Wyverns were the worst things to happen on Nastild. They were the gods’ personal abomination. A failed attempt at dragons. At least there were people who thought that way.

  Torat hated them for entirely different reasons. For one, he knew that wyverns were not the creation of the gods. Like every other thing that walked the face of the world, they were not created. They simply were.

  They were, at best, very distant cousins of dragons. Useless in their very existence. They were abysmally small in comparison. They couldn’t fly for shit in comparison. They had no grace. No intelligence. And they were as skittish as broken jepats in front of the powerful.

  Why the Order even thought it was reasonable to train them was beyond reasoning. In fact, it was the very pathetic reasoning of a child trying to tame a rat.

  It was stupid.

  A growl slipped from his lips as the wind blew against his face. The hood of his cloak had since been blown free to reveal his frown.

  In his opinion, the master of the Order had no reason for sending him off on a wyvern. Worse, his level of insistence was uncalled for. Torat knew that he was supposed to get to his destination as quickly as possible, but he could’ve gotten to it in a week at most if he had chosen a different means of transportation.

  He’s just trying to get you accustomed to wyverns.

  Once upon a time he might have believed that. But he’d been in the Order for more than a decade and still didn’t like wyverns. The master of the Order was often jovial to the point of looking stupid, but the one thing he was not was stupid.

  Torat could bet four of his skills that the man—if he was even a man or even human—only made him use the wyverns because he got some twisted sense of pleasure from his discomfort.

  Torat tilted his head to the side, avoiding a stray fly that had been sent astray by the force of the wind from the wyvern’s flight.

  The wyvern beneath him squirmed slightly, reacting to his discomfort and Torat tapped an angry foot against its back.

  “I don’t see what’s scaring you,” he said, arms folded over his chest and standing straight on its back, knowing very well that it did not understand him. “It’s not like I’m angry.”

  The creature wobbled very slightly and Torat scowled. I swear life will be more comfortable if I kill the damned thing.

  His fist tightened, concealed beneath his armpit. A single blow was it would take. Nothing more. Nothing extravagant. Torat sucked in a deep breath, calming his displeasure.

  His discomfort was not entirely the creature’s fault. From what the master of the Order had told him, when you spent as much time with a dragon as he had, you tended to feel like a predator to everything.

  No matter how powerful any monster or natural predator was, they would always pale in the presence of a dragon. If a wyvern was an apex predator, then a dragon was a god. It was something he’d heard from a dragon once.

  “And what does that make a [Dragon knight],” he muttered to himself.

  The wyvern’s mouth whipped open suddenly and Torat stamped down on it with his foot.

  “You make a single sound, and I’ll gut you like the overgrown lizard that you are.”

  It obeyed. But while it did not scream or wail or roar or whatever it was trying to do, it did something else. It turned and flipped over very suddenly. The action threw Torat off its back and sent him plummeting through the air.

  Torat frowned as he went down. The wind blew against his hair, failing at its attempts to dishevel it. His cloak fluttered around him. Torat let it. Eyes fixed on the wyvern as he went down, he watched it make a turn and knew it would be returning to the Order.

  “When I get back,” he said into the wind. “I’ll break a wing as punishment.”

  Look on the bright side, he thought as the creature flew out of sight. You just beat your personal record for longest time on a wyvern.

  The first thing Torat hit was not the ground. Instead, it was a massive branch of a massive tree. His cloak snagged on its rough surface as his weight broke the branch and he careened into another branch. A grunt did not spill from his lips. He made no sound. Gave no expression.

  He struck another tree, then a third. He spun through the air as he fell, his cloak wrapping uncomfortably around him.

  When he finally hit the ground, it was face first.

  Now, and only now, did he groan.

  Torat picked himself off the ground in slow methodical steps. First, he turned so that he faced the sky. Only branches and leaves, the canopy of forest trees, looked back down. The sun in its place and all its light were almost completely banished from here. Through the small spaces between leaves they peeked through, though. Weaving and defiant in their nature, the arrogance of the sunlight refused to be cowed.

  Next, Torat sat up. He turned his head one side then the next and frowned at the absence of a popping sound. He moved to a squatted position. When he finally stood up, it was with a sigh.

  A lot of things in the world annoyed Torat and this was definitely top ten on the list. The master of the Order had taught it to him as a method of handling his anger. The process and intentionality gave him something to focus on, something to force him into patience.

  “Maybe I won’t break its wing,” he muttered to himself as he held his arm out to the side, hand open in waiting.

  Something slammed directly into his waiting hand and he closed his grip.

  [Threats detected]

  [Maximum threat level detected Lvl 58]

  Torat’s grip tightened on the creature as his interface came alive, and he felt its many limbs scratching at him. It tore at his cloak, ripping and rending it. Its attempt to get beneath the clothes he was wearing were futile.

