Snap.
The world reset with the chilling sound of a breaking bone. Reine stood on the dry dirt of the Herlem border, but his mind was still trapped in that dark, suffocating void between lives.
"She is filthy, little spark. A speck of dust in a house of gold. Why do you bother?"
The creature's voice—hollow, echoing, and dripping with a cold, celestial disdain—still vibrated in his skull. It had called Rinah filthy. His sister, the only person who had stayed by him when their name was dragged through the mud, was being mocked by an entity that didn't even have a face.
Reine looked down at his shaking hands. He ignored the "old farts" of the veteran platoon babbling about logistics nearby. His jaw tightened until he felt the bone groan under the pressure.
"Filthy?" Reine whispered, his voice trembling with a boiling, quiet rage. "That piece of shit talked about my sister like she was nothing..."
He gripped the hilt of his practice sword. He knew the veteran was right to blame him—he had failed her—but hearing that thing describe her as "filthy" flipped a switch in his soul.
What was I thinking? he scolded himself, his thoughts spinning as he began his drills. Did I really try to escape just to live a pathetic life? What about Rinah? She's likely slave-labor for the same noble family that caused all of this... I'm going to kill them. I'm going to fucking kill every last one of them.
"Fifty percent," Reine growled. "I'm going to push fifty percent!"
He didn't just channel mana; he forced it. He flooded his frame with Aether, focusing the pressure into his legs.
Sweee—
He lunged. He was quick—not as fast as the Midnight Knight, but far beyond any Novice Herlem had ever seen.
Analysis: By distributing exactly 50% across his entire body, the mana acted as a kinetic stabilizer, protecting his internal organs and muscles from the sheer G-force of the acceleration. His knees flared with a sharp, stabbing heat, but he stayed upright.
I did it! he thought, his eyes narrowing into predatory slits. The pain in my knees is nothing. It's a joke compared to the agony of being slowly crushed to death in the mud.
"Vangalf!" the platoon leader shouted. "Go warn the Commander and the other sectors. They need to know—"
"Yes, sir! Will do!" Reine cut him off, already a blur.
He didn't waste a second. He used 30% output to sprint toward the other platoons. The soldiers he passed were stunned; to them, he was a superhuman streak of dark green and white hair. Even the veteran who had been mocking him stood frozen, his mouth hanging open as the "mediocre" kid vanished into the dust.
Reine reached the Commander's tent in record time.
"Sir! The Paekl Vanguard is using Sealer Arrays!" Reine shouted, his intensity so high the Commander's guards stepped back. "The arrows won't come from the front. They're looping them through the upper atmosphere!"
The Commander looked at Reine's bloodshot eyes. He saw a boy who looked like he had already died a dozen times.
"All units!" the Commander roared, trusting the sheer desperation in Reine's voice. "Shields up! Vertical formation!"
Reine stood his ground, his eyes fixed on the sky. To everyone else, the air was empty. But Reine felt a sudden, abnormal pressure—a strange "weight" in the air moving far above them.
Swoosh.
The arrows appeared like magic, dropping straight from the clouds. Because of the warning, the shields were already angled high. Men lived who should have died. But as the rain stopped, the battlefield turned into a meat-grinder.
Reine hit the front lines first. With his 50% output, he was a reaper. He cut down ten men in seconds, his blade moving with the "Singularity" of a veteran master. He stabbed through the throat of an Intermediate-level swordsman, barely stopping to catch his breath before he saw a young soldier with shock-orange hair.
The guy was tall, competent with a blade, but surrounded.
"You! On me!" Reine shouted, beheading a Paekl scout to clear the path.
"Who the hell are you to order—" the orange-haired guy started.
"I AM SECOND-IN-COMMAND OF THIS SECTOR!" Reine lied, his voice a thunderclap of authority.
The soldier apologized immediately, falling into step. "Sorry, sir!"
"Name, soldier!" Reine shouted, clashing steel with three men at once.
"Argol, sir!"
"Follow me and fight your best, Argol! That's an order!"
"Yes, sir!" Argol shouted with newfound loyalty.
Reine carved a path toward the ridge where he knew the Knight would appear. They reached the clearing just as the Cold Pressure hit. The air turned to ice. Argol froze, his sword hand shaking.
"Focus!" Reine roared, shaking the boy until his teeth rattled. "Protect your neck! If he moves, go left. I take the right!"
Argol snapped back, grabbing his hilt with visible fear. "What... what is that thing, sir?"
The Midnight Knight stepped from the shadows.
The Knight moved instantly, his blade aimed at Reine's head. Reine didn't parry early. He knew the Knight would just shift into his blind spot if he showed his cards. He waited until the black steel was inches from his skin, playing with his luck.
Clang!
The sparks showered Reine's face. He held the parry, his 50% mana-saturated muscles screaming under the Knight's weight.
"I see you," Reine hissed, his eyes burning with the image of his sister. "And I'm going to make you bleed."