COMMANDER VALENIS'S POV:
I've watched enough battles to know when something is "training" and when something stops being training. What happened in that hall stopped being training the moment that light erupted. A sensory rupture field… not just blinding sight, but breaking perception itself. Even mana flow got disturbed. That alone would've been enough to label it as dangerous experimental magic.
But what stuck in my mind wasn't the spell.
It was the caster. Lucien. He stood in the center of it like he wasn't the source of chaos, but the one observing it. Everyone else panicked. Even seasoned fighters lost composure for a moment. That tells me more about the technique than any report ever could. Then he tested them. Not randomly. Deliberately.
That arrow he threw at Elandor… that wasn't hesitation. That was confirmation. Measuring response. Reaction speed. Awareness under deprivation. That's not something beginners do. That's battlefield thinking. Then came his explanation– "Mercy Flash." Poor naming. But the concept… unsettlingly efficient. Healing magic turned into a disruptive combat medium. Blinding light that doesn't just impair vision, but temporarily distorts mana flow while still restoring it after. A controlled contradiction.
That shouldn't stabilize. Yet it does. Aelion's reaction confirmed it immediately–he wanted it. That alone is dangerous. When healers start wanting combat variations of their discipline, the line between roles starts to blur. He didn't just use healing magic. He converted its purpose. Then came the second phase. Faelar. Thalindra. S-rank coordination. Pressure control. Position locking. Clean execution. Even I have to admit–it was efficient.
They treated him like a target to be suppressed. And for a moment… it worked. He was thrown. Pinned. Controlled. But he didn't break rhythm. He adapted. He analyzed. He waited. That's the kind of thinking you only see in assassins or commanders. Not in a boy his age.
Then–The explosion. Healing Impact. Compressed. Reinforced. Released as force.
I've seen healing spells before. Even amplified ones. But turning it into raw offensive output like that… at his age… That was the moment the room changed. Not because of the damage. But because everyone realized the same thing at once.
A healer just used healing magic like a weapon. And not an adult. A child.
Faelar blocked it, but even his barrier shook. Sylendor… of course he enjoyed it. That idiot measures strength in destruction. Then came the weapon. Valaerion. A Divinarch. I've heard the rumors–adaptive weapons that respond to compatibility. But rumors don't prepare you for seeing it change shape mid-combat. Sword to dagger. No chant. No trigger. Just response. That is not weapon behavior. That is selection. And Lucien didn't even fully understand it yet. That makes it worse.
Because he is not controlling it. He is learning it while it evolves around him. Then the presence behind him. Blaze. That dragon malice… even suppressed, it leaks like heat under broken armor. I recognized it immediately. And Byakuren… Different. Not aggressive. Not unstable. Just… watching. Measuring him the same way I was.
That combination alone should have crushed a boy like him. Distorted his mana. Broken his focus. But it didn't. If anything… it held him together. That is what I don't like. A normal child breaks under that pressure. Lucien adjusts to it. Like it belongs in his system. When I stepped in, I expected hesitation. Fear. Maybe arrogance.
What I saw instead was calculation. Even when Valaerion responded to him, he didn't treat it like a miracle. He tested it. Used it. Analyzed the result. Then adjusted mid-fight. That is not talent. That is structure. And when I ended it…Pinned him down… He didn't resist out of emotion. He accepted the result.
Already thinking forward. That is worse than losing. Because people like that don't stop at defeat. They update. I said it without thinking. "…so that's your limit." But what I meant was– That's the first time I've seen what you are capable of. And now I understand something clearly. Valerión didn't choose a harmless child. It chose a battlefield problem... Or a solution? Who knows.
LUCIEN GREAVES'S POV:
Afterthat whole… incident in the training hall–yeah, let's call it that–things didn't exactly get easier. If anything, they got worse. Way worse.Training didn't stop. It just… evolved. Or maybe "escalated" is the better word. For the next few months, it was basically the same cycle over and over again. Fight. Get wrecked. Heal. Repeat.Valenis assigned Elandris as my main sparring partner most of the time. Which honestly made sense. We're close in age, and apparently he's a prince too, so this whole thing doubles as training for him. Lucky him.
