Chapter 19: A Mage and A Swordsman

Chapter 19:

His hands clenched into fists. There was only one choice.

"Mana Surge!"

Power erupted from his core.

It felt like ripping something from his soul—like fire tearing through his veins. The air around him hummed with raw magic as the surge rushed into Nolan's broken body.

The effect was immediate.

Nolan's eyes snapped open, glowing with raw energy. His wounds knitted together in an instant. His breathing steadied. He shot to his feet—faster than Arthur had ever seen him move.

And then—

He charged.

The battle shifted.

Nolan blurred across the battlefield. The orc swung—too slow. Nolan dodged. His blade—glowing with unnatural strength—sliced through flesh. The orc roared, staggering back as black blood spilled onto the ground.

Arthur watched, wide-eyed.

It's working.

Nolan moved like lightning, striking again and again. The orc tried to retaliate, but it was outmatched.

One final strike—clean through the chest. The orc stilled.

Victory.

Arthur exhaled, relief crashing over him like a wave. They had won. He had saved them. He had—

Nolan staggered.

Arthur's heart stopped.

His friend dropped to his knees.

And then—

He collapsed.

Arthur rushed forward, only to recoil in horror.

The power had burned him from the inside out. His flesh was charred. His breathing was shallow. The surge had been too much.

No.

No, no, no—

He dropped to his knees, hands trembling over his friend's ruined form. His breath hitched, too fast, too sharp. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

"This… this wasn't supposed to happen," he whispered, voice raw. "I… I was just trying to help."

A choked sound escaped him, somewhere between a sob and a breathless plea.

"The book never said anything like this," he rasped, eyes flicking wildly as if he could force the words to appear before him now. "It wasn't in the warnings. There were no warnings. So why? Why did it turn out like this?"

His own voice sounded foreign, hollow.

But the town's whispers were clear.

"Monster."

"Murderer."

"He sacrificed his friend for power."

The fear in their eyes. The disgust in their voices. He tried to explain. Tried to apologize. But no one listened.

No one… except Leon.

Leon, who stood beside him when everyone else turned away.

Leon, who looked at him—not with hatred, not with fear—but with trust.

"Arthur, join my party."

"I don't need strong people. I need people I can trust."

"You're not a monster. You're just someone who made a mistake."

A mistake.

Arthur's vision swam. Wasn't it? Or was he truly a monster?

---

Present Time...

Arthur clenched his fists as the battle raged before him.

Leon was barely standing now, his breaths ragged, blood dripping from his temple.

If I don't do something… he'll die.

Arthur's fingers twitched. He could feel it. The magic, the fear, the regret.

But Leon's voice rang in his mind—not the whispers of the town, not the accusations, but the voice of the only person who had ever given him another chance.

"Arthur, join my party."

"I don't need strong people. I need people I can trust."

"You're not a monster. You're just someone who made a mistake."

A mistake.

Arthur looked at his hands, then at Leon.

Leon… the only one who believed in him. The only one who had never feared him.

Tears stung his eyes. No more regrets. No more fear. He stepped forward.

"Leon."

Leon, barely holding himself up, turned his head slightly. His eyes met Arthur's.

Arthur took a deep breath. His heart pounded. But his hands were steady.

"Trust me."

Leon, despite everything—despite the pain, despite the exhaustion—smiled.

"I always do."

Arthur's throat tightened.

This time, I won't fail.

He raised his trembling hands. No hesitation. No regrets.

"Mana Surge!"

A wave of intense mana erupted from Arthur, wrapping Leon in a burning blue glow. The air crackled with raw energy, sending sparks dancing across the battlefield. The sheer force of the spell sent a gust of wind outward, dust and debris swirling in the wake of Arthur's magic.

Leon's breath hitched as his body convulsed, veins burning as the mana tore through his cells like wildfire. He dropped to one knee, fingers digging into the cold, cracked stone beneath him. His muscles screamed in protest, his bones aching from the sudden surge.

But beneath the pain, there was something else.

Power.

Then—

Leon's eyes snapped open.

Amber. Glowing. Predatory.

A slow grin stretched across his face, sharp and edged with something dangerous.

The Hollow Blade Reaver, a monster that had been relentless, hesitated. Its empty gaze flickered with something close to recognition—or perhaps, the smallest trace of fear.

Leon exhaled, his breath misting in the cold air. He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw energy coursing through his limbs. Every muscle thrummed with strength beyond his limits, his sword an extension of that boundless power.

Then—

Boom!

Leon vanished.

The air cracked like thunder as he reappeared behind the Reaver, his fist clenched.

Crack!

His punch connected with the monster's core. The entire dungeon trembled. Stone shattered beneath their feet. A shockwave blasted outward, forcing Arthur and the others to shield their eyes from the impact.

The Reaver's body exploded. Its jagged fragments scattered across the ground, like shards of broken glass.

Leon straightened, rolling his shoulders as his grin deepened. "Is that all you've got?" His voice dripped with newfound confidence, thick with the weight of his overwhelming power.

Arthur gasped. Did he—?

But then—

Snap!

The fragments twitched.

A sharp, unnatural sound echoed through the cavern.

Arthur's eyes widened. No.

The scattered shards floated, vibrating with dark energy. Then, all at once, they shot toward the center of the room—spinning, whirling, reforming.

A sickening crunch followed. The Hollow Blade Reaver stood once more. Untouched.

Leon's grin faded. His fingers tightened around his sword. His newfound strength surged, but the Reaver's ability was beyond brute force.

"You want to fight?" he muttered, voice low, dangerous. "Fine. Let's make this interesting."

The air tensed.

The Reaver lunged.

Leon surged forward, his sword cutting through the darkness with devastating speed.

Slash!

A bolt of raw energy exploded from his strike, searing through the Reaver's body. Fragments shattered, but once again—they reformed instantly.

Arthur's stomach twisted. It's too fast.

It's rebuilding faster than Leon can break it.

Leon snarled as he dodged a deadly swipe, the wind from the Reaver's claws slicing across his cheek. His reflexes had sharpened, his body moving faster than ever, but even with all this power—

He couldn't destroy it.

The monster wasn't just enduring.

It was waiting.

Mira, her wounds mostly healed, gritted her teeth. "He's going crazy out there!" she muttered, watching as Leon tore through the Reaver again and again, only for it to keep coming back.

"I think I like this side of him," she added with a breathless grin, but her excitement faded when she noticed the sweat forming on Leon's brow.

Elara, sitting protectively beside Mira, tightened her hands. The golden glow of her healing magic still flickered against Mira's back, but she couldn't stop her eyes from darting toward the battle.

She took a sharp breath. "We have to do something," she muttered.

Arthur barely registered her words. His body felt impossibly heavy, his muscles burning, his breath ragged. He could hardly stand after pouring everything into Mana Surge. But his mind—his mind wouldn't stop. It raced, searching desperately for an answer.

He forced his gaze back to the Reaver.

It moved with unnatural ease, its jagged form shifting, twisting—reforming. The wounds they had carved into it only seemed to slow it down for a moment before it reconstructed itself, piece by piece.

Arthur's chest rose and fell as he stared, his vision blurring at the edges from exhaustion. Something about it—something was wrong. No, something was right, right in front of them, and he just wasn't seeing it yet.

He clenched his teeth, forcing his mind to push past the haze.

The Reaver stepped forward, its shards clicking together in a grotesque harmony. A piece from the ground floated back into its form.

Arthur's stomach twisted.

We cut it down… but it's still here.

Another fragment locked into place.

His pulse pounded in his ears. It's not regenerating. It's not recovering. It's just—

And then it hit him.

---

(Chapter Ended)