The valley lay in silence, bathed in a golden twilight—but the calm was a deception. Before Lusian, the earth trembled with every breath of the monster. Noceron emerged from the forest's shadows, and the world seemed to shrink before his colossal form: a titan of light, flesh, scales, and mana.
His outstretched wings filled the sky. The radiant aura surrounding them formed an almost divine armor, and each scale gleamed like iridescent crystal, absorbing and reflecting the energy coursing through his body. From his black horns—twisted like ancient branches—burst sparks of pure light. His white eyes, deep and piercing, seemed to read Lusian's mind, searching for the faintest sign of fear.
Noceron's breath was condensed magic: to approach carelessly meant being burned, torn apart, or swept away by blades of cutting wind. His long, flexible tail struck with lethal precision. Despite his impossible size, the titan moved with unsettling grace, as though gravity were merely a suggestion. A single beat of his wings could unleash blasts of light powerful enough to carve craters into the earth; a twist of his massive torso sent shockwaves that pulverized entire trees.
But Lusian did not see only a monster.
Within him, the spirit of Erwin remembered every death and every victory from the game War in an Arcane World. Erwin had faced creatures identical to Noceron hundreds of times, memorizing their phases, patterns, and weaknesses. Now, incarnated within Lusian, those memories were no longer nostalgia—they were weapons.
Every movement of the titan—every wingbeat, every turn, every flare of light—was anticipated before it happened. Lusian knew when the tail would strike, when the wings would rise, when the breath of light would be unleashed. There was no panic. Only strategy, calculation, and the certainty of one who had trained through a thousand lifetimes… in another world.
The Ætherion Sword and Armor were no ordinary weapons. They belonged to the Supreme tier, and only high-ranking nobles—like Lusian, Duke Douglas—had the right to wield them. The sword could be imbued with dark magic and pierce any defense; the armor absorbed and deflected magical attacks, becoming almost a second, indestructible skin. For anyone lacking the will and bond required, these artifacts would be lethal even at rest.
On that battlefield, the artifacts seemed to awaken. The Ætherion Armor glowed faintly, drinking in the light that radiated from Noceron. The Ætherion Sword pulsed in Lusian's hand like a dark heart, eager to cut. Lusian felt the flow of mana racing across his skin; the Epsilon affinity reduced the cost of every strike and sharpened the shadows that gathered around him.
He activated Physical Enhancement IV. His muscles thrummed with power. Time itself seemed to slow. His senses expanded like a living radar. With a single motion, he imbued the blade with Imbued Weapon IV, and the sword was wrapped in a torrent of pulsing darkness.
Noceron responded. His enormous wings rose, and a halo of light formed a radiant shell—a wall of heat and searing radiance that burned even from a distance. The ground trembled. The air vibrated.
Lusian was prepared… but not calm.
Erwin's memories blended with his own instincts, and although he knew every pattern the monster possessed, nothing compared to seeing it for real: gigantic, alive, breathing light. A cold sweat slid down his spine. Fear settled in his chest, reminding him of a simple and cruel truth:
This was not a game.
He turned, dodged, and leapt as an attack passed so close he felt the air slice beside his cheek. His heart slammed once in his chest.
I need to focus more, he thought, steadying his breath.
It had been a single lapse. A small one. But enough to remind him that here there was no restart, no respawn waiting behind a loading screen.
If he fell there… it would be the end.