Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Blacksmith's Day (8)

  The rain pounded against Orin’s face as he stared at the knight before him, Sir Varis. He had seen that man countless times during his childhood, which wasn’t surprising, considering Varis had once been a close friend of his father’s. But Orin had never known that Varis was one of the fabled wielders of the legendary swords.

  “Hadar, be a good boy and surrender,” Varis said, his words calm and measured, but his gaze sharp as steel. “I have no intention of murdering a knight with such a bright future ahead of him. I only need you to hand over the sorcerers. Do that, and I promise the rest will be allowed to leave here alive.”

  “Are you serious? I can’t do that—they’re just kids,” Hadar replied firmly, trying to reason with him. “Would you also imprison Orin, the son of one of your best friends?”

  Varis turned his head toward Orin. The young man felt an invisible pressure locking his limbs in place, a suffocating weight that made his every muscle tremble. A cold sweat ran down his back.

  “Keid’s son,” Varis said slowly, almost as if savoring the words. “Or so I thought. The truth is that boy is nothing more than an imposter—an adopted child, born of the blood of the Children of the Stars.”

  The revelation left Hadar speechless, and Orin heard gasps of surprise from behind him.

  Hadar turned back to Orin, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. After a moment, he straightened and faced Varis again.

  “His origins are one thing,” Hadar said determinedly, “but the fact remains that the boy was raised in Solaris, and with the values of the Empire. I won’t let you lay a finger on any of them.”

  Varis shook his head slowly, a hint of pity—or disappointment—passing through his expression.

  “Then I fear you’ve chosen the path of death,” he said coldly, assuming an attack stance. “There will be no prisoners today. I’ll make sure every last one of you finds eternal rest here.”

  Hadar raised his shield, his face caught between conviction and hesitation, but he had already made his decision.

  Varis charged, but to Hadar’s surprise, he suddenly changed course mid-stride and dashed straight toward Orin.

  “The boy will be first,” Varis declared with a crooked smile.

  But just before reaching Orin, he halted abruptly, as if slamming into an invisible wall. He struck at the air with his gauntlet, then pressed his hand forward, testing something unseen.

  “I see… I forgot about your Guardian Spirit’s passive ability.” Varis muttered, turning his head toward Hadar. “Battlefield. An ability that reshapes the boundaries of combat—an enclosed area where entry is allowed, but exit is not.”

  “Then you know, unless you defeat me here, reaching those boys will be impossible.” Hadar said, his voice steady. He glanced briefly at Orin. “Orin, I’ll buy you time. Take everyone and run, don’t look back. Get out of here.”

  Orin felt the weight pressing on his body begin to fade; his limbs loosened, air filled his lungs again. The terror that had gripped him a moment ago slowly ebbed away. As long as Hadar’s Battlefield was active, Varis couldn’t reach them.

  Varis turned back toward Hadar and snorted. “Then you leave me no choice, Hadar. You’ll be the first.”

  With a thunderous roar, Varis charged at Hadar, his sword striking in a relentless storm of blows. Sparks burst with every clash of metal against metal. Each movement fluid, precise, and brutally fast. Both knights moved like lightning, but with every passing second, Varis’s pressure grew heavier, forcing Hadar backward, step by step.

  Orin quickly realized the vast gulf between himself—a mere student—and the veteran knights of the League. The difference was overwhelming, almost otherworldly. Turning away from the battlefield, he sprinted toward his friends, his limbs still tingling and heavy from before.

  In the heart of the fight, Hadar strained to withstand Varis’s barrage, his sword and shield ringing under the impact of each blow. But then, Varis twisted his stance with deceptive ease, slipping past Hadar’s defense. The sound of steel biting flesh cut through the rain.

  “Gah—!” Hadar stumbled, clutching his bleeding arm.

  “How long can you hold out?” Varis asked, his voice calm, almost amused, as he continued his assault.

  “Long enough to make sure those kids get away,” Hadar replied, breath ragged but eyes unwavering.

  Varis’s expression darkened, his tone sharp with irritation. “So you’ve chosen to die for them.”

  “ACTIVATE KNIGHT SKILL: Hoplite!” Hadar roared.

