The battlefield lay deathly still, flames dying to smoldering embers that barely lit the ragged, bloodied faces of the surviving raiders. Valerius stood naked and unbroken in the center of a ring of scorched earth, each breath misting in the cold night air, chest heaving with the effort of simply remaining upright.
Kurgan stepped forward, boots crunching over blackened stone. His eyes, usually hard as forged steel, flicked over Valerius with something between wary respect and deep unease.
Kurgan's voice rumbled across the silent field. "What in the hells… are you?"
Zee shifted beside him, her daggers still in her hands but lowered at her sides. Her eyes swept Valerius's unmarred body, voice quiet, edged with disbelief. "He's… not gifted," she said slowly, almost as if trying to convince herself. "But his body… it's like an Augmenter's."
Auri stepped closer, her eyes wide, filled with awe and a shadow of fear. "Lerius…" she whispered. "Was that really you who summoned that spirit?"
Valerius's gaze swept across their faces—Kurgan's hard eyes, Zee's narrowed stare, Mira's guarded watchfulness. His expression flickered between exhaustion and defiance. His voice cracked but carried. "I… don't know."
Luthar's mouth twisted into a sneer, his voice sharp. "Don't know?" he snapped. "That thing clearly came to save you. It even used your sword."
Mira's voice cut through the gathering tension, low but firm. "That wasn't normal, Lerius. A non-gifted can't summon spirits."
Valerius's mind reeled. The Cosmic Kingdom… the cards… the words: To call upon a champion, proclaim the name with intent. His fists clenched, the memory of Lorde's smirk flashing through his mind. He really came to save me…
Before another word could be spoken, a shout rang out from the top of Redmarrow's shattered wall. A lookout pointed frantically to the eastern horizon where shadows crawled beneath the silver moonlight. "Something's coming!" he screamed.
A deep, monstrous roar rolled across the plains, low and menacing—beast or something worse. Raiders scrambled in sudden panic: some fled for the shattered gates, others tightened grips on weapons slick with drying blood.
Kurgan cursed under his breath, jaw tight. "Damn it… we can't afford another fight."
Auri stepped protectively in front of Valerius, eyes fierce with determination. "His spirit saved us once already. He stays with us. We could use that kind of firepower."
Luthar scoffed, his lip curling. "Or he's the reason we're cursed. Those Cheetoras might have caught his scent. We should leave him behind before he gets us all killed."
Mira and Zee exchanged tense, uncertain looks.
Then, a voice rang out from atop the wall—cold, strong, unmistakable. The one-armed Aurellian with the scar stood there, the wind stirring his dark cloak. "He's right," the man called down, his gaze cutting through the night. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. We lost five mid-ranked D-Raiders tonight—that's a massive loss. But if we want to live through what's coming… we'll need him. We'll need him to summon that spirit again."
Everyone turned, weapons half-raised, eyes wide and uncertain.
Valerius swallowed hard, the moonlight glinting off the blood that still streaked his newly-healed skin. In that moment, as the hushed night waited around him, he realized with a cold shiver of certainty: his survival had changed everything.
High atop the wall, the man who gave Valerius his card watched the moonlit plains, his cloak billowing around his massive frame. He muttered to himself, eyes fixed on Valerius below. "This wave isn't like the others," he said softly. "Can these rookie raiders survive through the night? They've got a handful of high-ranking D-Ranks at best…" His gaze sharpened, voice dropping to a cold whisper. "Well… whatever the outcome, I'm more interested in that little Earther."
Suddenly, from every dark corner of the horizon, countless shapes began to emerge—lumbering, slithering, bounding. A dark tide of beasts appeared, thousands strong, their glowing eyes like scattered stars in the night.
A raider on the eastern wall screamed, panic cracking his voice. "We have beasts approaching from all directions!"
The one-armed Aurellian's head snapped around, voice thunderous. "What? How many?!"
The lookout fumbled with his binoculars, hands shaking as he scanned the advancing shadows. His face drained of color. "Thousands!" he yelled, voice rising in terror.