  [No human detected]

  [Restriction by Master of the Order does not take effect]

  Once the final line of his interface was gone, Torat broke the creature with the simple act of closing his fist. Only then did he look at what it was.

  [Congratulations! You have slain arachnid Lvl 49]

  He held up the creature like a powerful hunter holding up a slain prey. As the name implied, it was an arachnid, eight legged and ugly. In its death, all eight legs fell limp, hanging loose.

  Torat dropped the creature and dusted his hands. “That’s quite the welcome.”

  The sounds of scurrying slowly littered the air. From behind and above the trees that surrounded him, arachnids of different levels came into view. Some clung to the trees, many eyes watching for his every move. They varied in sizes, growing as their levels did.

  Torat was unbothered by them. Creatures that were too weak to know when to run were not a problem he needed to waste his time on.

  A handful of minutes later, Torat found himself strolling through the forest with an array of notifications from his interface of eliminated arachnids. At their levels, it would take at least a hundred of them to make an impact on increasing his level at best. When he took in the constant reduction in growth that came with killing the same kind of creature over and over again, he would probably need far more than a hundred.

  Torat was almost at the edge of the forest, soon free onto what he knew was a dirt road when his senses picked something up.

  His ears pricked a little and he turned his gaze in the direction of the sound. Eyes squinted as he looked into the distance. Three mounted riders. They moved at a fast pace, all three pushing their mounts beyond their natural limits.

  Do they intend to kill them?

  Torat hated people who did not understand that even tamed animals were animals. Nothing justified such cruelty against domesticated animals.

  A frown touched his lips as he caught a glimpse of one of the riders. Her jepat had passed at an angle that gave him a good line of sight between all the trees to catch a glimpse of her face. Masked by a shawl that concealed her lower face, Torat was well versed in identifying people enough to know who she was.

  Princess Elaswit, he noted with a touch of surprise.

  From what he knew of the princess, she was not one to punish an animal so. She was also never one to be in so much of a haste as to ride with only two companions.

  Wondering who the remaining two were, Torat picked up his pace, feet moving from a leisurely stroll to a brisk walk. It wasn’t long before he burst out onto the dirt road.

  What would have a princess riding so fast, accompanied by… oh.

  Torat paused. She was riding with only a single knight. That was intriguing. Valdan of the knights of the crown had left his king’s side to accompany the princess on a journey. It sounded like something of very great importance and maybe greater secrecy.

  This was interesting enough that he would need to speak with one of the Order’s spies in the castle once he got to the capital city.

  He wasn’t one for information gathering, but that was a part of the Order’s duties so there was nothing he could do about it. If he was not aware of this, then there was a high chance that neither was the master of the Order. And if the mas—

  Who is that?

  Torat stared at the man from under his hood. A third rider. He had light brown hair, a young face with a jaw that was beginning to square but just couldn’t decide if it was going to or not. As young as the man—boy, because he was actually a boy—looked, his squared jaw was probably from a habit of clenching his jaw too much. Chances were that he was currently clenching his jaw as he rode.

  Torat did not recognize him at all.

  Then there was his dress code. An overflowing coat that just wasn’t worn by anyone. Torat assumed he was some young noble. Young nobles were the ones most popularly known to try new fashion trends or even start one so daringly.

  The jepats were slowing down as they drew closer to him. That was good, expected too. Perhaps they would be able to help him with directions to the capital, seeing as the stupid wyvern had dropped him in the middle of nowhere as far as he knew.

  He was close to the capital, though, having seen its walls from high up in the sky before his fall.

  “We don’t have to take on some random aid mission,” he heard Elaswit say from across the distance. “Just make sure he’s safe and direct him to the nearest outpost.”

  That was good for him.

  “I am with the princess on this,” Valdan, the [Knight of the Crown] said. Looking at him made Torat frown. He looked as if he had gotten into a horrid fight and had only survived by the skin of his teeth, just to be sent back out after being pumped with potions and healing spells with no time to regain himself.

  What exactly was happening in the Bandiv kingdom that they would not have a healthy knight to spare for the trip.

  The boy with them did not look in anyway pleased when he said, “Fine.”

  Now Torat was growing annoyed. He did not like not knowing. Worse than not knowing, he did not like being confused while not knowing. Who was the child that he would be annoyed at the princess and a knight of the crown and they would still baby him?

  A thought came to Torat’s mind. Could it be?

  He shook his head, banishing the thought as it came. He refused to believe it.

  [Humans detected]

  [Maximum threat level detected Lvl 50]

  [Restriction by Master of the Order is now in effect]

  …

  [You are under status debuff: Learning to hold back]

  …

  [Learning to Hold Back]

  A modified spell by the [Master of the Order] designed to teach Tarot of the Dragon Hoard to limit his strength against opponents.

