From the shroud of darkness emerged four magical beasts.
Leading the pack was a grotesque aberration — a bipedal, four-armed monstrosity known as a Terminus Boar. Nearly three meters tall, its scarlet eyes locked onto Allen, who stood just a few paces ahead. Two massive tusks jutted from its gaping maw, strands of saliva dangling and dripping in thick globs. Its chest heaved, nostrils flaring with each huffing breath.
Trailing close behind were three canine-like creatures — Savage Hounds, their Doberman-esque forms tensed with primal aggression. Razor-sharp teeth gleamed in the firelight as they dug furiously at the damp earth beneath their claws, seemingly moments away from tearing Allen limb from limb.
The flickering campfire had drawn the forest's predators to him.
Suddenly, the Terminus Boar halted and shifted its bulk, stepping protectively in front of the mindless hounds. It squinted its crimson eyes, studying its prey.
It had spotted the weapon at Allen's waist — a long, blade-like object. It had seen one before.
A terrifying male human from the southern village had wielded a similar thing and, in a single heartbeat, slaughtered a beast far stronger than itself.
Before the monstrous boar stood its prey — barely waist-high to it, and only a head taller than the four-legged hounds. The boy raised a brow.
He stepped forward with his right foot, bent into a low stance, and let his hand fall upon the hilt of his blade.
He smiled — effortlessly, joyously.
Thrilled.
"Looks like the village isn't far now. What are the odds of running into a classic plot device like the 'attack boar' out here in the wild?"
"Good thing I didn't try sneaking out alone at age four — would've been pig chow in no time."
"But that was then, and this—"
Schlick — his foot dug into the moist forest floor with a quiet rip.
"—this is now."
He sprang.
His body surged forward, trailing afterimages. Allen shot toward the beasts like an arrow loosed.
The monsters had intellect — but barely. Enraged by Allen's audacity, the Terminus Boar roared, its primal instincts igniting. With a furious bellow, it barreled through its hounds—
"ROOOAAARR!!"
Like a runaway freight wagon, it hurtled toward Allen with crushing force.
In less than a breath, man and monster collided — or would have, if not for—
"Dodge!"
A clear voice rang out with sudden urgency, piercing the rising storm of wind.
Something sharp and swift burst from the shadows behind the beasts — a shimmering projectile streaking through branches and leaves, parting them like a boat cleaving the waves.
Allen's ash-gray pupils contracted into pinpoints. A searing heat burst from his core, flooding his limbs.
Within his abdomen, a Dragon-Saint Combat Core, no larger than a walnut, was clenched by an unseen hand of willpower — and it roared to life.
Dragon-Saint Aura surged — a torrent flooding his entire body.
Adrenaline spiked. His senses and thoughts overloaded.
In that instant, the world… slowed:
The rustling leaves fell silent;
The mountain wind crawled across his skin;
Light shimmered off the boar's tusks in glacial arcs;
And the pungent, humid musk of monster breath swirled in his nose.
Locked in bullet-time, Allen's eyes turned slowly, peering past the boar's flailing limbs and bulk to spot the approaching object:
—A sphere of glimmering water.
Thoughts sliced through his mind in rapid succession:
Roughly 1.5 meters in diameter. Mid-tier offensive magic? Water Cannon?
No—wrong shape. It's the low-tier spell: Water Ball.
But with this speed and volume, it's being overloaded — probably to reduce casting time and maximize impact.
They yelled to warn me... but the spell was already cast.
They didn't expect me to charge. They miscalculated.
Who are they?
The boar's tusks were now mere inches from his eyes. Behind the beast, two meters away, that water spell streaked ever closer.
Allen's every nerve screamed to dodge—
But the cold touch of his blade's sheath calmed him.
The alarm bells in his mind were silenced.
A smile ghosted across his lips.
Dodge? I could. But why bother?
North God Style — Practical School.
Draw Stance: "Twentyfold Slash."
His pupils shrank again. Muscles tightened.
His body moved — impossibly fast:
He slipped past the tusks with a hair's breadth to spare;
Ducked beneath the following claws;
Swerved beside a hound, meeting its gaze mid-spin.
He danced — a butterfly among wolves.
And with him danced the firelight.
It flared five times in rapid succession — as if reflected by a gleaming, razor-sharp mirror in motion.
Then, the light vanished.
Allen landed behind the monsters.
Still in his draw stance.
Still — as if he'd never drawn the blade at all.
In that moment—
The oncoming Water Ball, tinged orange by the firelight, filled his vision.
It loomed just a hand's breadth away from his face.
He didn't flinch.
His eyes traced the sphere's surface — a vertical ripple spread outward from a fine white line.
The ball split — cleanly, silently.
It passed on either side of his face, parting his hair.
Allen's gaze followed its severed edge: glimmering waves of light rippled like flame across its surface.
Strikingly beautiful.
He blinked.
As he did, the Dragon-Saint Aura receded—
And the world exploded back into motion!
Wind howled!
Leaves cheered!
The sheath in his hand radiated heat!
Split water surged past his face in twin torrents!
BOOOOM!!
A thunderous detonation ripped through the woods as two trees — each thick enough to require clasped arms to encircle — crashed to the ground behind him.
And the beasts?
The four monsters stood utterly still, as if frozen in time.
Rustle... rustle...
A figure darted out of the underbrush, crashing through fallen leaves.
Allen turned toward the source of the magic attack.
Surprise flashed across his face — then a flicker of recognition.
He released his grip on the sword.
The motion whispered through time.
Shhhk.
The massive heads of the boar and hounds slipped from their necks and dropped to the ground—
Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop.
Four strikes. Four kills.
But hadn't the blade flashed five times?
—The shattered tree struck by the halved Water Ball had already provided the answer.
Shhh... shhh... shhh...
Blood geysered from the monsters' necks in rhythmic bursts, a crimson rain falling in curtains.
And beneath that "rain"—
A small figure burst into the firelight. Clad in a sorcerer's robe, she dragged an oversized suitcase and wore a hood low over her face.
Beneath that hood, blue bangs glinted green in the firelight. She sniffled once, her wide eyes staring at Allen in disbelief.
He looked her over — from her face to the tops of her knee-high boots. Under the fire's glow, black stockings bit slightly into her firm, pale calves, leaving soft indentations.
The admiration in his gaze was unmistakable — not even the night could hide it.
He grinned.
"Dodged it. Thanks for the warning."
The girl — her twin navy braids nearly brushing her knees — breathed heavily, staring at the boy no taller than herself, soaked in the blood of slain beasts.
She looked past him — at the mutilated corpses, at the tree hewn in half by her own spell.
Her lips parted slightly.
She looked again at the downed tree.
Her eyes unfocused.
Dodged…?
She didn't quite know how to respond.
(End of Chapter)