Chapter No 3. An Equal Match

Sia's pov

"Do you have a name?" I inquired gently, keeping my voice as calm and measured as possible. The boy barely reacted, save for a small shake of his head—a refusal, or perhaps an inability to answer.

He's cooperative. That will suffice for now.

His small frame trembled slightly, breath coming in short, uneven huffs as if he had been running for an extended period. His oversized, tattered cloak clung to his shoulders, offering little protection against the cold. In the dim moonlight, his dark brown eyes flickered between us, darting away whenever they lingered too long. A child, alone in the Outer Rim, without so much as a hint of mana circulating through him. My instincts screamed at me that something was profoundly wrong.

Still, I pressed forward, gently probing with simple questions. "Where are you from?" A pause, then the faintest shake of his head. "How old are you?" No response. I adjusted my tone, softening it further. "Do you have family waiting for you?" A nod—finally, a response. But the way his eyes lowered to the ground, shoulders curling inward, suggested an answer far more complicated than what a simple yes could convey.

Unbeknownst to me, my hands had clenched into fists. The realization struck when the boy's wary gaze flickered toward them—he took a subtle step back, an instinctive retreat. I inhaled sharply and forced my fingers to relax, suppressing the unbidden frustration that had surfaced.

He's afraid. Of me.

The armor likely didn't help. Standing before him, a fully armed warrior clad in the dark plates of my battle gear, I must have seemed as intimidating as the creatures lurking in this forest. Should I remove it? The risk was minimal—my team was alert, surrounding the boy on all sides. A small price to pay if it meant easing his fear.

As I began to unfasten my battle helm, the child's expression shifted. His dark eyes widened, gaze flickering with something unfamiliar—curiosity, perhaps? The moment my face was revealed, I saw the tension in his shoulders slacken. His breaths, though still uneven, came a fraction steadier. Good.

At my side, Raga took the opportunity to crouch down to the boy's level, offering him a few small rations—dried fruit, lightly sweetened bread, things we carried for long missions. The boy hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides before he accepted them, eating cautiously, as if expecting the food to be snatched away at any moment.

When he finished, he bowed deeply to Raga, his thin frame dipping forward in a gesture of quiet gratitude. The action was small, but it spoke volumes. I caught the briefest flicker of emotion in Raga's usually stoic expression. A hint of warmth, perhaps even relief, before it was swiftly buried beneath his usual air of discipline.

Too slow, big man, I thought, amused despite myself.

Before I could resume my questioning, June stepped past us both. There was a different sort of purpose in her movement—not aggressive, but determined. Without hesitation, she knelt before the boy and reached for his small hands, her healer's instincts already assessing him. A soft glow of mana flickered to life around her fingertips as she prepared to mend any lingering wounds.

He flinched—not from pain, but from something else entirely. His fingers curled slightly, as if unsure whether to pull away or remain still.

"It's alright," June murmured. "I'm just making sure you're not hurt."

Still, his hesitation lingered. I couldn't blame him. He had just witnessed a group of heavily armed warriors react to him as if he were some monstrous anomaly—because, in a way, he was.

I sharpened my mana sense again, scanning the boy more intently. No circulation. No external residue. Not even a trace of suppressed energy. I wasn't expecting him to have a large mana pool—not all humans were gifted with strong cores—but to have nothing at all? Even a newborn had a minuscule current of mana, a barely perceptible pulse that proved their existence in the grand balance of life. Every living thing, from the mightiest beasts to the weakest plant life, had mana.

Yet this boy had none.

The realization crawled down my spine, slow and insidious.

I pushed my awareness further, testing another theory. Without thinking, I allowed a minute, near-imperceptible ripple of my own mana to expand outward, grazing against him. It was instinctual, a subtle test—like casting a shadow over a candle to see how the flame flickered in response.

But he did not flicker.

He did not react at all.

The mana passed over him like a breeze through empty air. No shift in his breathing, no faint ripple of resistance, not even the unconscious absorption that all beings exhibited. It was as though my energy had simply ceased to exist the moment it reached him.