  His shield burst with a pale, ethereal glow, expanding in size until it could cover his entire body. The rain hissed off the barrier of light.

  “I can hold out here as long as necessary,” he declared.

  Meanwhile, Orin reached his friends, occasionally glancing back at the clash of knights. Each strike echoed like thunder through the street.

  “That sword…” Aran murmured, eyes wide, her voice trembling. “The sword that man—Varis—wields isn’t normal. I can feel it from here. There’s celestial energy inside it... far beyond anything I’ve ever sensed. It’s so intense, my hands are shaking.”

  “Do you think it hides some special property?” Orin asked, struggling to comprehend the danger.

  “It’s not just a channel for sacred techniques,” Aran replied, voice tight. “A weapon holding that level of celestial energy could erase the effects of light-based abilities entirely. If you were cut by that sword, no amount of sacred healing could mend the wound.”

  Orin turned his eyes back to the fight, dread creeping into his chest. If what Aran said was true, then every strike Varis landed wasn’t just an injury... It was permanent.

  And that meant Hadar was fighting with no margin for error.

  Varis’s strikes fell like thunder against Hadar’s shield, each blow crashing with enough force to shake the street itself. The glowing barrier of Hoplite held firm, but the relentless pounding left the air trembling. After several futile strikes, Varis stepped back with a cold smirk.

  “I should have known,” he muttered bitterly. “Defeating a League Knight without using my best skills was never going to be easy.”

  He raised his blade, its silver edge gleaming even under the storm’s shadow. Hadar stood his ground behind the enormous shield, breath steady, unyielding.

  “ACTIVATE WARRIOR SKILL: Fixed Target!” Varis declared. “With this, none of my attacks will miss their mark. You’ve nowhere left to run.”

  Hadar tightened his stance, eyes hard. “Then come and try. Break through my shield if you can.”

  Varis’s grin widened. “Oh, there’s no need for that... when I can do this.”

  He raised his hand toward the heavens.

  “PRAYER: Celestial Army.”

  A blinding circle of light formed above them, and from it descended a dozen of replicas of his Augur sword, glowing with pure luminescence. They hovered in the air like spectral soldiers awaiting command—then, as Varis extended his arm, they struck all at once.

  The swords converged on Hadar from every direction, their radiant edges slicing through the air with deadly precision. Sparks and shards of light exploded with every impact. Hadar managed to block several, but the assault was unending; one blade slipped through, cutting across his shoulder. His armor shattered on the left side, revealing torn flesh and flowing blood.

  “Ghh—!” Hadar staggered, clutching his arm. But as the next wave of swords materialized above him, he gritted his teeth and shouted:

  “ACTIVATE KNIGHT SKILL: Total Defense!”

  Around him, ghostly replicas of his Hoplite shield appeared—one after another—until a circle of radiant barriers surrounded him completely. Each shield overlapped perfectly, leaving no gaps.

  “ACTIVATE KNIGHT SKILL: Solar Shield!”

  And then, with a final surge of golden light, he invoked another command.

  “COMBO SKILL: Solar Fortress!”

  A blazing fortress of light erupted around him, a radiant bastion that burned like the very sun. The spectral swords clashed against it in vain, disintegrating on contact. The air shimmered with the power of incandescent defense.

  Varis lowered his sword slightly, his expression unreadable: half admiration, half irritation.

  “A clever move,” he admitted. “But do you truly think you can hide behind that wall forever? There are more ways than one to end your Battlefield. I don’t need to destroy it—only to break your focus. When your concentration falters, your ability will collapse on its own.”

  Hadar glared from behind his fortress of light. “If you think you can distract me, you’re mistaken. I can hold this ground for as long as it takes.”

  Then he turned his head briefly toward the others. “Hey! Why are you still here? I told you to run—go! Now!”

  Orin and Aran exchanged a quick nod and turned to flee, but they quickly realized the others weren’t moving. Sirius, Cor, Gina, and Dan stood frozen, eyes wide, their bodies trembling under the oppressive weight of Varis’s presence.

  Only Jin moved, struggling against that invisible fear, shouting at the rest. “Come on! Move! We can’t stay here!”

  But his voice barely cut through the storm. The others still couldn’t move, trapped by the sheer aura of the knight who stood at the center of it all.