Elandor handled supervision. And by "supervision," I mean standing there with his arms crossed while casually pointing out every single mistake I make like it's the most obvious thing in the world."…too slow.", "…predictable.", "…you died there."Thanks. Very helpful. Still… I can't deny it. His guidance worked. Annoyingly well. Then there's Valenis. I still spar with himsometimes. And yeah… no matter how many times it happens, the result doesn't change. He's just too fast. Like, it's not even funny anymore. There were so many moments where I knew–if this was a real battlefield, I'd be dead. No "maybe." No "almost." Just dead. Clean. Instant. No second chances.
At first, that kinda messed with me. But after a while… I stopped thinking of it as losing. Instead, I started treating it as a reference point. Something to chase. Something to surpass. Because if I can't even touch him… then what's the point of everything I'm doing here? And unlike Elandor back in Valerión, these guys don't hold back. At all.Their idea of "training" includes breaking bones. A lot of bones. Good thing I have healing magic… otherwise I'd probably be retired already.
Actually–speaking of healing magic– Aelion kept bothering me about it. "Teach me Healing Impact.", "Teach me Mercy Flash." Over and over. So eventually, I did…or at least, I tried to. But it didn't really work. No matter how I explained it, no matter how he copied the flow, the output just wasn't the same. It felt… restricted. Like something was stopping him halfway. That's when it hit me.
Classes. They're all bound by them. Healers heal. Fighters fight. Mages cast. There are rules. Limits.
But me? I don't have that. No class. No restriction.Just… freedom. Which is probably the only reason I can pull off stuff like this in the first place. But that doesn't automatically make me better. If anything, it just means I have no excuse. If I fail, it's all on me. So yeah… I have to be creative. I have to push further. Break things. Rebuild them. Try again.Over and over. Because if I stop now… I'll never catch up to monsters like Valenis…or protect anyone.
And that's the part I can't forget. This isn't just about getting stronger for the sake of it.
I've already lived one life where I didn't have anything. No control. No chance to hold on to something real. But this time? I do. Family. People. A place I actually care about. And I'm not losing that. Not again. So yeah– No matter how many times I get slammed into the ground… No matter how many times I lose… I'll just keep getting back up. Simple as that.
FEW DAYS AFTER, VALENIS – ROYAL AUDIENCE
The hall was full, but it didn't feel crowded.
Just… heavy. That's how it always is when decisions are about to be made. I stepped forward and didn't waste time. "The boy's made solid progress," I said. "Better than expected." A few of them shifted. Some interested. Some already doubtful. I kept going.
"His fundamentals are catching up fast. Defense, timing, positioning–he's starting to read fights instead of reacting late." I crossed my arms slightly. "Still gets hit. Still loses. But he learns every time. Doesn't repeat mistakes." That alone should've been enough. But I added the part they wouldn't like. "He's also weaponizing healing magic." That did it.
Murmurs spread immediately.
"Healing… as offense?"
"That's reckless."
"Improper use–"
I didn't look at them. Didn't need to. "He understands what he's doing," I said flatly. "More than most." That shut a few of them up. At the throne, the king leaned forward slightly, calm as always.
"Is that so?" he said. "Then we may proceed to the second stage of his training." The room tightened. Yeah. That got everyone's attention. The king continued without hesitation. "Oaklan Elasari." A figure stepped forward from the side, quiet presence, the kind of man people forget is there until he speaks.
"You will supervise Lucien Greaves' training in spatial magic." That broke the room.
"Your Majesty–!"
"Spatial magic? At his level–?"
"That's far too early–"
"He is just human!"
Voices overlapped, some controlled, some not. I stayed quiet. Because I already knew this was coming. The king didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"No," he said.
That was it. Just one word. And the entire room stopped. "It has been long decided," he added, gaze steady, "by Valaerion itself."
Silence. No one argued after that. You don't argue with something like that. Not here. Not when everyone in that room knows what a Divinarch choosing someone actually means. The king's gaze shifted to me.
"Commander Valenis."
"Yes your majesty?"
"You will inform the boy."
I nodded once. "Understood."
Later that night, the palace halls were quiet. Less pressure. Less noise. I stopped in front of his door and knocked twice.
End of chapter.