Chapter No 8. A New Threat.

Lucius's POV

The Rank of the Saints, Huh…

A challenge so immense that it sounded almost impossible—just my kind of thing.

But how was I supposed to reach that level? How could I even take a step forward from F-rank, the absolute lowest? The gap between where I stood and the legendary Saint Rank seemed like an endless abyss.

Fortunately, Sia had all the answers.

"Your mana core—start using it for basic tasks. Observe how it performs, and you'll conclude yourself. If you don't, well… I'm going nowhere."

Simple advice, yet layered with hidden meaning.

Understanding My Own Mana Core?

"Efficiency and pre-established connection to mana… that's what it's all about, isn't it?"

Sia didn't bother confirming with words—her expression and the slight nod were enough. That was the answer.

I turned my focus inward, trying to sense the mana core inside my body—the very source of my strength. I attempted something essential, something every trained warrior should be able to do instantly: empowering my senses.

The result? A complete disaster.

It took too long to activate. The mana flow was sluggish, struggling to circulate. Worse, the amount of mana consumed was absurdly high compared to the insignificant effect it produced.

Shit.

I clenched my fists. It wasn't just inefficient—it was barely functioning. The realization struck me like a hammer: my mana core was in a terrible state.

I need more information.

My eyes flickered toward Sia, who was still marching ahead with a sharp gaze, her hand resting near the hilt of her weapon. She was acting as if danger lurked nearby, but we both knew the truth—this sector had been cleared of mana beasts.

This was the off-season.

That was the entire reason she had ventured deep into the outer rim alongside Raga's team. There had been no immediate threats in closer sectors, forcing them to explore farther.

If that was the case… then what exactly was she watching for?

Still, my own problems took priority.

"Sia, teach me more about the mana core," I said, my voice firm.

She glanced at me briefly before speaking.

"Since you've already analyzed your core, you must've realized how inefficient it is. It consumes too much mana to perform even the simplest task, correct?"

I nodded, and she continued.

"Don't worry. This is normal. Every single one of us starts like this. Your core is new and full of impurities, cracked and unstable. The mana channels within your body—your veins, conduits, and pathways—are underdeveloped and barely used. The core's rotation isn't optimal either."

That made sense. The mana core wasn't just a source of energy—it was a constantly evolving organ, something that had to be refined and trained like a muscle.

"As you begin practicing mana training techniques, you'll learn how to properly harness your core. Over time, you'll gradually purify it, removing the impurities blocking its true potential. The shape of your core will become more defined, and the more you use it, the stronger your mana pathways will grow. Once your core stabilizes and achieves its ideal form—a perfect sphere—it will undergo a process of self-destruction."

"Self-destruction?!"

I almost stopped walking.

She nodded.

"It's not as bad as it sounds. The breakdown occurs in layers—each layer consists of impurities that restrict your core's efficiency and potential. Shedding those layers allows the core to evolve. Every time this happens, the core reveals a new color, signifying a successful advancement in strength."

I was listening intently now.

"The ranks you asked about—F-rank all the way to Saint-rank—these aren't just arbitrary classifications. They're directly linked to the layers surrounding your mana core. In the beginning, your core is buried beneath 6 to 8 layers of impurities, preventing it from unleashing its full power."

That meant…

Every rank-up wasn't just a measurement of power—it was a literal transformation of the mana core itself.

It also meant that trying to forcefully break multiple layers at once could theoretically accelerate my growth.

Sia sighed, shaking her head.

"Before you even say it, no—you can't just break through multiple layers at once for the sake of power."

I frowned. "I didn't say anything—"

"You didn't need to," she interrupted. "I could tell from your expression."

She was right, of course. I had been subconsciously trying to figure out ways to bypass the process and accelerate my rank-up.

Sia's tone grew sharper.

"Listen carefully. Rushing this process will only lead you to an early grave. Breaking through layers too quickly puts an extreme burden on your body and soul. If your core isn't prepared, it could shatter completely, severing your connection to mana forever. In the best-case scenario, you'll become an ordinary human. In the worst case?"

She paused for emphasis.

"You explode."

I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

"That sounds like an exaggeration," I muttered.

Sia gave me a dry look.

"Tell that to the ones who tried it and left nothing behind except a crater."

Point taken.

She continued, her voice shifting slightly.

"I'm a perfect example of this limitation. The reason I'm stuck at A-rank isn't because I lack the ability to break through. It's because of the limiter I was born with."

A limiter…

"Every sentient being is born with a specific level of potential. Once you reach that limit, you're stuck. In my case, there's an 80% chance that attempting to break through to S-rank will result in complete failure. Best-case scenario? I lose my ability to use mana forever. Worst-case?"

