The sound of steel clashing echoed across the battlefield.
Arlan Kane's spear danced in his hands, deflecting incoming blows with impossible precision.
His movements were relentless—fluid as water, yet striking with the force of a hurricane.
Around him, enemies fell like leaves in a storm.
He stood on the precipice of victory, a lone warrior against an army of shadows.
The figures he fought bore no faces, only the hollow shapes of adversaries he had defeated countless times.
For years, Arlan had survived impossible odds.
For years, he had been the spearhead of every battle, carrying his comrades to triumph.
But there were no comrades left now. Only him and the unending darkness.
As he pierced through the chest of another foe, he felt the familiar weight of fatigue settling in.
His hands trembled around the shaft of his weapon, the once-pristine spear now splintered and bloodstained.
"Not yet," he muttered under his breath.
His voice was hoarse, tinged with desperation.
The world around him shifted.
The battlefield melted away, replaced by the marble halls of Astralis Academy.
The faces of his classmates flashed before him—those he had fought alongside, those he had lost.
Among them, one face lingered longer than the others: Erias.
---
Arlan's journey had started years ago when he first received the letter of acceptance to Astralis Academy.
He could still remember the elation, the disbelief as he held the elegant parchment in his hands.
"Arlan Kane, you have been selected to join the ranks of Astralis Academy..."
For a boy from a humble blacksmith family, it was nothing short of a miracle.
He had worked tirelessly to prove himself during the entrance trials, his spear skill earning him a spot among the elite.
Yet he had been blissfully unaware of the price he would pay.
It was at Astralis that he discovered the truth: he had no mana.
The realization had struck him like a thunderbolt during his first mana manipulation class.
The instructor, a sharp-tongued mage named Professor Miris, had watched as Arlan repeatedly failed to manifest even a spark.
"Everyone has mana," he had protested. "It's just… I'm different."
Miris had looked at him with a mix of pity and curiosity.
"You're not just different, Kane. You're an anomaly. A warrior with no mana in a world that revolves around it."
Her words echoed in his mind for years.
At first, they had felt like a death sentence.
Without mana, he was deemed inferior, a weak link among prodigies. But Arlan refused to accept that fate.
While others relied on mana to augment their strength and skills, Arlan poured himself into mastering the spear.
Every morning, before the sun rose, he trained until his hands were raw and his muscles screamed in protest.
His precision, timing, and creativity with the weapon became his lifeline.
It was during one of these grueling training sessions that he first met Erias.
The boy had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, leaning casually against a nearby tree as Arlan practiced.
His auburn hair caught the morning light, and his sharp green eyes seemed to hold secrets Arlan couldn't begin to understand.
"You're intense," Erias remarked, his voice light but carrying an edge of curiosity.
Arlan paused, wiping sweat from his brow. "And you're distracting."
Erias laughed, pushing off the tree and walking closer.
"Relax, I'm not here to judge. Actually, I think it's impressive. Most people would have given up by now."
There was something about Erias—his easy confidence, his way of speaking as though he didn't quite belong to this world—that intrigued Arlan.
Over time, they became friends, their bond forged through shared challenges and late-night conversations.
Erias had a knack for strategy, often offering insights during their sparring sessions that Arlan found invaluable.
He was different from the other students—aloof yet grounded, as though he carried a burden he couldn't share.
By his third year at the academy, Arlan had risen to prominence through sheer force of will.
Not only that, but he trained under a light spear master and a shadow spear master while wandering the world.
His name was whispered in both admiration and fear.
Alongside him, Erias became a trusted ally, his sharp mind and quick wit complementing Arlan's relentless determination.
But with power came enemies.
The academy was a nest of rivalries, and some students saw Arlan as an aberration that didn't deserve his place.
He became the target of relentless duels and sabotage, yet each challenge only honed his resolve further.
Erias often stood by his side, offering a steadying presence.
"You've got something they don't," he once said. "It's not just your skill—it's your refusal to break."
Arlan had laughed then, but the words stayed with him.
The turning point came during the Great Rift Expedition.
Astralis Academy was tasked with sealing a dimensional rift that threatened to unleash an army of otherworldly creatures.
Arlan's lack of mana should have made him a liability, but instead, he became the team's backbone.
When mana constructs failed against the Rift Fiend, it was Arlan's spear that struck true, piercing the beast's core.
His victory earned him the academy's highest honor—and painted a target on his back.
Through it all, Erias remained a steadfast companion.
Yet there were moments—fleeting, almost imperceptible—when Arlan caught an unfamiliar glint in his friend's eyes.
He dismissed it at the time, too focused on survival to question the shadow that seemed to linger over Erias.
The years blurred into a relentless cycle of battles and betrayals. Arlan's victories were monumental, but they came at great cost.
He watched friends fall, their bodies broken by enemies he couldn't save them from.
Still, he endured. His spear became a legend, his name etched into the annals of history.
Yet the loneliness ate away at him. The longer he fought, the more he realized that his victories brought him no peace.
In the final days of his life, Arlan stood alone against the Abyssal King, the culmination of every trial he had faced.
The battle was apocalyptic, shaking the earth and splitting the heavens.
Arlan fought with everything he had, every ounce of skill and willpower.
When his spear struck the final blow, the Abyssal King dissolved into shadows, and Arlan collapsed to his knees.
The battlefield was silent.
But as he lay dying, the Abyssal King's voice whispered in his ear.
"Did you ever wonder, Spearman, how I knew your every move? How your path was always shrouded in darkness?"
The image of Erias flashed in Arlan's mind, and his heart sank.
Pieces fell into place—Erias's knowledge, his uncanny ability to predict outcomes, his subtle disappearances before major battles.
"Erias…" Arlan's voice cracked as the realization hit him.
But there was no time to grieve.
A strange warmth enveloped him, and the world dissolved into light.
---
When Arlan opened his eyes, he was no longer on the battlefield.
He was in a cramped room, sitting at a rickety wooden table. His hands trembled as he realized what he was holding—a letter.
It was worn, yet unmistakable. The crest of Astralis Academy adorned the seal.
He tore it open with trembling hands.
"Arlan Kane, you have been selected to join the ranks of Astralis Academy..."
The words blurred as tears filled his eyes.
He wasn't sure whether they were born of joy, relief, or the crushing weight of what he knew was to come.
This was the day it all began. The day he had received his letter of admission.
"I'm… back," he whispered.
The spear resting against the wall seemed to gleam in the dim light, a silent reminder of the battles ahead. This time, he vowed, things would be different.
This time, he would destroy all of his enemies.