In the cottage house, a dozen of Erik's apprentices, dressed in worn mage cloaks, moved around sorting out chunks of aetherion ore. These ores had been scraped together from all over Ravengarde. They placed them into reinforced boxes tucked into the corner—away from ordinary people, for safety.
After finishing, they all let out a relieved breath.
Arvind looked around the table, eyeing the dark, slake-gray ores. What kind of ore is this? Why does it look so ordinary… yet he couldn't shake the feeling of danger?
"Don't just stare at it," Erik's calm voice broke the silence. "Use your fighting spirit. You'll see veins of iridescent blue and violet, pulsing faintly like lightning trapped in stone."
Arvind flushed—he had indeed only been looking with his eyes. As he followed the instruction, his expression changed.
"This… this must be aetherion ore, right? But the blacksmiths couldn't detect anything…"
Erik chuckled and nodded, tapping the stone with a finger. A tiny spark shimmered under his enhanced gaze.
"It's called Fluxsteel. Rare. Very rare. And yes—it's a raw form of aetherion. Ordinary people shouldn't be near it. But for us aetheric users… it's full of potential. Greater conductivity. Perfect for weapons, arrows, even mage staffs."
He pulled his hand back and gave Arvind a sly smile. "That's not all. Want to hear the most interesting part?"
Seeing Arvind nod, Erik smirked in satisfaction.
"Then give us more funds. We might just surprise you with how fast Ravengarde develops."
Arvind rolled his eyes. Erik grinned wider.
"Resonant Memory. Fluxsteel retains traces of past energy imprints. That means it can be used to forge spellbound weaponry, adaptive armor, or magic-powered tools."
Arvind's eyes glowed. His mind raced. Weapons… armor… even magic tools. This could solve all the shortages—especially the knights' endless complaints about inferior gear.
"Can our blacksmiths forge with it?"
"Absolutely not," Erik said instantly. "I told you—ordinary craftsmen can't even get near it. You'll need to recruit aetheric blacksmiths."
Arvind nearly punched the table. "Why didn't you say that earlier!? I was already imagining new tool—damn!"
"What's the use then?" he grumbled. "Do you think those so-called 'master blacksmiths' even care about us? We're in the northern edge. I heard there are only a dozen in the entire region."
"It's still useful," Erik replied. "For mages like us, it's perfect for studying aetherion flow."
He turned to his apprentices. "Prepare the experiment kit."
They scurried to obey. Erik shot a glance at Arvind.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't dream of mass-producing magic items. But without protection, those dreams will attract wolves."
Arvind cooled down a little. He knew Erik was right. Anything of value in this world drew hungry eyes.
Suddenly, one apprentice hesitated nearby. Arvind frowned.
"What's wrong?"
"There's a knight waiting for you outside, my lord. He seems… urgent."
Arvind nodded and headed out.
After meeting the knight and hearing the report, his heart sank. Without delay, he rode to the military camp.
He dismounted quickly, finding Aldric hunched over the map of Ravengarde, rubbing his forehead. The presence of every senior knight made Arvind's mood even heavier.
"Oh." Aldric snapped out of his thoughts upon seeing him. He nodded seriously.
"We've got a situation. The bandits are on the move."
Arvind stepped closer.
"This morning, our scouts spotted movement. The bandits are no longer hiding, and our outer villages don't have stationed knights. We're stretched too thin."
Arvind's fingers tapped the map. "We never posted knights in the outer villages because we lacked numbers. Now they're defenseless…"
Aldric nodded.
Mentally, Arvind reviewed his forces: 39 knights total. 10 were with the caravan. 15 were still on the bandit search. 5 were garrisoned at the castle. That left only 10 deployable knights—and none of the new recruits had even become aetheric yet.
He turned to one of the older caravan captains.
"Would two knights be enough to protect the outer villages?"
He shook his head. Even if they were spread out, it was still a risk.
Arvind turned to Aldric. "Let's not dispatch anyone yet. We need to secure the town. Send scouts to the villages instead. If anything flares up, we respond immediately."
Aldric nodded. "Smart move, my lord. You heard him—send out the scouts."
The knights saluted and rushed out. Soon, a handful of riders galloped down the main road, fanning out to the far villages.
News of the growing threat reached the training grounds.
The new recruits clenched their fists and trained harder. Sweat dripped. Muscles burned. They gritted their teeth.
Someday, they thought, we'll be strong enough to protect our home—and the one who leads it.
As Arvind had just finished freshening up, preparing to visit the weapons workshop, a grim report shattered his brief moment of peace.
"Can't even catch a break," he muttered under his breath as he took the letter.
BAM!
A pole cracked as Arvind's fist slammed it aside in fury. Eyes blazing, he turned toward Aldric, who stood stiff, matching his anger.
