The Defenders of the Realm
"Peace through words is an agreement, whereas peace with a sword marks a stance," Headmaster Zara quoted Auther Pendragon, her voice calm yet commanding. The room fell silent. King Argal raised an eyebrow and asked, "Why open with a quote, rather than a briefing?"
Headmaster Zara stood. "Your Majesty, in recent years, the quality of soldiers has decreased overall. Powerful warriors are still born among the elite, but the number who reach advanced levels of combat ability is dwindling."
Argal ran a hand through his beard. "Headmaster, your concern joins the many that clutter my thoughts. Unless you also bear a solution, I fear this meeting may be fruitless."
"I do have one," Zara replied. "Lift the restrictions on the Imperial Academy. Let any qualified individual apply—regardless of status."
Argal smirked, amused. "Why train country bumpkins who've never seen a sword when we have nobles who've trained since birth?"
Zara smiled softly. "When the Academy closes for the holidays, I travel. I explore, and I meet people. Talented ones. Some... rival even our most prominent ones."
She placed a thick book on the table—her personal journal of gifted individuals. She flipped to page thirteen.
Argal's eyes widened. He looked possessed.
"So, he's the one who caught your eye," she murmured.
"His name is Leywin," Zara said proudly. "The elemental wielder of Chaos."
Argal shivered. "Chaos? A primordial element? Are you sure it's not a variant?"
"At first, I thought so too. But when I saw him use basic augmentation for a lumberjack swing, I noticed it. Unrefined mana outlining him—colors of blood red, dark gray, and midnight purple."
"Was it restrained? Or wild?"
"I couldn't tell. We'd need to study him further."
The monarch rose and went to his royal record book. He tore out a parchment after penning new admission rules and handed it to his raven.
"This will go to the Elders for approval. Thank you, Headmaster. Be among the judges. Choose the next Defenders of the Realm."
"Gladly," she replied, leaving with purpose.
Behind closed doors, courtiers whispered. Some nobles looked outraged. Opening the gates to commoners? Heresy. But Zara's influence—and the fear of falling behind—silenced opposition, at least for now. A storm of reform was brewing.
In the countryside, a boy screamed, "ARRAHHHHHH!"
Leywin swung his axe with ferocity. Though of average build and height, his crimson eyes and chaotic black-and-white hair made him unforgettable. His tanned skin bore sun-worn marks of labor.
He looked at his two large piles of firewood. "Should be at least four silvers..."
He joked about burning the forest down to inflate the price, a sinister smile spreading until—
WHACK!
"OWW! What was that for?!"
Mrs. Skye, the village chief, scowled. "How long will you waste your talents here?"
"I'm amazing at this, thanks!"
"Leywin," she softened, "a headmaster came two weeks ago. She said you're unmatched. She's trying to open the Academy to people like you. Isn't it time you did more than chop wood?"
Leywin snorted. "The capital's 100 kilometers away. That's four days of walking. Food, water, wizz breaks—you get the idea."
"Four days of hardship for a lifetime of success."
Leywin scoffed. "No, once I get there, I'd have to pass their tests, survive their training, maybe get lucky enough to graduate. Then maybe, just maybe, I get surrounded by money and success."
"If you stay here," Skye countered, "spring will settle in. People won't need firewood. Your business tanks, and you'll be back to odd jobs."
"Those odd jobs keep me afloat."
Skye's expression darkened. "Doing jobs for bandits isn't staying afloat. It's digging your own grave."
Leywin looked away. "They pay well enough."
"Until you cross the wrong line. One day, you'll work for someone who sees you as expendable. And when you outlive your usefulness, you'll be nothing more than a liability."
She turned away, voice cracking. "Or dead."
Leywin understood. He hugged her. "Then I'll go. Not for me. For you."
As they loaded the sled, she went ahead. Leywin stayed behind, deep in thought.
He passed the village's shacks—wooden, fragile homes, sweltering in summer and freezing in winter. Merchants lined the streets, selling what little they could. Leywin shouted, "Dry firewood! Twenty coppers per stack!"
An old man approached. "I'll take two stacks for ten coppers each."
"Boss, I'd starve if I did that."
"You always say that. But I know your dirty secret."
"What secret?"
"You ate the orphanage's chocolate cake."
Leywin nearly collapsed. "Okay, okay, five coppers it is. But you didn't hear it from me."
"Don't worry," the old man winked. "My hearing went out back in '32... same day my taste in fashion died."
"That explains the pants."
"They're vintage!"
"They're a war crime."
