"I'm still sleepy..."
Luke yawned, stretching lazily as he climbed down from the carriage, scratching his back as if oblivious to the tension thickening around him.
The atmosphere grew heavier, the sun's oppressive heat merging with the sharp whispers of the wind. The grass seemed to sway uneasily, caught between the breeze and the rising sense of unease.
Luke sniffed the air suddenly, his expression shifting to mild interest. He extended a hand, tasting his fingers as if testing something intangible.
"Domain spell..." He paused, turning his nonchalant gaze toward Lea. "Hey, girl, did you use 'Aureum' earlier?"
Lea, tense and fixated on the distant threat, glanced at him in surprise.
"How did you know?"
"Oh, nothing. I just thought I'd never come across it again."
His casual tone belied a surprising depth of knowledge. For someone like Luke—a relic person who was a friend of her grandmother—it wasn't entirely unexpected. But the revelation made Lea pause; Aureum was an exclusive family spell, not well-known to outsiders.
Luke's attention drifted. "Anyway, what the hell are you doing outside in broad daylight? I can smell something like... toasted bread in your hair."
"Don't you see it?" Lea snapped, gesturing toward the horizon. "They're mercenaries, and they just killed the driver!"
"Huh?" Luke blinked, scratching his chin. "The driver? Damn, poor guy. Could've been rolling in money by now. I mean, you paid him that much."
"Are you even aware of the situation right now?!"
Their argument was cut short as two figures stepped forward from the distance. Garrick, his sinister grin flashing beneath a wind-tossed robe, readied his sword. Beside him, Theron began weaving a spell, his hands glowing with ethereal energy.
"No time to waste!" Garrick yelled, his voice as sharp as the blade he wielded. He charged forward, robes billowing like a storm cloud.
She flinched but stood her ground, unyielding. Lea's hands shot upward, and a glowing magic circle began to form in the air before her.
"Vayrenth!"
A burst of wind magic erupted from her palms, hurtling toward Garrick. But the mercenary sidestepped with inhuman precision, sliding to a halt and swinging his sword in a brutal arc.
Lea reacted swiftly, conjuring a shimmering shield of light. The blade struck with force, but she held firm, her knees buckling slightly under the weight of his attack.
From his perch against the carriage, Luke watched with idle fascination.
"So cool!" he declared, clapping lazily. "The girl who kidnapped me gets a solid 10/10 for this performance!"
Lea gritted her teeth, annoyed but too occupied to respond.
"I must admit, your shield spell is far more sophisticated than I expected. Is this the mark of a powerful bloodline shaping your magic, or simply a testament to your mastery of the magic? Either way, it's quite impressive."
Luke remarked, his tone carrying a mix of curiosity and admiration despite the dire situation.
Meanwhile, a black arrow whistled through the air, aimed directly at Luke. Without looking, he shifted his weight just enough for the arrow to miss, embedding itself in the carriage behind him with a loud crack.
He glanced over his shoulder at the damage.
"Huh. That almost ruined my nap."
Theron stepped forward, his sly smile growing. "I was wondering if you were some kind of bodyguard for the daughter of the Vitalis Faction. But now I see—you're just a useless bystander. Credit where it's due, though, you're not putting up much of a fight."
Luke straightened, brushing dust from his coat with a sigh. "Honestly, I'm too exhausted to worry about this right now. It's not just the mess we're in—it's this unbearable heat. It's a real killer today."
Theron's smile faltered for a moment before returning, though it was tinged with amusement. He couldn't help but think that Luke's indifference had reached a new level—one that might even outdo Lazy Jack himself.
Meanwhile, Garrick, growing increasingly irritated by their seemingly endless conversation while still struggling with Lea, barked out a sharp roar.
"Hey, Theron! Maybe we should kill him just to shut him up!"
Luke's languid expression shifted, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. A flicker of something dangerous passed through his demeanor, like the glint of a blade hidden in shadows.
"Kill me?" he echoed, his tone light yet sharp. "You'd better hope this heat keeps me lazy. Otherwise, you'll regret leaving the shadows."
For a moment, Theron hesitated, his confidence wavering under Luke's gaze. There was something unsettling about him—something that hinted at power hidden beneath his nonchalance.
Then, with a chuckle, Theron brushed it off. "Intimidating, are we? I'll admit, you had me for a second."
Luke smirked, leaning casually against the carriage again. "People tend to overestimate themselves. Don't worry, it's normal. After all, I haven't done anything, right?"
Lea, still locked in combat, gritted her teeth.
'What is with this guy?!'
"Though I must admit, you haven't lifted a finger yet," Theron said with a mocking grin.
