Veinhelm stood in the northern clearing behind the Drakan estate, where the soil was dark, soft, and undisturbed.
Morning air hung thick with dew, and not even birds seemed willing to disturb the silence.
" Bloodbound Circuit "
A player-famous early fundamental technique.
A training exploit that enhances player's perception and mana circuits. Although it had a limit, but still post players specially PVP players coveted it.
" I couldn't see them "
After witnessing the assassins' movements and Archemage Silvia's stealth, it became clear how Important it is to improve veinhelm's perception.
In the game, the technique was performed by drawing a geometric circuit and letting the character auto-regenerate.
Veinhelm knelt and began drawing the required shape in the dirt with a small metal rod. The pattern was simple at a glance — five lines forming a star-like diagram — but the angles were precise, and the center circle had to be perfectly round as was shown in the forums
He stepped inside the circle and removed his coat, kneeling with his hands pressed to the two inner nodes of the star. Mana flickered beneath his skin — faint, unstable.
Mana shot downward from his palms into the dirt, traveling through the carved lines. The circuit glowed faintly red — not from mana, but from heat, as the earth vibrated.
Then came the first backlash.
A jolt crawled up Veinhelm's forearms, sharp enough to sting.
He gritted his teeth.
"Good… it's connecting."
Blood dripped from his knuckles first.
The technique was designed to force the body's circulatory system into overdrive, crushing the muscles from the inside and cleansing the mana core under pressure.
His veins bulged, and his breath shortened.
The ground beneath him trembled as the circuit drew more mana from him, demanding more, tearing more.
A burst of pain shot through his ribs — sudden, violent.
Blood splattered onto the dirt.
Veinhelm swallowed a groan.
"This… first…now…"
He steadied himself and forced his breathing into the rhythm from the game's guide.
Blood pooled at his elbows now, dripping steadily into the carved lines.
The Bloodbound Circuit reacted immediately.
The lines drank the blood, turning darker, hotter, vibrating with unstable force.
A deep hum filled the clearing.
Lightning-like static crawled beneath Veinhelm's skin as the mana core pushed outward, stretching beyond what a normal human could endure.
Blood streamed freely from his nose and ears.
But he didn't stop.
Veinhelm forced his arms back into position.
The circuit glowed deeper, darker.
His heartbeat thundered.
Mana flooded his limbs until he felt as if he were burning from within.
Then—
*CRACK*
The central circle split.
A shockwave threw Veinhelm backward, slamming him into the dirt, breath ripped from his lungs.
Only the sound of blood pattering onto soil.
Veinhelm lay there for several seconds, coughing , chest heaving, vision flickering.
Finally, he forced himself up to one elbow.
"…This is…worse than I expected…"
His limbs trembled like glass.
But beneath the pain — deep within his mana core — he felt it
A new feeling.
He had succeeded.
He wiped blood from his eyes.
But then —
A faint crunch of footsteps through the grass.
Someone else was here.
Veinhelm tensed, muscles screaming.
This clearing was hidden.
He turned his head slowly toward the sound.
Someone — a silhouette half-hidden in the lingering mist — was watching him.
"??"
Garron Valeche, Captain of the Ironwind group.
A mercenary leader with no noble blood, no divine blessing, no wealth.
Just sheer competence, battlefield instinct, and a personality that made players love him instantly.
In the game, he didn't become important until far later in the story — long after Veinhelm's character was usually dead.
To see him this early was… unprecedented.
But Veinhelm pushed that thought aside.
Pain surged through his arms as the Bloodbound Circuit crackled beneath him, its carved star-lines glowing faintly before fading. Blood pooled around his knees.
He pushed himself upright, breath controlled despite the agony.
The air shifted.
A footstep approached — confident, relaxed, too steady.
And then a voice drifted through the fog, warm like a man greeting a friend in a tavern.
"Well, now… that's one hell of a morning routine."
Veinhelm didn't flinch.
From the mist stepped a tall man with wolf-head insignia on his belt, leather armor scuffed with honest battle-wear. His hair fell loosely at his shoulders, and his grin was easy and bright.
Garron Valeche in the flesh.
Veinhelm spoke as if he had been expecting him.
"It's early to be here, Captain."
Garron blinked, confused.
"Oh? Someone told you I was coming?"
Veinhelm shook his head, unfazed.
"The Ironwind mercenary's pattern is predictable. You shouldn't be east until mid-season."
Garron's grin sharpened — friendly on the surface, calculating below it.
"Well, aren't you an interesting noble? Most of your kind don't even know where the Ironwind operates."
"I pay attention."
Veinhelm stood fully now, swaying slightly but maintaining an indifferent expression—blood still dripping.
Garron whistled.
"Damn. Either you're tougher than you look, or too proud to say you need help."
Garron crouched, examining the shattered diagram with curiosity.
"This shape…"
He tapped the dirt lightly.
"…isn't meditation. Looks like something from a summoning ritual..."
Veinhelm shrugged like it didn't matter.
"A training method."
"You call bleeding to a half corpse a training method?" Garron laughed,
Veinhelm, still outwardly calm, changed the direction of the conversation abruptly:
"Captain Valeche."
"Hm?"