The old man laughed until he coughed himself dizzy. "Still think you're too smart for this village, huh?"
"Nope. Just pretty enough to know it."
Suddenly, he felt it—an unwelcome presence.
Chad.
Blond, tall, cruel—the local bandit leader
"LEYWIN! Lost weight? You look like the skid mark on my boot."
"What do you want, Chad?"
"Big job. You're coming. Now."
Leywin packed his gear... then paused. Skye's words echoed.
He stood. "Nah. I'm done. That last job set me for life."
Chad's smile faded. "You owe me. I fed you, saved you—"
"When I was seven. I'm sixteen now. Nine years of service. Debt's paid."
"I took you in! You think this village did?"
Leywin looked him dead in the eyes. "No. Skye did. You used me."
Furious, Chad punched Leywin. Blood splattered. He kicked him down, then pressed a boot to his throat.
"The capital wants you now? If your own blood didn't want you, why would they?"
Leywin coughed, then whispered, "At least my wife didn't leave me."
A fight broke out—chaotic, fast, brutal. Leywin, despite exhaustion, managed to slice Chad's hand, blood spraying.
"ARGHH! YOU LITTLE—"
"Guess that job's half off now."
The crowd watched, stunned.
"You talk big," Leywin mocked, "but you're just fat. And not the kind of fat you can hide with armor. Premium belly rolls."
Chad growled, swinging wildly. Leywin ducked, rolled, threw a punch, missed, then grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it in Chad's face.
"My ultimate technique: Pocket Sand!"
Chad roared. Leywin laughed—until—
CRACK!
One of Chad's goons struck Leywin from behind.
Leywin awoke, chained to a post. Chad heated his blade with fire arts.
Skye's cries echoed. "He's just a child! Take me instead!"
"SHUT UP! He made a fool of me!"
Time slowed.
Leywin's heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else. He could see each ember rising from the fire, drifting lazily through the air like falling stars. Every footstep from Chad sounded like thunder. He looked up at the sky. So blue. So peaceful.
Is this how it ends? he thought. Am I really going to die... chained to a post like some failed mutt?
Then—a voice.
**"So this is how it ends? Chained? Beaten?"
"What can I do?" Leywin replied in his mind.
"You've pretended long enough. Restrained yourself for mercy. For morals. And now look. Weak. Pathetic. Let me show you what you really are."
A dark laughter erupted—filled with malice.
Leywin's hair turned fully white. His eyes burned crimson and gray. Something monstrous awakened.
Chad blinked. "You got even uglier."
CRACK!
Chains shattered. Leywin's aura began to manifest into the colors of choas. His grin? Absolutely unhinged.
"I hope you warmed up that blade, Chad," Leywin said cheerfully. "Because I'm about to roast you like a festival pig."
Chad begged, now trembling, crawling backward on his elbows through the dirt. "P-please... I'm sorry. I was just angry. Don't kill me! I'll disappear! I swear it!"
The spirit of Choas that momentarily took control of its new vessel spoke dominantly.
"Now look at you—crawling, gasping for breath like a worm under my foot. Let me show you what true power looks like. — (Sound of flesh tearing, bones cracking)—
Feel that? That's your chest caving in. That's my hand splitting through ribs like paper. You ever see your own heart from the outside? Let me help you. — (A wet snap, the squelch of organs tearing free)—
Here it is. Still beating. Still trying to fight me. How adorable. I wonder… how long will it throb in my hand before it realizes it has no home? —(Crunch)—
Leywin stood amid the carnage, eyes blazing, laughter echoing into the stunned silence.
The newly awakened incarnation of Chaos basked in its first kill.
"I'm glad I didn't step in," a voice rang out from the crowd, smooth and condescending. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have witnessed you at your finest."
A lone warrior emerged, parting the stunned onlookers until he stood only a few feet from Leywin.
"Save your breath," growled the spirit of Chaos through Leywin's lips. "I'm in a good mood, so if you walk away now, I might let you keep your head."
"Kill me?" The man threw his head back and laughed. "HA! At your level? Please. You haven't used a single magical art. That was all brute strength."
Leywin's expression darkened. Who was this man, and what gave him the confidence to speak so boldly? The grin returned to Leywin's face—inhuman, malicious. He was already choosing his next prey.
In an instant, he lunged.
As he did, his eyes caught something strange—every man behind the stranger wore a similar, bizarre uniform. Each one bore the sigil of a dragon. But that only added fuel to the fire inside him. His instincts screamed to kill them all.
