Chapter 18: A Forbidden Magic

Chapter 18: A Forbidden Magic: Mana Surge

Slash!

Leon was faster.

"Thunder Slash!"

A golden arc of lightning-infused steel carved through the air. Its hand shattered like glass—fragments breaking apart into floating shards of shadowy steel. Then, in a blink, they snapped back together, forming a new blade in its grasp.

Arthur swallowed hard. This thing—this monster—was beyond A-Rank.

Boom!

Leon barely dodged as the Reaver swung its newly formed weapon. The sheer force sent shockwaves through the ground. The walls groaned under the pressure, loose stone crumbling from above.

Clang!

Leon parried.

Slash!

The Reaver countered.

Boom!

Sparks exploded as Leon's sword met the Reaver's strike head-on.

Crack!

The dungeon floor split beneath them.

Leon's arms shook from the impact. "Damn it! This thing—!"

The monster tilted its head, its eerie, hollow eyes locked onto him. Silent. Mocking.

Leon gritted his teeth.

Arthur's chest tightened, his pulse hammering against his skull.

"Leon! We need a plan! We can't just keep hitting it like this!"

Leon exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around his sword. His arms trembled—not from fear, but from exhaustion. "Then think of one fast."

The Hollow Blade Reaver flickered—then vanished.

Elara barely had time to whisper, "No—"

Slash!

Leon barely managed to block, the impact sending a jolt through his entire body. His boots scraped against the cracked stone floor, stopping just inches from Arthur and the others. His breathing was ragged, his shoulders rising and falling in uneven bursts.

Clang!

The Reaver attacked again. And again. Relentless. Unfeeling. Unstoppable. Its strikes came from impossible angles, its form warping mid-swing, its body fracturing into shadowed fragments and reforming elsewhere before each hit connected. It wasn't just fast. It was untouchable.

Leon grunted as he parried another blow, but his arms quivered under the force. His legs ached, barely holding his stance. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Arthur knew it too. He could see it in Leon's eyes—the grim determination barely masking the creeping realization. They were losing. They couldn't keep up.

Arthur's fingers curled into fists at his sides, shaking. His breath came in uneven gasps. He wanted to move. He needed to move.

But he stood frozen.

Mira lay crumpled against the wall. Blood pooled beneath her, staining the floor where the reaver's blade had torn through her back. Her breaths were shallow, her body motionless.

Elara ran toward her, panic flashing across her face. Her hands trembled as she reached Mira's side, barely able to keep herself steady.

"D-Divine Blessing!" she choked out.

A warm golden light surged from her hands, spreading across Mira's back. The deep gash pulsed under the glow, the torn flesh knitting back together ever so slowly. But it wasn't fast enough.

"Please, please," Elara whispered, her voice cracking. "Don't fade... not like this."

Her vision blurred with tears, but she forced herself to focus, pouring more of her power into the spell.

And then there was Leon.

Still standing. Still fighting. Still trying.

Even when his legs trembled. Even when he knew the next strike could be his last.

Arthur's nails dug into his palms.

And what about me? What am I doing?

I should be helping him. I should be fighting alongside him. But my body won't move. Why won't it move?

Useless. The word burned in his mind. I am useless.

His hands trembled as he reached for magic. Anything. Any spell, any trick, any scrap of power that could even slow the Reaver down.

Dark Frost Chain? Too weak.

Phantom Glacier Slash? Not enough mana.

Come on. Think. There has to be something. There has to be something!

The Reaver lunged again, its form flickering like a nightmare, its blade arcing toward Leon's ribs—

CLANG!

Leon blocked, but barely. The impact sent him stumbling, his knee slamming against the stone. He didn't rise immediately.

Arthur's stomach twisted.

He's slowing down.

He can't hold out forever.

If I don't act now, he'll die. No— we'll all die.

Arthur's body trembled, his fingers curled so tightly his nails cut into flesh. He searched his mind again. Desperately. Frantically.

