The forest shook under the massive wings of the griffin-bear. Laxyie's arms burned from holding the chief's daughter, her small body trembling against him. Every step the creature took threatened to crush the undergrowth beneath them. Branches splintered, leaves flew like arrows, and the roar of the hybrid echoed through the dense trees.
He ducked behind a fallen tree for a moment, catching his breath. Lyla was already in motion, green hair whipping with each strike, her sword a blur as she used her Valor Manifest: Tempest Blade—blindingly fast arcs that staggered the beast, but even she struggled against its overwhelming strength.
Laxyie knew he couldn't keep the girl in his arms much longer. One misstep and she would be crushed. He spotted a small patch of soft moss beneath the roots of a fallen tree. Carefully, he lowered her to the ground.
"Stay here," he whispered. "Don't move. I'll keep you safe."
Her wide eyes met his, fear mingled with trust, and she pressed herself against the log. Laxyie turned back, dagger in hand, every muscle ready.
He remembered what Lyla had explained back at the tavern—the mechanics of Valor Manifest: Tempest Blade. The way her raw intent flowed into every strike, the speed and precision of each motion. He hadn't tried it yet; he had only observed.
Now, as the griffin-bear lunged, an idea sparked in his mind. What if I combine this with my Sensory Veil?
He didn't hesitate. He let the Sensory Veil flood his perception, tracking the creature's heartbeat, muscle shifts, and faint magical traces. Then, drawing on what he had learned from Lyla—how her Valor Manifest could multiply force and speed—he pushed his body beyond instinct.
The first attempt was clumsy, almost reckless. But then, a rhythm emerged. Each slash of his dagger, guided by the Sensory Veil, flowed like the momentum of a Tempest Blade strike. He could anticipate the griffin-bear's movements, strike where it couldn't defend, dodge before it swung.
It worked. Laxyie's dagger moved with impossible precision, faster and deadlier than normal. He had invented something entirely his own: Sensory Blade.
Lyla's eyes widened. "Laxyie… what—how—?"
"I… had to try!" he panted, ducking under a swipe that would have crushed him. "It's the only way!"
The griffin-bear staggered under the onslaught. Laxyie's strikes, informed by his Sensory Veil and the principles of Tempest Blade, hit gaps even Lyla hadn't targeted. For the first time, they moved together—not as teacher and observer, but as teammates, reading each other's motions and covering each other's weaknesses.
Adrenaline surged through him. This was his path, forged in survival and observation. Sensory Blade wasn't a class ability—it was pure improvisation, born from instinct and his own perception.
The griffin-bear lunged again, and Laxyie slashed with perfect timing. The forest trembled, but he moved with clarity and purpose. He didn't know the full limits of this power, and he didn't need to. All he knew was that he could fight, survive, and start carving his own destiny—one instinct, one strike at a time. A new beast has emerged.