Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Blacksmith's Day (8)

  Orin felt his entire body go numb. The world around him faded into a distant blur—voices muffled, light dimming. He could barely make out Hadar’s voice beside him, though even that was slipping away, swallowed by the sound of rain and echoing laughter.

  Kane’s cold, mocking cackle rang through the chaos, followed by Varis’s measured tone.

  “It’s over,” Varis declared darkly. “Surrender now, and perhaps we’ll show mercy to what remains of you.”

  But Hadar, still kneeling beside Orin’s broken body, didn’t respond. His head was bowed, eyes shut in focus. Neither Varis’s taunts nor Kane’s laughter reached him anymore.

  “…I’ve never used this ability this way before,” he muttered to himself, voice trembling but resolute. “But it’s worth the risk.”

  He exhaled deeply, steadying his breathing, then raised his sword high into the storm-filled sky.

  “SUMMON: Champion of Justice!”

  A blinding pillar of light descended from above, engulfing Hadar completely. The brilliance was so pure it washed the color from the world, and then—spreading outward—the light expanded, swallowing the battlefield in a wave of divine radiance.

  Both Varis and Kane froze, their expressions twisting in disbelief. Even Varis instinctively raised his sword, unsure of what he was witnessing.

  “What… is this?” he murmured.

  The light reached Orin and the others. At first, it was blinding—then warm. It wrapped around Orin’s body, seeping into his skin like liquid fire. He felt tiny sparks racing through his nerves, forcing his muscles to respond, his lungs to breathe. The numbness vanished, replaced by a vivid, burning sensation that flooded him with life.

  When Orin opened his eyes, he was surrounded by soft motes of light. His wounds—deep and fatal just moments ago—were gone. Not even a scar remained.

  I’m… healed?

  He looked around frantically. Gina, Sirius, Cor, Jin, Dan—every one of them was stirring, alive, their injuries gone as if time itself had reversed. The divine glow faded, leaving only the rain and the lingering hum of celestial energy in the air.

  Orin turned to Hadar, relief rising in his chest—only for it to freeze there.

  Hadar was standing… but barely. His armor was shattered, his body drenched in blood. Dozens of deep wounds covered him.

  “Hadar!” Orin shouted.

  The young knight coughed violently, a spray of blood staining his chin.

  “Don’t… worry,” he said hoarsely. “With my active ability… my regeneration is faster than normal.”

  And indeed, before Orin’s eyes, the gashes across Hadar’s skin began to close, slowly knitting themselves together with faint threads of light. But the process was slow, agonizingly so—and the pain on Hadar’s face made it clear the effort was costing him dearly.

  “I see…” Varis murmured, his eyes narrowing as he studied the light still fading from the field. “No sacred technique could heal the wounds inflicted by Augur, but Summons… that’s another story.”

  He tilted his head, analyzing Hadar with cold curiosity. “Champion of Justice… the ability to absorb the wounds of your allies within a certain radius. But something doesn’t add up. For a Guardian Spirit’s ultimate ability, it’s far too simple—almost inconvenient. No… there must be another layer to it.”

  Hadar, still struggling to keep his footing, turned to face him. His breath was ragged, blood dripping down his chin, but his eyes burned with resolve.

  “You’re right,” he said. “While Champion of Justice is indeed my summon’s ability, it’s the first time I’ve used it to heal so many in such dire condition. I wasn’t sure if I could use its true form… but it seems I can.”

  A faint, confident smile crossed his face—utterly out of place given the state of his body.

  Varis’s lips curled into a smirk. “Whatever trick you have left, you can barely stand. You won’t last a minute.”

  “We’ll see,” Hadar replied, tightening his grip on his sword.

  Without another word, Hadar vanished from sight.

  A shockwave burst across the ground—the sheer speed of his movement left trails of light in the rain. Orin’s eyes widened in disbelief. That speed… it rivals Felis!

  Varis barely had time to react before Hadar was upon him. He swung his shield up in defense, but the impact was devastating, the sound of shattering steel rang through the storm as his shield split apart in an explosion of fragments. A shallow cut tore across his arm, sending blood spraying into the air.