"So, congratulations, that's one point for an insufferable bastard like you. But it doesn't change the fact that you must face your destiny. And that destiny is death. No witnesses will leave here alive."
With a swift motion, Theron opened his hand, summoning a dark magic circle, the energy crackling ominously as he prepared to strike. It was as much a display of his power as an attempt to intimidate Luke.
"You mercenaries sure are relentless," Luke remarked, his voice dry. "No room for mercy, huh?"
"We don't believe in mercy, boy," Garrick growled, cutting in with a malicious grin. "We kill mercy."
The tension was palpable as Garrick slowly gained the upper hand, his sharp sword relentlessly battering against Lea's shield. The shield was beginning to crack under the pressure. The outcome of this confrontation was imminent—action would be required, and soon.
Luke looked down, his white, spiky hair casting a shadow over his face. Beneath the dark veil, a sly smile tugged at his lips.
"An even fight," he muttered, raising his head slowly to lock eyes with Theron. "Seems fair enough."
Without hesitation, Theron's hand shot forward, his fingers splayed wide as a dark magic circle unfurled in front of him. His expression had shifted from casual to intense, his eyes narrowing with resolve. His gaze locked onto his target, and the air around him seemed to crackle with anticipation.
"Umbrazeal!"
A pulse of inky black energy spiraled out of the circle, coalescing into a jagged arrow of shadow. It tore through the air with speed, trailing black lightning that crackled like a storm contained in a single projectile. The raw force of it was palpable, an embodiment of Theron's unrestrained power.
Luke, however, remained unfazed. His posture was calm, unbothered even in the face of such overwhelming force. With deliberate slowness, he raised his hand to mirror Theron's motion. As he extended his arm forward, a bright orange magic circle began to form, its radiance contrasting sharply against the darkness of Theron's spell.
"Ignivolcrys."
The words left his lips like a whisper, but the power behind them was undeniable. A wave of heat emanated from the circle as a fiery projectile, swirling with blazing intensity, shot forward to meet the incoming darkness. The collision was immediate, an explosion of light and shadow as the two forces clashed mid-air. Sparks flew in every direction, a storm of magic as the two spells collided, their energies battling for dominance.
Theron shielded his eyes, clenching his teeth as the blinding brightness washed over him. The explosion was so intense it threatened to burn away his focus, the shockwave so powerful it felt as though it could sear the very air.
As the mist of particles began to settle, Luke didn't wait for a second. He seized the opening with practiced precision, dashing towards Garrick and Lea's position. His feet hit the ground in a blur, and before Garrick could even react, Luke's right leg shot into the air, delivering a downward axe kick with brutal force.
The ground beneath his foot cracked like thunder as the kick smashed into it with the weight of a falling meteor. Dust and debris exploded in every direction, filling the air with a choking cloud.
Garrick, who had been too slow to fully react, leaped back just in time to avoid the devastating impact. The ground where Luke's foot had landed splintered, sending jagged rocks flying like shrapnel.
Luke's eyes remained cold, calculating, as he shifted his gaze to Lea. She was still recovering, her energy visibly spent from the earlier defense against Garrick's relentless onslaught.
Luke's smirk deepened, the arrogance in his smile unmistakable. He tilted his head slightly, his voice oozing with mockery. "I had high expectations of you, girl. You see, I don't want you defeated here... not yet."
Lea, caught off-guard by the words, flushed, her confusion momentarily evident. But then, she quickly shook it off, hardening her gaze. She clenched her fists, determination igniting in her chest.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice steady despite the exhaustion. "I can still fight."
Luke chuckled softly. "Oh, I know you can. But this is a two-on-two, isn't it? So you'll have to fight."
Garrick, who had kept his distance and regained his footing, lowered his sword into a defensive stance. His eyes flicked warily between Luke and Lea, sensing that something was different about the situation. He wasn't expecting Luke to make his next move so quickly, and it caught him off guard.
Luke, however, was already steps ahead. He turned sharply, extending his right hand towards Garrick, his fingers forming a gun-like shape. His smile never wavered, but his eyes gleamed with something darker—a challenge.
"Pierce."
The words were barely more than a breath, but the power behind them was immediate. A thin, piercing bolt of light shot from his finger, faster than the eye could follow. Garrick's instincts kicked in. He raised his sword, the steel trembling in his hands as he braced himself for impact.
The bolt hit with the force of a thunderstrike. The moment it connected with the sword, there was a sickening crack. The blade splintered into shards, the force of the impact reverberating through Garrick's body. He barely had time to react before the shockwave blasted him off his feet, sending him sprawling to the ground, eyes wide with disbelief.
