But in the end, it’s just water.”

  Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  Even with unstable mana, Hannelore hadn’t faltered.

  Unlike his magic, which relied on manipulating raw elemental energy, hers was purely about refinement, technique, and will.

  She had lost precision, but not function.

  Lucien scowled, rolling his shoulders. “Annoying.”

  Hannelore’s tone remained flat. “Expected.”