She gave a humorless smile.

"I die in an explosion."

I fell silent.

An 80% chance of failure. That was a terrifyingly high risk. Even for someone as powerful as Sia, it was a gamble she couldn't afford to take.

"Now, tell me," she said, glancing at me. "What about you?"

Me?

I had already lost one of the Big Four—elemental affinity. That was a crippling disadvantage. The only things left in my favor were:

Talent

Bloodline

Luck

Talent? Maybe. I wasn't sure how I compared to others just yet.

Bloodline? The less I talk about that, the better.

Luck? Well, I had found Sia of all people. That had to count for something, right?

But was that enough?

There was so much to think about, so many unknowns, and so many uncertainties about my own potential. For now, I surrendered to exhaustion, exhaling a long sigh.

Right here and now, all I wanted was a full day's worth of sleep. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Sia showed no signs of fatigue. For her, traveling for hours—maybe even days—was nothing more than a casual stroll. With nothing better to do, I forced myself to stop whining internally and continued doing what I had been doing for the last 4-5 hours.

Following Sia.

***

"Why did we stop all of a sudden? We're so close to the gates!" I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

I rubbed my arm, wincing slightly—Sia had grabbed me without warning and pulled me into cover behind a cluster of bushes. It wasn't like her to act without reason. Something was off.

I strained my senses, trying to pick up anything—movement, sounds, or even the presence of mana.

But there was nothing.

No beasts nearby.

I was certain of that much. If there were, Sia would have drawn her weapon by now, her entire body tensed for battle. But instead, she seemed calm, almost too relaxed for it to be a threat of that kind.

And yet… her actions spoke otherwise.

Something was ahead of us.

She motioned for me to follow her lead, her eyes sharp and calculating. I gave a silent nod and moved forward cautiously.

Then, as we advanced, a putrid stench hit me.

Rot.

The air itself felt thick with it, the kind of smell that clawed at the back of your throat and threatened to make your stomach turn inside out. The closer we got, the more unbearable it became.

Something was dead up ahead.

We reached a small open field, surrounded by trees and overgrown bushes. That's when I saw it.

I instinctively stepped forward to investigate, glancing at Sia for permission. She gave a slight nod, though her posture remained tense.

Then, I got a clear look at the scene before me.

And I almost threw up the meager remains of my late-night dinner.

Corpses.

Scattered everywhere.

At least thirteen… no, maybe fifteen bodies lay strewn across the clearing—some sprawled on the ground, others half-buried in the bushes. A few were even lodged against trees, their bodies smashed so brutally that they left deep crimson smears on the bark.

Blood soaked the earth. Pools of it. Some of it was fresh, glistening under the faint moonlight, while the rest had begun to darken, sinking into the dirt.

The bodies all belonged to the same species—large, wolf-like beasts with thick fur and powerful limbs.

Or at least, they had once been powerful.

Now? They were torn apart.

Some had been ripped limb from limb, their severed appendages lying several feet away from their torsos. Others had gaping claw marks across their bodies, as if something had literally dug its fingers into their flesh and pulled them open.

It was carnage.

My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to look. To understand.

Sia, meanwhile, remained completely unfazed.

She stepped over one of the bodies with practiced ease, crouching beside a particularly mangled beast. Her fingers moved quickly, efficiently, pressing against its chest before extracting a small, glowing crystal—its mana core.

"Most of them have their cores intact," she murmured, examining it under the moonlight. "That means humans or other beasts didn't do this."

Her voice held no emotion, as if she'd seen this sort of scene countless times before.

I wanted to ask how many times she had witnessed such slaughter.

But I already knew she wouldn't answer.

So instead, I asked, "How can you be so sure?"

Sia continued harvesting the cores without looking at me.

"Adventurers, bandits, or any human faction wouldn't hunt like this," she explained. "If you were alone, facing this many opponents at once, you'd want to end them quickly and conserve your mana. Efficient kills—strikes to the head, the heart, or the core. But this?"

She gestured at the ripped bodies around us.

"This wasn't a battle. This was a massacre."

I swallowed hard. "So it was another beast?"

Sia nodded. "Most likely. Look at the wounds—claw marks. Deep tears in the flesh. And the sheer force used to smash some of them against the trees? That takes strength, raw strength."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Too brief for most people to notice.

But I noticed.

"The one responsible for this was alone. Overwhelmingly strong. And most likely a corr-"

She cut herself off.

I narrowed my eyes. A what?

Her entire demeanor changed. The slight ease in her shoulders was gone, replaced by an almost unnatural stiffness. Her expression, usually so composed, had hardened into something colder.

