— Elijah Stormreed POV —
"Skk…rrr…EEE—GHRR-kkk—RREEEEEH!"
The agonizing screech of the Gross Wyrm tore through the Minnelet Woods, coinciding precisely with the moment Elijah's consciousness snapped back into place. His eyes, instantly cold and focused, landed on Leonhardt. He was standing in a dominant posture, one hand stretched out and pointed downward, radiating crushing force. The massive Wyrm was already pressed flat against the earth, squashed and utterly immobilized beneath an invisible, overwhelming force.
Elijah's mind, groggy just moments before, sharpened instantly.
''This… this kid," Elijah let out a low, rough chuckle, the kind that carried a hint of unwilling respect.
Then Elijah's focus snapped immediately from the immobilized Wyrm to Seraphina's body. As swiftly as he could be, he quickly moved and knelt beside her, his hand clamping instantly on her neck.
'No pulse.'
With agonizing slowness, he rolled her over onto her stomach to examine the damage. Her tough leather armor was fractured, and her back was brutally torn open from where the Wyrm's strike had slammed her into the tree. Black, viscous blood already staining the deep green moss beneath her.
Elijah didn't flinch from the sight. He stared at the wound, his jaw tightening so hard the muscles jumped beneath his skin. A deep, guttural sound, barely audible, rattled in his chest—it was a sound of immense, simmering frustration and pure, cold fury.
'This battle is getting too heavy,' he thought, the memory of the "her" from his past twisting sharply in his gut. 'I promised I wouldn't let another capable one bleed out for my sake.'
He rose in a single, tense motion. He did not spare a backward glance for Seraphina. His eyes, now absolute ice.
"She's dead," Elijah muttered, his voice dangerously low, stripped of its usual lazy annoyance.
Elijah's mind reeled. He was deep in hostile territory, and the Wyrm's violent screech—the death cry of an apex predator—had certainly drawn every nearby beast or Valorian patrol. Staying in the forest any longer was a suicidal gamble, as the threat of creatures matching the Wyrm's strength was still imminent.
His own strength was severely compromised. After the Wyrm's strike, he was already weakened and had lost his mechanical arm, leaving him in no fit state to fight either another high-tier monster or a squad of Valorian soldiers.
He then stared back at Seraphina's corpse. He knew a funeral pyre or an attempt at digging a deep grave would take hours, draw smoke, and leave them exposed.
Now, his goal was doubly critical. He needed the Wyrm venom for whatever he had planned, and any delay risked losing the venom or being captured, making Seraphina's death seem pointless.
In Elijah's mind, the highest form of respect he could give a fallen comrade was ensuring the purpose they died for was completed, even if they hadn't known the full purpose. Wasting time on ceremony was a weakness that put the survivors, Leonhardt and the objective, at risk.
The urgency shattered Elijah's internal analysis. He had a few minutes at most before the echoes of the Wyrm's death throes drew company.
Using his good arm, he began gathering stones—not carefully selected ones, but the largest, heaviest hunks of granite and shale he could get his hands on from the mossy earth.
He then worked with ruthless speed, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold air.
He didn't bother to lift the body; he simply began stacking the stones directly over Seraphina where she lay, focusing first on her torso and head, turning her brutalized form into a rough, cold mound. The construction was crude, a cairn built for necessity and speed.
When the pile was high enough to afford basic concealment, Elijah paused. He rested his only good hand on the topmost stone,
"May the long, slow peace you earned be deeper than this ground," he muttered, the words an abbreviated acknowledgment rather than a traditional prayer. It was the only farewell he allowed himself.
He then snatched that white pearl, the bead that happened to spawn a soul weapon when he fought against the Wyrm. Keeping it haphazardly to his satchel, he spun to face Leonhardt.
But before moving to Leonhardt, Elijah focused on the Wyrm's massive corpse. He then drew a small, stoppered vial from his belt and, with swift movements, collected several drops of the potent venom, securing it instantly in his satchel. That Wyrm Venom, said to kill instantly, had been his true objective since first venturing into the border region with Seraphina.
