An alarm bell tore through the night. A shrill metallic clang jolted the sleeping city awake. Three consecutive rings—the signal that the walls had been breached. "[scared]What the—!?" Leon shot up from his desk, where he'd been poring over blueprints. The ink bottle tipped over, a black stain spreading across the parchment. He couldn't care less. He grabbed the sword hanging on the wall and bolted from the room without even grabbing his cloak. The corridor was a crucible of chaos. Half-naked soldiers scrambled to clutch their armor, women ran clutching their children. Torch flames flickered, making the shadows on the walls writhe like serpents. (*Where is it? Where did they break through?*) Leon shoved his way through the tide of bodies. Someone's shoulder slammed into him, nearly tangling his feet. As he passed through the castle gate, he saw the eastern sky glowing an eerie, ominous orange. Fire. At a seam in the eastern wall, the old stonework had crumbled, and flames were gushing from the breach. Magic. They'd been hit with magic. Through the gap, soldiers clad in black armor were pouring in one after another. Andavari heavy infantry—the kingdom's crest on their chests, their swords already slick with blood. "[shouts]Enemy troops! The east wall's been breached!" The garrison soldiers desperately leveled their spears, but they were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. One was stabbed in the gut and collapsed. In the light of the bonfires, he could see his comrade's blood spreading across the cobblestones. With a thunderous roar, a fresh wave of enemies charged in. "[angry]Damn it!" Leon gritted his teeth. (*I have to do what I can.*) He thrust his right hand toward the enemy and chanted his spell. "Invert—" Right at the enemy soldier's feet. He altered the angle of the cobblestone, just a little. For an instant, the enemy's shield tilted. That was all. The soldier merely stumbled slightly before immediately regaining his footing, glaring sharply at Leon. "[cold]A mage, huh? Not much of one, though." "I'll take this one. You guys go on ahead!" Another soldier closed in on Leon from the side. Crap. He raised his sword, but his hands were shaking. His swordsmanship was utterly hopeless. And his magic—he could only use that tiny amount. (*I'm... yet again—*) His legs were swept out from under him from behind. *Thud.* His body floated in the air, then slammed into the ground. The cold hardness of the stone bit into his back. His breath stopped. The enemy soldier's face blurred before his eyes. The weight of a man pinning him down. The cold of steel pressed precisely against his throat. A sword. "[cold]Die." The enemy soldier leaned his weight into it. The tip of the blade sliced through the first layer of skin, and lukewarm blood trickled down his neck. (*Ah... I'm going to die here, aren't I?*) Time seemed to slow down. He could hear someone screaming in the distance. Embers danced in the air, the sky flickering and flashing. The sword pressed down once more— —In that instant. The enemy soldier's hand trembled, ever so slightly. The blade tip veered off, unnaturally. *Shunk.* The point grazed Leon's neck and stabbed into the cobblestone beside him. "[surprised]Wh... what...?" The enemy soldier stared at his own hand, his face a mask of utter confusion. Leon himself had absolutely no idea what had just happened. (*Why did it miss...?*) There was no time to think. —A thunderous roar. *GWOOOOOOOOOOH!!* With a howl that seemed to tear the air itself, a dragon of flame swallowed the cluster of enemy soldiers that had been flooding in through the breach. A blaze of searing light bleached his vision pure white. "GYAAAAAAH!" Over ten men were turned into human torches in an instant. The stench of burning flesh assaulted his nostrils. The enemy soldier who had been about to kill Leon moments before also recoiled with a scream, his face scorched by the residual heat. "H-Hellfire Dragon magic...!" A figure walked out from within the flames. Long red hair swayed in the hot wind. Golden eyes reflected the firelight, gleaming like a beast's. The dragon tattoo carved into his right arm stood out in the torchlight. His brother, Ferden Allen. "—I'll handle the rest." His voice was low and calm. A single flash of his longsword. The throat of the nearest enemy soldier split open, a spray of blood dancing in the air. A motion devoid of waste, impossibly precise. With the returning stroke, he pierced the chest of a second, then severed the arm of a third, sword and all. The shriek of metal cutting metal. Screams. Swords clattering onto the cobblestones. One by one, the enemy soldiers fell. "[excited]It's Lord Allen!" "Lord Allen is here!" The city's soldiers erupted in cheers. The defending troops, who had been on the back foot until now, rallied their morale in an instant. The enemy soldiers were shaken. Having taken massive damage from the fire dragon and watching their comrades cut down before their eyes, some tried to flee. But Allen didn't let them escape, cutting them down one after another. The battle was over in the blink of an eye. Every single enemy soldier who had infiltrated through the breach lay sprawled on the ground. The flames still crackled and hissed. Allen's gaze shifted to Leon, who remained sitting on the ground. His blazing red hair and golden eyes. His handsome features were splattered with blood. "[serious]You alright?" That was all. Was it concern? Or just a check? It was so brief, Leon couldn't tell. "...Y-yeah." Leon managed to reply, but his voice was hoarse. Without another word, Allen turned on his heel and left. Immediately, other soldiers swarmed around him, shouting their gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Allen!" "We were truly saved because you came!" People surrounded his brother, praising the hero in unison. Outside that circle, Leon tried to stand up, alone. He couldn't muster the strength in his hands. His fingers, smeared with mud and blood, scraped against the cobblestone. —Just then, his fingertip touched something cold. A bluish-gray metal. An arrowhead. Probably dropped by one of the Andavari soldiers. It gave off a faint, dull gleam in the torchlight. Magic steel. The hardest ore in this world, imbued with magical power. Leon picked it up. Cold. He clenched it in his fist. (*In the end, I'm just someone who gets protected.