Lorde's golden, ghostly form stood tall above Valerius's battered body. He reached down and plucked Gavurn's sword from Valerius's limp grasp, the massive blade seeming weightless in his hand as he rose to his full, regal height.
Across the battlefield, Zee's eyes went wide. "What… what is that?" she breathed.
Luthar, face pale, whispered, "Is that… a spirit? I thought spirits were all beasts."
Lorde didn't answer. He turned away, his shimmering form almost casual as he strode toward the white Cheetora, time itself seeming to slow around him. He knew he had only seconds to act—but his grin was as sharp as a blade.
"Ten… nine… eight…" he counted aloud, his voice ringing clear through the stunned silence. He flipped Gavurn's sword sideways, golden irises glinting with reckless excitement. "Seven… six… five…" A pulse of brilliant light shimmered along the blade as he expelled the residue of Gavurn's mana, sparks dancing into the night.
"Four… three…"
The white Cheetora, eyes locked on Lorde, lowered itself into a crouch. It lunged, faster than any mortal could see—blurring straight for him in a flash of white death.
"Two…"
Lorde's grin widened. He stepped forward smoothly, extending his right arm back with the sword.
"One."
With a casual laugh, he exploded into motion, delivering an upward slash that split the night itself. Gavurn's sword tore through the ground with a shrieking roar, the arc of the slash propagating forward like a divine crescent of destruction. The glowing blade cleaved the earth and air, bisecting the white Cheetora cleanly down the middle.
But the slash didn't stop there.
The force of Lorde's strike carved a blazing trench stretching tens of kilometers into the distant horizon—trees were felled like blades of grass, hills split apart, and distant mountains shivered as the glowing wound raced onward, gouging a scar across the land so vast it could be seen for miles.
A shockwave thundered outward in a perfect circle, blasting stones, blood, and beasts aside like leaves in a storm. Raiders across the battlefield staggered, shielding their faces as hurricane-force winds whipped around them. Kurgan, Zee, Luthar, Mira, Auri—all of them threw up their arms as the blast washed over them. The air vibrated with the lingering power of the strike, a deep, resonant boom echoing across the night.
When the shockwave faded, silence swallowed the field. Lorde stood alone, arm raised high, sword held aloft. Then—cracks spidered through the blade. Gavurn's sword shattered with a ringing explosion, fragments falling like dying stars until only the hilt remained in Lorde's hand.
Every eye went wide, jaws dropping.
Lorde lowered his hand and stared at the ruined weapon with clear dissatisfaction. "Huh," he muttered, voice dry and amused, "I really overestimated this sword. Guess that's why they say… don't judge a book by its cover."
He tossed the broken hilt aside, the clang echoing across the blood-soaked field. Slowly, he turned his head, golden eyes locking on Valerius's crumpled form. If only he weren't so weak… I could stay longer, he thought with a faint pang of regret.
Without another word, his body shimmered, pulled backward as a dark portal of swirling energy swallowed him whole.
---
Auri's eyes darted from the shattered blade to Valerius. That spirit… it used Lerius's sword… she thought, a chill running down her spine. She turned to Valerius, lying broken on the ground. Did he summon that thing? She shook her head violently. No… that's impossible. He doesn't even have mana.
Valerius lay on his back, gasping in pain. Blood bubbled from his mouth as he struggled to breathe, eyes unfocused but locked on where Lorde had stood. He was… that strong? he thought, a flicker of awe fighting the darkness at the edge of his vision.
Yelleen's voice whispered coldly in his mind. "I told you… you're not strong. There are far more powerful beasts than that one. The only good thing about today is that when you recover… you'll be stronger than ever. Until the next time you nearly die."
Blood filled Valerius's lungs; each ragged breath felt like drowning. Mira sprinted to his side, dropping to her knees as red froth streamed from his lips.
"Hey!" she screamed, voice raw with panic. "The kid is dying!"
Luthar stood over Valerius's limp form, his face unreadable. "Nothing we can do," he said flatly. "People die all the time."
Kurgan crossed his arms, eyes lingering on the boy. "He did fight well, though. I didn't think he was that strong."
Zee's eyes were distant, her voice soft. "I was surprised too."
Valerius lay on the torn terrain, blood bubbling from his lips as he drowned in his own lungs. Kurgan sighed, shaking his head. "You could've stayed back, you know," he murmured to the boy. "You're just a kid… you haven't even lived life yet, and you just threw yours away."
Nearby, Auri's mind spun, unable to grasp the truth of what she had seen. How was he connected to that spirit? Was it really him who summoned it? she thought, heart pounding.
Valerius's eyes rolled back. Darkness closed in as suffocation finally claimed his consciousness.
Luthar glanced down without emotion. "Well… there he goes. He's dead. I knew he wouldn't last long—no kid survives in No Man's Land."
A raider's voice echoed across the battlefield: "Alright, let's clear out these beasts and the bodies!" Raiders and survivors spread out, dragging corpses into piles. Kurgan's team turned and walked away, leaving Valerius lying still among the fallen.
Zee glanced back over her shoulder, eyes sad. "Poor kid," she whispered.
Hours passed as the surviving raiders worked tirelessly. They stacked the dead—friend and foe alike—in a massive pyre on the scarred plain. Blood stained the soil; the air reeked of smoke, gore, and grief. When everything was ready, they gathered for a somber funeral.
A man missing his right arm stepped forward. His voice was ragged but loud. "Today… just like any other day… we've lost many of our comrades."
He lifted a small bottle of cheap alcohol, eyes shining with grief. "This is a dangerous life we lead," he said, voice growing stronger. He raised the bottle high and roared, "Our fallen will not be forgotten!"