A ripple of fear tore through the raiders below. The battle-weary survivors began to stagger backward, eyes darting, weapons trembling. This was supposed to be just another wave—another chance to raise their rank. But what loomed before them was a nightmare.
The one-armed man grabbed Valerius by the shoulder, eyes burning. "Summon that spirit again!" he barked.
Valerius shook his head desperately, voice raw. "I don't know how! He just… comes on his own!"
On the wall above, a mage in tattered robes clutched a glowing crystal, chanting softly as arcane symbols flickered around him. His eyes widened in horror as he read the readings. "These beasts… they all have mana!" he gasped.
A young raider standing beside him staggered back, face pale. "That means… they're all at least Rank C…"
A hush of dread spread like poison through the ranks.
---
No Man's Land: a place no kingdom dares to claim, no settlement can last. Here roam the monstrous creatures that make the world's map incomplete—beasts of unimaginable power, each a nightmare of claws and fangs. Even the weakest among them can tear an untrained man limb from limb.
But some beasts evolve. They awaken the ability to circulate Vitalis, turning it into raw mana. For them, the instinct to kill merges with the power of magic. Their intelligence sharpens; their movements coordinate; some even speak. At their highest, these creatures rival the cunning and brilliance of the wisest advanced races—if not surpass them.
These mana-wielding beasts are ranked C and above: nightmares made flesh.
---
In the midst of the rising panic, three figures stepped through the opened gate of Redmarrow—tall, imposing, unflinching. Gasps and whispers followed them like a shadow.
"It's them…" someone breathed in awe. "The Three Bones of Redmarrow…"
The woman led the trio, brown braids falling from the center of her head to her armored shoulders. A deep scar crossed her cheek, and her eyes glowed with the focus of a predator. In her hands, she carried a massive scythe that shimmered with a cruel silver edge.
Beside her strode a man gripping a broad sword longer than most men were tall, his face calm but eyes like frozen steel.
The last was a lean man with a staff of blackened wood, runes pulsing faintly along its length. His eyes flicked over the battlefield, mind already calculating.
All three radiated raw power, each one five stars blazing above their heads—pinnacle D-Ranks, warriors who stood at the threshold of transcending into C-Rank legends.
They stopped before Valerius and the one-armed Aurellian. The caster spoke first, voice dry but resolute. "Never thought this was how I'd die…" He glanced to the horizon, where the sea of beasts loomed closer by the second. "But at least I'll die fighting."
The woman's eyes narrowed, scanning the gathering darkness. "I really don't like these odds," she muttered, gripping her scythe tighter.
The swordsman shrugged, a grim smile ghosting his lips. "What can we do?" he said quietly. "We chose this life, didn't we?"
Then the caster's gaze dropped to Valerius, taking in his battered, naked form. With a snort of annoyance, he waved his staff. Blue light swirled around Valerius, weaving into threads of cloth that wrapped his body. Clothes appeared—a simple, sturdy black outfit.
Valerius looked down at himself in shock, fingers brushing his new shirt. The caster's mouth twisted. "I didn't want to see your… bits dangling around," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.
A nervous chuckle escaped a nearby raider even as terror gripped them all.
---
The one-armed Aurellian stepped in front of Valerius, his gaze fierce, voice echoing with urgency. "Look!" he shouted, sweeping his arm to the shattered battlefield behind them. "This boy summoned a spirit—a powerful one. It tore that C-Rank Cheetora apart like it was nothing!" He pointed to the colossal trench carved deep into the terrain, the gouge still faintly smoking in the moonlight. "You see that? The spirit did that."
The woman with the scythe narrowed her eyes at the boy. "How can he be a summoner?" she demanded, voice low and sharp. "I feel no mana coming from him. He's not gifted."
The one-armed man shook his head, frustration sharpening every word. "I know it doesn't make sense—but I swear on my life, it happened. If we can get him to bring that spirit back, we can annihilate every one of those beasts."
The woman's eyes flicked doubtfully down at Valerius, her grip tightening on her scythe. "Alright, then," she said slowly, voice laced with skepticism. "Bring your spirit."
Valerius stared back, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. "I… I can't," he stammered.