- (Sound of flesh colliding) -
Leywin's fist crashed into the man's face with a thunderous crack—but something was wrong. The impact felt wrong. Instead of flesh giving way, it was like punching into a wall of rippling stone.
"AHHHHH!" Leywin recoiled, pain ripping up his forearm. His knuckles were torn open, and a sickening throb pulsed from the base of his fingers. What the hell? That should've broken his jaw—
But the man didn't move. A thin, glassy sheen rippled across his skin like liquid armor, and beads of moisture hovered around his body like a vaporous shield. Then it clicked—Leywin wasn't hitting skin. He was hitting water, hardened and compressed to near-solid form.
The man smiled calmly. "Hydroforged Carapace," he said, tapping his cheek. "Millions of tiny water layers compressed around my muscles. Flexible, breathable… unbreakable."
He lifted his arm slightly, and the sheen of water shifted, forming concentric ripples across his body. "It's not brute strength you lack… it's elemental mastery."
Leywin grit his teeth and lunged again, his movements a blur. He feinted left, pivoted low, then snapped upward with a rising hook aimed for the underside of the man's chin.
Mid-strike, the man whispered an incantation.
The moisture in the air responded instantly.
His entire body liquefied, turning into a pillar of deep blue water that spiraled up like a reverse whirlpool, the form still vaguely human but flowing—alive.
Leywin's punch tore through the water—but there was no resistance, no target.
"What the—?"
The whirlpool surged behind him.
"Aqua Shift: Slipstream Form."
Before Leywin could react, the water condensed into a solid once more—directly behind him—and a fist surged forward, wrapped in violently rotating bands of water like drill blades made of liquid.
WHAM!
The blow collided with his ribs, the pressure compressing the water at impact like a geyser forced through a pinhole. The sound of the hit echoed like thunder as Leywin was blasted off his feet, twisting midair before crashing to the ground hard enough to dent the stone beneath him.
He groaned, coughing blood, his side screaming in agony.
The man stepped forward slowly, droplets spiraling lazily around his shoulders, forming a slow-moving halo of liquid blades.
He extended his hand, and from the air, moisture condensed into a long, elegant spear made entirely of glistening water—pulsing, humming, held together by tension and intent.
"Water wears down mountains. Drowns armies. Cuts steel."
He looked down at Leywin, who glared back through blood-streaked eyes.
"Your strength is wild. Untamed. Impressive, even. But this… this is elemental arts."
Leywin groaned in the dirt, blood smeared down his chin, the fight torn from his body.
The man didn't press the attack. Instead, he let the water-spear in his hand slowly dissolve, droplets evaporating into the air like mist in the morning sun.
He turned toward the crowd—hundreds of villagers standing silent, wide-eyed. Most were frozen in awe or fear, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed. But a few faces in the crowd—Mrs. Skye, and several village elders—wore expressions not of shock… but recognition.
They had seen that crest before.
The man reached into his tunic and pulled out a scroll bound in black ribbon, sealed with wax marked by the Imperial Dragon Crest—the unmistakable insignia of the Royal Capital.
"Greetings, subjects of Ethos.
I am King Argal.
In these dire times, the portals to our realm multiply. Enemies from beyond seek to conquer, to enslave. They gather strength beyond imagination, using any means necessary.
To stand against them, we must evolve.
Therefore, the Capital decrees that the Imperial Academy shall open its gates to all—regardless of wealth, bloodline, or station. If you meet the criteria, you may apply. If accepted, your tuition shall be paid in full.
We will forge warriors from every corner of our land.
And to the parents—we shall reward you handsomely for your offering to the cause. Let us rise, together."
The man rolled up the letter and signaled his men. As they turned to leave, he raised an arm and uttered an incantation.
The man rolled up the scroll with precision, then nodded to his men. They moved in unison, forming ranks, each one bearing the same dragon insignia. He gave a final look back at Leywin, who was still on his knees, breathing ragged but eyes locked on the speaker with fury—and something else. Determination.
The man called out an incantation, and the ground trembled faintly.
Then it came—a deafening screech overhead, like a bird and a lion fused into one terrifying sound. The wind kicked up as a massive griffin descended from the clouds, its wings blotting out the sun.
The man leapt onto its back as other soldiers summoned their own mounts.
With a final statement—
"The capital awaits those who dare to answer."
—the knights ascended, leaving only dust and whispers behind.
––Days after the incident––
Leywin finally awoke from his slumber.
All he could recall was the beating heart of a dead man... followed by an overwhelming surge of joy, then a sharp pain in his abdomen. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing a ceiling he hadn't seen in years. It wasn't his shack. It was somewhere far more familiar... too familiar.
