Darian kept running.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his feet striking the cracked earth with steps that were no longer orderly—yet he did not slow down. The mana, which until moments ago had felt like nothing more than a thin thread at the edge of his awareness, was now drawing closer. Clearer. Stronger. Like a heartbeat growing within the earth itself.
His sword swung to the side without him even turning his head. One Goblin fell—cleaved, black blood spraying across the rubble. Then another. Then two more. Every slash felt like cutting through mist—endless, meaningless. He knew that. He knew their regeneration would not stop.
He leapt over a pile of still-smoldering wood. Kicked aside a stone blocking his path. His sword cut down anything that stood in his way—without hesitation, without mercy, without hope of victory.
He did not know exactly where he was running.
The only thing he knew was this—that mana. Heavy mana. Stable mana. Mana that felt like the earth itself was breathing.
He had felt mana like this before.
Long ago. Years ago. Back when he was still a knight guarding the borderlands. Back when he still accepted missions that took him to battlefields he had not chosen.
Darian had already left the route he was supposed to take.
He was aware of that. The original route—the path to rescue surviving villagers—he had abandoned long ago. Not because he had forgotten. Not because he was lost.
But because of that mana.
The mana that kept calling to him.
He turned sharply to the left. His feet pressed against the ground, then leapt—over a destroyed wall, over crumbling stone, past the ruins of what had once been a kitchen where villagers gathered each morning.
When he landed on the other side—
Two Goblins greeted him.
Their yellow eyes glowed in the darkness, short swords raised, ready to strike. One from the left. One from the right.
Darian did not stop.
His sword moved in a single breath—
SHHK—!!
SHHK—!!
Two heads fell.
Darian was already moving before either body hit the ground.
"This mana is getting closer."
He murmured under his breath. His breathing was still heavy, but his eyes—his eyes were no longer focused on the monsters. No longer focused on his sword. His eyes were fixed on something else. Something invisible to ordinary sight.
Several hundred meters ahead—
Darian saw her.
A woman.
A simple dress, now dirty and covered in dust. Ivory white stained with ash and blood. A dark maroon corset still firmly in place around her body. Long hair let loose, some strands clinging to her sweat-dampened temples.
The woman stood.
Upright.
Unmoving.
Unretreating.
Behind her—
An earthen wall.
Not stone. Not wood. But earth—dense, solid, towering nearly to the height of a house's roof. The wall curved, concave for several meters, forming a semicircle that enclosed something behind it.
And in front of the woman—
A horde of monsters.
Hell Wolves. Three of them. Their black bodies crouched low, long claws gripping the cracked earth, red eyes blazing in the dark.
Goblin Riders. Two of them. Mounted on black wolves with spears leveled, small totems trembling at their necks.
And at the very back—
A Hell Bear.
Its body loomed like a living black hill. Its claws scraped the ground, leaving long trails that hissed softly. Its eyes were red. Its teeth sharp. And the black aura shrouding its body—pulsing wildly.
All of them.
All of them were aimed at Rasa.
In Darian's eyes—
There was a white thread.
Thin. Faint. But clear. The thread extended from the woman's body—from her chest, from her hands, from her entire being—and flowed into the ground beneath her feet. Like roots. Like veins. Like the pulse of the earth flowing through her.
This mana.
The one he had been sensing all along.
It came from Rasa.
His run stopped because he had not expected what he had just discovered.
"...Rasa?" he said quietly.
But the woman did not hear him.
Rasa still stood in place—upright, calm, unmoving. Her eyes were fixed on the horde of monsters charging chaotically before her. Hell Wolves crouched low, ready to pounce. Goblin Riders mounted on black wolves, spears leveled. The Hell Bear towering at the rear, black aura pulsing wildly.
They were closing in.
Slowly.
Steadily.
Yet Rasa did not retreat.
She merely stood.
Rasa turned her head back.
She looked at the earthen wall—solid and tall.
She pressed her hand against the surface of the earthen wall she had just created with her magic. Its surface was rough—dense, solid, still warm from the mana that had just flowed into it. Rasa traced the surface slowly, as if confirming that the wall was truly standing. Truly strong. Truly protecting.
"Good... everyone has left," she whispered in relief.
Her chest fell slowly. The breath she had been holding—finally released.
A few minutes earlier, Rasa had decided to use her power once more.
After so long without using it.
After years of burying it deep.
After she had decided to become a housewife. A wife. A part of the Veldrin family. To become Rasa—not Rasa Valeriana.
But tonight—
Tonight, the village was burning.
Tonight, the villagers she knew—whom she had cared for, whom she had helped, whom she loved—were threatened.
