The Fallen One

Following the intense explosion of flames emitted from Lucius, a powerful shockwave—similar to those previously used by the ghost bear—propelled various objects and individuals backward with extraordinary force. Sia, who had been seated on a stone, along with nearby trees and scattered wooden logs, were all influenced by the flame-infused shockwaves. A tree struck Sia during the incident; fortunately, her damaged armor provided some protection, preventing any additional injuries. However, other objects in the vicinity suffered significant damage and were shattered upon impact.

Once the chaos subsided, Sia quickly moved to Lucius's side, despite her injured arm, which had swollen due to her collision with the tree. As she knelt beside him, she attempted to assess Lucius's condition but found that her hands struggled to establish a steady flow of mana. Taking a moment to collect herself, she recalled the adage, "Haste makes waste, patience prevails," and focused on calming her nerves before trying again. A brief examination revealed that Lucius was merely unconscious, exhibiting subtle signs of breathing. This observation reassured her; she confirmed to herself that he was alive.

To maintain her composure, Sia repeated the phrase, "The worst is in the past," to remind herself that, despite the circumstances, Lucius was still alive and breathing.

***

"The worst is in the past."

He heard the words, but they slipped through his fractured mind like sand through cupped hands.

"The worst is in the... what?"

Lucius echoed them without thinking, his own voice sounding foreign, raw, strained, little more than a whisper. His thoughts, instead of comforting him, did what they always did best: multiplied, swarmed, gnawed. Had he already lost his sanity after just one day in this world? Was this world even real?

A bolt of pain answered.

Sharp and unrelenting, it ripped through his body, not the dull ache of exhaustion but something far crueler—searing, punishing, the kind of pain that carved itself into memory and refused to fade.

He wanted to scream.

But his throat, swollen and scorched, barely managed a rasp.

His eyes fluttered open. Light bled through the canopy above—sunlight golden and flickering—and after a moment of blurred vision, she came into focus.

Sia.

She knelt above him, her upper body leaning protectively over his own. Her hair, vivid red and haloed by morning light, framed a face marked by restraint. But it was her eyes—sharp, unmoving, quietly alert—that held him.

"Hi?"

The word barely made it out. Pathetic, breathy. Childlike.

Of all the things he could've said—that was it?

Sia blinked once. Then, softly, with that same grounded firmness he'd come to expect from her, she replied, "You're only eight years old, you know?"

The words brought him pause. Eight?

"Wait, you know my exact age?" he asked, startled. Even he hadn't known that. Time had meant nothing to him until now. One day of existence—how could that translate into eight years?

Sia's expression didn't change. "While you were unconscious, I scanned your body."

"A scan?" His brow furrowed. "But I was unconscious for... what, a minute?"

"Exactly."

That was all she gave him. No elaboration. No explanation. She left the pieces for him to put together.

"What else did you exactly fi—"

He didn't finish. The pain surged again, white-hot and ruthless, and his thoughts shattered beneath it like brittle glass.

"Son of a bitch—!"

The curse ripped from his throat—instinctive, hoarse, almost pitiful in its weakness.

Sia let out a hum. Not unsympathetic. Almost amused.

"Mana backlash," she said simply. "Pretty common... for mana wielders. Like us."

Us.

The word struck deeper than any pain. It wasn't just an observation—it was acceptance. A quiet affirmation of what he now was.

Even through the agony, Lucius drew inward, narrowing his awareness, blocking out everything but the flickering ember of something... new.

There.

He felt it.

A presence. No—an energy. A radiant core, molten and bright, nestled deep in his chest. It pulsed steadily, its warmth diffusing into his limbs, his senses, his very soul.

It was alive.

And it was his.

Not a foreign force. Not borrowed.

His.

The purified mana that had once threatened to incinerate him had settled into something stable, something permanent.

Lucius had survived.

"Congratulations," Sia said, breaking his trance. She was watching him closely now, and something almost like pride glinted in her eyes. "You now possess a mana core. And a mana signature. Just like the rest of us."

Mana core. Mana signature.

The words echoed in his mind, heavy with meaning.

Before he could respond, his gaze shifted past her to a massive tree in the distance, its bark torn and dented, the impact visible even from where he lay. Something or someone had struck it with terrifying force.

He looked back at her.

Sia's right arm was wrapped, her fingers gingerly gripping it. The limb trembled slightly.

He didn't need to ask.

Guilt welled in his chest like a rising tide.

The Mana Discharge—the uncontrolled burst that had nearly killed him—had injured her.

She caught his expression.

"It wasn't your fault," she said firmly. She didn't hesitate. "What mattered is that we succeeded."

Success.

Maybe. But the cost...

He rose.

Every muscle screamed in protest, but he ignored it. Without thinking, without speaking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

It was a clumsy, uneven gesture. His limbs trembled. But it was real.