  [Effect: level reduction to 25 levels more than the highest level against five or less human opponents of level 50 and lower]

  [Effect: level reduction to 50 levels more than the highest level against five or less human opponents of level 51 and higher]

  [Effect: Stat reduction to stats befitting of class level at restricted level]

  [Effect: cancellation of restriction once health is below 40%]

  [Current Level: 75]

  How the master of the Order had gotten even Torat’s interface to call him Tarot in the description of the spell was beyond Torat. Then again, when it came to the use of magic, there were a lot of things the [Master of the Order] was capable of that was beyond him. And the man didn’t even have the [Mage] class. Regardless, the intent of the debuff on him was for him to not go around accidentally killing people.

  “Hello,” the princess called out as they drew closer to him, their jepats now at a walking pace.

  Torat said nothing as he continued to watch them from under his hood. The knight, Valdan, kept his eyes on him. They were kind but alert, as alert as they could be when they looked so fatigued.

  As for the princess, her eyes were all smiles. Torat was sure her lips were smiling behind her shawl.

  The young boy was the most interesting to watch of all three of them. He kept his eyes on the trees. They were calm enough to pass as simple gazes that enjoyed the look of the trees. But Torat could see the attention in them. The child was watching for an ambush.

  He was either smart, jaded, or talented. The Order would do him much good.

  “Are you alright, sir?” Valdan asked.

  Torat raised his head at the question, face still concealed by his hooded cloak. He wasn’t hiding. He didn’t need to. There was scarcely anyone in the kingdom that knew what he looked like or who he was.

  “Stain on his shoes,” the young boy muttered in a low voice, and Torat looked down at his boot.

  Well, that was nice. He’d gotten arachnid blood on his boot. It was a small smidge, though. Certainly nothing to be worried about. Torat was sure it would come off with a few wipes from a clean, wet rag.

  The knight’s gaze moved to Torat's shoe, taking note of the stain of green liquid on them. Torat watched the boy and the knight come to a conclusion. The princess, interestingly enough, remained oblivious to their conversation, keeping her disarming kindness on Torat.

  That told Torat that the boy was combat oriented and more accustomed with interacting either with knights or just Valdan than the princess.

  So his relationship is not with her.

  “Have you been set upon by monsters?” Valdan asked, a touch of caution staining the edge of his voice. “Do you need help?”

  Torat slipped his hand into his hood and patted down his hair. He shook his head once, then twice, checking if its pristine poise was still intact.

  It was.

  The boy reacted to it by tightening his grip on his reins and moving his jepat to the side. He’d probably thought that Torat was refusing their help when he was not. Losing them now would make finding what direction would lead him to the capital an annoying task so Torat took his hood off.

  The sight of his face caught the attention of the princess and the boy. The knight sat on his jepat unbothered. Torat would not call himself a handsome man by human standards, so he was sure the princess was more enamored by his hair. The problem, however, was the young man.

  Torat could hear his breath seize from where he was standing. It caught in the man’s throat and by the life of him, Torat could’ve sworn that he saw recognition pass the boy’s eyes.

  That was not something he could ignore.

  “Are you alright, sir?” Elaswit asked once more.

  Torat’s attention settled on her. then moved through the rest. The young lord still looked bothered, stiff as if he’d just found himself in a bad situation. There was a touch of fear in his demeanor, but it wasn’t fear for his life. Torat couldn’t quite place a finger on what it was specifically.

  The boy was strange. He had emotions all over the place, however, they were undefined. His fear looked like caution without direction. His suspicion looked like directed uncertainty. Torat was yet to see a child who needed the sharpening of the Order more.

  In Torat’s silence Valdan’s hand moved to his sword. “Identify yourself, sir.”

  The boy seemed to pale at the knight’s action.

  It seems he is averse to violence, Torat noted.

  On that, Torat could agree. The Order did not attack a kingdom or family or person of import unless the master of the Order had deemed it necessary. From what Torat knew, the Order was at peace with the kingdom of Bandiv, not that the kingdom knew.

  It would be a problem if he ended up harming their princess or her cohorts.

  Torat bowed slightly at the waist in a show of respect. “Good day, princess Elaswit. Sir Knight.”

  Elaswit and Valdan looked surprised for a minute, then the knight relaxed. His hand on his sword returned to his reins.

  The princess smiled, receiving his greeting with a nod. “What happened?”

  Her question came as he bowed to the boy. “Good day, sir.”

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  The boy returned the nod. “Good day.”

  “Are you in need of any help?” Elaswit asked, hell bent on getting an answer out of him.