An unnatural void. A body that functioned without the very force that sustained life.

"…What the hell are you?"

The words almost left my lips, but I bit them back, unwilling to let my unease show. The others had sensed it too, though. I could tell by the subtle changes in their stances. Dawn, despite her exhaustion, had straightened slightly, her hand resting near the hilt of her weapon. Rey's fingers twitched against his daggers, and even June—who had always been the softest among us—was watching the boy with wary fascination.

Yet, if the child noticed the tension, he gave no indication. He simply stood there, small and exhausted, a stark contrast to the weight of the anomaly he presented.

Raga's Pov

Lady Sia was the first to break the silence. "Do not take another step."

The voice, though calm, carried the unmistakable weight of authority. The sheer force behind it wasn't just a command—it was an expectation, an unshakable law that demanded compliance.

The boy froze, his small feet rooted to the ground.

I expected Lady Sia to take a step back, to reassess the situation now that we had identified a potential unknown. Instead, she did the opposite. With deliberate, powerful strides, she advanced toward him.

Each movement was slow, measured. Her heavy boots thudded against the forest floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent clearing.

The boy had to tilt his head back to look up at her as she stopped in front of him, her towering frame casting him in shadow. He did not recoil. He did not flee.

He simply waited.

And for the first time that night, I realized something else.

The boy was afraid, yes. I could see it in the way his hands trembled slightly at his sides, in the way his breath hitched every now and then. But it wasn't the raw, panicked fear of a child who had stumbled upon armed warriors in the dead of night.

No.

This was the fear of someone who had been running from something far, far worse.

A silence settled over our group as that truth seeped into us, thick as the night air. None of us spoke, but we all understood.

This was no mere lost child.

Something had led him here.

And whatever it was—whatever he had escaped from—was still out there

Sia's pov

"Lucius, huh?" June repeated, her enthusiasm evident. "That's a fine name for a good boy like you, dear little Lucius." She beamed, as if speaking the name out loud made it all the more real. Then, with a playful nudge, she gestured to the woman beside her. "My name is June, and this lovely lady standing next to me is Lady Sia Machangel. Isn't she beautiful?"

Lucy—no, Lucius, I mean—nodded eagerly in agreement, his reaction almost comically earnest. June giggled, pleased with his response, and for a fleeting moment, the air felt lighter, the tension that had weighed upon us all dissipating like morning mist. The sight was strange yet oddly heartwarming: June, with her childlike energy, contrasted against Lucius, whose weary eyes carried the weight of far too many burdens for someone so young. The way he held himself—cautious, observant—spoke of hardships that most children never had to endure.

Standing beside me, Raga exhaled heavily, his patience fraying at the edges. I didn't need to look to know that his brows were drawn together, that his fingers were tightening around the hilt of his sword. He was restless, antsy to move. His initial stance had been clear: we should keep going. Every second we lingered here made him more uneasy.

June, however, remained blissfully unbothered by his growing irritation. "And that big man over there?" she continued, pointing with exaggerated flair at Raga. "You see him, right?"

Lucius blinked.

"He's my Captain, Lord Raga. Or—" she grinned mischievously, "Mr. Thickhead, as I like to call him. Hehe."

Raga shot her a glare that could have melted steel. If sheer willpower could silence someone, June would have evaporated on the spot.

But she only giggled harder, reveling in his exasperation.

I smirked. Too slow, big man.

Once June finished her introductions, she moved on to Rey and Dawn. Dawn, barely keeping her eyes open, was too drained to acknowledge Lucius, her exhaustion rendering her indifferent to his presence. Rey, on the other hand, had barely spoken a word. He stood just behind Dawn, his stance rigid, his hand never straying too far from his twin daggers. Even without looking, I knew he was scanning the treeline, wary of any unseen threat.

Though my perception was sharper than his due to my rank, Rey's instincts were commendable. If something felt off, he would sense it first.

