Encounter 27: Punchline
The air in the pit was heavy—pressurized. Every breath felt like dragging stone through your lungs.
The demon towered above the wreckage, its spiral-maw twisting in agitation, struggling to track the invisible force that just struck it.
Rolien landed with a soft thud, boots sliding slightly on the blood-slick stone.
He looked up at the beast.
Then past it—at Luke, slumped against the rubble, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You still breathing?" Rolien asked, voice calm.
Luke said nothing.
The demon let out a roar that warped the space around them, rattling bone and stone alike. Its arm—long and jagged—snapped forward in a blur.
Rolien didn't move.
Not to dodge.
Not to brace.
Just as the strike came down—
Spirit Art: Pulse Step.
A ripple.
He vanished.
Reappeared at the demon's flank.
His air gun was already in hand, chamber hissing. Fssht— the round fired silently, and with no visible flash, the demon's elbow exploded backward in a burst of bone and sinew.
It shrieked.
Sophia watched from above, standing beside her squad, sword drawn—but unmoving.
"She's not jumping in?" Mira asked, tense.
Sophia smirked slightly. "He doesn't need help."
Below, the demon twisted with a backhanded swipe—wild, massive—but Rolien ducked under it with almost lazy grace. His foot slid across the stone, momentum fluid, like water through cracks. He raised the gun again—
Fssht!
One leg gave out.
Fssht!
Then the other.
The demon collapsed to a knee, roaring as blood hissed from invisible holes torn clean through.
From the sidelines, Luke's team stared—frozen.
"That's… not a spell," one of them murmured.
"No chant. No glyphs. No visible projectile," another whispered. "What even is that thing he's using?"
Above, Professor Elric watched through a scrying orb. Even from the outpost, he leaned forward.
"That gun…" he muttered. "That's not imperial tech. That's—"
"Custom," another professor beside him said, eyes narrowed. "That boy… that's Rolien Edric, isn't it? First year?"
Elric didn't answer.
But his eyes didn't leave the orb.
---
Back in the pit, the demon, now half-kneeling, snarled and lunged. Its maw stretched open, revealing something glowing inside—a surge of hellfire mana.
"Shit," Leto muttered from above. "It's charging a gate-piercer!"
"Rolien!" Mira shouted. "Move—"
But he was already moving.
Not back.
Forward.
He holstered the gun and surged in close, leaping straight into the monster's open maw.
It roared—then choked.
Inside, a blinding pulse of spirit pressure erupted.
BOOM—!
The demon's throat imploded.
Black blood sprayed skyward like a fountain as Rolien burst out from its chest cavity in a wave of cracked bone and steaming gore.
The creature thrashed—then dropped.
Dead.
> Rolien landed with a grunt, coated in steaming demon blood. He looked down at himself, scowling.
"Ewugh… Remind me not to do that again," he muttered, flicking slime off his coat. "Man, big sister would really get mad at me if she saw me like this."
He sighed, wiping gore from his cheek with the back of his sleeve. "Should've just gone for the head."
Up on the ridge, Squad Twelve watched in stunned silence. The only sound was the quiet dripping of blood from the ruined demon corpse.
Sophia was the first to speak.
"You alright?" she asked as she stepped down the slope.
"Yeah," Rolien replied casually. "Bit messy."
Leto blinked like he forgot how to breathe. "Bit messy? You just tore through a demon like it owed you rent!"
Mira elbowed him.
Rolien ignored the comment, rolling his shoulder as his spirit pressure settled again.
Behind them, a faint chime echoed from the sky. The overhead orb shimmered as the leaderboard updated live.
Current Ranking:
> 1st — Rolien Edric (1st Year) — 6,210 points
2nd — Sophia Arclight — 3,480 points
3rd — Leto Farwind — 3,290 points
4th — Luke Arcadia — 2,050 points
(updated 00:57:44 since mission start)
Luke, still slumped against the rubble, stared at the projection. His jaw tightened. His hands trembled—not from injury, but rage.
He wasn't even in second anymore.
His breathing grew heavier as he slowly stood, gripping his sword.
"You think this makes you better?" he hissed.
Rolien turned to him, head tilted. "No. Just faster."
"You think being a freak makes you special?"