  “Tch—!” Varis staggered backward, barely regaining balance. But Hadar was already moving again, his second strike aimed straight for the throat.

  For a heartbeat, Varis’s expression faltered, caught between shock and disbelief. Then, at the very last instant, a translucent barrier shimmered to life around his neck. The blade struck, but instead of cutting flesh, it met resistance—an invisible wall of divine energy that absorbed the blow completely.

  The air cracked from the impact, the force sending ripples across the barrier.

  Hadar landed, panting hard, eyes locked on his opponent. Varis straightened, taking several steps back, his confidence returning.

  “I understand now,” Varis said, lowering his sword slightly. “Your summon amplifies your attributes based on your injuries—the closer you are to death, the stronger you become. But as your regeneration catches up, that power fades. A double-edged blessing.”

  Varis smiled faintly. “If it were anyone else, this would’ve been your victory.”

  “So you’ve figured it out…” Hadar muttered, raising his sword again.

  “But you seem to have forgotten,” Varis continued, his tone turning sharp, “my Guardian Spirit’s passive ability protects me. Surely you’ve heard of it—Touched by God.”

  Hadar’s expression darkened. “…Yes. My father told me about it. An ability that negates three fatal attacks per day.”

  He raised his sword, pointing it at Varis. “Then all I have to do is land two more.”

  Varis chuckled, the sound echoing coldly in the rain. “Bold words. But no one has ever forced me to use more than one in a single day. And today won’t be the exception.”

  As the storm raged, Orin—having gathered with his friends again—watched the battle unfold with clenched fists.

  “Can you move?” Aran asked, glancing between the wounded. “We need to leave now. Hadar’s bought us time, but it won’t last.”

  Cor and Dan were barely conscious, their bodies trembling, while Gina and Sirius could stand with effort.

  “We’ll manage,” Orin said firmly, looking at Jin. “Help me carry the others. We’re not wasting the chance Hadar gave us.”

  Jin nodded without hesitation. “Got it.”

  While Orin and Jin struggled to lift Cor and Dan to their feet, the clash between steel and faith continued to echo across the rain-soaked streets.

  Hadar pressed forward relentlessly, his sword flashing like lightning as Varis parried each strike with measured precision. Though Hadar’s movements were beginning to slow, his rhythm—his sheer will—still dictated the tempo of the fight.

  Varis ducked beneath a wide slash, pivoting and countering with a quick thrust. For the first time, he spotted an opening. Yet even half-exhausted, Hadar’s reflexes were sharper—his shield snapped up, deflecting the attack, and he countered instantly with a cross-slash that forced Varis to retreat two steps.

  But Hadar’s lips curved into a faint, confident smile.

  —“ACTIVATE KNIGHT SKILL: Longsword!”

  A spectral glow erupted along the blade, extending its reach. The weapon grew in length and brilliance, slicing through the rain toward Varis’s head.

  The blow landed cleanly—but again, it met the invisible resistance of divine protection. The air shuddered with the force, yet Varis stood unscathed behind the golden shimmer of Touched by God.

  “One more strike,” Hadar said, leveling his glowing sword at him, “and your divine protection will vanish. After that—you’re done.”

  Varis’s breath came sharp and ragged. Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees, pressing his hands against the cobblestones, muttering something inaudible. His expression was twisted—not with pain, but with something darker.

  Hadar hesitated, lowering his sword slightly as he approached.

  “Sir Varis… surrender. Once your divine shield fades, your strength means nothing.”

  Slowly, Varis raised his face. The rain ran down his expression like tears—but his eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.

  “It seems… your ability’s ended too, boy.”

  Hadar froze.

  “And the moment you stopped seeing me as a threat…” Varis’s grin widened—“you dropped your guard. NOW!”

  The air behind Hadar fractured with light.

  Augur’s divine afterimages—ethereal blades forged from sacred echoes—materialized in a flash. Before Hadar could move, one pierced through his shield and arm. Another tore through his chest. Two more struck his legs, driving him to his knees.

  “Hadar!” Orin’s voice broke through the storm, raw and desperate. He pushed past Aran’s grip, shouting, “Hadar! Hold on!”