"They will live until tomorrow," Arvind said, voice cold but trembling with restrained rage.
Aldric nodded grimly, then turned to the knights nearby. "Prepare immediately."
Within the hour, all available military forces of Ravengarde were mobilized. The castle garrison remained to defend Ashford while the main force assembled outside the gates.
THUMP.
Armored knights marched in disciplined rows, their heavy boots beating the earth, followed by leather-armored recruits. Arvind, mounted and grim-faced, led from the front.
The townfolk emerged from their homes. Seeing the marching troops, their expressions turned serious—they turned back, grabbed whatever tools or makeshift weapons they could find, and nodded to one another.
As they approached the gate, a commotion broke out.
"Damn it! Let us out!" one man shouted. "My lord's life is on the line—we won't stand by!"
"Yeah! We fight too!" others echoed, raising clubs and pitchforks.
The guards held firm. Despite the rising desperation, the knights at the gate calmed them down, assuring that Lord Arvind was already leading the charge. One by one, the townsfolk dispersed reluctantly.
---
As Arvind and his force neared the troubled village, they spotted a thick column of smoke spiraling into the sky.
"Damn it," Arvind cursed, eyes flashing. He urged the knights forward, leaving the recruits behind to follow at their own pace.
At the vanguard, the elite warrior he had personally vetted clenched his teeth. His fury boiled over—he increased his life energy output and shot ahead like a lightning bolt.
---
Meanwhile, the village burned.
The bandits, frustrated, kicked through homes, tossing aside furniture and frightened villagers.
"Damn it!" one of them cursed. "These rats are poorer than us! Barely a sack of grain!"
Their leader glared ahead, wiping blood off his sword.
"Smart bastards put up resistance. Too bad he was alone," he muttered, eyes scanning the broken form of a junior knight tied to a tree. Cuts crisscrossed his body. His mouth was bruised, bleeding, but he remained breathing—barely.
Nearby, Jen, Maren, and other knights sat tied and helpless. Their eyes were dull.
"We were ambushed... a caravan, huh?" the leader sneered. "Thought we'd find gold in Ravengarde. Maybe after we loot this dung heap, we sell 'em all. Knights fetch a good price in the slave markets."
A bandit ex-captain laughed. "Forget this. No coin here. But that baron? He's the prize. Let's gut him—fat meat!"
The leader opened his mouth to respond, but a blur cut through his sight.
CRASH!
He flew through the air, rolling across the ground like a broken doll.
The warrior stood in front of the stunned bandits, sword already raised. One bandit tried to counter but was knocked back instantly.
The ex-guard captain mocked, "Come on, bro, slap the fly infront of you"
The warrior grinned, teeth bared like a beast. He knew reinforcements would arrive soon—he just had to break the enemy's line.
Pale yellow aetheric light enveloped his muscles. He kicked forward, sending a shockwave through the air. His foot slammed into the bandit leader's shoulder.
CRACK!
A piercing scream shattered the still air, birds scattering from nearby trees. The leader's arm bent backward, dislocated and useless.
The ex-guard captain's smile vanished. He drew his sword, just as the rest of the bandits rushed in, pulled out of their spectator daze.
The warrior didn't waver. He turned—and behind him, Arvind and his knights arrived.
---
Arvind's breath caught. His eyes locked on the bloodied junior knight, the same one he'd seen off days earlier. Was he still alive?
He turned to Jen and the others, tied and bruised.
His hand clenched tightly around his sword. I'm no longer powerless. I am a knight—your lord—and I will not stand by.
Smoke curled from the burning homes. Villagers huddled, eyes red with tears and soot. Desperation hung thick in the air.
Aldric stepped forward.
SKY SLICE.
A blade of blue light burst forward, aiming for the bandit leader. Though the man dodged, the strike sheared his arm clean along the bone.
"AHHHHH!"
The ex-guard captain's face paled. He realized instantly—escape was no longer an option.
Aldric raised his lance. "Form up! Advance!"
With a nod from Arvind, the knights charged.
Their blades carved through the chaos. Blood spilled on the scorched dirt. The knights pressed forward—no mercy, no hesitation.
But even as they cut down the bandits, Arvind's hands trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of what this land demanded.
He gritted his teeth. This is just the beginning.
Aldric shook his head, satisfied. One-third of the bandits had already fallen.
"Finish that one ahead of you," he ordered, eyes locked on the one-armed bandit leader.
The warrior grinned and lunged forward.
"Damn it! Everyone—free fight! Kill them all!" the ex-guard captain screamed. The remaining bandits charged the knights and Arvind, no longer following orders—just swarming like angry flies.
"Stand firm! Just like in training!" Aldric's voice thundered across the battlefield.