Sophia stepped between them. "You're welcome, by the way. You'd be dead if we hadn't shown up."
Luke's mouth twisted. "I didn't ask for help."
Rolien's eyes sharpened, tone suddenly cold.
"No. You asked to be top of the class. Maybe next time, try earning it."
Luke stepped forward—but Mira and Arwin were already between them.
"Back off, Arcadia," Leto growled. "You don't want to test that Wraith up close."
Luke froze.
"...What did you call him?"
"Wraith," Mira said, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Fast, deadly, disappears into the fog... We've been joking he fights like the Black Wraith."
Sophia chuckled under her breath.
Rolien?
He just walked past them all without a word.
And he was still smirking.
The sun dipped low as the final hour of the incursion ticked away.
Squad Twelve was heading back toward the main camp—tired, bruised, and quiet. The ruins stretched behind them like a battlefield long forgotten. Only the shimmer of the far-off mana dome marked the edge of the operation field.
They had cleared their assigned zones, rescued multiple downed cadets, and neutralized threats faster than anyone expected.
Now, they were at the top.
And everyone knew it.
Even without the leaderboard floating overhead, the murmurs had started. Cadets from other teams would glance over as they passed, whispering to each other behind glowing reports.
> "That guy with the coat… he's insane."
"I swear, he moved like the Black Wraith."
"No way. The Wraith's a veteran A-ranker."
"Still… doesn't he fight the same way? Precision shots, vanishing in air—"
Rolien walked ahead of them, as always, hands in his pockets. His coat still clung with dried demon blood. His eyes didn't meet theirs. He didn't care.
Sophia walked beside him, chewing a dried ration stick. She didn't bother stopping the comparisons. She just smirked.
> "Heard they're calling him 'the Wraith's shadow' now," Leto said behind them.
"Or 'Wraith Jr.'" Mira added with a laugh.
"Too bad he doesn't talk enough to trademark it," Arwin muttered.
Rolien rolled his eyes, brushing slime off his coat again. "Can we not name me?"
"You earned it," Sophia said.
"I earned a bath."
---
Unseen from the treeline, Luke Arcadia watched them through a set of crystal-enhanced binoculars. His squad stayed behind him, catching their breath from their last patrol run.
Luke's expression was dark.
He stared at Rolien for a long moment—watching him laugh quietly with Sophia, watching how other cadets looked at him.
Admired him.
His jaw tightened.
Behind him, Professor Mendell's words echoed again in his head:
> "He's not even trying."
Luke's grip on the binoculars tightened until they creaked.
> "How are we supposed to beat someone like that?"
His eyes narrowed—sharpening as they scanned ahead.
That's when he saw it.
A cave. Half-covered by roots and broken stone. Just west of the final marker zone. No squad had dared to clear that side.
A faint shimmer came from within—heat distortion. And there it was:
Scales. Wings. Dozens of them.
A massive, slumbering A+ ranked drake.
Its breathing echoed low and heavy in the shadows. The ground itself pulsed around it.
Luke's lips curled into a smile.
> "Perfect."
---
"Sir?" one of his teammates asked nervously. "That cave's restricted. Command said that was uncharted. The mana readings were too unstable—"
"Exactly," Luke said smoothly, drawing his sword. "Help me make some noise."
He turned back toward the path Rolien's team had taken.
"Time to remind everyone that scores mean nothing if you don't make it back alive."
His eyes glinted as he whispered to himself.
> "Let's see you survive this, Edric."
Inside the cave, the sound of steel scraping rock echoed. Mana pulses surged. Luke slashed at the edges of the nest, sending shockwaves through the stone.
The drake stirred.
One golden eye opened—slitted and ancient.
It tasted the air.
Then it roared.
A sonic boom tore through the ridge.
Birds scattered. Trees cracked.
Rolien stopped mid-step as the tremor rushed through the ground beneath them.
"...That's not part of the mission," Sophia said, hand already on her sword.
From the ridgeline above, a blur of scales and rage tore through the treetops—
The drake was coming.
Straight for them.
The roar shattered the air.
Trees bent under the force, and even the earth seemed to quiver. Birds scattered from the treetops as the mountain ridge trembled like a drumhead struck by an unseen god.
Rolien's squad froze mid-step, instinct flaring.
Sophia's sword was already half-drawn.