  “Not really, princess,” Torat said. “I was just on my way to the capital city when I was sidetracked. That is all.” His eyes moved over to boy once more, studying him. A child of no import to the Order traveling with the princess and a knight of the crown. What made him important in this situation? “If you wouldn’t mind,” he continued, “how far would you say it is from here?”

  “A day’s walk,” Valdan answered.

  “We could probably offer—”

  The boy’s hand snapped out to grab Elaswit’s reins, halting her words. Torat knew for a fact that she’d just been about to offer him some tangible form of kindness that the boy was against.

  “If you don’t mind our asking,” Valdan said, taking over the conversation seamlessly. “What business do you have in the capital city?”

  It was a simple question. A question Torat knew he would be asked at the entrance to the city. That was why he had hoped to fly over the capital city and then fall from the wyvern into a secluded area and not in some woods outside the capital city.

  “I am looking for someone,” he answered.

  “Someone?” Valdan asked while Elaswit gave the boy an odd look.

  She mouthed something to him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were trained on Torat.

  “Maybe you can help me,” Torat said to the knight. “I’m looking for a man called Aiden Lacheart.”

  There was recognition on Valdan’s face. As for the boy, his expression slipped into perfect emptiness and his hand moved to one of the swords strapped to his jepat.

  That was all Torat needed to conclude that some level of rudeness was needed.

  [You have used skill Detect]

  The boy’s eyes narrowed only moments before Torat activated the skill and Valdan opened his mouth to say something. The words never left his mouth on time.

  Torat got the information he needed.

  [Elaswit Brandis Lvl 39]

  [Valdan Dirtwater Lvl 50]

  [Unknown item Lvl ???]

  Torat frowned as the names hovered over the head of each individual. What the hell?

  The boy had his hand raised in front of him, forearm held up vertically. It didn’t make sense that the skill [Detect] was flagging the boy as an item. That was impossible.

  That was unless the kingdom had started dabbling in necromancy, reanimating the dead in a show of terrifying skill. But that wasn’t supposed to make a difference. If the boy was an undead, his skill would detect him as an undead.

  Is it his hand?

  That too didn’t make sense. Unless he had focused on the arm itself, the skill was still supposed to identify the person.

  An artifact?

  Considering the fact that the boy was the only one in hand gloves, it was a possibility. Artifacts being a continued enigma due to the fact that not all had been discovered, it would serve as a possible explanation.

  The hissing sound of a sword drawn from its scabbard pulled Torat from his revelry. The knight held his sword out. It was pointed at him.

  “Using a skill of any kind on the princess without her express permission or in a moment of emergency designed to help is a crime,” he said. “You will have to be dealt with.”

  The princess reached behind her and from over her shoulder a massive cleave manifested out of thin air, pulled from a storage space.

  The young boy looked at his companions in worry, then turned back to Torat.

  “We have no quarrel with you, sir,” he said, choosing diplomacy. He gestured behind them. “If you keep walking that way, you will get to the capital city eventually.”

  It was nice to see a voice of reason, but that was not the reason Torat was looking for. Ignoring the knight and the princess, he gave the boy his attention.

  “Do you know Aiden Lacheart?”

  The knight frowned at being ignored. “Lord—”

  “Be quiet, Valdan,” the boy silenced him, his tone eerily similar to one a man would use on his friend.

  Torat ignored a child addressing a knight as an equal. “So you are a lord?”

  “Unclaimed by my father,” the boy replied. “Estwire is my name.”

  “And your family name?”

  “I have none.”

  “The name of the family that has yet to claim you, young Lord?” Torat looked at the boy’s companions. They were confused but willing to allow him lead. They were following his lead.

  The boy let out a tired sigh, it had a stain of regret in it. “My apologies, Elaswit.”

  Confusion touched the princess’ face.

  The boy straightened on his jepat, took on a now regal appearance. “I am Estwire,” he said confidently. “Bastard son to King Brandis, fourth of his name.”

  Elaswit’s jaw dropped. The knight looked like he’d been slapped with a fish.

  And Torat knew an advanced lie when he heard one.

  He moved his hand from his cloak and held it out, palm facing the ground.

  “Your skill, Valdan,” the young lord cried out, pulling a sword from its scabbard. “Your manifesting skill!”

  Torat took in a deep breath and released his unconscious hold on his mana. With a class that was not magical, the force of his aura reached out, blanketing all of them.

  The boy placed a hand to his head, wincing as the pressure descended on him. The princess slumped in her saddle but did not fall off her steed.

  As for the knight, he sat tall, sword in hand gleaming a soft yellow with lightning running through its blade. Above him, eight translucent swords of gold hovered in the air.

  Torat smiled. It was a neat trick, a way to survive the pressure of another’s aura. When you activated your manifesting skill, it was your aura acting on the world in form of a skill. Stronger and more talented people eventually learnt how to use just their aura after level fifty. And since the only way to survive against an aura attack when you were weaker than your opponent was to use your own aura.