He heard soft humming in the background, paired with the sweet scent of bread baking. Warmth, comfort... it almost felt foreign after the chaos he'd endured.
"Hello?" he croaked, voice dry.
Footsteps rushed toward him. A blur of white and silver entered his hazy vision—Mrs. Skye.
"LEYWIN, ARE YOU ALRIGHT? WHERE DOES IT HURT? No—wait—drink this! It's a healing elixir I got from the town over!" Her words crashed over him like a wave.
He tried to focus, but all he could do was smile weakly as a single tear slid down his face. "Skye... I'm sorry. I wasn't strong enough."
Her expression broke. Skye quickly sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the tear from his cheek. "Honey, you did more than enough. You fought that tyrant—killed him, even. And all of us breathe a little easier knowing our little prodigy is safe and sound."
"But... Skye," Leywin muttered, his brow furrowing. "There was someone else. I remember... a man with a dragon insignia. And you... crying." His thoughts were still cloudy fragments of memory scattered like shards.
Skye's face shifted. She stood straighter, hiding a tremble in her hands as she unscrewed the cap from the elixir. "Remember when I said Headmaster Zara wanted to open doors for you? It's been approved. That man was a captain of the royal guard."
Leywin tried to recall the man's face, but the only thing that surfaced was sensation: biting cold, suffocating pressure, and elemental devastation that didn't feel entirely his own.
A strange chill ran down his spine.
"Skye," he whispered. "How much money you think someone like that makes?"
Skye blinked, caught off-guard. Then she grinned. "A lot," she chuckled.
Leywin smirked, voice still hoarse. "If I take his spot... you wouldn't ever have to work again, right?"
"I suppose so," she played along, brushing a few strands of hair from his brow.
"With that kind of money... I could rebuild the village. Fix the houses. Get everyone clean water." His voice trembled with sudden clarity, purpose flooding into his chest. For once, his dreams weren't just about comfort—they were tied to something real. Something earned.
Maybe it was time.
"Skye..." He paused, exhaling. "I think... no. I want to enter the Imperial Academy."
There was a beat of silence.
Then, laughter bubbled from her lips—warm and genuine, but her eyes glistened just slightly. "You better," she said, patting his hand. "But if you want to make it to the capital, you need to eat up. You'll want to be at one hundred percent for whatever test they throw at you."
She handed him the healing elixir. Its surface shimmered with faint wisps of color—blue, green, and violet hues spiraling like a slow-moving aurora within the bottle. As Leywin drank, the taste was like thick mud mixed with crushed metal—awful beyond words. But the effect was immediate.
Warmth flooded his veins—not fire, but a steady pressure. As if his body were a dry riverbed, now slowly being filled. The pain in his gut dulled to a throb.
"I have soup and bread," Skye said, turning toward the kitchen. "I'll bring it once it's ready. Then you should rest."
He nodded, but curiosity took hold.
Why did his stomach still hurt so much?
He lifted the blanket. His entire midsection was a warped patchwork of bruising—deep blue etched with faint streaks of red, like cracks in shattered glass. Mana burns. He let the blanket fall back.
His mind drifted again. He could hear the voice of the royal guard captain echoing in his skull:
"The capital awaits those who dare to answer."
Leywin stared at the ceiling.
How many powerful individuals were waiting there? Could he compete with them? Could he catch up—surpass them even?
The thoughts churned like a storm, and for a moment, the weight of it all threatened to drag him down. What if I fail? What if I'm just a village kid who got lucky once?
But the more he thought, the heavier his eyelids became. The pain, the elixir, and the thoughts all tangled together, pulling him slowly back under.
He drifted to sleep with a question floating in the back of his mind:
What's waiting for me... in the capital?
"P-Please... I'm sorry. I was just angry. Don't kill me! I'll disappear! I swear it!"
Leywin's eyes shot open. The world around him was dim, veiled in thick fog. He heard the voice again—frantic, broken—echoing through the gray haze.
He ran.
Through the murk, he followed the sound until he reached a clearing... and froze.
There—on the ground—lay a battered figure, sobbing. Hovering above him, drenched in blood and hatred, was himself. Or... something like him.
The reflection turned slowly, grotesque and twisted, its skin pale like snow, hair ashen white, and eyes burning gray and purple.
Leywin staggered back. "I did that…?"
The doppelgänger twisted its neck unnaturally, smiling wide. "Yes. We did."
Leywin's breath caught in his throat. "What are you?"