"Thank you."

The words barely made it out. But they were honest. Thank you for believing in me. For protecting me. For sharing your past.

Sia didn't move at first.

Then, slowly, her arms came up.

A gentle, cautious embrace. Brief—but sincere.

As he pulled away, her expression returned to that calm resolve.

"We have much to discuss," she said. "And a long road ahead. But as we march toward my city, I will answer what I can—about your core, about this world... about your new home."

Home.

A strange word. Foreign on his tongue. But not unwelcome.

Lucius inhaled deeply. The air burned, but it was steady.

"Alright."

No hesitation.

Wherever she went, he would follow.

For now, that was enough.

***

"You can begin, little one," Sia instructed, her voice steady as she climbed ahead of him. The terrain was rough—uneven stone and jagged edges cutting across the narrow cliff path—but Lucius barely noticed. What pressed on him wasn't fatigue or fear, but curiosity. Each step brought them higher, closer to something vast—something he'd only ever imagined.

They were heading toward the eastern border of the empire.

"What's the name of the city we're going to?" Lucius asked, pausing to catch his breath.

"Varis," Sia replied without looking back. "The central city of the eastern region."

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"And the empire?" he asked, brushing sweat from his brow. "The one you guys are always so proud of?"

That got a glance. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "The Mighty Empire of Verdun."

The name hit heavier when she said it. There was reverence in her voice—a weight that made Lucius pause. He'd heard it before, vaguely, but now... it felt familiar. Like something buried deep was stirring.

"Verdun," he echoed. "Cool name."

"It's more than that," Sia continued. "It's a legacy. Named after the first Emperor—His Majesty, Lord Verdun. The Invincible. A warrior unlike any before or after. He unified a continent of warring kingdoms. Ended centuries of bloodshed. Built the strongest empire this world has ever known. A true legend."

Lucius fell quiet, imagining what it would be like to hold that kind of power. To be remembered like that.

"So… we're in the eastern region now?" he asked, shifting the subject.

"Central-Eastern," she corrected. "Most of the East is covered in the Beast Forests—like the one I found you in."

He nodded. The memory was still raw—shadowed trees, prowling predators, and the pulse of survival in every breath.

"Yeah, the Outer Rim, right? What's with all these 'rims' anyway? Why not just call the whole thing the Beast Forest?"

Sia gave a low chuckle. "Because that would be inaccurate. The rims help us categorise the land. The Outer Rim is the most expansive, teeming with beasts of all shapes and sizes. So vast we had to divide it into sectors just to navigate it."

She adjusted her grip on her sword's hilt as they climbed. The light caught the silver edge for a moment before she continued.

"The Middle Rim lies past a great river. Fewer beasts—but stronger. More intelligent. The real threats dwell there."

"And the Inner Rim?"

Her smile faded. "That's where the Apex Predators live. The undisputed kings. Only the elite go that deep."

Lucius hesitated. "And the last one? The Central Rim?"

Sia stopped for half a beat. "No one knows. There are theories, stories… but no one's ever returned with proof. Most who enter the centre don't come back at all."

A chill crept along his spine. The way she spoke made it sound less like a forest and more like forbidden ground.

Without warning, she quickened her pace, ascending the final stretch at a near run. Lucius gritted his teeth, pushing his legs harder. He wouldn't be left behind.

The incline steepened. Rocks shifted underfoot. Every step felt like a battle, but he didn't stop.

Then, suddenly, Sia froze.

Her posture stiffened, shoulders squared. She stood at the cliff's edge, silent.

Lucius reached her side and followed her gaze, and what he saw stole the breath from his lungs.

The great walls of Varis.

They loomed in the distance, towering above the emerald sea of forest. Black stone—pitch-dark and lightless—rose hundreds of meters into the sky. The walls stretched far beyond the eye's reach, anchored deep into the earth, standing like sentinels of a forgotten age.

And just beyond them—shimmering faintly in the morning haze—was the city.

Sia exhaled beside him, her voice soft with awe.

"This view... it never gets old."

Lucius swallowed, his throat dry. "Yeah. It's… something else."

He had never seen anything like it. The sheer scale, the raw presence, the way the walls themselves seemed to hum with history and power.

For the first time since waking up in this world, Lucius truly understood.

This wasn't just any city.

This was Verdun.

And soon, he would walk its streets.

Sia turned, her composure returning.

"We still have hours ahead. We'll take the long route—as always."

Lucius looked down. The trail snaked into the valley below, then wound through the forest before finally arching toward the fortress walls. A journey still remained.

He grinned.

"Then let's not waste time. I want to see what this new life has in store for me."

Together, they began their descent toward the city of legends.

***

"That was so fun, Sia! Can we do that again?"