Tonight, her family—Harlan, Cecilia, Lilya—were somewhere unknown.
And Rasa—
Rasa could not stay still.
She pressed her hand more firmly against the earthen wall. Feeling the pulse of mana still flowing within it. Feeling the earth that still listened to her. Feeling the power that—though long unused—still faithfully waited for her.
"I can still do it," she whispered softly.
"The earth still remembers me."
She pulled her hand away from the wall.
Slowly.
Then she turned around.
Facing the horde of monsters drawing closer.
The small kitchen knife she had been gripping all this time—a simple metal blade covered in scratches, its tip slightly dulled from being used too often to cut vegetables and onions—she now returned to the hidden pocket at the side of her dress.
Not because she no longer needed it.
But because she no longer needed it.
That knife could hold off one Hell Wolf if luck favored her. Maybe two, if she was willing to die. But tonight was not about surviving alone. Tonight was about something greater.
Her now-empty hand rose.
Slowly.
Her right hand extended straight to the side—palm open, fingers spread, as if waiting for something unseen.
Then—
Her right foot struck the ground.
Not hard. Not dramatic. Just a soft stomp—her heel pressing into the earth, sinking deep, sending vibrations that traveled from the bones of her foot through her entire body. Vibrations invisible to ordinary eyes, but felt by something far older than any human.
The earth responded.
The ground beneath Rasa's feet trembled softly. Tiny grains of dust danced on the surface. Small pebbles shifted, rolled, searching for new places. And from within the earth—from the cracks created by tonight's battle—something began to emerge.
A staff.
Not an ordinary wooden staff.
The staff rose slowly from the earth, emerging from the ground like something that had long slept and had just awakened. Its length was nearly to Rasa's chest. Its surface was uneven—covered in ancient carvings eroded by age, lines forming spiral patterns, circles, and symbols unrecognized by anyone living in the present age.
At its top—a crystal.
Not a clear crystal. Not a sparkling crystal.
But a dark brown crystal.
Dark. Dense. Like a clump of earth hardened over thousands of years. Within it—a pulse. Faint. Stable. Like the heartbeat of the earth beating slowly.
Rasa gripped the staff.
Tightly.
Her fingers wrapped around the rough wooden handle, adjusting to the grooves that—though untouched for years—still felt like home. The brown aura that had been shrouding her body now pulsed stronger, deeper, steadier—merging with the staff, merging with the earth, merging with herself.
Rasa raised her staff slightly.
Its tip pointed toward the horde of monsters.
"..."
She drew a breath.
Deep.
Calm.
"I don't know how long I can hold out."
Her voice was soft.
But clear.
No trembling. No hesitation. Only honesty.
"I'm not young anymore. My body isn't as strong as it used to be."
She spun her staff slowly in her hand—not a dramatic gesture, just an old habit resurfacing without her realizing it.
"And my mana... I haven't used it for battle in a long time."
Her eyes swept over the horde before her. Hell Wolves. Goblin Riders. Hell Bear. All moving slowly, but steadily. None stopping. None retreating. The black aura shrouding their bodies pulsed wildly—the same as what she had seen on the Treants in the forest before, the same as what made them unable to die.
"But..."
Rasa pressed her foot into the ground.
The earth beneath her trembled softly.
"...at the very least, I can stop them from moving any further than this."
The brown aura around her began flowing into the ground. Spreading. Expanding. Forming faint lines that pulsed like veins across the surface of the earth.
"I don't need to win."
Her staff rose.
"I don't need to kill them all."
The brown crystal at the staff's tip pulsed brighter.
"I only need to hold them back."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Long enough."
The first Hell Wolf leapt—mouth open, black fangs aimed straight at Rasa's throat. The second swept in from the right, claws ready to shred. The third ran low, trying to pounce on her legs.
Rasa did not retreat.
Her staff moved.
"[Stone Pillar]."
BOOOOMMMM—!!!
The ground beneath the first Hell Wolf exploded—not a blast of fire, not a blast of magic—but a blast of earth. A massive stone pillar shot up from the ground, striking the black wolf's belly from below, lifting it into the air like a puppet impaled.
Black blood sprayed.
But Rasa did not wait.
Her staff spun.
"[Earth Fist]."
The ground on the right exploded. A giant fist made of stone and packed earth—the size of a grown human body—shot from the ground, striking the second Hell Wolf mid-leap.
BRUK—!!
The wolf's body was sent flying sideways, crashing into the ruins of a house with a heavy sound. Debris fell, dust billowed.
The second Hell Wolf rose from the rubble.