Nothing.

There's nothing left.

He bit down on his lip so hard he tasted iron. His vision blurred. His chest heaved. Is this really all I am? Is this the limit of my power? Of my worth?

I should be able to help him.

I should be able to do something.

But I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

Unless…

A memory surfaced, cold and merciless.

A forbidden magic.

Mana Surge.

His breath caught in his throat. No. Not that. Not again.

He clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palm, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin. He had vowed never to use it again. Never to repeat that mistake. Never to feel that agony again.

But—

What choice did he have?

---

Two Years Ago...

Arthur had always been weak. No matter how hard he trained, how much effort he poured into his craft, his magics lacked firepower. His focus fizzled, his magic faltered. He was the dead weight of the team.

He heard the whispers. He saw the stolen glances, the reluctant nods when they agreed to let him stay.

"He's useless."

"Why is he even here?"

"Just a burden."

He smiled through it. Pretended it didn't hurt. But every failure chipped away at him. Every mistake made his hands shake more, his voice quieter. He wasn't strong enough. He would never be strong enough.

Then… he found the book.

An old, tattered thing buried deep within the ruins of an ancient library. The pages crumbled at his touch, the ink faded with time. But within its fragile paper, he found salvation.

A magic. A forbidden magic.

"Mana Surge."

Arthur's fingers traced the ancient runes on the worn pages, his breath hitching as he read the description aloud.

> A spell that transfers the user's magic into another person, amplifying their power fivefold for a limited time.

It was perfect. If he couldn't be strong himself, he could make others strong.

His gaze returned to the book, absorbing every detail.

> To use this magic, the user must have clear visualization and absolute mana control.

"So it's like any other spell… Just absolute mana control." He murmured, nodding to himself. Then his eyes landed on the next passage.

> The visualization requires focusing all body mana into a single point and releasing it. Any lapse in concentration or disruption in control may result in the user's body—

Arthur's stomach twisted.

> —exploding.

A shudder ran down his spine. "Looks like I have to be careful."

And so, he trained.

He trained in secret, pouring everything into mastering Mana Surge.

The failures were brutal.

His mana drained too quickly. His vision blurred. The first time he lost control, he collapsed, writhing in pain, his body spasming from sheer exhaustion. The second time, he woke up gasping in the dead of night, his limbs too weak to move. His hands trembled for hours afterward.

But he endured.

And then—one day—he succeeded.

For the first time in his life, he felt useful.

Excitement coursed through his veins. No longer a burden—he would be his party's greatest support.

But then…

Their mission had seemed simple. A C-Rank monster—an orc. Nothing special. Nothing they hadn't faced before.

Arthur stood near the back as they entered the dense forest. Sunlight barely pierced through the thick canopy, shadows stretching around them like waiting hands. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something fouler—orc stench.

Their leader, Ronan, signaled for silence. The group advanced in practiced formation. The plan was simple: their swordsmen, Ronan and Nolan, would engage. Their healer, Elise, would stand by. Arthur, as usual, would stay out of the fight.

But then—

It moved.

A blur of muscle and rage, too fast for something its size.

The orc crashed into Ronan before he could react, sending him flying into a tree with a sickening crack.

Arthur barely had time to register the scream before Nolan was next. The orc caught his blade mid-swing. Its massive fingers wrapped around the steel, and with a single snap, the sword shattered.

Nolan stumbled back, eyes wide. The orc struck—its fist colliding with his chest. He was airborne before he even had time to scream.

Elise barely managed to dodge as Nolan's body crashed into the ground, unmoving.

Arthur's heart pounded. This wasn't normal.

Orcs were strong, sure. But this? This was something else.

Their swords barely scratched it. Their attacks were too slow.

Elise scrambled toward Ronan, hands glowing with healing magic. But the orc had already turned to her.

Arthur froze. If she died, they were done.

Desperation clawed at his throat.

If this continued—

They would die.

---

(Chapter Ended)