Lucius was still breathless, his heart pounding from the wild descent. It had felt less like climbing down a mountain and more like some strange, exhilarating version of skiing. The jagged cliffs had turned into ramps, the hills into launch pads. He'd tumbled and soared in bursts of adrenaline, laughing through the chaos. Sia, as always, had been in front—silent, sure-footed, guiding him with the occasional warning or outstretched hand.

It was the most fun he'd had since waking up in this strange world.

Sia didn't turn around.

"No."

The word came fast. Flat. Final. Not even a glance.

Lucius blinked. Her bluntness caught him off guard. Ever since he'd reconnected with mana, something about her had changed. She wasn't cold, but she wasn't warm anymore either.

Was it something he did?

...Or something he hadn't done?

A chill brushed past his thoughts.

Mana.

He flexed his fingers slightly, trying to dismiss the unease building in his chest. But the question was already forming. It had to be asked.

"Lady Sia? Do you have a moment?"

She didn't stop walking but gave a small nod. "I hear things through my ears, Lucius. They're focused on you. Speak."

Not exactly a warm invitation, but it would do.

"Can I become strong? Like you? Or Sir Ragnar?"

He didn't let himself hesitate.

"You reconnected me to mana, but... what now? How do I control it? What are mana cores, and how do people bend them to their will? If I'm going to survive whatever this world throws at me, I need to understand. I need to know."

Sia didn't answer immediately.

But after a pause, she nodded.

"Then listen carefully," she said, voice settling into the cadence of a warrior passing down knowledge earned through scars. "There are two kinds of mages among us. The first can sense, absorb, purify, and circulate mana, allowing them to reinforce their bodies, their weapons, and their armour. The second group? They only circulate mana subconsciously. They're stuck with internal flow, no control, no projection."

Lucius frowned. "So we're the first type?"

"Yes. But even within that group, there are divisions."

She continued, her voice more rhythmic now, in teaching mode, like she had done this before.

"Knights—like me—use mana to enhance physical power. We harden steel, accelerate speed, and endure longer. Healers—like June—can manipulate mana to mend wounds, purge poisons, even regrow lost tissue in rare cases. They don't fight, but they're what keeps others alive through the fight."

Lucius followed closely, absorbing each word.

"And the third type?" he asked.

"Spellcasters," Sia replied. "Like Dawn. They don't reinforce—they reshape. Spellcasters are unique because their affinities don't limit them. They can wield magic beyond the element they were born attuned to... with enough training."

"Wait, wait. Affinity?" he tilted his head.

Sia nodded.

"Mana is the force that built this world. It governs nature, life, and even death. Every sentient creature has the potential to manipulate mana. You can reinforce your body. I can shape arc lines of fire. That Ghost Bear? It used mana to become what it was."

Lucius remembered the icy breath, the bone-chilling beams.

"Its affinity was Ice," he muttered.

"Correct."

She slowed slightly, her tone changing. "Based on its behaviour and elemental adaptation, can you guess where it came from?"

Lucius took a moment, then answered.

"The Northern Mountain Range of Terra. That level of adaptation... the cold, the breath, the ice shards—it has to be native to sub-zero climates."

Sia stopped mid-step.

Her reaction was brief, but visible.

"How did you—?" She cut herself off, eyes narrowing just slightly. Then she exhaled. "Yes. You're right."

A flicker of pride bloomed in Lucius's chest.

Got her.

She brushed off the slip and moved forward again.

"Just as living things have affinities, so do the elements around us. Sunlight, soil, the sky, the sea—each area infuses the mana within it differently. Mountains burn with Fire mana. Oceans flow with Water. Volcanoes bleed. This phenomenon is known as the Creation of Mana Nature."

Lucius's mind spun with the implications.

"So outside of raw mana... we've got Fire, Water, Earth, Wind?"

"Correct. But most people can't sense them."

"Because they lack the affinity," Lucius said immediately.

Sia gave a faint smile. "You're catching on quickly."

But then her expression changed—sombre, distant. Her voice dipped.

"Before my... incident, I had an affinity for Fire. I could cloak my armour in flames. Shape blades from heat. But after what happened, I lost that connection. The affinity still burns within me... but I can't control it. Not anymore."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with something unspoken. Pain. Regret. Maybe guilt.

Lucius didn't push. But a quiet thought stirred.

"Does that mean... I might have one too?"

Sia didn't answer.

Instead, she changed the subject.

"We entered this forest some time ago," she said abruptly. "Have you noticed anything unusual, Lucius?"

His jaw clenched slightly. Nails dug into his palm.

She was dodging the question.

But in doing so, she had already answered it.

"There are no beasts," Lucius said flatly.

"And why is that?" Sia asked without turning.

He sighed. "I don't know."

