The man loomed over Elijah, his mask casting a shadow across his face. Slowly, the swirling sand subsided, and the oppressive energy in the air faded. The man deactivated his ability, standing tall and triumphant.
To the others, it looked like Elijah was down for good. He lay on the ground, his chest barely rising as if unconscious.
But Elijah wasn't out yet.
His brother's voice echoed in his mind: "Eli, if you can't defeat someone head-on, wait until they drop their guard. That's when they're the most vulnerable. They'll think they've already won."
Elijah felt the cool edge of a blade press lightly against his neck, the man's sand sword poised to finish him off.
In that split second, Elijah moved.
Two daggers shot out from under his sleeves. The first dagger was blocked with ease, but the man didn't see the second one. It grazed his shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood.
The man flinched, distracted for just a moment—but it was all Elijah needed.
In a blur, Elijah drew his sword from its sheath and plunged it into the man's chest.
The man gasped, his grip on his sand blade faltering as his eyes widened behind the mask. Elijah pulled the blade out and stabbed him again, this time driving it deeper into his heart.
"You want me to become your disciple?" Elijah spat, his voice low and cold. "You should be the one taking lessons from me."
The man staggered back, blood seeping from his wounds, before collapsing onto the sand.
Elijah looked around and saw the rest unconscious.
Elijah dropped to the ground, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He clutched his heart, feeling the erratic pounding beneath his ribs. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made his hands tremble uncontrollably.
Outside the forest, tension was brewing. A large yellow barrier encapsulated the entire mountain range, humming faintly with energy as it flickered in the overcast sky. Standing just outside the shimmering wall, two Corps officers observed the phenomenon with starkly contrasting expressions.
"Looks like Bergfried's making their move," muttered the woman with a fishtail braid, her tone carrying an edge of impatience. Her dark red Corps uniform clung to her damp form from the lingering rain.
She knelt, poking at the earth beneath the barrier as if searching for a weakness.
"Let's not jump to conclusions, Farrah," said the man beside her, his authoritative voice calm and measured. His orange hair, combed back neatly, shimmered faintly in the dim light. His pristine white Corps uniform indicated his higher rank, the silver insignia on his shoulder glinting. "Although it's rare to see someone create a barrier this massive, it doesn't mean they're all from Bergfried."
Farrah stood up, brushing dirt off her gloves with exaggerated irritation. "Oh, spare me your measured logic, Captain. Just look at it!" She gestured at the barrier, the bright yellow sheen stretching far and wide, completely enveloping the forest and the mountain range beyond. "You want me to believe this isn't their handiwork? Come on. There aren't many gift users who can pull off something like this. It's gotta be one of the Bergfried siblings. Or do you think this is just some random civilian playing with barriers for fun?"
The captain remained silent, his eyes narrowing as he examined the structure of the barrier more closely.
Farrah smirked, taking his silence as a concession. "Thought so. And let's face it, it's not the lord of the castle behind this. If it were him, we'd be dealing with something way worse. No, this reeks of one of the siblings. Maybe the third one, or... Oh, wait!" She paused, tapping her chin theatrically. "Wasn't the second one in the Corps before? What was his name again?"
"If it's really the second son... Well, we'd better hope those cadets inside have luck on their side. They're going to need it."
The man's expression darkened. "We've lost contact with the test site. This barrier wasn't part of the plan." He reached for his communicator, frowning when static greeted him. "Something's gone terribly wrong."
Elijah's heart was still pounding, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. Leaning against a tree, he wiped the sweat from his brow, his body trembling from the aftermath of their fight with the masked man.
Around him, his teammates lay unconscious, their bodies sprawled on the forest floor like broken dolls.
Taking a deep breath, Elijah turned his gaze eastward. The officers' tent... Oscar said it was that way. Steeling himself, he adjusted the grip on his sword and set off in the direction Oscar had pointed earlier.
The forest was eerily silent as he moved, the usual rustling of leaves replaced by an oppressive stillness.
Elijah's instincts screamed at him to turn back, but he pushed on, each step heavier than the last. When he finally reached the clearing where the officers' tent was supposed to be, his blood ran cold.
A massacre.
Corpses littered the ground, their uniforms torn and stained with blood. The tent itself was in tatters, its fabric hanging limply in the morning breeze.
Elijah froze, his breath hitching as he took in the carnage. His eyes darted to a figure slumped against the remnants of the tent.
It was the officer in charge of the test. The man's uniform was soaked with blood, and his side was bleeding profusely. He clutched a wound with one hand, his other holding onto a broken sword.
"You're... not from the Headquarters," the officer croaked, his voice weak but laced with suspicion.
"The... the what?" Elijah stammered, stepping closer.
The officer's eyes narrowed as he tried to lift his weapon. "Stay back," he warned, though his voice faltered.
Before Elijah could respond, an overwhelming pressure crashed down on him, forcing him to his knees. The air grew thick, each breath a struggle as the weight of the presence pressed against his chest like a vice.
'What is this?' Elijah thought, panic rising in his throat.
The pressure was suffocating, unlike anything he had ever felt before. It wasn't just power—it was authority, dominance, and rage rolled into one.
His mind raced as he tried to place the sensation. Then, a memory surfaced.
A shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see a figure emerging from the tree line. The man was tall and imposing, his face obscured by a golden mask shaped like a lion's head. His presence was the source of the oppressive aura, and as he stepped closer, the ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble.
'This pressure…' Elijah thought, his heart racing. 'It feels like Augustus when he's furious.'
"Eh? It's a cub," a voice drawled from behind him.
The man in the lion mask tilted his head, his gaze shifting to Elijah. "Still alive, are you?" he said, his voice smooth and calm, yet dripping with condescension. "Impressive. Most cadets wouldn't have survived this long."
"Why are you out here alone?" the man asked, tilting his head. His voice was light, almost amused. "Where's Sand?"
The man put a hand to his forehead, mimicking the act of looking into the distance. "Oh, did you kill Sand?" he asked, his tone almost playful.
Elijah's grip tightened on his sword, his body tensing.
"Impressive," the man said, clapping his hands slowly. "But let's be honest, you killed him by sheer luck, didn't you? Or maybe… he let his guard down?"
Elijah frowned, his mind racing. How does he know?
Elijah's hand tightened around his sword, his knuckles white.
The man's tone shifted, a dangerous edge creeping into his words. "Here comes the unpredictability," he muttered to himself. "The energy in the air… oh yes, you're in real danger now."
Elijah was speechless.
Does this man have some main character syndrome?
The officer coughed, blood dripping from his lips. "Let him leave!" he shouted weakly. "He's only a kid. He has nothing to do with this!"
His attention returning to the officer. "How dare you order me around?"
"You Corps dogs never learn, do you? Always so eager to stick your noses where they don't belong." He raised a hand, and the oppressive pressure intensified, forcing both Elijah and the officer to the ground.