As the one with guns merged them into a sword and lunged it at Eroan, unable to react, he just stands there. Then a sound of sword piercing—and right at that moment—the can Eroan was holding fell to the ground, and blood came spilling, covering the can in crimson. Everything became quiet, as if time itself had paused its relentless flow. There was only the whisper of tree leaves rustling in the cold and heavy air. Nothing was clear enough to see, obscured by the mist that had suddenly appeared like a phantom veil. Then, from the direction of the gate, a voice echoed, chilling and resolute: "Trying is futile. He's dead."

  In a nearby district, nestled within an opulent mansion, lived Shina with her family. The house stood tall, luxurious in design, crafted like a palace. In her room, Shina sat with glasses on, reading books in preparation for her academic exams. She closed the final page, gently shut the book, and leaned back into her chair. Her body began to swing slightly as her mind drifted, recalling Eroan's words. She whispered to herself, "It's just a possibility, so... maybe, just maybe, he likes me." Her cheeks flushed red. She gently took off her glasses, flustered, and moved from the study table to her bed, where she buried her face into the soft blanket.

  In her imagination, Eroan stood amidst a crowd, his presence radiant. He dropped to one knee, revealing an engagement ring that shimmered with subtle light. Holding it up to her, he said, "Life is too short to look around things... but I would gladly spend it all, if it's with you. So, will you marry me, Shina?" In response, her heart fluttering, Shina imagined herself falling to one knee too. She looked into his eyes, overflowing with affection, and replied, "With pleasure."

  Pulled back into reality, she moved her hand slightly from her face, revealing eyes saturated with love and contemplation. Then came a melodic voice calling from downstairs, "Shina, come here. It's time for dinner, darling." She stood from the bed and replied, "Okay, Mom, I'm coming in a minute." Stepping softly, she descended the grand staircase, the house lavishly adorned with fine decorations and artifacts. In the dining room, her family sat waiting. Her mother looked up and said, "You're late today."

  Taking her seat, Shina replied that she was studying. Beside her, her younger brother Kiles—donning a black coat, his purple hair slightly tousled, eyes a deep black with tinges of light brown—chimed in, "Late as usual." Shina cast a sideways glance at him and remarked, "Ooh! Look who's talking." Kiles clenched his teeth, annoyed, and asked for water. The family's waitress, Nisa, stepped forward, pouring him a glass. Her hair was dyed a rich blend of brown and black, her eyes a calm black, and she wore a pristine white waitress uniform.

  Their mother intervened with a firm voice, "Stop it, you two. It's time to eat." After dinner, Shina returned to her room. She wandered to the window, and as she stared outside, her eyes caught a distant skirmish. Faint figures battled beneath a sky darkened by an approaching storm. A sense of dread crept in. She remembered the city news from the previous day. Fear rose in her chest—Eroan might be there. She clutched her hands together and looked to the heavens.

  She whispered with desperation, "Please, God, protect him from all causes. Don't take him away from me too."

  Back at the school grounds, the mist began to dissipate, revealing clearer shapes and details. The one with sunglasses stood tall in front of Eroan, having just blocked a devastating blow. Though the strike had been deflected, one of the sword's jagged spikes had grazed him, and blood now spilled from the cut, staining the can once again in red. The sight sent shivers down Eroan’s spine, confirming that this was no mere cosplay or simulation. With a hardened voice, he asked the man in sunglasses why he had saved him.

  A second figure stepped forward—hair a deep maroon—and scoffed. "You'd really give yourself up for a nobody?"

  The one in sunglasses answered, his tone unwavering, "Who needs a reason to save someone?"

  The simplicity of the statement struck Eroan deeply. He felt something stir inside—like life being breathed into his fading will. The maroon-haired adversary laughed cruelly. "Ooh! Is that so? What a fool you are."

  Without hesitation, he moved his hand, unleashing an explosive blast from his sword, which once again summoned a thick mist that cloaked the battlefield. Stepping back, his weapon reverted into its original dual-dagger form. When the air finally cleared, the man in sunglasses remained steadfast, now surrounded by a glowing protective barrier.

