The battlefield had descended into complete madness. Aasal could barely catch his breath, let alone think straight. Screams tore through the air like blades. Blood soaked the ground. Everywhere he turned, death was waiting—soldiers being torn apart, trampled, or dragged into the mass of beasts only to vanish screaming.
He fought with everything he had, his body moving on mere instinct. Kill one, and two more appeared to take its place. Four Voidcrawlers lunged at him simultaneously, mouths wide with rows of jagged teeth. Aasal launched himself upward, dodging just in time as they collided midair—slamming into one another.
Before they could recover, he brought his sword down. Mana surged through the blade, and in a single sweeping arc, he bisected the tangled beasts at their chests. Blood sprayed upward like a fountain.
The longer he fought, the more his body adapted—faster strikes, cleaner dodges, sharper senses. His combat efficiency was increasing. Val was always nearby, guarding his blind spots with deadly efficiency. He has already saved him once or twice from getting injured.
Aasal tried to scan him using the system—but the screen only showed question marks. Instead, he just watched. The man was a blur—slicing creatures with flicks of his sword, sometimes discarding it entirely to pummel monsters with his bare fists. Every punch exploded like a grenade, skulls cracking like eggshells and sending chunks of bone and flesh flying. Their once clean skin was now dyed red with blood. Every few seconds, they wiped their faces clear just to see.
Thousands of soldiers were already dead, and this was still only the beginning.
"Val!" Aasal shouted over the chaos, panting. His arms burned, his shoulders ached, and the lactic acid pooling in his muscles made every movement feel sluggish. "How many are left? We've been fighting for hours!"
Val let out a short, ragged laugh. "Feeling tired already, Aasal? Hahaha!" He cleaved a monster clean in two. "The wave's almost done—just a few more minutes. Don't die now."
Aasal gritted his teeth. Even Val was starting to look strained—his swings slightly slower, his eyes a bit duller.
The minutes dragged on. The tide of monsters began to thin. Then—finally—the beasts stopped coming.
That's when Sergeant Griffith's voice boomed once more across the field:
"Soldiers! You've done well. Take this time to rest and recover. The second wave approaches."
Aasal collapsed on a patch of dried earth not yet soaked in blood. He let out a deep breath. His arms trembled. His mana felt unstable, flickering in and out of sync with his body.
"Here." Val tossed him a small pill. It was shaped like a marble, dark green and ridged. "Military-grade ration pill. Restores stamina and recovers some mana. Bitter as hell, though."
Aasal swallowed it without hesitation.
He instantly regretted it.
"Bitter" didn't begin to describe the taste. It was like someone had mixed dirt and metal into battery acid. The pill slid down his throat like a shard of glass.
But the effects were immediate. Warmth spread through his core. His muscles unwound. His breath steadied. Focusing on his body, he could feel the ambient mana being pulled toward him, absorbed naturally—his pathways slightly more open than before.
"Thanks," he muttered, lying back beside Val.
They stared up at the sky, clouded in smoke and ash. Aasal watched as glowing motes of mana drifted in the air, carried by the wind like autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze.
My stats have been increasing with every kill… but it's still not enough. The battle had shown him just how far he had to go.
More than anything, it reinforced one truth: mana was the key.
He turned his gaze to Val, who sat cross-legged, focused, his arms faintly glowing. Aasal squinted. The mana was wrapping around his limbs—not like armor, but like muscle. Reinforcing him and making him stronger.
He's solidifying mana around his body… almost like a shell. That's how his punches hit like artillery. If I get better… could I make a weapon out of mana alone?
The idea burned in his brain.
He clenched his fist and tried to summon a small dagger of mana in his palm. It flickered into form, sharp and faintly translucent… then destabilized, dissolving into sparks and dispersing into the surrounding air. His control and potency wasn't there just yet.
He closed his eyes for just a moment, letting the faint hum of mana wrap around his body, easing his fatigue.
Val leaned back against a scorched bit of stone, hands behind his head, still grinning even though the battlefield reeked of death. "You fight alright, kid," he said, voice low. "You've got real talent for it. You're getting sharper the longer you fight."
Aasal looked over, wiping the blood and grime from his eyes. "I had a good teacher," he said, nodding at Val.
Val chuckled dryly. "Don't butter me up. I wasn't always like this."
Aasal raised a brow. "What, you were worse when you were younger?"
There was a pause. The sound of wind passing over blood-soaked soil filled the silence. Then Val spoke, quieter than before.
"When I was a kid, the world hadn't gone to hell yet. Cities still stood and schools ran fine. The monsters were just stories. People just thought they were failed experiments from labs."
He let out a breath through his nose. "But they multiplied fast. Governments tried to hold them back, but it didn't matter. Defense lines failed and cities fell."
Aasal didn't speak. He listened.
"I lived in a small town with my mom and my little sister, Luna. It was a quiet life—simple. I used to walk her to school every morning. Thought I could keep her safe from everything and protect her." His voice hardened. "How wrong I was. Nothing prepared us for when they came."
His eyes were somewhere far away now, looking into the distance.
"They came through our town like a flood. Luna was running toward me when one of them caught her. She was screaming my name, begging me to help her." His voice cracked. "And I just... froze. Stood there like a coward while my ten-year-old sister got torn apart. She died calling for me, and I did nothing."
He was quiet for a long moment, staring at his hands. "My mother tried to fight them off with a kitchen knife. Threw herself at three of them just to buy me time to run. I should've helped her. Should've done something. But I just watched as she died too."
His fists clenched. "The military found me hiding in the basement three days later. Nowhere else to go, so I joined them. I swore I'd kill every last one of those bastards."
Aasal looked down. "I'm sorry."
Val shook his head. "Don't be, kid. I'm alive and well. Life happens." He paused, then added quietly, "But I won't let it happen again. Not to anyone else. Not if I can help it."
After a long pause, Val nudged him. "What about you? Where are you from?"
Aasal stared at his bloodied hands. "I grew up in a big city. Wasn't close to my family—my parents were always working or doing their own thing, so I had to fend for myself. When my little sister was born, they only cared about her. Always felt like I didn't belong."
He paused, thinking. "I dropped out of school. People thought I was wasting my potential, but I just learned everything faster than everyone else. I got bored. The other kids were intimidated by me, so I never made any friends. I kept going just hoping someone would approach me, but it never happened," Aasal said, a little saddened.
Val gave him a sidelong look. "You don't strike me as a nerd."
Aasal smirked faintly. "I worked at a convenience store for a while. Hated that job, but it became my routine. Some guy offered it to me on the street, and I just... took it."
"I don't even know if they're still alive," Aasal muttered. "Guess it doesn't matter now."
Another silence passed, longer this time.
Then, a thought came to mind. "Hey, do you guys also have a tow—"
The ground began to rumble. In the distance, a deeper horn sounded—longer, more ominous than before.
The second wave was approaching.