The forest did not forgive hesitation.
Leon realized this as he pressed his palm against the torn fabric on his forearm, applying pressure to slow the bleeding. The cut was shallow but messy. It stung sharply each time he flexed his fingers.
He did not leave.
Instead, he adjusted his grip on the spear and continued forward.
Retreating after a minor wound would teach him nothing.
The trees thickened as he advanced deeper into Valcrest territory's outer edge. This part of the forest was not officially within the high-risk zone, but monster activity had increased in recent months. Minor nobles were expected to handle such threats quietly. Reporting every incident to the empire would only invite ridicule.
Leon moved carefully now.
Each step was measured. Each breath controlled.
He replayed the earlier fight in his mind. The first thrust had been late. The angle slightly shallow. His stance too reactive.
The second thrust had been cleaner.
Why?
He slowed and tested a few movements in the open space between trees. He imagined the wolf's leap again and adjusted his footwork. Instead of stepping back, he pivoted diagonally, allowing his spear to follow a natural line.
He thrust into empty air.
The movement felt smoother.
Minor insight gained.
The system's notification was faint but clear.
Leon's lips curved slightly.
So the system responded not to repetition alone, but to correction.
That was fair.
He practiced the pivot again.
And again.
He lost count of the repetitions.
Time passed unnoticed.
Then the ground trembled.
Leon froze.
The vibration was subtle, but wrong. It did not match the movement of small beasts. It was heavier. Slower. Deliberate.
Branches snapped in the distance.
Leon lowered his center of gravity and turned toward the sound.
A shape emerged between the trees.
It stood nearly twice his height at the shoulder. Thick fur covered its massive frame. Two curved tusks jutted upward from a monstrous snout. Its eyes glowed faintly with mana instability.
A forest boar.
But far larger than normal.
Leon's throat went dry.
He had expected wolves. Perhaps a lone predator.
Not this.
The beast snorted, steam puffing from its nostrils.
It charged.
Leon moved.
He stepped to the side, thrusting toward its neck.
The spear struck thick hide and skidded off, barely piercing.
The impact jolted his arms painfully.
The boar swung its head violently. Leon barely leaped back in time, the tusk slicing through the air inches from his ribs.
He stumbled.
The beast pivoted far faster than its size suggested and charged again.
Leon thrust lower this time, aiming for the eye.
The boar twisted its head. The spear grazed its cheek instead.
Too slow.
Leon's heart pounded violently in his chest.
He forced himself to breathe.
The spear was not meant for reckless attacks.
It was meant for control.
He circled.
The boar snorted again and lunged.
Leon pivoted sharply to the left this time, planting his rear foot firmly. Instead of thrusting at the head, he aimed for the shoulder joint where leg met torso.
The spear sank deeper.
The beast roared in pain.
Leon withdrew instantly and thrust again at the same point.
This time the tip broke through muscle.
The boar thrashed violently.
Leon barely managed to keep hold of the spear as it twisted. He released his grip for a split second, letting the weapon slide free before reclaiming control.
The beast charged blindly, injured but not slowed enough.
Leon's mind raced.
Too durable.
Too heavy.
He needed precision.
The boar lunged again.
Leon did not retreat.
He stepped inside its charging path at the last possible second and angled the spear upward beneath its jaw.
The tip pierced through soft tissue.
The momentum carried both of them forward.
Leon felt the shock reverberate through his arms as the beast collapsed.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then the forest returned.
Leon stood frozen, chest heaving.
Blood soaked the earth beneath the boar's massive body.
His arms trembled violently.
He nearly laughed from relief.
The system responded.
Major combat engagement registered.
High-risk encounter survived.
Spearmanship comprehension significantly increased.
Leon leaned heavily on the spear, letting the notification settle.
He looked down at the beast.
This had not been clean.
It had not been elegant.
It had been desperate.
And barely enough.
He crouched and examined the wound at the shoulder joint. The hide had been thick. His first thrust had not carried enough penetration.
His grip had been correct. His angle wrong.
He replayed the fight in his mind, analyzing every movement.
That was when the sensation returned.
Stronger now.
Closer.
Leon rose slowly.
The air felt different.
Still.
Heavy.
He turned.
At first, he saw nothing.
Then the space between trees shimmered faintly, like heat rising from stone.
A figure began to form.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Clad in ancient armor scarred by countless battles.
A round shield rested on its left arm. A long spear stood upright in its right hand.
Its helmet obscured its face, but Leon could feel its gaze.
He did not move.
He did not panic.
He tightened his grip on his spear.
The figure stepped forward.
Its boots made no sound against the earth.
Leon's heart pounded harder than it had during the fight.
"You have been watching," Leon said quietly.
The figure lowered its spear.
Then, slowly, it knelt.
The movement was deliberate. Formal.
The tip of its spear touched the ground.
The system's voice echoed clearly in Leon's mind.
Loyal warrior detected.
Alignment confirmed.
Oath accepted.
Leon swallowed.
The figure spoke for the first time.
Its voice was deep and steady.
"We have awaited one who understands the line."
Leon stared.
"We?" he asked.
The armored warrior lifted its head slightly.
"Others wait beyond. They follow strength. They follow discipline. They follow one who does not break."
Leon's grip tightened around his spear.
"I am not strong yet."
The warrior's reply was immediate.
"You stand."
Silence stretched between them.
Leon felt no overwhelming power emanating from the figure. No suffocating aura. It felt solid. Real.
Not a phantom.
Not an illusion.
"You will serve me?" Leon asked carefully.
The warrior lowered its head further.
"Until the line ends."
The system added quietly:
Summoned warrior bound.
Current capacity: 1.
Leon let out a slow breath.
One.
Only one.
That felt right.
Not an army.
Not a miracle.
One.
He looked at the fallen boar, then back at the kneeling warrior.
"What is your name?" Leon asked.
The figure paused.
"We no longer carry names. We carry duty."
Leon considered that.
"Then stand," he said. "Your duty begins with helping me drag this back."
For the first time, something resembling approval flickered in the warrior's posture.
It rose smoothly.
Together, they lifted the massive carcass.
As they walked back toward Valcrest territory, Leon's thoughts churned.
He did not feel invincible.
He did not feel powerful.
He felt… responsible.
If this warrior followed him, then he had to be worthy of that loyalty.
Behind them, deeper in the forest, shadows stirred once more.
Another presence shifted.
Watching.
Waiting.
The line had begun forming.
And somewhere far beyond Valcrest lands, forces that had slept for centuries felt the faint tremor of something ancient returning.
Leon crossed back into his family's territory just as the sun dipped toward the horizon.
Servants rushed forward in shock at the sight of the massive boar.
No one questioned the silent armored figure walking behind him.
They assumed it was a retainer.
A mercenary.
A soldier hired in secret.
Leon said nothing to correct them.
But as he stepped through the gates of Valcrest Manor, he understood something clearly.
Today he had not gained power.
He had gained expectation.
And that was heavier than any spear.