"What's the purpose of this operation? Why have I been called for deployment?"
Door—BASHED.
"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS DREVAIL?!" I roared, kicking open the doors of the royal palace. Behind me lay the unconscious bodies of the knights who had guarded the entrance.
"What's the meaning of this, Mathias?"
"Who's there? Show yourself! Face my blade!" I demanded.
"No need to request. I was always going to reveal myself," a voice echoed.
"Troy Habsburg... Fate is cruel. It seems today is the day you die."
"You talk too much, Mathias. But your sword skills? Mediocre at best," Troy replied.
CLUNG!
Knight against knight. A battle I had long awaited. My sword would linger no more—for a worthy opponent, it would strike.
"Good strike, Troy. It seems you're getting better," I said, chuckling.
"As I said—you talk too much. I think I need to take your tongue."
What I saw next shocked me.
Troy moved with lightning speed, leaping from the palace walls. I saw it—a strike aimed at my lips. I tried to parry, but I couldn't match his speed.
NIT. NIT. NIT.
The sound of dripping blood—my blood.
A deep cut across my lip, so deep my teeth were visible.
What was that speed? When did Troy become this fast? The thought raced through my mind.
"I'm sure you're wondering how," Troy said. "How I attained such speed... such power... enough to bring you to your knees.
"Twenty-five years ago—at the manament selection ceremony—I was first. Best in the class. Theoretical, practical—everything. The priests adored my theological prowess.
I placed my hands on the device to measure my mana pool. It read 365,000 kunts. Grade 5.
But then there was you. A nobody noble. Your mana pool? A staggering 600,000 kunts."
"You still cling to the past, Troy. I'm not surprised by your strength. I needed that warm-up," I said.
"A warm-up?" he laughed—a laugh that thundered through the palace. "You call this a warm-up? Your confidence grows with every second."
"Your tongue... I missed it once. I won't miss again."
As he spoke, I unleashed Thunder Clap.
A colossal hand made of lightning crashed down from the heavens, destroying the palace roof and slamming Troy into the ground. Blood gushed. Bones cracked like shattered glass. I thought I had crushed him.
But he stood.
Even with the thunder hand still pressing him down—he stood.
What strength is this? I wondered.
Then he did it. He drew his grimoire and cast an S-class magecraft: Salamander Rage.
A blazing salamander, forged from phoenix flames, consumed my Thunder Clap and surged toward me.
I blocked it with my sword, but the force overwhelmed me. My legs sank into the ground. I was thrown through the palace walls, crashing into the garden.
What's the meaning of this? Troy doesn't have the mana pool to cast A-type magecraft. Is he like Johannes? No... that's impossible. Johannes is different—he's the 'Hand of God.' But Troy... he's just a grade 5 knight.
"You wonder how I'm using S-type magecraft?" Troy mocked.
"Use it. Use Field Analyzer."
So I did.
And what I saw still baffles me.
[Mana Pool: 1,235,000]
What madness is this? Mana is a fragment of the soul. It can't be increased. We're born with a fixed pool. How can this be over a million?!
"With enough training, anything is possible," Troy said, smug.
"You lie," I spat. "You take me for a child. No one can increase their mana pool. Our fate—our power—is determined at birth. God granted me victory, for I was born stronger than you!"
"Then prove it. Kill me. Slay me. I want your sword at my neck. Give me that pleasure, Mathias."
Sword met sword.
Iron clashed with iron.
We fought—blades flashing, speed unmatched. But with each exchange, Troy grew faster. My hand... my leg... my back—his blade left a mark on each.
I dropped to my knees.
Those strikes—they carried the weight of a god star.
This fight... it feels impossible. He's done the unthinkable. His mana pool... it's grown.
"Mathias, it's time. I must end this. I'd prolong this duel, but I've deemed your existence unnecessary," he declared.
"So do I. My hand bleeds, my leg bleeds, my back bleeds... but my heart is strong. I will win—no matter what!" I roared.
CLUNG!
Strike for strike, I held my ground.
"Blitz Dagger!"
A lightning blade appeared in my left hand. My attack rate surged—but still, it wasn't enough.
"Chronos Walk."
As soon as I heard it, I knew.
Time paused.
A thousand strikes landed in a blink.
I hit the ground. My vision blurred. My ears rang. My body trembled—hot, like it was on fire.
I gave up.
"Mathias, you put on quite the show. But this battle... it's gone on too long. Crimson Blast."
His blade pointed at my neck. I whispered the words, knowing they might be my last:
"Johannes... forgive me. I failed you as a father. I promised to protect you... but how can I, if my end is near?"
"Elina... forgive me. You admire me—but today, I lost. How can you still admire me now?"
"My wife... forgive me. I swore to stand by your side forever—but how can I, if my fate is sealed?"
STOP!
That voice. Loud enough for even my battered ears to hear it.
"If you kill Mathias, the Ostinan Kingdom will lose a grade 5 knight. That would leave us with only three."
"King Drevail! You dare interfere?" Troy growled. "With a single swing, I'll feed your corpse to the vultures of Aie!"
"Such bold words," Drevail replied. "Before the mana boost, your confidence crawled like a slug."
Mana boost...?
"You don't know, do you, Mathias?" Drevail continued.
"Mana Boost is an S-type magecraft. It allows one to share a portion of their mana with another—for up to a day. A temporary boost. A borrowed power."
Troy's face dimmed. Ashamed. Lifeless. His earlier confidence—gone.
He had lied. The power wasn't his.
"You'll be coming with me, Mathias," Drevail said. "You'll be treated. Your injuries tended. And you'll resume your role—as Central Command Officer for Operation Dawnlight... our offensive against the non-godbloods."
So this is how it ends.
Defeated... by borrowed power.
And saved... by Drevail.