  At his true level, Torat would’ve crushed Valdan, likely killed all three people in front of him regardless of Valdan’s manifesting skill. Relegated to level seventy-five, Valdan’s aura was enough to stop him.

  The knight kicked his jepat’s sides, spurring the creature forward. “You die now.”

  Torat took a step forward as the knight came, terminating his aura. He blitzed through the distance before the creature could move and kicked its two legs out from under it in a vicious kick.

  The creature came tumbling down and the knight leaped from its back.

  Valdan charged Torat, swords flickering in and out of existence above him. Being the only member with a manifesting skill of the three, Torat afforded him his attention.

  He turned, taking a step forward only to be held back by something.

  [You have been bound by Enchantment of Lesser Binding]

  Looking down at himself he found strips of blue mana reaching up from the ground to bind him like vines from a jungle.

  [Passive class skill Dragon’s Impulse is in effect]

  Torat’s hand shot up and grabbed the knight’s sword by the blade before it stabbed him in the eye. Another sword flickered into existence just beside him, aiming for his neck. Torat pulled himself forward, shattering the vines of mana binding him.

  He threw his head into the knight’s as the flickering sword stabbed and missed, but the man stopped his headbutt with a raised hand.

  Torat’s second hand shot out, seizing the knight by his shirt and tossed him aside.

  As the knight cascaded through the air, Torat turned and caught a flying orb before it hit him. He sensed the flow of mana in it and crushed it in his grip before the enchantment could activate.

  His eyes settled on the boy who was no longer seated on his jepat. He found a soldier’s belt around the boy’s waist.

  “You fight with enchanted tools,” he said, taking a step towards him. “I know a man who fights with enchanted tools too. I take it you are an enchanter.”

  The boy ignored him and placed a hand on his sword.

  “Leave,” he said, and the blade of the sword turned icy white. “We have no quarrel with you.”

  “An enchanted sword as well.” Torat smiled a little too wide. “The princess must value you.”

  Elaswit was only now recovering from the effects of his aura, trying to pull herself from her jepat.

  “The king values me as well,” the boy said.

  Torat moved in a blur, closing the distance between the both of them. His hand reached out to snatch the boy by the neck only to be deflected to the side by the edge of the boy’s blade.

  Most people would’ve expected the attack to take his hand and move in accordance to the expectation. The boy did not. Instead, he stepped into Torat’s reach and thrust his sword in a stab. Torat’s second hand moved out to grab him and the boy terminated his attack, rolling to the side.

  Torat did not follow him.

  “You are trained,” he said.

  “We have no quarrel with you,” the boy said, ignoring his comment.

  [Passive class skill Dragon’s Impulse is in effect]

  Torat took a step to the side and an apparition of a sword stabbed the air where his head should’ve been, disappearing into nonexistence.

  Curious, Torat asked. “Do you know Aiden Lacheart?”

  The young boy frowned. “We do not.”

  Torat turned abruptly and charged the knight. Valdan met him without hesitation, sword swinging in a variation of the Bandiv fighting technique.

  Torat moved to the side, avoiding the first strike and opened his mouth.

  [You have used class skill Breath of the Fire Dragon]

  Before the skill came to life, Torat caught something flying through the air from the edge of his vision. His hand reached up to grab it absently but it exploded before he caught it.

  An explosion of force sent him and the knight flying. Valdan hit the ground in a roll, but Torat landed easily on his feet.

  “Tricks,” he muttered. “I do not wish to harm you. Only to get answers.”

  The boy clearly did not believe him.

  The boy held his sword out in front of him. “I have given you answers and you do not believe me.”

  “You have lied to me and I do not believe you.”

  An arc of red mana shot at him and he batted it to the side. It had come from the princess and Torat had paid her no mind. Turning, instead, he batted aside a second blast, this one from the knight. The arc was heavier, with more intent within it than the emptiness of a simple skill. It was stronger, too. Still, he turned it aside with his bare hand.

  With his passive skill [Dragon skin] it would take far more than simple skills and sword slashes to wound him. But it was possible, though. There was nothing impossible on Nastild.

  “Now!” the knight bellowed, charging Torat.

  Torat’s gaze narrowed as his mind went to the deduction of what was supposed to happen now. He scrolled through what he knew of the knight and his skills. From everything he knew, [Resting Cleave] was only useful against multiple enemies so it was safe to eliminate it.

  [Knight’s stomp]? He thought, discarding it. It was not a skill to be used during a run.

  The knight pulled to a stop in front of him, sword swinging. Torat defending with his hands, arms moving in a simulation of Order practice moves taught to every new recruit. When used properly, it was a good defense.