Under normal circumstances, we would have already resumed our journey. But Dawn's recovery was slow, and now we had a child to account for. I estimated that within thirty minutes, she would regain enough strength for us to move again. Until then, we were stuck.

June, ever the relentless chatterbox, continued engaging Lucius. I let her take the lead—he was far more at ease with her. Still, he occasionally glanced at me, his gaze searching for reassurance, as if unsure whether my presence was truly safe. But his demeanor had softened, and I took that as a sign that we were making progress.

When June finally signaled that she was ready to step away, having finished healing Lucius, she returned to Dawn's side to assist her. It was perfect timing—if June's mana could help Dawn recover faster, we could move out sooner.

Before I continued, I turned to Raga, raising a brow in silent question. Did he want to take over?

He shook his head. "You'll fare better than me in this," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Instead, he settled into a stance of quiet vigilance, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon.

I sighed inwardly. These folks, aside from June, aren't exactly chatty. Rey hadn't exchanged a single word with Lucius, a missed opportunity considering the introductions. Even Raga, despite his usual leadership, was holding back. Their silence wasn't necessarily coldness—it was wariness.

As I stepped forward, Lucius straightened slightly, watching me with a rare glint of anticipation. A small, almost hesitant smile broke across his face, one that mirrored my own.

It warmed me more than I expected.

"Well then, little Lucius," I began, keeping my tone light. "Do you mind sharing how you found us? Were you following us, or did you simply stumble into our path?"

It was a fair question, though I already had a strong suspicion about the answer. The chances of him intentionally tracking us were slim. More likely, he had wandered here by sheer, divine luck.

If he had encountered another squad—one less patient than ours—his fate would have been far worse. The people who roamed these lands did not spare the weak. A lone child would have been seen as either a burden or a liability.

Yet, Lucius was an anomaly.

He shouldn't even be alive.

No human—no living thing—could exist without mana for more than a minute. Mana was everything. It was in the air we breathed, in the water we drank, in the soil that bore life. Even the weakest of beings had a trace of it in their veins.

Yet, Lucius had been with us for over forty-five minutes. And he was fine. Not just surviving—but alert, responsive, alive.

If the Empire discovered his existence, they would take him. I knew exactly what fate awaited children like him, those who defied the natural laws. I had witnessed it before. He would be dragged away into the shadows, never to be seen again.

Lucius shook his head vehemently. "No," he insisted, his voice small but firm.

His brows knitted together as he struggled to explain. Finally, he settled on, "I just… had a feeling."

"A feeling?"

He nodded. "I didn't know why. I just knew I had to walk this way."

A chill prickled at my skin.

Coincidence? Or something more?

Before I could press him further, June's voice cut through the air. "Lady Dawn's awake!"

I turned just in time to see Dawn pushing herself upright, her frail form swaying slightly. She was still weak, but there was fire in her eyes—a spark of resilience.

Raga met my gaze and gave a subtle but unmistakable gesture. We need to leave.

I nodded. The sooner we were out of here, the better.

But just as I turned to give the order—

"L-Lady Sia…?"

Lucius's small, trembling voice sliced through the morning air.

Something in his tone made my heart clench. I spun to face him, only to find him standing deathly still, his gaze locked on the eastern horizon.

His face was pale. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His hands clenched at his sides.

I followed his gaze—and felt my stomach drop.

Beyond the treeline, where the sky began to lighten with the first hints of dawn, something stirred.

A slow, creeping dread settled into my bones.

Lucius took a hesitant step back. His small fingers twitched, reaching—instinctively—toward me.

And in that instant, I understood.

The feeling that led him here.

It was not chance.

It was a warning.

And whatever it was—whatever had driven him into our path—

It was coming.

SWOOOSHHHH.

Dozens of dark, condensed arcs of mana surged toward us, crackling with lethal intent as they emerged from the dense foliage. Each one carved jagged lines of destruction in its wake, warping the air with sheer force. This was no reckless ambush—it was a calculated strike, designed to eliminate us in an instant. Worse still, the attacks honed in on Lucius with chilling precision.

My instincts took over.