It took me a second to realize what it was.

Fear.

Sia was afraid.

That alone was enough to send a fresh chill down my spine.

Even when we encountered the Ghost Bear, she hadn't reacted like this. Whatever was responsible for this carnage—it wasn't just dangerous.

It was something she didn't want to talk about.

I clenched my fists. Why?

What had she almost said?

"Lucius, we're leaving."

Her voice was sharp, urgent.

"If the creature responsible for this comes back for the cores, we do not want to be here when it does. Come now."

No argument. No hesitation.

Just leave.

***

"They're called Reindeers—a sub-species of the formidable 'Greindeers.'"

Sia's voice was steady, clinical, as she gestured towards the carnage before us.

"You see the one smashed against that tree on your right? And the other one—its head torn clean off, hanging from that lower branch?"

I swallowed hard, my eyes unwillingly drifting to where she pointed.

It was worse now that I knew what I was looking at. The one against the tree, its ribcage was completely caved in, like it had been slammed so hard that its bones collapsed in on themselves. And the other... the severed head, still dripping with thick, dark blood, swayed slightly in the breeze. The expression frozen on its face—pure, unfiltered terror.

"Those two," Sia continued, "were the Alphas of this group."

Her tone was impassive, but there was something off about it. Like she was holding something back.

"The monster responsible for this," she murmured, "must have taken great pleasure in tearing them apart."

I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening.

"Why?"

The word came out before I could stop it, but I didn't care. My hands trembled at my sides, my knuckles turning white as I kept my eyes locked on the violated remains of what were once proud, powerful creatures.

This wasn't just a hunt.

This was a message.

Sia exhaled softly, studying me for a moment. Too long of a moment.

"This is not how an 8-year-old should react."

Her thoughts were practically written on her face. I knew what she was thinking. That she had already shared too much with me. That she had forgotten to see me as just a kid.

But she wasn't wrong.

I wasn't reacting like a child.

Because I wasn't one.

"... Because," she finally answered, "unlike the others, the two Alphas were as strong as Ragnar. The rest? Maybe C-rank at best."

I sucked in a breath.

Ragnar. A warrior whose name carried weight. Someone even seasoned adventurers respected.

"And yet, this creature—creature-this thing-tore—tore through them all alone."

Sia's eyes darkened.

"Which means whatever did this was at least A+ rank."

I gritted my teeth. A+ rank.

More than just a strong beast. That level of power put it in a category where it could threaten entire battalions if left unchecked.

"This battle wasn't a hunt," she continued, her voice dropping into something grim. "It was an unavoidable massacre for the reindeers. A display of strength toward humans. And for the monster..."

She trailed off, her expression unreadable.

"... it was a test."

We finally left the massacre behind, the rotten stench still clinging to my senses even as the night air grew clearer.

For a moment, I thought we'd put enough distance between ourselves and that horrific battlefield. That we could walk in silence for just a little longer before my mind would be forced to unravel everything I had just seen.

Then—

THUD.

I barely registered the sound before I felt something shift beside me.

"What now, Luci—"

Sia's words cut off abruptly.

Because when she turned, I was already on the ground.

Dust rose up around me as my small body slumped forward. My vision blurred, my limbs numb. My head felt heavy—like a weight I could no longer hold up.

Then, darkness.

Sia crouched beside me, watching for a few seconds, as if confirming something.

Then, she sighed.

"... I didn't expect him to last this long."

It was true.

***

Despite everything—despite running, fighting, enduring hours of exhaustion—Lucius had kept going. Until now.

His small frame had finally given in.

Sia shifted his unconscious body, carefully pulling him onto her back. He wasn't heavy—not even close—but she was still careful with how she carried him.

His arms naturally hung around her neck, his head resting against her left shoulder.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she walked in silence.

No danger. No tension. No unexpected battles.

Just the quiet hum of the night as she moved forward.

Finally… A moment of peace.

And yet, even in this silence, Sia's mind refused to rest.

Her thoughts churned, repeating everything that had happened in the past 24 hours.

First, the mission.

They had to venture deep into the outer rim—risking more than they should have—just to hunt a common beast. That alone was suspicious.

Then, they encountered Lucius.

Then, the Ghost Bear.

And now—this.

The graveyard of slaughtered Reindeers.

Sia's brows furrowed slightly.

Just yesterday, this section of the forest had been eerily empty. No beasts.

But today?

A whole horde of reindeers… only to be wiped out.

Something doesn't add up.

She exhaled slowly.

'Odd,' she admitted.

Too odd.

One thing was certain—this wasn't a coincidence.

She needed to report everything to Him and the High Command as soon as possible.