The voice rasped with joy. "Me? I'm you. The part that doesn't hesitate. The part that survives."
"But he was defeated," Leywin snapped. "He was begging—broken. It wasn't right!"
The reflection knelt beside the body, playfully poking at the corpse. "You think he would've stayed down forever? No. People like him—cowards with something to prove—they go after what you love when they can't get to you."
Leywin clenched his fists. "I'd stop him."
A cruel laugh rang out.
"Oh, would you? Even from the capital? When you're leagues away and can barely keep your own body upright?" The voice sharpened. "What if another captain comes knocking? Stronger. Faster. What then, hero?"
Leywin couldn't answer.
The reflection circled him now, voice soft, deadly.
"Chad. The captain. They live by the sword. They die by it. And you—if you don't adapt—you'll be next."
Leywin's voice was barely a whisper. "Chad was weak…"
The doppelgänger lunged forward, grinning. "Was he? You'd be dead if not for me. He nearly carved your heart out before I took over. He had no elemental mastery, no technique. Just rage. And still, he brought you to your knees."
The fog thickened, swirling into a storm. Leywin blinked, and suddenly he was there again, standing before Chad—alive, snarling, charging.
A voice whispered in his ear, cold and vile.
"He'll kill everyone you love."
Leywin's hair turned white again. His eyes flickered gray and purple.
He spoke—but it wasn't entirely him.
"I'll enjoy killing you."
—(Sound of flesh tearing. Bones cracking.)—
He felt it. The chest caving in. The ribs snapping. The warmth of blood.
The reflection's voice, now inside him, cooed:
"Feel that? That's your chest caving in. That's my hand splitting through ribs like paper. You ever seen your own heart from the outside? Let me help you."
—(A wet snap. A squelch of organs tearing free.)—
"Here it is. Still beating. Still trying to fight me. How adorable. I wonder... how long will it throb in my hand before it realizes it has no home?"
—(Crunch.)—
Leywin fell to his knees, laughing—a broken, exhausted sound. Tears streamed from his eyes... crimson tears.
"I had to do this," he muttered. "I had to…"
And then—blackness.
Leywin jolted awake in a cold sweat, heart pounding as if it were trying to break free from his chest. His hands shook violently, and the faint throb in his wounds made every movement feel heavier. Still bandaged, he pushed himself out of bed and stumbled into the cold morning air.
He barely made it behind Skye's shack before collapsing to his knees.
"—BARFFFFF—"
His stomach emptied until nothing remained, leaving him gasping.
What the hell… No… killing him may have been the right choice, but not like that. Not with the taunting. Not in that way. I could have made it quick… painless.
"That wasn't me," he murmured under his breath. "That was… something else. Someone else."
His mind flashed to the dream—the other version of himself, smiling with that twisted delight, the voice that wasn't his but spoke from his mouth.
He staggered to the water barrel, cupping handfuls to splash against his face. The icy shock made him flinch, eyes closing on instinct. But when he opened them again—
Blood.
Thick, dark crimson covered his palms, dripping into the dirt.
Leywin stumbled back, heart hammering in his ears. He blinked once—twice—and his hands were clean again. But the metallic tang of blood still clung to his tongue.
A sound like a whisper coiled in the back of his mind.
You didn't hate it… did you?
Footsteps approached.
"Leywin, if you needed water, you could've just asked," Skye's voice broke the stillness, warm but worried.
His breathing quickened. If she knows… if she realizes what's inside me… she might leave me. Or worse—see me as a monster.
Then her hand rested gently on his shoulder. The shaking slowed, his pulse steadied, the air felt lighter.
"What's wrong, Leywin?" she asked softly.
He hesitated, then forced the words out. "Skye… do you think killing him was the right thing to do?"
Her expression softened, but her answer carried no doubt. "What do you think he would've done after killing you? We all saw the humiliation you gave him. He wouldn't have stopped—he would have slaughtered every one of us."
She stepped closer. "You did what you had to do. Because of that, we're alive."
Leywin took a deep breath. She was right. If he hadn't done it, the price would have been far worse.
"Besides," she added, "you sent a message. The rest of those bandits haven't come near us since. They know what'll happen if they try."
He nodded slowly. A message. One that promised their fate could be just like his.
The two of them turned toward the cabin. Skye walked ahead, but Leywin lingered, staring at his hands again.
In the back of his mind, the whisper returned—calm, patient, and impossibly old.
You're learning.
He clenched his fists. "Some people… need to die," he whispered.
Far away in the sealed depths of his soul, something stirred… and smiled.