Arvind froze. His breathing trembled. He had never faced multiple enemies at once. Fear prickled down his spine. He turned to Aldric, uncertain, but then saw the knights—also nervous—find strength in their commander's voice.
One by one, they stabilized.
Aldric struck the ex-guard captain, forcing him back, then moved with the formation, cutting down enemies by the dozen.
With each kill, the knights' resolve strengthened. Their once-trembling arms now moved with surety—novices shedding their skin, transforming into true warriors.
Arvind, meanwhile, only knocked down a few bandits. He glanced around at the trail of bodies. The blood. The screams. His stomach turned, nausea rising. The idea of killing someone of the same race—humans—twisted something deep inside.
His thoughts were broken by a chilling aura.
The ex-guard captain stopped retreating. He channeled his life force to its peak and reached behind his back—pulling out his warhammer.
Aldric's face darkened. "Damn parasite… that's Dwarven martial arts. How the hell did he learn that?"
BAM!
The hammer crushed into the knight at the edge of the formation, sending him flying. He crumpled like a ragdoll.
Aldric's eyes widened. "Not good..."
The bandit struck again—and again. Each time, a knight fell. Bones cracked. Screams echoed.
"Son of a bitch!" Aldric cursed, helpless as the formation buckled.
He growled. "Fine. You want a fight? I'll flex these old bones."
He broke formation, trusting Arvind to take over at center.
Arvind's breath caught. But there was no time to think—he saw knights on the brink of collapse. He clenched his fist, lifted his sword.
"Forward! We clear them all—now!"
His voice cracked, but the knights responded. They charged, cutting through the remaining bandits like a rising tide. Blood soaked their arms. Their muscles screamed. But they didn't stop.
"We're almost there! Just twenty left!" Arvind shouted.
The remaining bandits, seeing their comrades slaughtered, threw down their weapons and raised their hands in surrender.
Relief flooded Arvind—but it didn't last.
BOOM!
A shockwave slammed the air. Arvind's ears rang.
He turned—and saw the final duel unfolding.
Aldric's blade glowed with fierce blue light. It struck the bandit warrior with terrifying force—but the man parried it. Then, in a flash, he countered, his hammer smashing into Aldric's shoulder.
"Damn," Aldric growled. "This damn cat-quick dwarf-style bastard…"
His body ached. His shield hand shook. But he wasn't done yet.
He looked at his warhorse—rubbed its mane.
"Come on, old friend. One last ride."
He channeled everything—his full Level 2 strength—into the charge.
Armoring the horse's head, he stormed forward. The ex-guard captain's eyes widened—but too late.
CRASH.
It was like being hit by a ten-carriage freight train. The impact launched him like a rag doll.
Aldric followed through—unleashing his skill.
Dozen Sky Slices.
The air hissed with arcs of blue light. They slashed across the bandit's body—arms, legs, chest. Blood sprayed. The man trembled, barely upright.
"Surrender," Aldric sneered, sword leveled. "Or you won't see the sun again."
The ex-guard captain stared. His face twisted with hate.
He didn't speak.
He lunged.
His life force ignited—deep yellow burned across his flesh. His aura became unstable. His body cracked. His mind—lost.
Arvind's eyes widened. "He's… sacrificing his life force?"
Aldric's horse reared.
Too slow.
The madman unleashed his final skill—
Hundred Hammers.
The warhammer struck Aldric's shield again and again—like thunder crashing down.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
The shield held—but just barely. Cracks spidered across its surface.
Aldric grunted, arm going numb.
BANG.
Another strike. This time it hit the horse's head.
The beast screamed, buckled, and collapsed—along with Aldric.
He tumbled to the ground.
The shield—shattered.
The bandit loomed overhead, laughing like a demon as his body glowed—consuming itself from within.
Aldric coughed blood, gritted his teeth.
"Damn... even in death, you parasites are hard to kill."
On the other side of the battlefield—
A sword pierced deep into the bandit leader's chest. The warrior twisted the blade, then followed with a roundhouse kick, slamming the corpse to the ground. He placed two fingers under the man's nose to confirm—no breath.
He exhaled, smiled faintly in exhaustion, then turned back.
Meanwhile, Aldric continued his duel with the madman. His sword struck again and again—cutting deep—but the man fought like a demon. Each time Aldric landed a blow, the madman retaliated with equal force.
It was as if Aldric's blade sliced only water—no matter how many times it struck, the man wouldn't fall.
Finally, Aldric's sword glowed blue. With one clean strike, he severed the remaining arm.
A scream tore through the battlefield.
The madman dropped his hammer and clutched his bleeding stump—his body trembling. For the first time, Aldric saw it: his body beginning to disintegrate. Bit by bit, like ash carried away on the wind.
From afar, Arvind watched—shaken.
"So this… is what the system meant," he whispered, "that life energy is dangerous…"