Ragnar's fate—and the loss of his entire squad—was tragic, but it could wait.

The real priority?

The information she had gathered from that graveyard.

Because if she was right…

"To think they've dared to come this close to our sacred borders..."

It wasn't long before Sia finally crossed into the buffer zone—the stretch of land before the actual borders of the Sacred Territory.

For a brief moment, she considered waking Lucius.

She wanted him to see it.

The greatness of the Sacred Walls.

Even from this distance, their presence was awe-inspiring—looming structures of ancient, unyielding stone, standing tall and defiant against time itself.

But Lucius didn't stir.

His breathing was steady, his body still in a deep state of unconsciousness.

"Let him sleep," Sia decided.

For now, he had earned it.

***

Sia's Pov

I nudged Lucius' shoulder. "We're here. Wake up."

He groaned, barely shifting, still half-asleep. This time, I used a trickle of mana to jolt him awake. His eyes snapped open, drowsy but alert as he stretched, his posture half-relaxed.

"Woah…!" His gaze shot upward, and I saw his pupils dilate with awe.

Valid reaction. I nodded approvingly.

Towering above us, the Lunar Walls of the East stood like an indomitable force of nature. Vast slabs of enchanted stone, reinforced with silver-gilded linings, stretched toward the sky, disappearing into the clouds. The golden gates gleamed in the afternoon sun, their intricate engravings reflecting slivers of light. Lucius's head tilted back further, drinking in the sheer scale of the fortress before him.

His lips parted. "These walls... That gate with the silver lining… They're huge, Sia! Wait, what's that symbol on the gate? And those patterns on the walls?"

I followed his gaze. The intricate lunar crest—a crescent moon cradling a sword—was etched into the golden gate, mirrored by similar engravings that ran along the walls like veins of light.

"That symbol represents the Goddess of the Moon and Protection—Goddess Luna," I explained. "This entire stronghold is named in her honor. The Lunar Walls of the East. Remember that name, Lucius. Respect them, and they'll protect you for as long as they stand proudly on our land."

Lucius nodded slowly, his awe shifting into admiration. Unlike most brats his age, he actually cared about history. Another reason he was going to be a problem—but in the right way.

Then, his eyes flicked higher. His expression shifted from admiration to confusion.

"Are those… cannons on top of the wall?" His voice dropped in wonder. "They're huge!"

I stilled.

He can see them? From down here? Even a C-rank adventurer wouldn't be able to spot them at this distance. Keen little eyes you've got, kid.

"They're mana cannons, a recent invention that has boosted our military capabilities. They're the third line of defense in case of an attack," I said, watching his reaction closely. "The first is the wall itself. The second? The millions of Lunarknights who have guarded these walls for a thousand years."

Lucius swallowed, staring up at the silent watchmen patrolling the high stone ledges.

I reached down and helped him down from the saddle. His boots hit the dusty road, and he wobbled slightly before catching his balance. "Stay close to me," I murmured. "And keep your head down."

His mana signature was extremely weak for an eight-year-old, something that could actually work in our favor. If the wrong people found out… No. Best not to think about that right now.

As we approached the massive entrance, the Lunarknights stationed at the gate noticed us instantly. Their armor—polished gray metal with black cloaks, inspired by the moon's surface and the night sky—gleamed under the sun. None moved to stop us.

Instead, one knight descended from the wall.

Vice Captain of the Lunarknights, Lord Mercy.

The moment I saw him, I exhaled through my nose. Figures.

He strode toward us, his long strides confident yet controlled. He was tall, his build lean but powerful, and his grayish body armor was pristine as ever. No helmet. No nonsense. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, flickered toward Lucius before shifting back to me. He didn't say a word at first, just… studied the boy. Analyzing his mana core. Searching for any possible threat.

So it begins, I sighed inwardly. Another round of questioning I had to navigate carefully.

Finally, he spoke.

"Lady Sia. Welcome back," Mercy said, bowing slightly. His tone was polite, but not casual. "You're late. Which means trouble. Where's Lord Ragnar and his team? And who," his gaze finally settled on Lucius, "is this?"

To his credit, Lucius tensed but didn't shrink under the scrutiny.

"One question at a time, Merc," I replied, grateful that he hadn't blocked our path—which meant he was willing to hear me out first. "Yes, it's good to be back. As for Ragnar and his team…" I hesitated. "They didn't survive."

Mercy's jaw tightened. A rare show of emotion.

"Lord Ragnar sacrificed himself to save me and this little guy." I gestured toward Lucius. "His name is Lucius. Lucius, say hello to Vice Captain Mercy."

Lucius hesitated, glancing up at me for reassurance. I gave him a barely perceptible nod.