"Oh, you can't?" she repeated, voice rising with exasperation. She turned on the one-armed man, eyes blazing. "We're on the brink of slaughter! This is no time for jokes—maybe losing your arm rattled your head more than I thought."
She pivoted sharply, stalking away with the swordsman and the caster at her side.
The one-armed man reached desperately for her. "I'm telling the truth!" he yelled after them. "I saw it with my own eyes!"
He spun back to Valerius, eyes wild. He gripped Valerius's shoulders hard. "You have to bring it back," he pleaded, voice breaking. "Please—if you can't, we're all going to die."
Far across the plain, the advancing horde of beasts drew closer, their roars rising like thunder. The air vibrated with their rage. Raiders scrambled across the walls and the broken gates, weapons raised, eyes wide with fear.
Valerius swallowed hard, resolve firming in his eyes. "I'll try," he whispered.
He stepped forward, standing at the center of the battlefield, cold wind whipping across his face. He closed his eyes, forcing his racing mind to still, and reached deep into the darkness of the Temporal Plane.
---
In the black void of the Temporal Plane, dark cards drifted like stars. His gaze fell on the only card shined—Lorde's card. The golden figure within glowed, features sharp and alive, and beneath it was a single name etched in radiant letters: LORDE.
To Call Upon a Champion, proclaim the name, with intent.
Valerius clenched his jaw. "Intent…" he whispered to himself. "It means I must have a clear purpose—something unwavering."
He remembered the slaughter, the dying screams of the raiders, the unstoppable tide of beasts threatening to devour them all. His heart pounded like a war drum. I'm not going to die here. I won't. You're going to stop them all.
His eyes snapped open, blazing with determination. He thrust his right hand out in front of him, palm open to the night sky.
With every fiber of his will, he proclaimed the name, voice ringing like a clarion call across the battlefield:
"Come forth—LORDE!"
---
From another realm, a being watched through Valerius's eyes—a silent observer whose smirk glinted like a blade in the dark.
---
Then, with a thunderous BANG, a swirling blue portal ripped open in midair, crackling with energy.
Out of the seething light stepped Lorde.
He towered above them all—fourteen feet of semi-transparent, shimmering gold, his form pulsing like a sun given shape. The flames of the battlefield reflected off him in dazzling flashes of light. His golden irises glowed like molten stars, his grin sharp and hungry.
Lorde's grin widened, eyes glinting with fierce approval as his deep, resonant voice rolled out across the battlefield. "So… you finally figured it out, huh?"
Gasps and cries of awe spread like wildfire through the ranks of raiders. Many had never seen a spirit before—let alone one like this.
Auri's eyes widened, voice shaking with disbelief. "He… he really did summon it…"
Luthar's jaw dropped, words tumbling out. "How is this possible? He's not a mage!"
Kurgan's eyes narrowed, voice low. "It spoke? Spirits can speak?"
Luthar shook his head slowly. "It's already near impossible to summon a normal spirit… they're supposed to look like beasts. But that…" His eyes darted to Lorde's towering, humanoid figure. "That one looks like a person."
Zee's eyes burned with fierce wonder. "That kid… he's definitely not normal."
Valerius staggered forward, his voice small but desperate. "Could you… please help me with those beasts?"
Lorde's golden head tilted slowly, gaze sweeping the roaring tide of monsters thundering across the plains. Then, without warning, he turned—and slammed a fist into Valerius's stomach with bone-crushing force.
Valerius doubled over, gasping in pain as his knees buckled. Lorde's voice rolled across the stunned raiders, rich with amused contempt. "We don't beg like pussies," he said, his grin flashing. He raised his chin, voice rising like a clarion call. "We demand!"
Valerius wheezed, clutching his gut, eyes blazing with stubborn defiance. He forced himself to look up at the towering spirit. "Then… go," he rasped, voice cracking but unwavering, "and kill all those beasts!"
Lorde's grin widened, sharp as a blade. "With pleasure," he purred.
He bent his knees—and exploded into the sky with a thunderous shockwave that shattered stones at his feet. Raiders threw up their arms against the blast of wind, eyes wide as the golden giant rocketed high above them, silhouetted against the moonlit sky.
---
To Be Continued…