Its body—which had just been sent flying, which should have been crushed, which should have died—now stood again. Its black flesh merged. Broken bones were forced back together by the wild pulsing dark aura. Its red eyes blazed again—fiercer, hungrier, angrier.
Rasa stared at it.
And her heart—
stopped for a moment.
Not from shock.
Not from fear.
But from something else.
Her chest felt tight. Her breath—which she had carefully controlled until now—suddenly grew heavy. As if a weight pressed against her lungs from within. The power that had been flowing from the earth into her body—which had felt warm, which had felt steady—now felt... receding.
Her body grew weak.
Her knees nearly buckled.
The staff in her hand—which she had gripped tightly until now—felt heavier than before.
"I knew it..."
Her voice came out soft.
Hoarse.
Almost like a whisper she did not want to hear herself.
"...even casting simple magic like this is a struggle now..."
Rasa smiled faintly. A bitter smile. A rueful smile.
"...I'm pathetic."
She stared at the second Hell Wolf now standing upright again. Its body still emitted thin black smoke from the wound she had just given it—a wound that had already closed, a wound that had already vanished. The wolf growled low, its claws scraping the ground, ready to pounce again.
Rasa swallowed.
She already knew these monsters could not die. She had seen it—when [Stone Spike] pierced the first Hell Wolf, when its body reassembled within moments. But still—seeing it with her own eyes, seeing the wound she had given with such effort simply vanish as if it had never existed—it still made her chest feel tight.
She had not fought in a long time.
Too long.
Perhaps—too long.
Her body was no longer as strong as before. Her mana was no longer as abundant as before. And the spells she had once cast with ease—now felt like lifting a mountain.
"The black aura that's been on all these monsters..."
She whispered softly.
Her eyes narrowed. Staring at the dark aura shrouding the second Hell Wolf's body—pulsing wildly, continuously healing its wounds, refusing to fade.
"...what..."
She did not finish her sentence.
Because at that same moment—
The first Goblin Rider moved.
Its spear leveled straight at her chest.
From the left.
Fast.
Too fast.
Rasa could not dodge in time.
But—
Her staff moved.
"[Earth Shield]."
The ground on the left exploded—rising high, forming a small but solid wall, right in the path of the Goblin Rider's spear. The spear's tip struck the earthen wall with a dull thud. It did not pierce. It did not crack.
But Rasa was pushed back.
One step.
Two steps.
Her feet scraped the ground, searching for footing. Her hand gripping the staff trembled. Her breath came in gasps—heavier than it should be. Faster than it should be.
The second Goblin Rider leapt from the right.
Its spear shot toward her waist.
Rasa twisted her body—too slow. Too tired. The spear grazed the side of her stomach. Not deep—but enough to tear her dress, to open her skin, to make blood drip slowly.
"gh..."
She gritted her teeth.
Her staff spun.
"[Stone Spike]."
BOOOOMMMM—!!!
A stone spear shot up from beneath the second Goblin Rider—piercing the belly of the wolf it rode, lifting it into the air. The wolf thrashed. The Goblin Rider was thrown—falling to the ground, rolling, then rising again with unnatural movement.
The wound in the wolf's belly—a wound that should have been fatal—now closed. Black flesh merged. Black blood stopped flowing. And within moments—the monster stood again, ready to pounce.
Rasa stared at it.
Her breath grew heavier.
Her hands trembled more.
"This black aura..."
She whispered.
"...what is it really..."
Before she could finish—
The Hell Bear moved.
Not leaping like the Hell Wolves. Not running like the Goblin Riders. But walking—heavy steps striking the ground, shaking the earth, making the debris around it tremble. Its long claws scraped the ground, leaving black trails that hissed.
Its eyes were red.
Its teeth sharp.
And the black aura shrouding its body—pulsed more wildly than the others.
Rasa stared at it.
And for the first time that night—
she felt something that was not merely exhaustion.
Not merely fear.
But—
despair.
Her body could no longer keep up with her mind. Her mana was nearly gone. And these monsters—they could not die.
"I..."
The staff in her hand felt heavier and heavier.
"...can't..."
The Hell Bear raised its claw.
"...hold them..."
The claw came down.
Rasa closed her eyes.
And—
BRAAAKKK—!!!
It was not the claw that struck her.
It was not pain that she felt.
But sound.
The sound of metal striking flesh.
The sound of something heavy being sent flying.
Rasa opened her eyes.
And before her—
A man stood.
His back was broad. His body tall. His sword was drawn—still trembling from the swing he had just made. And before him—the Hell Bear was sent staggering back, its claw severed, black blood spraying from the deep wound.
Rasa's eyes widened.
"...Darian?"