"What are you people even doing?" Lucas demanded, his voice cutting through the quiet morning air.
The three figures spun instantly, movements sharp. Their masked faces turned toward him, taking in the boy with black hair, his towel wrapped hastily as a mask, and the longsword at his hip.
A ripple of tension passed between them.
"Are we found?" one hissed.
"No—who is he? What's he doing here?" another muttered.
"Tech, do we silence him?" Lacey's hand was already brushing the knife at his belt.
Lucas stepped back half a pace, his fingers curling around his sword's hilt. His tone hardened, suspicion solidified into certainty.
"Hey. I asked a question. What are you doing here—and what's in that sack?"
For a beat, no one answered. Then Lacey forced out a nervous laugh, his voice pitched too casually.
"Whoa, relax, man! No need to get worked up. This? Ah, the sack? It's just a boar. Yep, a wild boar!" He patted the bulging bundle awkwardly. "One was roaming around here, so we got sent to capture it. That's all."
Lucas's eyes didn't waver. His voice cut like steel.
"So the glittering air around the dorm—the powder that makes people dizzy—that's for capturing one wild boar?"
"Yes, exactly! You got it!" Lacey blurted, far too quick. "Perfectly logical, right? Didn't want to disturb the ladies at this hour. And hey, it's Sunday morning. Job's done, we'll be on our way."
They shifted, starting to walk briskly past him, tension hidden poorly under their casual act.
"Wait."
The word stopped them cold.
Lucas's hand remained on his sword, his black eyes unreadable. "Let me see it. I want to know what kind of wild boar it is."
"It's a shy type of a boar! It doesn't want to be seen by others, so we just covered it with a sack!" Lacey insisted, his voice tight with desperation.
"Yeah, I believe you," Lucas said, his hand never leaving his sword hilt. "But still, I want to see just how much your shy-type boar looks. Let's see if she's still too shy to look at me."
Lacey shot a pleading look at the figure holding the sack—the Newbie. "Okay, okay, that's your call. Why not, Newbie? Let him see."
"Are you sure?" the Newbie asked, his masked voice sounding wary.
"Yes! Yes, why not!" Lacey repeated, his eyes wide and silently screaming the instruction: Just get rid of him!
Lucas took a deliberate step toward the figure holding the sack. "Come, let's see it then." As he reached out to uncover the sack, his instinct screamed.
Only by a hair's margin did Lucas manage to duck the attack.
A dark blur—the Tech—had lunged, his concealed knife flashing where Lucas's head had been moments before. The blade sliced only air.
The Tech immediately spun, his eyes burning with frustration. "Damn! Why did you dodge that? That was a clean strike! Now I have to waste more time on you."
"So you people aren't catching a boar."
Lucas's voice was low, steady, though his hand trembled slightly on his sword hilt.
Lacey grinned behind his mask, teeth flashing like a predator about to play.
"Nope. Just a very pretty kind of boar."
And then he moved—fast. No hesitation, no more lies. The dagger came flashing toward Lucas's throat.
Clang!
Lucas barely managed to raise his blade in time, steel colliding with steel. Sparks spat into the darkness. But before he could recover, a heavy boot slammed into his ribs with brutal precision.
"Don't forget about me, brat!" the Tech barked, shoving Lucas off balance with another vicious kick.
Lucas staggered, sucking in a breath that never seemed to fill his lungs. Two enemies. Both skilled. Both playing with him like wolves circling prey.
"Everything was smooth until some brat had to show up," Lacey said, his tone mocking as he slashed forward again. "What are you even doing here, huh? You some pervert sneaking around the girls' dorm at dawn?"
Lucas gritted his teeth, sparks of fury cutting through the pain.
"Shut up, you filth!"
He countered with a hard sweep, steel cutting through the cool air. The two masked figures danced back, their steps unnervingly in sync. The Tech lunged in, a precise knife thrust aimed low. Lucas blocked high—and pain exploded in his leg.
"Aghh!" His calf burned as the Tech's second knife slid deep, twisting just enough to cripple but not kill. His knee buckled, his stance staggered.
"Still no match," the Tech murmured, calm and cold.
Blood dripped into the dirt, and Lucas's world narrowed. Pain. Sweat. The metallic taste of iron at the back of his throat. But his grip didn't falter. His sword felt heavier than ever, but his knuckles turned white as he forced it upright.
"Look at him, Tech! He's pouring out mana now, hah! Is that desperation?" Lacey laughed, circling. His words were cruel, but his movements were cautious—because Lucas was still standing.
Each strike from Lucas carried raw mana, his blade glowing faintly as it sliced the air. But for every slash, one of them dodged. For every thrust, the other struck at his blind spot. They were carving him up piece by piece. Cuts stung across his arm, his back, his shoulder. The pain screamed in chorus with his racing heartbeat.
Then the kick came. Brutal. Final.
The Tech's boot sank into his abdomen, and Lucas's body folded. The impact knocked the air clean out of him, sent him crashing back into the dirt, clutching his stomach. His sword clattered a few feet away.
"Pathetic," Lacey chuckled, looming over him. "A tiny bug. Still, you put up more fight than I thought."
"Newbie," the Tech ordered, turning toward the last figure holding the sack, "go. Grab it. We're done here."
The boy with the sack didn't move. His knuckles whitened around the fabric. Silent. Watching.