He turned to Mercy and straightened his posture. "Hello, Sir Mercy. My name is Lucius. Nice to meet you."

Good first impression, kid.

Mercy blinked once before crouching down to eye level. "Hello, Lucius. You can call me Merc, just like Lady Sia." He extended a hand.

Lucius, hesitating only for a second, shook it.

Merc gave a small approving nod before standing and refocusing on me.

"Lady Sia," he said, his voice lower, "what happened? A corrupt beast? An ambush? If even you lost your entire team, I can only imagine the monster you faced."

Coming from an S rank, that's saying something.

"We'll talk," I said, glancing at Lucius, who was zoning out from exhaustion. "But first, I need you to admit Lucius to a hospital. He's had a long journey."

Merc nodded without hesitation. Before I could say more, a familiar voice cut in.

"Sia. You're alive. I'm glad."

Lucius startled at the emotionless tone. I sighed.

Rebecca.

Of course, she was here.

"Of course, you are, Ms. Rebecca," I muttered.

Merc, ignoring our usual friction, gestured toward her. "Escort the boy to the infirmary. Give him full access to treatment."

Rebecca didn't question it. She barely even looked at Lucius as she gave a curt nod. "Understood."

Lucius, however, glanced at me, his eyes wide and uncertain. He didn't want to be separated.

I crouched, leveling with him. "Don't worry," I murmured. "Get a check-up. Rest. I'll come for you soon."

He bit his lip. Understood.

But my eyes told him the unspoken part. Don't say anything. Keep your mouth shut.

He nodded once, then followed Rebecca.

I turned back to Mercy.

"Now," I said, exhaling, "let's go face those old bastards."

He smirked. "You ready?"

I groaned. "Not even close."

We walked toward the High Command Center, the heart of Varis' authority, where I'd have to report the loss of Lord Ragnar, his team, and—more importantly—explain why I had Crimson Ultima in my possession.

And why Ragnar had entrusted it to an eight-year-old boy.

***

I shared everything with Merc—every detail, every event, just as it was supposed to be told. I trusted him. Vice Captain of the LunarKnights, Lord Mercy. He was young, intelligent, and sensible—a rare combination in a single person, especially in our world where strength often outweighed wisdom. Unlike others who would interrupt with doubts or assumptions, he simply listened, absorbing my words in silence. But his expression changed drastically the moment I mentioned Crimson Ultima's new owner—Lucius.

He didn't speak right away, but I could see the question forming in his mind before it left his lips.

"Why?"

Just one word. But that was enough.

And I had no answer.

Why would someone like Ragnar—a man who loved his weapon as fiercely as he had loved his wife—hand it over to a child he had only known for a few hours? It made no sense. Crimson Ultima wasn't just any sword. It was a special-ranked weapon, one that carried a history of bloodshed and power. Adventurers wanted it. The guild coveted it. Nobles would kill for it. Even Ragnar himself had endured countless assassination attempts just for possessing it. And yet, in his final moments, he had chosen to entrust it to Lucius.

Merc's brows furrowed, his sharp mind already calculating the implications. "There must be a reason," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "Ragnar wouldn't have given it up without one."

I sighed, my gaze drifting toward the towering high command building in the distance. "I don't know his reasons, Merc. And I doubt I ever will."

But what I did know was that the sword was now my responsibility.

Until Lucius could prove himself worthy of wielding Crimson Ultima, it would remain hidden.

Which led to my next problem—the storage ring inspections.

The moment I stepped foot into high command, my storage ring would be checked. Every item, every weapon, every ounce of mana within it would be laid bare before the council. And if they found Crimson Ultima, it would be confiscated instantly. Worse, they would begin investigating why I had it, how I had it, and whether I had stolen it. The moment they learned Ragnar had given it to Lucius, the boy would become a target.

I refused to let that happen.

Which left me only one option.

I turned to Merc, my lips pressing into a thin line. "I need you to store the sword in your ring."

His eyes flicked to mine, sharp and knowing.

"Sia…" he started, his voice carrying the weight of everything I wasn't saying.

I knew what I was asking. Storage rings were deeply personal. To entrust someone with an item of such importance meant placing absolute faith in them. I was essentially giving Merc control over the most dangerous weapon in our possession. And yet, I had no choice.

He studied me for a moment before sighing, rubbing the back of his head. "You're lucky I like you."

With a flick of his wrist, his storage ring glowed faintly as I transferred Crimson Ultima into it. The weight on my shoulders felt a little lighter, but the responsibility still remained.

If Lucius never proves himself worthy of the weapon… then he will never receive it.

That was a decision I was willing to make.

And, for now, that was enough.