"The ravine north of here. Twenty kilometers."
He wiped blood from his lip.
"Mana-warped beasts have nested there. They don't leave tracks. Your scouts won't detect them."
Garron's relaxed grin didn't disappear —
but something behind his eyes flickered.
Ironwind scouts were elite.
Almost nothing evaded them.
"…You're certain?" he asked casually, too casually.
"Yes."
Garron stood, folding his arms, studying Veinhelm now with serious interest.
"You know, Drakan… men who speak so simply about dangerous knowledge either bluff, hallucinate, or know far more than they admit."
Veinhelm gave no reaction.
"And you," Garron added with a slow grin, "don't strike me as the bluffing type, maybe more of the hallucinating one."
He tossed a vial toward Veinhelm — an Ironwind stabilizer used in the game.
"Drink it. You may pretend you don't need it, but your veins say otherwise."
Veinhelm caught it effortlessly despite his shaking hands.
Garron stepped back, hands hooked into his belt.
"You're an odd one," he said.
"In a good way. Odd enough that if you ever need Ironwind steel, I might listen."
Veinhelm said nothing.
Garron smirked.
"You won't tell me what you were doing here. I can respect privacy."
He began walking back into the fog.
"Oh — and Lord Veinhelm?"
He glanced back with sharp, amused eyes.
"If what you said was true… then you just saved my men. I don't forget debts."
He vanished.
Leaving Veinhelm standing alone with blood-soaked hands, a strengthened core, and a healing potion…
Garron Valeche had noticed him.
And that was both an opportunity…
and a risk.
" I wonder if this will change things for the better "
*
*
*
Fog thinned as Garron Valeche walked away from the clearing, boots brushing wet grass. His easy grin faded as soon as Veinhelm was out of sight.
He exhaled slowly.
"Mana-warped beasts… north ravine… undetectable," he muttered.
"There's no way it could be true."
No noble heir—especially not a sheltered Drakan—should have that level of field awareness.
Garron scratched his jaw thoughtfully.
" It won't hurt to check. "
He reached Ironwind's temporary camp — rugged tents, guarded wagons, mercenaries polishing gear or preparing for the day. Two scouts straightened when he approached.
"Captain," they greeted.
Garron didn't waste time.
"Rinna, Demos. With me."
The two exchanged quick glances. They knew that tone — light, friendly, but with a hidden edge. It meant he had seen something worth taking seriously.
Fog curled low around the forest floor as Garron, Rinna, and Demos marched north toward the ravine. The scouts walked with trained silence, but Garron's mind was elsewhere.
Veinhelm Drakan's calm warning echoed in his thoughts.
'They leave no tracks.'
'Your scouts won't detect them.'
That was what bothered Garron most.
When they reached the outer treeline, he lifted a hand.
"Halt."
Rinna froze.
"Captain?" She whispered.
Garron didn't answer immediately.
He closed his eyes.
Listened.
The forest breathed differently here.
Too quietly.
A faint, razor-thin vibration brushed the edge of Garron's mana sense — the kind felt only by veterans who had survived things better left unspoken.
He exhaled slowly.
"…Something's here."
Rinna swallowed.
"We still don't see anything—"
Garron stepped forward.
The air shimmered — a warped distortion, no larger than a man but wrong in every way. It shifted like liquid heat, flickering at the edge of sight.
Only Garron reacted.
"There," he whispered.
The scouts blinked at empty fog.
"What? Where?"
Garron didn't explain.
He moved.
A single step —
A blur of rippling air shot toward him with inhuman speed.
Garron's blade flashed out faster.
SHRRIIEK—
The strike connected.
A wet tearing sound followed.
The distortion split in half, collapsing with a sound like cracking bone mixed with peeling bark. A twisted, half-visible corpse hit the ground, leaking faint black-gray vapor before fading entirely.
The scouts stared in horrified silence at a corpse they could barely see.
Demos trembled.
"C–Captain… what in the world—?!"
Garron didn't respond.
Because now he felt three more.
Then five.
Then eight.
All approaching.
All drawn by the death cry of the first.
His eyes narrowed.
They were coordinating.
Rinna's eyes widened with fear.
"Captain…?"
Garron wiped the black residue of the creature off his blade.
"Retreat there are too many " he said.
The scouts obeyed instantly.
The distortions disappeared at once, fading deeper into the fog.
It was over.
For now.
Rinna finally let out a shaky breath.
"Captain—are we… clear?"
"Yes," he said.
"We're out of their territory."
Demos wiped sweat from his brow, still shaking.
"Gods… if those things had followed us—"
"They didn't, for some reason they are intelligent " Garron said.
His voice stayed calm, but the weight in it was unmistakable.
Rinna straightened, glancing uneasily back the way they came.
" That was terrifying " she murmured.
Garron didn't respond immediately.
He pulled his blade free, examining the faint black residue clinging to the edge.
It evaporated in threads of gray the moment air touched it.
"Creatures that leave no tracks " he said.
Demos swallowed.
"…How do you fight something you can't even see?"
Garron sheathed the sword, posture relaxed, but his eyes sharper than ever.
"You don't "
He started walking back toward camp.
" Looks like I owe him one. "