Lacey sneered. "Hey, kid. Take it from your seniors—this is how you deal with pests. Or were you too busy cuddling the princess in your arms to notice?"
Their words blurred. Lucas's ears rang, body screaming at him to just stay down. But in his hand—pressed tight against his ribs—he still clutched the Mana Stone. Smooth. Burning. Alive.
If I push it…
The thought was madness. A Mana Stone wasn't meant to be force-fed mana like this. But Lucas's blessing—[Mana Child]—wasn't like anyone else's. His supply was endless, reckless. A torrent with nowhere to go. He could feed it. He could drown it.
And he did.
The stone in his bloodied palm pulsed violently, its core flaring with unstable light. Red veins spiderwebbed across its jagged surface, each throb beating like a heart ready to rupture.
The Tech's eyes widened, his voice cracking with alarm. "What is that—?"
Too late.
With a guttural roar, Lucas hurled the mana stone straight at the two masked figures. The motion was sharp, desperate—like casting away a piece of his very soul. The unstable core screeched with energy as it spun through the air, its light intensifying to a blinding crimson.
The Tech and Lacey barely had time to raise their arms in defense.
Then—
BOOOOOOOM!
The world exploded.
A blinding flash of red light swallowed the courtyard. The shockwave slammed the two masked men off their feet, hurling them into the wall with bone-crunching force. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, unmoving. The sack was thrown from the Newbie's hands, rolling in the dirt.
The air seared with raw, unstable mana, crackling like wildfire. The crystalline powder that had been floating in the air—suffocating, dizzying—was ripped apart, shredded by the surge until the morning breeze carried nothing but clean air.
Lucas lay on the ground, ears ringing, chest heaving. Every nerve in his body screamed, but his mind was suddenly clear. Empty. Cold.
Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up to his knees. His cuts burned, his blood dripped freely, but the pain felt distant. Like he was moving through someone else's body.
He turned his head, fixing his gaze on the only one left standing.
The Newbie.
The boy hadn't moved during the fight. His sack had been torn from him, lying in the dirt just a few feet away. He stared at Lucas, eyes wide behind the mask.
Lucas's grip tightened on his sword, dragging it back to his side. His voice was calm, stripped bare of hesitation.
"Now it's just you and me. No more lies. No more excuses." He pointed the bloodied blade at the sack.
"Show me what's inside."
The courtyard fell silent. Just their breathing. Just the tension of a moment that could no longer be undone.
______
[The Teacher dormatery]
BOOOOM!
The blast rolled through the still campus like thunder tearing the night apart.The shock wave shook loose from the rafters of the Teachers' Dormitory; lanterns hanging in the corridor swayed faintly.
Instructor Abraham froze mid-step inside his quarters, his head snapping toward the window. His instincts screamed at him—this wasn't just noise. It was mana, raw and unstable, ripping at the air itself.
A door down the hall creaked open. Instructor Brandt stepped out, already fastening the clasp of his cloak. His face was pale in the dim light. "You felt it too?"
Abraham's voice was clipped. "Not just felt. That was a surge… then collapse. Someone forced mana past its limit."
More doors opened. A handful of instructors spilled into the corridor, their conversations low and hurried.
"That came from the southern wing."
"No… closer to the dormitories."
"Could it have been a training accident?"
Brandt shook his head sharply. "No accident. Students don't have the power to rattle the wards this far out. Someone pushed mana into detonation."
The air seemed heavier now, silence pressing against the group as they traded uneasy glances.
Abraham started moving, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. "Standing here won't answer anything. We go."
They followed quickly, boots hitting stone in rhythm. When they reached the main exit, Abraham reached for the iron latch—only to stop short. His hand pressed against empty space.
The air shivered faintly where he touched, rippling outward in concentric rings.
His voice dropped, quiet but edged. "…A barrier."
Brandt frowned, stepping closer. He extended his mana. The invisible wall resisted, cold and unyielding. "Someone sealed the dormitory? From outside?"
Abraham's expression tightened. "No. Not outside. Around us. This was meant to hold us in."
The youngest of the instructors blanched. "Who would even attempt something like this? Here, of all places—"
Abraham cut him off. "Whoever it is, they didn't want us interfering. Which means the disturbance wasn't random. It's deliberate. Planned."
The corridor fell silent again, the only sound the faint hum of mana woven into the barrier.
Brandt exhaled slowly, grim resolve settling over his face. "So this isn't just trouble. It's infiltration."
Abraham closed his eyes, pressing both palms flat against the unseen wall. He let his mana flow, probing each thread of the weave. The others watched, the silence taut.
Finally, his voice came, steady but low: "They overextended the structure. Too much force, not enough control. They thought numbers would make up for precision."
"And?" Brandt asked.
A faint crackling answered before Abraham's words did. Thin lines of light spread across the surface like fractures in glass.
"And that is why it's going to break."
The next pulse of mana hit like a hammer. KRRAK! The barrier screamed under pressure, fractures spiderwebbing faster and faster until—
SHATTER!
The invisible wall burst apart in a rush of sparks and collapsing light. The air outside flooded in, sharp with the lingering taste of burnt mana.
Abraham lowered his hands. His voice was calm, but his eyes were cold. "Someone just made a grave mistake."
Brandt glanced toward the south, his tone grim. "The girls' dormitory. That's where the blast came from."
Abraham stepped forward without hesitation, his mana aura flaring like a storm front. "Then we don't waste another second."