A thunderous cry rose from the crowd, Kurgan's team among them. "OUR FALLEN WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN!"
The man poured the alcohol over the bodies. With a flick of a match, flames roared to life, consuming the dead in crackling fire.
---
In the darkness of the Temporal Plane, Valerius floated weightlessly, the void around him cold and endless. Countless enormous cards drifted like titanic monoliths in the black. He blinked. This place again? he thought, heart pounding.
He willed himself forward. A towering black card loomed before him, its surface etched with the faint outline of a faceless figure. It had no name. Valerius floated around it, searching for meaning. "What are these things?" he whispered.
Then, in the distance, a light appeared—a colossal white book hovered, glowing softly like a star. Valerius drifted toward it, the cover coming into view: Cosmic Kingdom. The book was twice as large as any tome he'd ever seen on Earth.
He placed a hand on it. The cover parted with a deep rumble, revealing the first page—massive letters filled the sheet, bold and unmistakable:
> TO CALL UPON A CHAMPION, PROCLAIM THE NAME, WITH INTENT.
Valerius frowned. "Intent? What does that mean?"
---
Back in the real world, the pyre crackled as flames consumed bodies. Suddenly, a low, guttural roar rolled from within the fire. The raiders turned, eyes wide.
A moment later, Valerius's scream split the night.
He erupted from the pyre, fire swirling harmlessly around him as he thrashed in agony. His screams were not from the heat—no, the flames could not harm him. He screamed from the excruciating pain of his body reconstructing itself, every nerve alight with agony as bones shifted and regrew.
Mira sprinted forward, horror written across her face. "Hey! The kid—he's alive!" she shouted desperately. Blood from his lungs poured from Valerius's mouth as he clawed the ground, dirt spraying into the air. Each impact of his fists and head against the ground sent shockwaves radiating outward, cracking the scorched terrain.
All around him, raiders stared, weapons raised in shock and confusion. The ground trembled as the shattered shards of Valerius's broken ribs were violently expelled from his chest, jagged fragments bursting into the air as new bones regrew.
His roar turned deeper, wilder—more like a beast than a boy.
Yelleen's voice echoed coldly in his mind. "You have to learn to endure this pain, Valerius. If this happens when you're with people you love… you will kill them. You're lucky no bone pierced your heart today."
The crater widened as Valerius writhed, each convulsion blasting dirt and rock outward. His voice rose to a raw, monstrous scream, a predator's roar shaking the battlefield.
The screams shook the battlefield for what felt like an eternity. Minutes crawled by—five, ten, twenty—until thirty minutes had passed, the roars and convulsions echoing like the howls of a dying beast.
Then, suddenly, silence fell.
The flames continued to crackle and roar, casting flickering light across the field of stunned raiders.
Luthar stepped forward cautiously, peering into the pyre with narrowed eyes. "Did he finally die?" he muttered.
A tense hush settled over the survivors as they stared into the towering inferno.
Then, from deep within the heart of the flames, a figure moved.
Valerius rose slowly, his silhouette emerging from the seething fire. He stood tall, completely naked, his skin flawless and unscarred. Flames coiled around him like living serpents—but the fire did not burn him.
He drew a deep breath, inhaling the swirling fire, embers dancing into his lungs. Then he exhaled a plume of flame, the blast of heat washing over the watching raiders.
A murmur of awe rippled through the crowd.
One man's voice broke the silence, trembling. "It's… it's that kid."
Valerius stepped forward, each stride slow and deliberate, flames falling away from his body like molten petals. He emerged from the pyre, leaving the roaring fire behind him as he walked barefoot onto the blood-soaked terrain. The light of the dying fire danced over his skin, casting him in an ethereal glow.
He stopped in front of the gathered raiders, eyes hard and unbroken, chest rising steadily with calm, powerful breaths. Every wound had vanished; every bruise was gone. He was whole—more than whole—healed and reborn.
The silence deepened. Raiders who had fought beasts for decades stood frozen, unable to tear their eyes away. Some lowered their weapons unconsciously, surprised by what they had seen. A boy without mana, casually walking of burning flames.
Valerius's gaze swept over them, fierce and clear. He stood naked, but there was no shame in his stance.
He spoke, voice low but carrying across the quieted battlefield. "What are you all staring at?" His eyes flashed. "Didn't anyone ever tell you… it's rude to gawk?"
A stunned hush gripped the battlefield. Valerius's chest rose and fell with slow, powerful breaths. Despite the impossible strength he displayed, not a single ripple of mana could be felt coming from him.
Mira's eyes were wide, her voice a hoarse whisper as she leaned closer to Zee. "I've heard… that if you get your hands on a seed, even a non-gifted can do unimaginable things."
Zee's gaze was locked on Valerius, her expression caught between awe and suspicion. "You think he has a seed?" she asked, voice low.
Mira swallowed hard. "How else would you explain this? A non-gifted boy… surviving wounds like that… standing up like nothing happened…"
Kurgan stepped forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the cracked ground. His eyes were sharp, calculating. "There's a saying," he rumbled, voice quiet but heavy with meaning. "Seeds are shortcuts to magic. They grant power without the need to learn the arcane. He must have found one… that's the only explanation."
High above them, perched atop the blackened stones of Redmarrow's town wall, a figure watched silently. It was the tall Aurellian man Valerius had met before—the one who'd given him the black card. His eyes, cold and piercing, followed Valerius with predatory interest. A smirk played at the corner of his lips as moonlight glinted off the scar across his forehead.
Intriguing, he thought, the wind stirring his hair. So the little Earther wasn't just lucky after all…
---
To Be Continued...