  When Torat defended the third strike, he caught the young lord sprinting towards them. His movement had been in sync with the knight so that Valdan’s body had blocked him from Torat’s sight.

  Torat wondered if it was intentional.

  Valdan raised his foot and stomped the ground with all the force he could muster. Behind him, the young lord jumped high, too high. He crossed over ten feet with the single jump.

  On the ground, the floor shook beneath Torat’s feet, threatening to throw him off. He moved back, increasing the distance between him and the knight, but it was not far enough to prove out of the reach of the knight’s skill.

  Landing, he changed his position of his feet so that the shaking ground did not throw him off and turned his attention to the young lord. He found the man’s hands meeting, fingers interlocking in different signs as he descended.

  Torat activated his skill [Dragon Eye]. It allowed him to see the flow of mana better, helping him anticipate attacks he did not understand.

  He knew nothing of this new young lord and what he saw confused him more. Mana spilled from the young lord, creating a dome around him. It was black to Torat’s eyes with wisps of blue licking at it like fire. With every new movement of the young lord’s finger, the blackness of the dome seemed to shift and change.

  Then the mana within the dome turned ice cold. Torat took a step towards the young lord as he landed. Unwilling to harm the child, he threw a casual punch. The boy blocked it with a raised hand. Hot air left Torat’s nostrils as the temperature around them fell drastically.

  He’s freezing the mana around us.

  Torat found it interesting, not because the boy knew how to fight with enchanted items and skills, but because ice was actually a terrible match up for him. Was the boy’s choice of element intentional?

  Torat retrieved his hand and threw a slap. Again, the boy defended. This time, however, he guided Torat’s slap with a practiced precision, attempting to throw him off balance. Torat broke the contact between both hands fast enough to slap the flat of Valdan’s incoming sword strike.

  He saw Valdan’s eyes widen as he stepped within the area of the young lord’s frozen dome and knew that the knight had not expected the cold.

  Torat stepped into the knight and thrust a hand at his palm. The cold slowed his reflexes and dampened his speed. His muscles felt tight, cramped. He hated the feeling.

  But what he didn’t like more was how quickly the young lord moved. He was already between him and the knight, squatted low just to take the blow with the flat of his frozen sword. The sound of his fist clashing with the sword filled the space between the three of them.

  Torat hardened his muscles and pushed against the sword. Before he could complete the move, Valdan’s sword came swinging at his neck, forcing him to step back.

  “Who are—” the knight began, his voice halting as he looked down at the young lord.

  Once again the boy was weaving his fingers together, making signs. Torat watched as the dome of black mana moved, morphing and twisting. It was like watching an extremely dense web of an arachnid restructure itself.

  Valdan leapt to the side, away from the young lord, and the dome sparked with electricity.

  “What sorcery is this?” Torat asked, more amused than confused.

  The boy’s response was to charge him. He moved so fast that Torat could only imagine the movement to have come from a use of the skill [Dash] from almost every basic armed and unarmed skill set.

  When the boy met him, Torat’s fist clashed with his swinging sword. He felt the electricity go through him and his next attack stuttered as he tried to deflect the second strike.

  [You have been struck by Enchantment of Lesser Lightning]

  [You have been electrocuted]

  Torat frowned as the flat of the boy’s sword smashed into his face. The blow was powerful enough to turn his head but not send him staggering.

  Head turned to the side, his interface lit up in front of him.

  [Health 99.8%]

  For some reason, the boy stopped when his attack landed. When Torat looked back at him, his face was a mix of confusion, pride and… more confusion.

  It was almost as if the boy could not believe that he’d landed the blow.

  Then the moment was gone.

  The young lord tried to dart to the side. Torat did not let him. With lightning coursing through him what whatever skill the boy was using, Torat’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the neck.

  He raised him from the ground effortlessly. “You are an impressive child.”

  The boy moved his sword again, swinging at him. Torat clenched his fist and batted the sword aside with enough force to crack it. The sword didn’t break, though. It left the boy’s hand and went flying into the distance.

  Torat didn’t care. In the distance, Valdan was already closing in on them.

  “Are you a summoned?” he asked. He knew that Nastild had already started bringing in summoned from another world with the rising darkness.

  A strange child with skills and abilities unbefitting of his age running with a princess and a [knight of the Crown] that the Order knew nothing about could only be explained if the child had been summoned from another world.

  “Are you…” Torat’s eyes narrowed. “Aiden Lacheart?”

  The child raised one of his hands and covered his face just as Torat activated the [Detect] skill.

  [Unknown item Lvl ???]

  How did the boy know when to defend himself from the skill? How many items did he have working for him.

  Torat threw the boy to the side, turning to face the incoming knight, only to realize that the weight of the boy did not leave his arm. The boy threw his body upwards and wrapped his legs around Torat’s arm and torso, locking them together.