  Before the mist had lifted, the sunglasses man had turned to Eroan and warned him, "I know you’re not getting anything from this. Be careful—and leave this place as quickly as you can, while there's still mist."

  Though hesitant, Eroan recognized the gravity of the situation. He had no real choice. Escaping was the only option. He turned and ran. Lumero, the maroon-haired attacker, noticed Eroan’s absence and erupted with rage. Clutching his daggers, he incanted, "Fassen!" and hurled one toward the fleeing boy. But the man in sunglasses swung his sword with inhuman speed, creating a rippling force field of air that stopped the dagger mid-flight and sent it flying in the opposite direction.

  "That's enough, Lumero," he said firmly. "Your fight is with me. Fight the way you're supposed to."

  The name—Lumero—hung heavy in the air. His expression twisted in fury. Reforging his daggers into a singular, menacing blade, he scoffed, "Tchh!" Then they both lunged.

  Their swords clashed with such force that the sound wave reached Eroan’s ears even from far away. He froze in place. The thought struck him—what if the one who saved him ended up in serious danger? He hated the feeling of being indebted to anyone. Driven by that discomfort and a surge of responsibility, he turned back. He needed something—anything—to fight with.

  And so, the hunt began.

  As they both clashed, Lumero, while attacking with his right hand, used his left to conjure an attack—an ethereal circle pulsating with energy. He hurled it with deadly precision at the sunglasses guy’s kidney. The impact forced him back several steps. Though he managed to slice the attack into pieces, preventing a full-scale explosion, the gas released from the fragmented energy seeped into his system, clouding his senses and weakening him temporarily.

  Seeing the perfect opportunity, Lumero drove his sword into the ground, placed both hands atop it, and growled, "Levise." At his command, a deep crimson shadow blanketed the school field like a curse unfurling in daylight. Hundreds of silver daggers ascended into the air, their tips glinting with lethal promise. One by one, they launched down at the sunglasses guy as Lumero pointed at him like a conductor orchestrating chaos.

  His weakened state rendered his barrier unstable, and although he tried to hold on, the relentless barrage soon shattered it. The rest of the daggers struck without resistance, raining upon his body, tearing into flesh, metal, and magic, until his knees buckled under the sheer force. As he regained control over his fading senses, a dark charcoal aura began to envelop him—dense, burning, and eerie. He raised his hand skyward, slowly, as if commanding the heavens themselves. From above, something began to form—a growing circle of violet and black, swirling like a vortex of doom. The more energy he poured into it, the larger and more ominous it grew.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Seeing this spectacle, Lumero was overtaken by fear and charged forward with all the speed and power his body could muster.

  Meanwhile, Eroan, after tirelessly searching through the desolate junkyard, finally stumbled upon a utility knife half-buried in the debris. Not far from it, he found a length of steel rope—coiled, rusted, but still durable. He tied the knife tightly to one end, fashioning a crude yet formidable weapon. With his tool in hand, he rushed back toward the battleground.

  Upon reaching the scene, he was met with a dense wall of smoke—not mist this time, but a result of their devastating clash. Visibility was near zero. Through the haze, Eroan saw Lumero closing in on the man in sunglasses, who, in response, raised his hand and unleashed the incomplete black-and-violet attack. Lumero, thinking fast, conjured several defensive barriers—each crafted in different forms—yet the attack obliterated them all with effortless grace, even the final barrier intended for personal protection.

  The impact that followed was monstrous, shaking the earth beneath their feet like an earthquake. Everything vanished in the aftermath. Eroan watched, stunned, paralyzed, as the smoke cleared. The man in sunglasses stood motionless, a dagger deeply embedded in his chest.

  Unbeknownst to most, when Lumero had rushed forward, he had thrown one of his daggers in advance—a backup strike. It found its mark. Blood trickled from the sunglasses guy’s mouth. He remained upright, but unmoving, locked in place by sheer will.

  Lumero wasn’t unscathed either. Though injured, his wounds were far less severe, the majority of the damage absorbed or reduced due to the incomplete nature of the attack. Smiling—blood dripping from his eye—he approached his weakened foe. Standing over him, Lumero prepared to deliver the final blow, raising his sword for a lethal strike aimed at the shoulder.