Elijah's gaze instantly fixed on the ground a few feet away. Leonhardt lay flat on his face, unconscious.
He didn't hesitate. He used his only arm to haul Leonhardt up, the boy was lighter than he looked, but carrying a dead weight while severely compromised and missing an arm was still a profound physical burden.
He then slung Leonhardt over his shoulder, careful not to jostle any suspected injuries or his own. Elijah didn't look back at the fresh mound of stones. He moved, not sparing a single second, the end of the forest a few walks away.
.....
The final stretch of the Minnelet Woods was a punishing climb. With Leonhardt's limp weight slung across his shoulder and only one functioning arm, Elijah hauled, using sheer willpower to drive himself up the rigid heights and uneven terrain leading to the Spirit Vein Peak.
Every step was a test of balance and pain management. The loss of his mechanical arm meant his center of gravity was wrong, and the Wyrm's hit had left a dull, constant ache that ate into his focus.
He moved until the dark, suffocating canopy of the Minnelet Woods thinned behind him, replaced by a rocky, windswept saddle high above the tree line. After crossing the brief, exposed ridge of the Spirit Vein Peak, the descent began, leading into a different kind of greenery.
When they finally dropped back into a forested region, the change was immediate and palpable. This forest was lighter, the trees spaced further apart, and the air didn't carry the silence of the Minnelet Woods. The ground underfoot was firm earth and leaf litter, not slick moss.
They were "officially" outside Valorian controlled territory.
Elijah halted beside a wide, quiet stream, letting Leonhardt slide gently to the ground. He didn't check the boy's vitals; he checked the satchel containing the Wyrm Venom first. It was secure.
This new forest lay within the territory of the Evergreen Duchy, a proud, isolationist realm that had managed to cling to its autonomy by being utterly inconvenient to invade. It was a safer boundary, but Elijah knew better than to trust borders. Valorian troops might not march openly here, but their spies and opportunistic skirmishes would still attempt to poke their nose into any region that promised resources or escapees.
Elijah leaned heavily against the tree, the fatigue of the journey finally pulling at the edge of his vision. He watched the unconscious Leonhardt, his eyes narrowed, tracing the almost imperceptible rise and fall of the boy's chest.
'Mana domain,' Elijah thought. 'It had to be.'
The crushing, focused weight that had killed the Gross Wyrm, the sheer density of the concentrated mana, was unmistakable. But the question hammered at Elijah's mind: how was this kid capable of using it?
Elijah knew that only an individual with an awakened soul can interact with mana, making a Mana Domain impossible for someone like Leonhardt. Leon couldn't be older than sixteen, meaning he was not yet in the typical age range for the Soul Awakening trial.
'So the myths about the Haldrins are true,' he thought.
The myths claimed their specific, high quality soul essence allowed some Haldrins to directly interact with and manipulate a specific amount of mana long before their formal Awakening.
But the visible signs of strain on the boy were severe. Elijah muttered, "It seems he overdid it." The amount of raw power Leonhardt had pushed out and the sudden unconsciousness—it was a miracle his body hadn't simply failed. "Anymore, and he could die."
Normally it's impossible for an un-Awakened soul to interact with mana, and it was certainly suicidal for one to perform a mana domain nonetheless.
That still didn't answer the core question. The Mana Domain was the pinnacle of magical achievement—the highest form of magic a mage could perform. Each domain concept varied wildly in complexity, from something relatively "easy" to grasp like the 'Sparkle' concept, to the near-mythical 'Omni-Element.'
Let's assume Leon was an awakened, but that still didn't answer the question of how he was able to use a mana domain. Such techniques are reversed for the highest of mages.
Elijah ran a hand over his missing mechanical arm, a bitter expression crossing his face.
'After his Awakening, this kid can actually... No. I shouldn't bring more people into this.'
His eyes lifted to the sky, and something in him settled. His resolve tightened, and grew stronger with every second.