  The first thought that came to Torat’s mind was to slam the boy into the ground, but he discarded the idea immediately since it would put him in an awkward position to face the knight. So, he turned with the boy weighing him down to face his new opponent.

  He opened his mouth once again and activated his skill.

  [You have used class skill Breath of the Fire Dragon]

  He felt the heat rise inside him, felt the boy’s legs tighten around his throat in an attempt to choke him. Then a new notification popped up a moment before the knight swung at him from the side the boy was not attached to.

  Torat watched the mana around him shift, taking on a touch of yellow, the same color as the flickering swords that surrounded the knight, two of which were already aiming at him, one at his thigh and the other at his stomach.

  [You have found yourself within the reach of skill Knight’s Repose]

  [Class skill Breath of the Fire Dragon does not take effect]

  The heat died down within his chest and went out.

  Torat could say with complete certainty that the combined effort of his two opponents had now shocked him. Valdan’s sword struck Torat’s raised arm. The edge of its blade buried itself in his flesh by half an inch. One of the flickering swords stabbed into his thigh and the other slid into his stomach.

  The pain from the flickering swords came as one when they disappeared. Torat ignored the pain.

  [Health 98.6%]

  Even if his class and skills and stats were restricted by [Learning to Hold Back], it did not affect his health, stamina or mana. In this moment, he was a level seventy-five [Dragon Knight] with the life stats of level two hundred and seventeen [Dragon Knight].

  Torat feinted to the left, baiting the knight successfully and kicked him from the right. The action was so casual that it would not have had an impact naturally. But a [Dragon knight] was unnaturally strong even in the realm of classes based in strength.

  The kick sent Valdan flying.

  Torat felt the weight on his arm lighten. The legs locked around his neck loosened and he acted in the blink of an eye.

  “You’re not getting away,” he muttered under his breath as the boy tried to extricate himself from him.

  His hand tightened but grabbed nothing of the boy, not his neck and not his shirt. But the boy wasn’t gone yet. So, Torat changed plans. Rather than try to secure him, Torat slammed the boy into the ground. The force of the blow raised a ring of dust around them and cracked the ground.

  The boy coughed up a mouthful of blood.

  A critical blow? Torat wondered, but his interface gave him nothing to work with.

  To his surprise, bleeding from the mouth, the boy grabbed his arm once more and their eyes locked.

  “Please survive this,” the boy said, seeming to mean his words.

  Survive what—

  The boy drew on his arm with a single finger. At first, Torat frowned, confused. Then the pain came.

  [You have been enchanted with Enchantment of Lesser Bind]

  [You are currently being used as the power source for Enchantment of Lesser Bind]

  Torat's jaw dropped just before the pain took him.

  He bit down on his teeth as the boy released him and rolled out from under him. The pain crawled up Torat’s arm and ate its way to his spine. He could feel the enchantment growing as a red vine burst from his wrist to wrap itself around his neck.

  Torat’s eyes widened in pain as he felt the enchantment move from his back and cease his lungs. It was going for his heart, making its way to his mana source.

  Torat’s lips parted but he clamped his mouth back shut, refusing to scream out in pain. Instead, he swallowed the pain, embraced it. He let it fuel him.

  When the pain reached his heart, spittle spilled from beneath his teeth. It had been a while since he’d felt just pain without any true damage. Another vine sprung from his spine to wrap itself around his neck.

  The young stood over him, looking down at him. Torat raised his head to meet the boy’s face and saw worry there. It seemed the boy really did hope that he would survive what was happening.

  A deadly precision but a soft heart. It was an odd combination to find on a boy his age.

  The pain reached up to Torat’s neck and choked him. He gasped for air only receiving it belatedly. White pain flashed in his head. He was laughable. A level two hundred and seventeen [Dragon Knight] reduced to this state by a boy no more than fifty levels.

  [Willpower 98.89% --> 98.95%]

  The young lord took a hesitant step back and Torat heard foot steps approaching from behind him. He looked up at the young lord and found the princess approaching from behind him. The footsteps behind Torat came to a stop and he knew who was there.

  The knight had come to mete out his punishment.

  Well, joke’s on you. Torat groaned as the pain trickled into his eyes, like fingers reaching out from his brain. You can’t kill me with a simple knight’s sword.

  And if they decided to shave at his life when they found out, it would take forever before anyone present would shave his health down to forty percent.

  “Stand back, Elaswit.” The boy had his hand raised to stay the princess’ approach. Then he raised his head and stared at the knight behind Torat. “Valdan don’t.”

  “He has threatened the princess and proven to be a threat to the kingdom.” It was all the knight had to say.

  Torat could understand him. Although, the pain threatening to undo him was making it difficult as another red vine sprung from his chest and wrapped itself around his left thigh, a little too close to his groin.