  But just as the blade descended, it was intercepted by a wild, desperate swing—Eroan’s steel-bladed weapon. The force of the block was enough to deflect the strike. Lumero looked at Eroan, momentarily surprised, then burst into laughter at what he perceived to be the boy’s foolishness.

  He flicked his wrist, summoning several daggers from thin air, and launched them toward Eroan. In a fluid motion, Eroan spun his makeshift rope-knife and deflected each one, closing the distance with precision. Lumero walked forward slowly, confident the boy posed no threat.

  But Eroan slid forward suddenly, dragging his weapon across the dirt, sending clumps of soil into Lumero’s eyes. Temporarily blinded, Lumero stumbled, and Eroan seized the moment. Opening his left hand, he released all the daggers Lumero had previously thrown at him—daggers he had secretly gathered and stored.

  With a powerful cry, he hurled them back with everything he had. Simultaneously, he rushed to the man in sunglasses, shaking him. "Hey! Come on, wake up, four-eyes guy!"

  Though disoriented, Lumero managed to deflect most of Eroan’s returning barrage. Two daggers, however, struck true, drawing blood. Staggered, Lumero looked at Eroan again—this time with disbelief. "There’s just no way an ordinary human could make an attack that would pierce through my tough skin."

  Then, his gaze shifted downward. He saw the ring.

  His expression changed completely. Horror washed over his face. He fell back, stunned and more cautious than ever.

  Eroan, trying once more to wake the man in sunglasses and failing, hoisted him onto his back. Wasting no time, he began running toward his classroom to buy time. Lumero, finally regaining his edge, fired sharp spikes from his gun-like daggers. But Eroan, relying on heightened instincts and speed, dodged with fluid grace.

  As he neared the school building, Lumero appeared at his side, lunging forward with his blades. Eroan narrowly evaded the attack and retreated. Lumero pressed on, swinging violently, landing a kick that Eroan blocked with his arm—but the sheer force sent him flying several meters.

  Eroan got back up quickly. From the distance, Lumero fired once more, but Eroan spun his rope-blade so rapidly it created a barrier-like field, deflecting the incoming shots. He felt something strange—his body moved faster, struck harder. His strength had suddenly surged.

  Lumero charged again. Eroan grabbed a smoke bomb from the unconscious sunglasses guy and hurled it at Lumero’s feet. The cloud of smoke blocked Lumero’s vision.

  Eroan slipped into the school building and sprinted to the hall. Lumero eventually followed, growling, "Damn kid! Making me work crazy."

  The sunglasses guy stirred, whispering faintly, "Put me down... escape."

  Eroan shook his head. "Take care of yourself." He laid the man gently beside a bookshelf, placing a pillow beneath his head. "There's no way I could leave a wounded person behind to die."

  Moments later, Lumero entered. "Just show yourselves. There's no point in wasting my time. You think you can hide from me?"

  He fused his daggers once more, forming a sword, and with a single motion, blew all the benches aside. Eroan, still hidden, threw a wrench to his left, a decoy to draw Lumero’s attention. He had brought it earlier from the junkyard.

  As Lumero looked that way, Eroan seized the moment. He struck, swinging his rope-blade with all his power at Lumero’s neck, leaving a small cut. The fight continued.

  During the skirmish, Eroan spotted something—a glowing crest on Lumero’s left shoulder. Could it be his weakness?

  Furious, Lumero touched his neck and saw blood. He spun around, but Eroan had already disappeared.

  Lumero raised his hand and used magic to float every object in the room. Eventually, he found the sunglasses guy, but still, Eroan remained hidden planning for something.

  As Lumero prepared to strike the downed man, Eroan, perched above, threw a book behind him. When Lumero turned, Eroan dashed in and attacked with the rope-blade again, aiming for the crest. Lumero was ready this time. He caught the rope with his hand and pulled Eroan toward him.

  As Eroan came flying, he twisted and drove a dagger into Lumero’s shoulder—just barely dislocating it and broke the crest a little because his aim had been slightly off. Still, the pain was intense.

