The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the capital as Leonhardt sat cross-legged on the ground, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Before him, a single candle flickered, the tiny flame dancing in the soft breeze.
"Magic is not about force," Alistair Vaughn, the squad's mage, explained. "It's about control. You need to feel the mana inside you, direct it—gently, but with purpose."
Leonhardt exhaled slowly, stretching his senses as Alistair instructed. He focused on the warmth within his body, the energy that was supposedly there, but… nothing. The candle remained untouched. No spark, no flicker of magic.
Alistair watched him with mild amusement. "You're trying too hard."
Leonhardt opened one eye, irritation creeping into his voice. "If I don't try, how am I supposed to do anything?"
"You're approaching magic like it's a sword. It's not just about training your body—it's about training your mind."
Leonhardt let out a frustrated sigh. He had spent months perfecting his swordplay, his body growing stronger each day. But this? This felt like grasping at smoke.
Before Alistair could continue his lecture, a deep rumble echoed through the city streets, followed by distant screams.
Both men snapped their heads toward the commotion. Smoke billowed in the distance. The ground trembled.
"Monsters," Alistair muttered, his expression darkening. "And we're the only ones here."
Leonhardt was already on his feet, unsheathing his sword. "Then let's go."
---
The Monster Invasion
The streets of the capital were drenched in chaos. The scent of burning wood mixed with the iron tang of blood as panicked citizens fled in all directions.
The first wave of creatures moved like a pack of ravenous wolves, their elongated limbs and jagged bone spikes making them appear more like fiends from a nightmare. Their eyes gleamed with bloodlust as they tore through anything in their path.
Further down the street, thick, sinuous bodies slithered over rooftops, scales shifting like liquid shadows. The serpents moved with unnatural grace, their mist-like camouflage making them difficult to track. When they struck, their venom-coated fangs paralyzed victims instantly, leaving them helpless against further attacks.
Looming above the destruction, a group of massive ogres waded through the city, their steel-like skin reflecting the flickering firelight. Though slow, every step they took sent tremors through the ground, their sheer size making them living battering rams that crushed buildings as easily as twigs.
Alistair raised his staff, magic crackling to life in his palm. "We split up. You handle the brutes and the fiends—I'll deal with the serpents."
Leonhardt grinned. "Taking the easy job, huh?"
"Please," Alistair smirked. "I don't need a sword to kill things."
Without another word, they sprang into action.
---
Leonhardt's Battle
The wolf-like fiends lunged at him first. Their speed was impressive, but Leonhardt was faster. He weaved between their attacks, his dual swords flashing in the fire-lit streets. His left hand moved with the precision of a knight, his right with the fluidity of a samurai—every strike calculated, every movement lethal.
One of the beasts lunged, its fangs bared. Leonhardt twisted mid-air, slashing through its throat before landing in a crouch. Another leapt at him from behind, but he spun, bringing both blades down in a devastating cross-cut. Blood sprayed against the cobblestones.
A deafening roar shook the air.
A hulking ogre raised its massive club, bringing it down with terrifying force. Leonhardt barely rolled away in time as the ground where he stood exploded into rubble.
His sword strikes barely left a scratch on the creature's iron-like hide.
Tsk. Too tough.
Instead of brute force, he changed tactics. Darting around the massive brute, he focused his attacks on its joints—slicing at the tendons behind its knees, stabbing into the gaps between its armor-like flesh. Slowly but surely, the beast began to stagger.
Alistair, meanwhile, stood atop a nearby rooftop, raining destruction upon the serpents below. His fire spells illuminated their shifting bodies, forcing them to remain visible. With a flick of his wrist, lightning arced through the air, striking one of the creatures dead on the spot.
It was going well. Until it wasn't.
---
The Abyssal Behemoth
A low, guttural growl sent chills down Leonhardt's spine.
The ground trembled—not from the ogres, not from the chaos. This was something else.
Emerging from the shadows, a colossal figure stepped into the firelight. Towering over everything in sight, its obsidian-black armor pulsed with an eerie glow, its molten eyes fixated on Leonhardt. The Abyssal Behemoth had arrived.
It moved faster than anything that size should be capable of.
Leonhardt barely had time to react before a massive claw struck him, sending him crashing through a stone wall.
"Leonhardt!" Alistair's voice rang out, but he was already occupied, his spells failing to slow the serpents that kept coming.
Leonhardt groaned, forcing himself to stand. His whole body ached, but he had no time for pain. He gripped his sword, prepared to counter—
Then, something inside him snapped.
A surge of energy flooded his veins, unlike anything he had ever felt before. His heart pounded as his vision sharpened, every movement around him slowing as if the world itself had bent to his will.
Before he could think, his left hand moved on instinct.
A pulse of pure mana erupted from his palm.
The Behemoth staggered, its armor cracking under the sudden blast of energy. The air itself vibrated, distorting around Leonhardt.
Alistair turned, his eyes wide in shock. "Leonhardt… what the hell was that?"
Leonhardt's breath came in ragged gasps. He could feel the power coursing through him, but it was raw, unstable. His vision blurred, his body threatening to collapse under the weight of it.
The Behemoth roared again, shaking off the damage. It lunged forward, ready to finish him off—
But before it could, Alistair grabbed Leonhardt and, with a flick of his wrist, teleported them both to safety.
---
When Leonhardt opened his eyes, the battle was over. Reinforcements had arrived, forcing the monsters back beyond the city walls.
But his mind was elsewhere.
He stared at his trembling hand.
He had just used mana.
Alistair sat beside him, arms crossed. "You're not weak, Leonhardt. Your mana isn't lacking—it's just… untrained."
Leonhardt clenched his fist.
For so long, he had thought magic was beyond his reach. But now, he knew the truth.
A new path had just opened before him.
And he intended to master it.
End of Chapter 8.