"That… wasn't in the mission brief," Arwin muttered.
Then the notification came.
A red glyph flared to life on every student's badge crystal.
> [MISSION ALERT]
Unstable Zone Update: A+ Threat Detected – Rogue Drake (Crimson-Spine Subspecies)
— Bounty Tag: Class-A Priority Clearance
— Additional Reward for Participation:
→ +5,000 Credit Bonus
→ Legendary Equipment Draw x1
→ Fast-track Promotion Eligibility (Top 10)
Estimated Time to Arrival: 3 minutes
[Evacuation Recommended. Non-combatants must withdraw.]
Silence.
Then a second tremor hit—closer. Trees snapped.
"No way we're outrunning that," Mira breathed.
Rolien exhaled. Then stepped forward.
"Arwin, Mira, Leto—start organizing evac. Prioritize injured and support-types. Get them out of the path now."
"Understood!"
"I'll notify Command," Sophia added, tapping her earpiece. Static answered.
"No signal," she muttered. "The thing's distorting mana frequencies. We're on our own."
Rolien cracked his neck.
"Alright."
He looked ahead as the treetops shattered—something massive barreling through the woods. Dust and leaves flew everywhere. And then...
The drake appeared.
Ten meters tall. Cracked crimson scales glowing faintly. Two sets of wings. Horns like scorched obsidian.
Its eyes locked on them.
"This is fun," Rolien muttered, tightening his gloves. "I kept wondering where the fun part was…"
Sophia glanced at him sharply. "This is your idea of fun, Mr. Protégé?"
He smiled—calm and sharp. "What'd you expect?"
Leto groaned. "Of course the genius freak thinks dragon baiting is a party."
Rolien ignored him and pointed at the slope ahead.
"I'll grab its attention. You guys stay behind range and give support. If some of you feel brave, flank it—but don't attack carelessly."
"Right!" his team shouted in unison.
Sophia stepped forward beside him. "I'm not staying back."
"I figured," Rolien said, smirking slightly.
She smirked right back. "Try not to die."
Then—
Spirit Art: Dash.
He vanished in a blur.
The ground cracked as he launched forward like a bolt. Dust trailed behind him. The drake turned its head—but Rolien was already at its blind spot.
BAM!
He struck it across the jaw with a reinforced spirit-infused blow. Its head jerked slightly—not much, but enough to draw attention.
The drake screeched, wings unfurling.
The fight had begun.
---
Meanwhile, several students not from Squad Twelve stood back in shock, watching Rolien lead the charge.
"Is he crazy?!"
"He's a first-year—"
"And that's an A+ drake!"
Still, some of them stepped forward. Eyes narrowed. Swords shaking slightly in their grip.
"…I'm staying," one said.
"Me too," said another. "If they're risking their lives to hold it, I won't run."
Small clusters formed—brave, trembling, but determined.
While others bolted toward the camp, carrying the wounded.
---
5 kilometers away, at the professor outpost—
Professor Elric's crystal suddenly blared with a critical mana spike.
> "Unstable anomaly detected. 4th quadrant. Energy output equivalent to… A+ class?!"
"How the hell did it get this close?!"
Graeve paled as he zoomed the orb in.
The feed locked onto the shape of the crimson-spine drake—and the squad standing to meet it.
"…That's Rolien's team," he said grimly.
"They won't make it five minutes without heavy support!"
"It'll take us fifteen just to cross that ridge!"
Then silence.
"…Then we'll find out," Elric said quietly, "if Edric's boy is as dangerous as the rumors say."
The drake shrieked as Rolien's punch slammed into its cheek—pure spirit force in motion. It didn't knock the beast down, but it turned its full attention to him.
That was enough.
The massive creature reared up, exhaling a torrent of heat from its jagged throat. The temperature around them surged. Leaves dried mid-air. Trees began to blacken.
BOOM!
It unleashed a horizontal wave of fire that turned everything in its path into ash.
"Scatter!" Rolien shouted.
Leto raised his shield and shouted a basic barrier spell to deflect what he could. Mira followed with a wind burst to redirect the heat. Arwin hurled an ice spike at the drake's wing joint, not to damage—but to disrupt.
Rolien? He didn't cast anything.