*) His hand trembled. His Inversion magic could only tilt a shield a little. His sword couldn't bring down a single enemy. Even with a bow, during last night's raid, they hadn't even counted him among their numbers. The face of the apprentice soldier who had shouted next to him flashed through his mind. *'Useless deadweight.'* He was right. Even today, he'd nearly died. He didn't know if it was coincidence or what, but if that enemy's sword hadn't missed, he'd be a corpse right now. And his brother—had single-handedly turned the tide of battle. Burning the enemy with fire magic, mowing them down with his longsword, hailed as a hero throughout the city. "[whispers]...Damn it." He squeezed the arrowhead in his hand even tighter. (*I haven't accomplished anything.*) A deep self-loathing welled up from the pit of his stomach. Still, nothing at all. Dawn broke, and a heavy silence hung over the aftermath of the battlefield. Bloodstains caked onto the cobblestones glistened black in the morning sun. Broken spears and shields lay scattered everywhere, and the air still reeked of char. The wounded were seated against the wall, waiting for treatment. Some had blood seeping through their bandages, others had their arms in slings, some just stared blankly at the sky. Amidst them, Lumia moved about, her long, pale purple hair swaying. Her small elf ears peeked out adorably from between the strands. Her clear, silvery eyes were slightly moist with fatigue, yet she never stopped attending to those around her. "[gentle]This one, please. Use fresh medicinal herbs." She gave instructions to the other healers while carefully examining each person's wounds. She wrapped bandages, applied healing magic, and smiled reassuringly. Lumia noticed a figure sitting in the corner of the ramparts, hugging his knees. Tattered clothes. A face smeared with mud and blood. "[surprised]...Leon?" She let out a small gasp and rushed over. "What are you doing here? Your injuries—" Her words stopped. She had noticed the single slash wound on Leon's neck. "[sad]...Let me treat that." Without another word, Lumia knelt beside him. From the bag she carried, she took out a cloth soaked in green medicinal herbs. "I told you, it's nothing." Leon turned his face away. "[serious]You don't have the face of someone who's 'nothing'." Her voice was quiet, but firm. Her slender fingers gently pressed the cloth to Leon's neck. A cool sensation and the bittersweet scent of herbs spread out. Gently, so it wouldn't hurt. "...I heard you were reckless again yesterday. That you tried to hold off the enemy alone." "And this is the result." Leon said it with self-deprecation. "If Allen hadn't come, I'd be dead. I couldn't do anything. All I did was tilt a shield a little." "But," Lumia kept the cloth pressed in place and stared intently into Leon's eyes. "You're here. You're alive. Just that... makes me happy." At those words, a sharp pang struck Leon's chest. The humiliation of being protected and the feeling of wanting to protect her churned together messily in his heart. The warmth of Lumia's hand seeped gently from his neck. But he felt like his current self had no right to accept that warmth. "[whispers]...Thank you." He barely managed to say that much. Lumia smiled just a little, then stood up. "There are others waiting for treatment. I'll see you later." She walked off toward the next patient. Her back looked terribly exhausted. She must have been treating people all night. Even so, she never let her smile fade. Leon watched her retreating back, then looked at his own hand. He was still clutching the magic steel arrowhead. The cold, bluish-gray metal had grown just a little warmer in his hand. (*I still haven't accomplished anything.*) But— Maybe he could make something with these hands. He shoved the arrowhead into his pocket. Just then, he overheard the conversation of some passing soldiers. "[whispers]Did you hear? They say the enemy got a new commander." "[scared]Yeah, his name's... Klaus Werner, apparently. They say he's on a whole different level from the guys we've faced so far—a real sharp one." "So that's how they pulled off that diversion yesterday..." Klaus Werner. The name of the enemy commander was starting to leak from the soldiers' lips. The atmosphere inside the castle grew visibly heavier. (*Klaus...*) Leon clenched his fist. Yesterday's breach was his doing. A meticulously calculated diversion. That was probably just a probe. More terrifying attacks were yet to come. That conviction alone swelled larger and larger in his chest. Leon looked up at the breached eastern wall once more. Masons were gathering to try and repair the crumbled stonework. But the parts destroyed by magic couldn't be fixed easily. (*I have to hurry.*) In his pocket, the arrowhead asserted its weight. Something that might be able to replace gunpowder. This tiny piece of metal, perhaps— It hadn't taken shape yet. But within his clenched fist, he could feel a small heat smoldering.