Take a breather.
Rook had learned that long ago.
His adoptive father had told him that whenever he encountered a problem he couldn't simply force his way through, there was always another option. You could stop. You could think. You could rest.
But you must never give up on the journey.
That was the line that stuck with him the most. That a man only truly failed himself the moment he decided to stop moving forward.
"Alright," Rook muttered, rain streaming down his face as thunder cracked overhead. "Let's think about how and why I'm in this situation…"
The forest screamed around him.
Wind howled through splintered branches. Rain hammered the canopy hard enough to blur the world into streaks of gray. Somewhere nearby, something massive tore through the undergrowth with violent disregard, trees snapping and debris flying as it barreled closer.
A magically enhanced white bear—its fur streaked with arcs of blue lightning—burst from the thicket with a thunderous roar.
And Rook was waist-deep in mudlike quicksand.
"Oh right," he shouted over the chaos, struggling uselessly as the mire clung to his legs like a curse. "I remember now. SOME NITWIT DECIDED TO CAST FLASHFLOOD IN A SWAMP!"
Not far behind the charging beast, a panicked scene unfolded. Three armored guards desperately tried to shepherd a drenched young noble away from the disaster, their formation breaking with every tremor of the bear's advance.
"SHUT UP AND DO YOUR JOB, YOU MERC!" a shrill, squeaking voice snapped back.
Rook grimaced.
Eugene Heidlebreck. Youngest son of the Heidlebreck Viscounty.
And unfortunately, his current employer.
Rook's frustration threatened to boil over as he yanked uselessly against the mud gripping his pants, every movement only sinking him deeper.
"Sir Rook!" a voice cried out from behind the beast—one of the guards. Fear edged every syllable. "Watch out!"
Rook raised his head just in time.
The bear turned fully toward him.
Broken trees, shattered branches, and chunks of sod were hurled aside as the creature charged, lightning crackling across its massive frame. Debris flew in every direction—most of it straight toward him.
Out of mana.
Out of breath.
For a brief moment, the world narrowed.
The rain dulled. The thunder faded. Even the roar of the beast seemed distant.
Silence filled his mind.
Rook focused on the rhythm of his heart. On the ache in his limbs. On the familiar, rising hum that answered his will from deep within his body.
The Arcane Engine runs.
He inhaled slowly.
Composed.
"Breather," he whispered.
He exhaled.
"Lightness. Endure."
The pressure around his waist loosened. Strength seeped back into his tendons—not much, but enough. Rook's hand shot out, catching a thick branch spinning through the air with the falling debris. With a sharp grunt, he hauled himself free of the mud, boots tearing loose just as the ground swallowed the space he'd occupied.
The bear thundered past where he had been a heartbeat earlier.
It reared, thrashing wildly as lightning flared around it, bolts tearing into trees and earth alike. Blue light pulsed beneath its fur, raw mana spilling out in violent bursts.
Rook staggered back, chest heaving, rain plastering his coat to his skin.
"Yeah," he muttered hoarsely, tightening his grip on the branch.
"I know. You're impressive."
Lightning screamed.
A bolt tore through the space Rook had vacated, exploding a tree trunk into splinters and steam. The shockwave threw him sideways, boots skidding across soaked earth as he barely kept his footing.
The bear turned again.
It was fast. Faster than something that large had any right to be. Each step cratered the ground, lightning arcing from its claws and jaws, mana spilling out of it like blood from an open wound.
Rook's mana pool flickered weakly.
Pathetic.
He clicked his tongue and shifted his stance, planting his feet as another surge of electricity carved a smoking line through the ground in front of him.
"Alright," he muttered, voice low and steady despite the chaos. "Guess we're doing this the hard way."
Arcane Engine.
The hum inside him deepened, grinding like poorly meshed gears. His muscles screamed in protest as stamina was ripped away and forced into something it was never meant to be. Mana trickled back into existence—thin, unstable, but usable.
He didn't wait.
"Force Bolt."
The spell detonated against the bear's shoulder with a dull thump. It didn't pierce. Didn't burn. It barely even slowed the creature.
But it made it turn.
That was enough.
Rook moved the moment its attention shifted. He ran—not away, but across its line of attack—mud sucking at his boots as lightning scorched the air behind him. Another bolt clipped his shoulder, heat blooming into sharp pain that nearly stole his breath.
He grunted but didn't slow.
Breather.
The spell washed through him like cool water over overheated metal. His lungs steadied. His vision sharpened just enough to keep the world from tilting.
The bear reared back, jaws opening wide as mana gathered in its throat.
Rook's eyes narrowed.
"Nope."
He hurled the branch still clutched in his hand, not at the bear's head—but into the open mouth just as the lightning discharged.
The resulting explosion was messy.
The blast tore sideways, blowing chunks of scorched flesh and fur into the rain-soaked forest. The bear shrieked, staggering as electricity misfired violently through its own body.
Rook didn't waste the opening.
He drew his blade as he closed the distance, boots pounding wet earth. The knife wasn't enchanted. It wasn't sharp enough for a clean kill.
But Rook had never relied on clean.
He slid beneath a wildly swinging paw, came up close enough to feel the heat radiating off the beast's body, and drove the blade deep into the softened joint beneath its foreleg.
Twist. Yank. Move.
Lightning erupted again, tearing a smoking trench through the ground where his head had been a moment before. Rook rolled, came up coughing, rain hissing as it hit scorched soil.
Arcane Engine.
Again.
The conversion burned worse this time. His muscles spasmed, vision tunneling as the cost dug deeper than he liked. He tasted blood.
Breather.
Again.
He forced himself upright, heart hammering, and saw the bear stumble. One leg dragged uselessly now, lightning flickering erratically across its frame.
The guards shouted somewhere behind him. Eugene was screaming something unintelligible.
Rook ignored them all.
This wasn't about them anymore.
The bear charged one last time, desperation and rage twisting its massive form into something almost pitiful.
Almost.
Rook planted his feet.
"Force Bolt."
The spell struck the already wounded joint, shattering bone and sending the creature crashing face-first into the mud. Lightning flared wildly, then sputtered, then dimmed.
Rook approached slowly, chest heaving.
The bear tried to rise.
He ended it with a thrust through the base of the skull, blade biting deep into softened flesh where mana had burned itself out.
The body went still.
Rain fell.
Silence returned to the forest in uneven, cautious breaths.
Rook stood there for a long moment, then let out a slow exhale and disengaged the Arcane Engine.
The hum died.
So did his strength.
He dropped to one knee, then both, blade sinking into the mud as his hands shook violently. His mana pool collapsed back into nothingness, empty as it always was.
He laughed weakly.
"Still breathing," he muttered.
Footsteps approached hesitantly.
"Y-you killed it…" one of the guards said, awe and fear mixing in his voice.
Rook looked up.
All four of them stared at him like he was something they couldn't quite place. Not powerful. Not normal. Just… wrong.
The mage among them frowned, sensing instinctively for mana—and finding nothing.
"How did you—"
Rook pushed himself upright with visible effort, wiping rain and blood from his face.
"Fight's over," he said flatly. "If you value your lives, we move. Now."
Eugene sputtered. "You—you don't get to order—"
Rook's gaze snapped to him.
Not sharp. Not threatening.
Empty.
The noble went quiet.
They moved.
As the group hurried off, Rook lingered just long enough to retrieve his blade. He cleaned it on his sleeve, then glanced once more at the massive corpse cooling behind him.
Lowest mana pool in the world.
Talentless. Worthless.
He adjusted his coat and followed after the others, boots squelching through mud and blood.
"Take a breather," he murmured to himself.
And kept walking.