  Torat finally looked up at the knight behind him and found the man with a raised sword.

  The young lord’s hand shot out suddenly, grabbing the knight’s raised blade. He scowled something feral. “You will not harm him!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  Torat looked at the young lord. That was surprising. There was emotion in those words. Did the boy hate killing?

  If so, then he was a bundle of contra—

  The pain reached his brain, and his vision blurred. To his surprise, he tried to pull himself back up to his feet and staggered. He fell back to his knee. The pain ate away at his reasoning.

  Anger bubbled with the pain and he raised his hand over his head.

  “Step back,” the young lord commanded just before Torat punched the ground.

  The knight stepped away from him but the young lord did not.

  Torat punched the ground again, channeling his pain into the ground. A small crater formed under his fist as wide as his torso.

  The ground shifted beneath him, but the young lord still didn’t step back.

  “Pain is not the enemy…”

  Torat’s head snapped up to the boy at the sound of his voice. He wanted to ask what the boy had said but no words came to his lips. When he opened his mouth, a vine of red mana shot out of it and wrapped itself tightly around his head, silencing him effectively.

  But his eyes remained on the young lord.

  “What are you doing?” Elaswit asked from where she was.

  The boy kept his hand raised to her. “Don’t come closer. It’s not safe.” Then he proceeded to squat down in front of Torat just out of arm’s reach and looked him in the eye. “Pain is not the enemy,” he said. “It is just your body telling you that there is a problem. Find the problem and eliminate it.” He stood up and stepped away from him. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”

  Torat would’ve frowned if he could. Of course he knew this. Pain was obviously just the body telling you that there was a problem. Who did the kid think he was?

  Something about young children thinking they knew too much always grated him the wrong way.

  The boy took another step away from him. Torat looked up at him and tried to use [Detect] once more.

  [You are in a state of Mana Chaos]

  [You cannot use any active skill at this moment.]

  Torat groaned but the sound died in his chest.

  He struck the ground once more and the crater in the ground expanded so that it engulfed him, and he dropped into it.

  “Why did you let him live?” he heard Valdan ask from the reducing weight of his pain.

  “Because you don’t go around killing just anybody,” the boy shot back.

  The knight’s face dipped into a scowl. “And that didn’t cross your mind when you killed Derendoff, did it?”

  The boy’s jaw clenched. From the mist of his pain, Torat could see his anger.

  “So that is what this is about,” he said after a while, suddenly empty of concern and guidance for Torat. “Fair. This is neither the place nor the time. We will speak of this when it is. We leave now.”

  With those words said, he turned away.

  Valdan pointed his sword at Torat and Torat punched the ground once more, deepening the crater, expanding it.

  “He must be punished, even if not killed,” Valdan said. “He tried to kill us. You, me, and the daughter of the king.”

  “Valdan,” the boy said, voice soft, gentle, but unshaken. “He has been punished. Leave him. You do not want the punishment that comes with whatever you have in mind.”

  “What do you mean?” the knight asked, confused. “What are you not telling me?”

  With no words to the knight, the boy turned and walked away. “Get on your steed, princess. We are already late.”

  Torat punched another crater in the ground as the sound of jepats riding off into the distance filled his ear.

  A red vine shot out of his red eye and wrapped itself around his groin.

  Pain is not the enemy.

  …

  How did this happen?

  The sound of grass being crushed under his feet filled the air as he ran.

  It wasn’t meant to be this way.

  He jumped over a fallen log, still running, fleeing like a coward.

  She wasn’t meant to die.

  Blood squirted from the injury in his leg and Sam darted around the corner of a tree. It was a large tree, large enough to hide three men standing side by side.

  He hunkered down there, sat on the ground and stared at nothing. Things had gone south, and they had gone south fast. His plan had failed horrendously, but he refused to be blamed for it. There had been people who hadn’t done their job.

  This wasn’t his fault.

  He pulled a personal potion out of the storage ring the king had given all of them before they had been sent on their quest to this place and drank from it.

  His [Alchemist] class gave him a passive skill that increased the effects of potions on him. He felt the potion taking effect as the injury in his thigh started healing, his flesh stitching itself back together.

  Still, his panic did not die.

  She wasn’t supposed to have died. He had perfected the concoction. He was sure of it. He had fixed all the side effects. So why did that happen?

  But even as he assured himself of his innocence, there was a small flicker of doubt floating up from the depth of his mind. It asked a simple question.

  If you were so sure it was perfect, then why didn’t you use it yourself?

  Sam got up from behind the tree and ran.

  It was not his fault. If he told himself enough times, then there would be no doubt. Sometimes you just had to convince yourself of the truth no matter how hard it was to believe.

  Her death was not his fault.