By sheer accident, Cleio Aser saved the capital.
He had tied the mouth of his dimensional pouch too tightly—he still couldn't pull the magic stones out.
The beast, having missed its target, landed with a heavy thud, spun around, and growled lowly as it fixed its twin gazes back on Cleio.
Clutching the half-opened pouch, Cleio broke out in a cold sweat.
What do I do? Ughhh…
When the wolf crouched and tensed to leap, his mind went completely blank.
Only one spell formation surfaced: [Disintegration] and [Dissolution].
He had no idea how effective those would be on a living creature.
Please don't let it explode into a rain of gore…
There was no more room for hesitation. Cleio's teeth clattered as he recited the incantation.
"[From ash to ash, from dust to dust—return to where you belong!]"
The familiar [Dissolution] and [Disintegration] formulas merged instantly.
A vast formation ignited, engulfing the beast in searing light.
SKREEEEEEEEE!!!
The demonic wolf thrashed violently in the blinding radiance.
Taking advantage of that brief window, Cleio loaded his remaining two spell slots with [Leap] and [Hover].
He retreated about ten meters, barely managing to open the dimensional pouch.
Clink, rattle—
His stiff fingers fumbled several times before finally grasping three or four small bronze shards.
I can do this. I can. I have to!
The [Disintegration] spell faded.
Through vision scorched by the light, Cleio saw the wolf again—now stripped bare, its once-silver-gray fur burned entirely away.
It looked like a bald, oversized Samoyed.
Stumbling back, Cleio tripped over a stone and fell on his backside.
Now it's a hairless monster…
It was terrifying—and absurdly funny.
Though the beast still glared with its glowing violet eyes and screamed, all its former majesty as a creature of nightmare had vanished.
A helpless laugh escaped him.
"Ha… ha-hah…"
Anyone who saw it would think the scene ridiculous—a hairless giant dog facing a boy armed only with a frilly parasol.
In the original story, Arthur slashed through this thing's heads in one glorious move—'Revealing his Strength'—such an epic moment. And now look at me…
As if sensing his mockery, the beast's four eyes gleamed, seething with rage.
Its teeth and claws, though, were perfectly intact.
GRAAAAAAH!!!
The monster lunged straight at him.
Perception reached full clarity; every motion unfolded in slow motion.
Flash—
Thanks to the heightened sense, Cleio could see faint aether light glimmering in the left eye of the left head, and the right eye of the right head.
That's where the mana stones are!
A demonic beast existed with its core built around mana stones—destroy those, and it would vanish.
Clink—
Cleio tossed the slippery bronze fragments into the air, his voice echoing slow and distorted in his own ears.
"[He who brings countless calamities—be struck down! Spears of sharpened bronze, descend upon my foe!]"
He extended the closed lace parasol like a wand to guide the aether coordinates.
In the air, the bronze shards transformed into spearheads and dove toward the ground with terrifying speed.
The problem was control—steering with a parasol was a nightmare!
Two of the copied spears veered off course, fading into harmless bronze dust as they left the magic circle's range.
Damn it!
Outside the circle, no magic could hold shape unless fueled by an expensive mana stone.
Magic obeyed its own laws, separate from physics—it could only manifest within the circle where its formula existed.
Still, the remaining two spears struck true.
Swoosh—BOOM! BOOM!
Blood sprayed, bones shattered.
The spears crashed down, piercing the beast's back and crushing one of its heads.
Pinned mid-leap, the wolf shrieked in agony.
KRAAAAAAAAAH!!!
Splash!
A gush of blood drenched Cleio from head to toe.
The warm, violet liquid was thicker and stickier than human blood.
His sense of smell was already numb; he couldn't even register the stench anymore.
The creature's remaining mouth spewed blood and saliva as it writhed.
CRACK! CRUNCH! SNAP!
Its convulsive death throes sent its fangs snapping at the ground near Cleio's feet.
Both spears began to disintegrate.
I have to destroy the other head too!
Propping himself up, Cleio thrust the parasol forward.
At that moment, the handle separated from the lace canopy, revealing a slender blade gleaming faintly in the dying light.
That made adjusting the aether coordinates much easier.
Still unable to stand, Cleio gathered the last of his remaining aether and once more cast [Spear of Achilles].
Clink—
The bronze shards were thrown.
A brilliant formation rose, illuminating the darkened ruins like daylight.
FWOOSH—
The full-power magic circle Cleio summoned bathed the ruined street in holy brightness.
He had omitted the [Replication] formula this time, simplifying it—meaning that excess aether remained, spilling like unburnt flame across the ground.
The brilliance was blinding.
KRAAAAAAAAAA—BOOOOOM!!!
Like divine retribution, the colossal spear struck from the heavens, impaling the beast's remaining head and gouging a vast crater into the earth.