  In rage, Lumero grabbed Eroan by the throat and choked him hard. Then he slammed him to the ground. Eroan reached out, grabbed one of Lumero’s own daggers, and stabbed his leg. Lumero didn't even flinch. Instead, he kicked Eroan’s hand with a spiked boot, embedding it with pain.

  Then, he hung Eroan on the wall, pinning him like prey, and fired several spikes into his body. Smiling, Lumero backed up, then fired a barrage of daggers—each one triggered a burst inside Eroan as they shattered, driving the embedded spikes deeper into his flesh and organs.

  Believing Eroan was dead, Lumero turned to the man with sunglasses and muttered, "I thought it was something special... but guess I was overthinking. Just an ordinary ring. Nothing more."

  But suddenly, all the spikes embedded in Eroan’s body flew out violently, as if expelled by an unseen force. The ring started glowing all of a sudden continuously. A dark blue aura erupted from him, spiraling into the sky and stretching over the entire school. Lumero, stunned, tried to approach, but the sheer pressure forced him to his knees. Eroan's body got into in a new form like shape with some steel black gloves and markings appeared all over his body like burning marks it was blue, his face fully dark , in eyes there's nothing but bloodlust.

  He attempted to create magical barriers—none of them held. Lightning cracked above.

  Eroan now stood before Lumero, his eyes wild with bloodlust. He raised a single finger—and thousands of daggers materialized, launching with brutal force. Lumero was hurled backward, overwhelmed. The blades swirled, fusing into a singular weapon.

  Eroan walked toward him, steady and silent. The school trembled. Shadows curled around his body, the air dark and pulsing.

  Terrified, Lumero crawled back and whimpered, "Forgive my ignorance, Lord."

  But Eroan heard nothing. Without hesitation, he drove the newly-forged sword through Lumero’s eye.

  He screamed. Blood burst from his socket. He clutched his face and staggered. The scream roused the sunglasses guy—who saw the state Eroan was in.

  Eroan snapped out of it, disoriented. He didn’t know what he had done—or how he got there. He stood frozen like he had forgotten everything he did in the past few moments.

  Lumero, now desperate, touched his crest and screamed to the heavens for power—offering up the crest for a fleeting moment of strength.

  His body healed—everything but the destroyed eye.

  Without delay, he conjured a massive red energy slash and hurled it at Eroan. Then, without even casting a spell, he launched thousands of daggers at him. Eroan couldn’t react. But a divine barrier manifested—blocking all the attacks and sending them flying back.

  Lumero collapsed, barely conscious.

  The sunglasses guy shouted, "Strike his shoulder! That’s where the sapphire is—the soul’s energy rests there!"

  Eroan charged, weapon raised, unsure of what he was doing.

  To distract Lumero, the sunglasses guy fired a powerful attack as in sword slash. Lumero dodged and countered, but it created smoke.

  In the cover of smoke, Eroan pierced Lumero’s shoulder, driving the blade through the crest.

  As the smoke cleared, the sunglasses guy watched Lumero fade into ash. With sorrow in his eyes, Lumero whispered, "Forgive me, my Lord... and keep it as it belongs to you."

  Only one dagger remained. The other faded with him.

  Eroan trembled. None of this made sense.

  The sunglasses guy walked over and applauded. "You did a great job. I’ve never seen such raw talent."

  Eroan, dazed, replied, "I don’t understand much... except he left this dagger to me."

  Looking at Eroan and his belongings,"Then you shall have it," the man said. He handed him a card. "I’m Raiun. Here take it come join when you have time? You could learn more about your powers. What do you say?"

  It sounded shady to Eroan. As he smiled and shook his head. "Guess... I’m gonna go with a no."

  Raiun smiled. "As you wish."

  Eroan asked, "Any particular reason behind you wearing sunglasses at night?"

  Raiun laughed. "It helps me see the sapphire energy... and, well, it adds to the drip." He smirked.

  They shook hands.

  "Good night," Eroan said.

  "It's not like you have to join. Come visit. No need to join."

  Eroan waved. "Okay. I’ll think about it."

  With dagger, rope, and forged blade in hand, Eroan began walking home.

  Then, as wind whipped around him, an overwhelming sensation struck. He touched his head... turned back...

  And fainted.