  On the battlefield, Varis laughed coldly, his voice echoing through the storm. Watching the group of young warriors struggle to move, he gave Hadar a look of amused pity.

  “Impressive… that three of them can even move while standing this close to my holy sword,” Varis remarked. “But as you can see, in their current state, fleeing isn’t an option. Not that it matters—those boys’ fates are already sealed.”

  He raised his sword toward the heavens.

  “ACTIVATE KNIGHT SKILL: Solar Sword!”

  A radiant blaze enveloped his weapon, turning it into a blade of pure sunlight. The glow was so bright it painted the rain gold.

  Hadar, still protected within his dome of light, tightened his grip on his shield.

  “If you think Solar Sword alone will break through my defenses, you’re mistaken,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension.

  Varis chuckled darkly.

  “Watch closely, boy. This is how ultimate techniques are truly used.”

  He lowered his blade slightly, eyes gleaming with merciless resolve.

  “ACTIVATE WARRIOR SKILL: Fixed Area Targets!”

  A chill rippled through the air. Orin and the others felt it instantly—a crushing sense of being watched, as if an unseen force had locked onto them. The oppressive weight made their hearts pound.

  “Orin,” Aran said, voice shaking, “I have a terrible feeling about this. We need to get out of here—now!”

  “But we can’t leave the others behind!” Orin protested, trying to pull Gina and Cor to their feet.

  It was no use. The rest of the group was frozen in terror, their faces pale and twisted in silent horror, barely able to make a sound.

  On the battlefield, Hadar still faced Varis, not yet understanding the full extent of his enemy’s plan.

  “Sir Varis… it’s no use!” he shouted. “Even if you try, you can’t leave this battlefield until our fight is over!”

  Varis smiled coldly.

  “I don’t need to leave,” he said. “When the technique itself is divine in nature, it can transcend boundaries.”

  Hadar’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you—”

  “Yes,” Varis interrupted, raising his blade skyward.

  “PRAYER: Celestial Army x100!”

  A deafening surge of light burst from his sword. A hundred luminous blades—replicas of Augur—manifested in the air, hovering like a halo of death. They surrounded not only Hadar, but also Orin and the others.

  “It’s time to close the curtain,” Varis said flatly.

  “COMBO SKILL: Grave of the Sinners.”

  The spectral blades screeched through the rain, streaking toward their targets like divine meteors.

  “Hadar!” Orin shouted.

  In a split-second decision, Hadar dispelled his own barrier. The moment he did, the swords around him struck, tearing through his armor and flesh. But he didn’t stop. He broke into a desperate sprint, blood trailing behind him as he tried to reach the children.

  “Orin! Run!” he shouted, his voice hoarse.

  But it was already too late.

  A dozen of the glowing swords reached Orin first. They impaled him through the chest, arms, and legs with searing heat. The pain was beyond human comprehension—his body convulsed as blood burst from his mouth. Around him, his companions fell one after another, their cries drowned by the storm.

  Orin tried to crawl toward them—toward Aran, Sirius, and the others—bleeding, trembling, each breath thinner than the last. But his strength was fading fast.

  “Hadar…” he whispered weakly.

  The older knight dropped to his knees beside him, blood dripping from his own wounds. Desperately, he pressed a glowing hand over Orin’s body.

  “PRAYER: Holy Mend!”

  A golden light enveloped Orin—warm, familiar, almost comforting. But this time… nothing happened. The pain didn’t fade. The light simply flickered, fading as if swallowed by the darkness.

  Hadar tried again.

  “PRAYER: Holy Mend! PRAYER: Holy Mend!!”

  Still nothing. Orin’s strength was draining away, his consciousness slipping like sand through fingers.

  “It’s useless,” Varis said from a short distance away, his voice devoid of emotion. “The aftershocks of Augur’s replica blades carry the same divine resonance as my sword. Your sacred arts can’t heal them. Their bodies—and their souls—are beyond saving.”

  The words echoed faintly in Orin’s ears, fading into the storm as his vision dimmed.

  Am I… dying?

  The thought drifted in his fading mind, dissolving into a whirl of fragmented images and abstract light.