  Aran seized his arm again, pulling him back. “Orin, stop! We have to go!”

  But Orin’s gaze was locked on the battlefield. Through the curtain of rain, Hadar turned his head, meeting Orin’s eyes. His lips moved—no voice, only the silent echo of a single word.

  Run.

  Orin clenched his fists, trembling, as tears blurred his vision. Hadar managed one final smile—calm, resolute, almost peaceful.

  Then the true Augur descended.

  A single strike—clean, final—pierced Hadar’s heart. The light of his sword flickered, and the young knight collapsed amid the downpour.

  Thus fell Hadar Kentaurus, knight of the League—his courage extinguished beneath the sorrowful rain of Solaris, leaving only the echo of his vow and the radiance of a soul that never yielded.

  The rain fell heavier, blurring the world in a curtain of gray.

  Orin stood motionless, his fists clenched, his tears mixing with the downpour that ran down his face. Powerless. That single word echoed in his mind, each beat of his heart pulsing with frustration.

  Aran grasped his arm tightly, her own eyes brimming with tears.

  “Orin… we have to go,” she whispered, her voice trembling with pain. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

  Sirius and Gina approached, their faces pale and streaked with rain, silently nodding that they could finally move. Jin followed, his expression grim as he supported Dan’s weight on his shoulder.

  The remaining soldiers—those who had once followed Hadar—stood frozen. None spoke. Their captain lay motionless on the ground, his lifeless form washed by the rain.

  Orin exhaled shakily and began walking, half-carrying Cor, his heart heavy. But before they could take more than a few steps, a cold voice broke through the storm.

  “Who said you could leave?”

  Varis’s tone sliced through the rain like a blade. He was walking toward them slowly, Augur gleaming faintly under the downpour.

  Orin’s pulse quickened. In their weakened state, running was pointless—Varis would reach them in seconds.

  But before the knight could close the distance, several of Hadar’s soldiers stepped forward, forming a line between them and the enemy.

  “Sir Varis,” one of them said firmly, gripping his sword. “We won’t let you capture these children. That was our captain’s final order.”

  “If we can land even one killing blow,” another added through gritted teeth, “your divine protection will end!”

  Varis paused—then laughed, cold and humorless.

  “You fools… do you think yourselves my equals?” He pointed toward the distant mound of corpses half-buried under the rain. “That is what happens to those who tried. Not one of them even managed to scratch me. And you think you can?”

  The soldiers faltered, their formation wavering, yet not one of them stepped back.

  Varis raised his sword slowly, ready to strike. He took a step forward—

  —and then a low, mocking voice spoke just behind him.

  “How interesting... one last killing blow to end your ability.”

  Varis’s eyes widened.

  Orin and Aran exchanged stunned yet relieved glances the moment they heard that voice—mocking, exaggerated, and unmistakable.

  In a blur, a shadow materialized from the rain behind Varis.

  Felis.

  —Slash!

  A dagger cut through the air, striking true. The blade stopped just short of Varis’s neck, the divine barrier halting its advance—but the impact still sent a ripple through the air.

  Varis spun around instantly, his sword lashing out. The edge grazed his attacker’s arm, drawing a thin line of blood.

  Felis stood there, unflinching, rain dripping from his cloak, a faint smile curling his lips. His black eyes gleamed like a predator’s in the stormlight.

  “I see, old man,” Felis said, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “I wasn’t sure what kind of skill would my killing blow finish, but this… this is far more interesting than I expected.”

  He tilted his head slightly, his tone turning playful but cold.

  “So, if I’m right, my next killing blow will actually land, won’t it?”

  Varis turned, glaring with visible irritation.

  “Who the hell are you?” he barked. “And what are you scheming?”

  Felis looked down at the shallow cut on his arm, watching a drop of blood trail down his wrist before flicking it away with disinterest. Then he raised his eyes again, his grin widening.

  “Who, me?” he said casually. “Let’s just say I’ve got some unfinished business with those two over there.”

  He jerked his chin toward Orin and Aran.

  “So I can’t exactly let you lay a finger on them.”