"It's off-season," she replied simply. "The beasts retreat deeper into their sectors during this time of year."

Lucius scoffed. "And what exactly am I supposed to do with that information?"

The shift was immediate.

The air around them thickened. Not with magic, but something far tenser. Her aura shifted, just slightly. Barely noticeable, yet enough to freeze the blood in his veins.

Shit.

The red-haired knight in front of him wasn't known for her patience.

Lucius straightened quickly, palms raised in mock surrender. "I apologise for my tone, Miss Beauty-with-Brains. Please, continue."

Sia exhaled through her nose—a sharp, tired breath—but resumed walking.

"Dawn was a spellcaster. Her affinity was Fire. Unlike knights, spellcasters can purify mana, channel it through their cores, and weaponise it. Their destructive power is immense, devastating, even. They can cast from a distance, launch area-wide attacks. It's a different kind of battlefield."

Lucius absorbed the explanation, mind already racing with ideas.

"Then doesn't that make her... kind of invincible? I mean, the world's full of mana, right? Couldn't someone like her just level mountains?"

Sia gave a rare chuckle—low, dry, humourless.

"You'd think so. But everything has limits. The more mana you channel, the more your body pays for it. Overload too much mana into your veins, and your own core can tear you apart from the inside."

She glanced at him.

"There are ways to push past those limits... but they come at a cost."

A cost.

Lucius didn't ask what kind. He had a feeling he'd find out sooner than he wanted to.

Sia kept walking, but her mind stayed behind with him.

Eight years old? And no memory of his past?

It didn't sit right.

In all her years, she'd trained countless recruits—some blessed, some talented, some delusional—but none like him. Lucius not only grasped complex concepts with eerie ease, but he processed them. Connected them. Predicted things she hadn't even told him yet.

A hidden genius? Or something more dangerous?

Before she could decide, Lucius spoke again.

"Does it have something to do with the core inside us?" His voice was calm now, deliberate. "Is that the catch—the thing that limits how much mana we can absorb and use?"

Sia slowed slightly, lips pressing into a line.

Amazing.

She studied him briefly.

The posture. The gaze. The subtle shift in his stride when he was thinking.

"Yes," she said, tone steady. "Our core is the wellspring of everything. It allows us to draw mana, but it also defines our limits—how much we can absorb, circulate, and control."

Lucius nodded.

Sia continued.

"Right now, your core is at its weakest stage: F-rank. Barely functioning. You can absorb some mana. A little can circulate. But your control over external mana? Nearly nonexistent."

She glanced over. "You're fragile. You may not feel it, but you are."

Lucius didn't flinch.

"And you?" he asked.

"Dawn was C-rank. Ragnar is B-rank. I'm A."

He raised an eyebrow. "And the highest?"

"The ranks progress: F, E, D, C, B, A. Then come S-rank... and SS-rank. Only a handful ever reach those heights."

Lucius frowned slightly. "What determines how far someone can go?"

She hesitated.

But then she gave him the full truth.

"There are five factors that shape one's path in this world: Talent, Affinity, Bloodline, Genes, and Luck. Without all five, your ceiling remains low—even if you're gifted."

Lucius processed that in silence.

"Dawn had an affinity. She was a spellcaster. Rare enough," Sia went on. "But she would've peaked at A-rank. Maybe."

Lucius blinked. "Why?"

Sia looked him in the eye.

"She lacked the other four."

The words felt like a stone dropped into still water.

Harsh. Heavy. Undeniable.

"But what if someone... didn't have an affinity," Lucius said slowly. "Could they still reach SSS-rank?"

Sia's gaze grew distant.

"They could," she whispered. "But history only remembers five to seven knights who managed it. Ever."

Lucius stared.

"Five... in all of history?"

"Yes. They shattered the rules of the world. No affinity. No advantage. And yet, they climbed all the way to the top. Because they had something else—everything else. They were born with absurd genes. Inherited monstrous bloodlines. Were moulded by impossible environments. And they had luck—unrelenting, undeserved luck."

A pause.

"But an affinity doesn't guarantee greatness either."

Lucius tilted his head. "You mean people like Dawn?"

"Exactly. Even with talent and training, she lacked the foundation. The fire inside her burned, but it could only burn so bright. Without the right vessel, it wouldn't last."

Lucius's hands clenched unconsciously. Five things. Five gates.

Talent. Affinity. Bloodline. Genes. Luck.

And the question that burned at the back of his throat—

What if I have none?

He didn't ask for it.

Instead, he met her gaze.

"What's the highest rank someone can reach?"

Sia's expression shifted—there was reverence in her eyes now. Maybe even fear.

"The SSS-rank," she said. "It's not on any chart. Not listed in academies or tests. They simply call it..."

She turned her eyes to the sky.

"The Rank of Saints."