"Well, you see…" Hina began, her tone somber. "Celestial Weapons are forged by individuals chosen by the gods—'Prophets,' as they're often called. These weapons are blessed with divine power, capable of decimating entire nations on their own.
On the other hand, Cursed Weapons were once celestial, but they've been corrupted by dark mana, twisting their nature and purpose."
Takeshi's gaze sharpened. "And how do these weapons affect their users?"
"Celestial Weapons draw directly from their wielder's mana to unleash devastating attacks," Hina explained. "But Cursed Weapons… they feed on emotion. The more turbulent and unstable the user's feelings, the more power the weapon draws out.
Both types are unique—they choose their wielder, not the other way around."
Takeshi frowned, his mind racing. So that's why I feel drained after every battle—not just from using my powers, but from wielding both weapons at once.
He looked back at Hina. "Do you have any recent reports about them?"
"Before the fog enveloped our lands, our scouts confirmed that ruins across several cities contained these weapons," Hina said. "Some factions were already experimenting with them, though their motives remained unclear.
But since the fog arrived, all contact with our scouts has been lost. We've heard nothing since."
"I see. Thanks for telling me," Takeshi said, nodding.
After dinner, everyone retreated to their rooms. But sleep eluded Takeshi. He sat cross-legged in the dim quiet, channeling his energy and entering a meditative state.
His mind wandered back to his spar with Gean. The clang of steel, the pressure of each exchange—he relived every moment, dissecting it with razor focus. His grip, his footwork, his timing… all were reviewed in his pursuit of growth.
Next time, I'll be ready.
Suddenly, a scream pierced the stillness.
Takeshi was on his feet in an instant, adrenaline flooding his body. He threw open the door and shouted down the corridor, "Nyx? Akari? Girls! Are you all alright?"
A shadow darted across the hallway.
Instinct took over. "Second Hour: Freeze!" he commanded.
Time magic pulsed outward, locking the intruder in place mid-motion. Takeshi approached, blade drawn, his steps cautious but precise.
Frozen in the arc of motion was a Dark Elf—tall, lean, with glowing crimson eyes and jagged markings etched across their face.
"What's your purpose here?" Takeshi demanded. "Why attack my comrades?"
"You pathetic humans," the elf hissed, lips curled in contempt. "This village—and its precious Great Tree—will soon fall. Once we claim the sacred fruit, our race will ascend. The world will kneel before the Dark Elves!"
The elf let out a guttural laugh.
Before Takeshi could respond, the enemy dropped a smoke bomb. A thick cloud engulfed the corridor. By the time it cleared, the elf was gone.
Takeshi gritted his teeth. This wasn't a random attack. They're planning something bigger.
He moved quickly, rousing the others and alerting the elven elders.
By dawn, the battle had begun.
A thunderous explosion rocked the forest. Takeshi rushed to the terrace and looked down in horror—fire magic rained from the skies, hammering the Great Tree's mana barrier.
Below, Dark Elves launched relentless waves of spells and siege attacks, lighting the foggy battlefield in orange flames.
Takeshi descended swiftly and found the elders organizing the rear guard.
"What's the situation?" he asked, urgency lacing his voice.
"The barrier is still holding," Shin reported grimly. "But it's weakening fast. Minutes, maybe less."
"And that's not even the worst part," Gean muttered.
"What's worse than the barrier breaking?" Takeshi asked sharply.
"It's not a what," Mia said, stepping forward. "It's a who."
She glanced toward the battlefield with a grim expression.
"They've brought a Prophet. A wielder of a Celestial Weapon."
Takeshi's eyes widened, his heart dropping.
Before he could speak, a scout burst through the door, breathing heavily.
"The Prophet is attacking the barrier directly, sir! The cracks are spreading fast—it won't hold much longer!"