Cleio was caught in the blast and swept into the pit as well.
His mind remained conscious, but his body refused to move.
When the tension left him, he could feel it all—the sticky warmth of his blood-soaked clothes clinging to his skin, and the ache of overworked muscles screaming in protest, every sensation magnified painfully clear.
Swoooosh—
Before Cleio's eyes, the two-headed beast slowly disintegrated.
The wolf's blood and flesh dissolved into fine fragments, vanishing like dust—not the decay of a living being, but the fracturing of a mineral.
Moments later, the colossal corpse was gone completely.
Only two thin, iridescent metal shards remained on the bloodstained ground. Golden aether shimmered faintly around them.
[Varg's Mica]
: A Reflective Mana Stone. Transparently mirrors any magic applied to it.
Across the nacreous fragments, the word "Promise" gleamed with an icy brilliance.
A splitting headache throbbed in Cleio's skull. Instinctively, he pressed his palm over the shards to block that light.
From afar came the rapid, rhythmic sound of armored footsteps—light but distinct. The stride of knights.
"Follow Swain!"
"This way!"
"Has the wolf-beast been subdued?!"
Ah… guess the knights will handle the rest…
Cleio's consciousness slipped away.
Across his unfocused gaze, the final lines of "Promise" etched themselves into his mind.
[—The author acknowledges this development as canon.]
[—, Chapter 1 is complete. Chapter 2 will now begin.]
[—'Unique Skill' Editor Privilege has been reloaded. 3/3 uses available.]
***
This year, Swain Temple turned twenty-two.
He was a first-year official knight of the Royal Capital Defense Order.
The title "Sir Swain" filled him with pride.
Many swordsmen awakened to aether levels, but few earned true knighthood—swearing fealty directly to the sovereign.
Two years ago, upon entering the order, Swain had been hailed as a prodigy—expected to become the youngest high knight among his peers.
But glory fades quickly.
After the Pintos Mountain mission that summer, he'd gone from ace to laughingstock.
When the deployment order had come, Swain and his seniors had treated it like a light outing—grumbling about nobles who summoned knights just to drag home runaway sons.
Their arrogance had vanished after the incident at the mountain lodge.
Failing to capture one frail, seventeen-year-old boy and ending up with a shattered leg had branded Swain as a fool among the knights.
"Couldn't even handle that twig of a kid?"
"He went flying, arms flailing, whoooosh, straight into a wall! What a waste of all that muscle, hahahaha!"
Since that day, Swain had devoted himself entirely to training.
By early autumn, he had reached Level 5 Swordmaster—a remarkable feat for a first-year knight.
So when orders came to track a beast that had broken through the capital's magical barrier, Swain saw a chance for redemption.
Head taller and legs thicker than most, his aether-reinforced stride outpaced everyone.
Leaving three comrades behind, he cut across the city streets, sword blazing with sword-energy.
But his blade merely grazed the beast—it slipped past him, untouched, and fled, leaping over buildings like it had wings.
When Swain finally caught up, he could only lower his sword in awe.
The battle before him was beyond mortal reach.
A spear of light fell from the sky.
Aether blazed with divine fury.
Magic radiated in torrents from a colossal circle—vast, perfect, and overwhelming.
It wasn't the kind of spell human magi could weave.
Though Swain was no stranger to magic—he'd seen the capital's magi heal wounds, refine mana stones—what unfolded here was something else entirely.
Can this even be called magic?
What he saw was not human power, but godlike dominion.
Only after every light faded did Swain leap into the crater where the beast had crashed.
The creature was already gone.
At the pit's center lay a man—collapsed, unconscious, drenched in blood.
He looked frail, almost boyish.
Kneeling in the blood-soaked mud, Swain lifted him into his arms.
A kid?!
The young mage's face, smeared with dust and beast's blood, was unmistakable.
The very same boy who had broken his leg that summer.
"Lord Aser!"
The boy didn't respond.
Swain froze, struck silent by the enormity of what he had just witnessed.
Awe and fear mingled upon his face—
—the look of one who had glimpsed a miracle.
***
A coarse, rasping sensation against his cheek drew Cleio out of deep sleep.
"Behe—stop it…"
"Get up already. Eat something before you go back to sleep!"
Behemoth was curled beside him, purring insistently.
Cleio reached out and stroked the cat's back. Warm. Soft. Comforting.
"Yaaawn… I'm not hungry."
"You still have to eat!"
Behemoth smacked Cleio's cheek with a tiny paw.
No claws. No strength. Just a fluffy, ticklish bop.
"Okay, okay… fine…"
Groaning, Cleio pushed himself upright. Every muscle ached, his throat dry as dust.
Outside, faint voices drifted in; sunlight spilled across the terrace.
It was already morning.
"…How long was I out?"
"Four whole days, you lazy brat!"
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