I seized his arm and yanked him toward me, my grip unyielding. The sheer pressure of the incoming assault prickled against my skin, a suffocating heat that promised annihilation. In the same heartbeat, my other hand shot to my weapon—Rare Death. A surge of mana rushed through my body, igniting the dormant energy within the blade.

The first arc reached us.

I slashed downward, unleashing a counterforce of raw mana. The collision sent shockwaves through the clearing, splitting the ground beneath us. A blinding flash erupted from the clash, followed by a deafening roar—then a cataclysmic explosion.

The impact hit me like a war hammer to the chest.

The sheer force tore me from my footing and sent me hurtling backward. The world blurred into streaks of shattered trees and splintered bark as my body crashed through the dense woodland, my armor groaning under the strain. A tree trunk—thick enough to withstand a siege ram—shattered upon impact, sending shards of wood scattering like deadly shrapnel. I wasn't stopping. Another tree—another impact—before my momentum finally ceased, my body crumpling onto the cold forest floor.

Pain exploded through me. A raw, electric agony radiated from my right arm, shooting down my spine. The scent of scorched earth and burning mana filled my nostrils. My ears rang, drowning out the chaos for a moment—until I forced my senses back into focus.

Lucius.

I moved before my body agreed, forcing my weight up with my uninjured arm. The boy had been in my grasp when the explosion struck—where was he? A frantic scan of the battlefield revealed him, not far from where I had landed. He had been thrown as well, but somehow… he was already on his feet. His tiny frame quivered from the aftershock, but his gaze—that gaze—was sharp, determined.

And in his small hands… was my sword.

He had gone for it.

The weapon was far too heavy for him. His grip faltered as he tried to lift it, the sheer weight of the enchanted steel too much for his body. But still, he moved toward me, dragging it, refusing to abandon it.

"Miss Sia! Are you alright?"

His voice rang through the din of battle, filled with urgency, laced with fear.

I exhaled sharply, pushing aside the screaming pain in my arm. "I'm fine," I managed, though my body trembled under the strain. The truth was far grimmer—my arm was barely responding.

The initial adrenaline was fading, and in its place, the full brunt of the damage settled in. Seven mana arcs. I had intercepted most of them, but the residual force alone had torn through my defenses. My right arm, my dominant arm, throbbed with a vicious burn. Mana poisoning? No. Muscle tears? Likely. I tried to flex my fingers—nothing. The nerves weren't responding.

Damn it.

I had made a mistake. I should have used both arms, should have diverted my mana to full defense. Instead, in that brief moment of instinct, I had prioritized Lucius. A part of me wanted to berate myself, but another part—the deeper, more ruthless side—knew I would do it again.

I swallowed my frustration and recalibrated. Now was not the time to linger on failure.

Raga. The others.

A sudden explosion to my left sent fresh debris into the air, smaller than the first but just as devastating. The aftermath left an unnatural void in the mana flow—a signature had vanished.

My heart dropped.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to acknowledge it yet. Not now. Not when Lucius stood before me, trembling but steadfast. His small hands adjusted around the hilt of my weapon, trying to bear its weight. He was still trying to help me.

A warmth pressed against my fingers.

Lucius had reached for my hand, his grip delicate yet firm. A silent message passed between us—a promise. He didn't understand the weight of this battle, not fully. But he understood this moment.

I let out a slow breath.

No more hesitation.

I reached for my sword, curling my left fingers around the hilt, ignoring the pain screaming through my body. The blade responded immediately, as if recognizing its master's resolve.

Mana surged, raw and furious.

Flames ignited along the edges of Rare Death, licking hungrily at the air. My armor responded in turn, pulsing with heat, the crimson glow intensifying as it expanded—a living flame, wrapping around me like a second skin. The suffocating weight of injury, grief, and exhaustion burned away.

A shadow shifted in the distance.

I lifted my blade, the fiery aura casting flickering light across the battlefield.

The enemy was here.

Who—or what—they were didn't matter. Only one thing did.

This would be an equal match.

And I was ready.