He ducked under the blast, sliding across the dirt in a crouch, heat licking at his back.
He stopped near the drake's leg and pulled back his prosthetic fist.
> "Alright," he muttered, tightening the bolts. "Let's test the upgrade."
The arm hissed as a small tank on the elbow depressurized.
Gears whirred. Vents slid open. A pulse of compressed spirit energy surged into the core.
Pressure Mod Circuit: Engaged.
Limiter Release // Rocket Fist System Activated.
Executing Spirit Art: Punching Line.
> "Don't blink."
FWOOOOOM!
The prosthetic launched forward with a deafening burst of speed, guided by focused pressure streams rather than mana.
CRACK!!!
It slammed directly into the drake's jaw. Bone cracked. The monster's massive head snapped sideways with a metallic thud, and it stumbled—visibly stunned.
Its eyes glowed with fury.
Above, Sophia leapt from a slope and brought her sword down in an arcing strike.
Sword Art: Crescent Bloom – Second Form!
A technique powered by mana and air slicing pressure—it left a cold trail across the drake's wing.
The beast screeched again and slammed its tail outward.
Rolien raised his arm to block—but was still knocked back into a broken tree, ribs rattling.
"You alive, genius?" Sophia shouted.
He grunted, dragging himself up and wiping blood from his chin. "Barely. Might need to screw that arm back in later."
"Try not to get cooked before then!"
---
Meanwhile, more students were forming behind the main squad.
> "I'm not running."
"If they're staying to hold it off, I'm not leaving either."
"We follow that guy's lead, spirit-user or not."
A few braver students stepped forward and spread out. Makeshift positions were drawn—ranged fighters preparing spells, blades drawn tight.
Rolien didn't give a speech.
He just moved.
The drake reared again to attack.
> "We're flanking left," Leto barked. "Mira, suppress from range! Arwin—snare it!"
Arwin launched a small talisman, powered with low-grade binding magic. It burst at the drake's feet and locked one of its claws into place for just two seconds.
Rolien charged in.
He drew his air gun, not enchanted—but precision-made. Spirit pressure loaded into the chamber manually, no elemental blessing.
Three silent bursts—Fssht! Fssht! Fssht!—hit the drake's temple.
It blinked hard. Rolien was already on its shoulder, where he jammed his fist into the cracked section from before.
> "One more time."
The Punching Line launched again, point-blank into fractured skull.
BOOOOOOM!!!
A crater split across the beast's crown. It collapsed, shaking the ground as its wings flared out wide, trying to rise.
But something was wrong.
Its body began to glow red.
Heat surged again.
Sophia's eyes widened. "It's trying to self-destruct!"
Rolien backed off, gauging its condition. Steam bled from its mouth as internal pressure built up fast—like a dying core flaring one last time.
> "Evacuate the wounded! That explosion's going to hit a hundred-meter radius!" he barked.
"Then what are you doing?!" Leto shouted.
Rolien loaded a fresh cartridge into the side of his air gun. This one was hand-made. Glimmering faintly—not with mana, but built for a single shot pressurized to the edge of what the barrel could withstand.
> " alright, time for round two!."
The drake roared, wings flared wide as molten light pulsed from within its chest.
Its scales glowed red-hot. The ground trembled beneath it. It wasn't just trying to kill them—
It was preparing to detonate.
Sophia backed up, sword raised. "It's gonna blow—!"
But Rolien didn't retreat.
He stood perfectly still, staring at the beast, watching how it moved—how its chest expanded, how the pressure built behind the plates near its throat, the way the glow pulsed down through the ribs.
> "...I see it."
His voice was low. Calm.
He took one step forward, eyes narrowing.
> "That thing's heating too fast. It can't regulate the pressure properly. The outer shell's too dense. It's trying to vent—but the inside's still weak."
He rotated his prosthetic shoulder.
Vents hissed open. The pistons retracted and realigned, drawing in pressure from his own spirit field. The arm began to vibrate—gathering force inward instead of launching it outward.
Sophia blinked. "You're not gonna hit it from outside?"
Rolien stepped into a low stance. His fist glowed faintly—not with magic, but with concentrated spirit pressure, condensed so tightly it shimmered like heat off steel.
> "No," he said, eyes locked on the beast.
"This one's from the inside."