Sweat trickled down Garrick's face as he struggled to regain his bearings, staring at the shattered remains of his sword. His mind raced with the impossible realization: this guy was not a joke.
Incantless.
It was said that incantations were the foundation of magic—that they were essential to focus the caster's mana and channel it properly. But an incant-less spell? That was supposed to be a myth, an impossibility only whispered about in the most dangerous circles.
Luke, however, didn't even pause to enjoy the moment. His nonchalance was chilling, as though this effortless display of power was merely the beginning of something far worse.
Most spells required careful incantations to take form, with the words themselves acting as the vessel to channel one's mana. But to perform a spell without speaking, to conjure magic purely through concentration? That was the mark of a true master, one who had transcended the usual limits of magic.
And Luke... Luke was no ordinary mage, nor was he an ordinary person at all.
"I like to make myself believe… Yes, I know what you're thinking, girl." Luke's voice dripped with a smug amusement, his sly smile never faltering as he glanced toward Lea.
Lea was flustered, her heart pounding in her chest, but the unease coursing through her veins kept her on high alert. She'd seen Luke's power for just a moment, and the sheer difference between the man in the tavern and the one before her now was staggering. The casual, almost reckless persona he had displayed back then was long gone, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.
'What are you, exactly?' she wondered, her mind racing. She hadn't anticipated this level of intensity.
Before she could dwell further on her thoughts, a sharp, metallic whoosh cut through the air.
A chain—thick, dark, and coiled like a serpent—lashed out, its target unmistakable: Luke's extended right hand. In an instant, it wrapped around his wrist with terrifying precision, and then, without warning, the chain sliced through his arm with a clean, brutal strike.
Lea froze. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide as she watched the severed hand fall to the ground with a sickening thud. Luke, too, was caught off guard, his expression shifting from nonchalance to sheer disbelief.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air was thick with shock, and Lea could barely comprehend what she had just seen.
Garrick's voice broke through the tension, low and sinister, as he yanked the chain back into his grip with a sharp tug, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. His bald head hung low as he surveyed them, a twisted smile stretching across his face.
"This is getting more interesting than I thought," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.
Luke, however, wasn't fazed for long. His brow furrowed in annoyance as he calmly sighed, lowering his stance as if the severing of his hand was a mere inconvenience. He reached down, grabbed the severed limb from the dirty ground, and casually lifted it.
"Need a hand?" Garrick taunted, his laughter cruel and mocking.
But Luke's response was anything but what he expected.
"Yeah, sure I do."
With that, Luke held his detached hand against the stub of his arm, and within seconds, a red, unnatural stitch appeared around the wound. It pulsed and wove itself together with eerie precision, as though the hand were being reversed-healed back into place. The entire process was grotesque, but disturbingly efficient.
Lea's stomach churned, though she'd witnessed Luke's unnatural abilities before. She'd felt the unease, the undeniable aura of wrongness that clung to him, but seeing it firsthand in such a brutal, clinical way still made her shudder.
Garrick, on the other hand, was visibly stunned. His mouth hung slightly open as he stared at Luke's hand reattaching itself, his expression carved from disbelief. His eyes, though, quickly narrowed with a burning curiosity, and after a beat, he shook off his shock with a grunt, his grip tightening around the chain.
"You're not ordinary, are you?" Garrick growled, his voice a mix of admiration and caution.
Luke's smile widened into something darker, more macabre. "Well, you can call me a walking corpse. After all, I'm a zombie."
Garrick's eyes flared with new interest, the earlier shock giving way to an even more intense fascination. He twirled his chain with a flourish, the sound of metal clinking filling the air as if he were preparing for a dramatic performance. The smile on his face twisted into something more savage, something that spoke of his readiness to test Luke's limits.
"Now I'm even more interested in this!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with anticipation, his posture shifting into one of barely-contained violence.
At that moment, Theron finally moved. He shifted from his position at the edge of the battlefield, moving with calculated precision, and positioned himself beside Garrick, just slightly behind him—an ally, but with an aura of cold calculation that suggested he had no intention of sharing the spotlight. His expression was a mask of stern focus, his earlier casual demeanor gone. The shift in his energy was palpable, the tension in the air thickening with every passing second.
Lea, who had been standing slightly behind Luke, was now fully alert. Her body tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. There was no more room for uncertainty or hesitation. This was a battle, and it would be brutal.
Luke's smile didn't waver. He stood firm in front of her, the same sly grin on his face, but there was a coldness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
"An even fight," he muttered to himself, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.
It was as if he relished the challenge, the prospect of what was to come. His words hung in the air, a promise that this fight would be one for the ages.
Lea steeled herself, knowing the fight wasn't just about surviving anymore. It was about everything. And she wasn't going to back down.