Skill: Hummer Punch
Description: A close-quarter spirit art that doesn't aim to break the outside. It targets the interior—transferring impact past armor and hide to rupture internal organs or destabilize mana cores. Ideal for heavily armored or oversized threats.
He dashed forward, weaving between shattered stones, sliding past its tail swipe, then leapt—straight up toward its chest as it opened its jaws for one final fiery breath.
> "NOW!"
He twisted midair and drove his prosthetic fist directly under its ribcage.
The punch didn't explode outward.
It didn't need to.
A low thud echoed through the drake's body like a gong.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then—
CRACK!
The beast's entire chest caved in from within. The glow in its throat snuffed out. Flames fizzled mid-breath. Its eyes widened in pain and confusion as the internal pressure that had been building for detonation turned inward—
And collapsed.
The drake slammed into the ground like a dropped mountain.
Dead.
Silent.
Steam and ash hissed out from its cracked hide.
---
Rolien landed hard, rolling across the dirt and clutching his shoulder. The impact jarred every bone in his arm, but the damage was done.
The monster didn't rise again.
The battlefield went still.
No more flames.
Just shocked breathing.
And the quiet shuffle of students returning from cover—staring.
> "...He killed it."
> "He took it down from the inside…"
> "No magic. No casting. Just…"
Sophia walked to his side and looked down at the still corpse of the beast.
She exhaled slowly.
> "You really are something else, Edric."
Rolien didn't look at her. He just stared at the crumpled corpse and murmured—
> "Thats how you punch your problems!."
Smoke still drifted from the corpse of the fallen drake.
Its wings twitched once—then stilled completely. A heavy silence had settled over the battlefield, like even the forest was holding its breath.
The tension slowly bled out of the students.
A few dropped to their knees. Others whispered among themselves, eyes wide, still half-expecting the beast to rise again.
> "He really killed it…"
"Alone. No enchantments. No chant."
"No way that guy's just a first-year."
Sophia stood beside Rolien, sword resting on her shoulder, watching as he flexed his arm with a wince.
"You alright?"
"Arm's gonna need a full reset," he muttered. "Shoulder's jammed. Elbow's… somewhere."
He shook out the prosthetic with a faint hiss of compressed steam.
"You're lucky it didn't take your whole arm with it," she said.
He gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah. Lucky me."
---
5 minutes later…
A faint rumble came from the north.
Magic light streaked across the sky—blue runes flaring as a large skyship descended past the clouds. A sleek, metallic vanguard craft from the Academy.
> "Professor transport incoming!" someone shouted.
From the deck, Professor Elric, Professor Mendell, and two other evaluators leapt down—casting feather-step sigils mid-air. They landed with practiced grace just outside the perimeter of the battlefield.
What they saw made all of them stop dead.
A field blackened from fire. The charred remains of trees. Cratered earth.
And a 10-meter-long A+ ranked drake lying still at the center, jaw cracked, chest collapsed inward like it had imploded.
Mendell was the first to speak.
"…Impossible."
Elric stepped forward, expression unreadable. "Who brought it down?"
The students exchanged glances.
Then slowly—one hand lifted.
Mira pointed to the figure sitting on a slab of broken stone, coat half-burned, shirt clinging to a bruised frame, still casually adjusting the pistons of his busted prosthetic arm.
> "Him."
Elric's brow twitched. "What… is his name?"
Sophia answered, arms crossed, almost smug.
> "Rolien Edric grey the youngest son of grand duke Edric Grey. First-year. First semester."
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
Then Mendell cursed under his breath. "What the hell is that kid…?"
---
Not far away… in the forest shadows—
Luke Arcadia watched from behind a veil spell, blood boiling.
He had seen the whole thing. Every punch. Every decision. Every time Rolien stayed calm while everyone else panicked.
That should've been me.
He clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm.
I'm the Arcadia.
Then a voice echoed beside him, almost like smoke curling into his ear.
"Quite the show, wasn't it?"
Luke turned sharply—eyes narrowing.
A man stood in the shade of a leaning tree. Cloaked in black, silver trim, a strange sigil etched across his chest like a burning eye.
"You don't have to stay second forever," the figure whispered. "Not if you let us help."
Luke didn't answer.
But he didn't walk away either.