Arslan was thrown away by the impact hitting his side.

“Huf, huf.”

He breathed deeply as he dragged his swords on the ground to stop himself.

“Weak prey.”

The monstrous being in front of him mocked him. It looked even bigger now. Its height and muscles looked greater and greater as Arslan clashed with it.

“Where are the strong ones?”

Creature growled.

“He is standing in front of you, you overgrown ass hair.”

Arslan quickly regretted his words when he noticed how much he sounded like Poyraz. He pulled his swords high. He looked at the golden mana covering them. They were wavering. Even though he still had mana, clashing with something this strong was sure to drain him.

The creature leaped towards him. Arsland blocked his attack, only for him to fly back and hit the shield.

“Boring.”

The creature opened its arm wide to taunt Arslan.

“Is that all you can do? Bring me stronger ones!”

Arslan slowly fell to the ground. His sides were hurting a lot. The pain worsened as he breathed. He was sure that his ribs were broken. Once again, he looked at his swords and golden mana coating them.

“Why? Why can’t I do it?”

He whispered to himself.

Aura.

To be more precise Sword Aura.

By fusing one’s willpower into very well-concentrated mana, one could create Aura.

If magicians were described as manipulating the laws of the universe with their mana and mental power, an aura user could be described as overcoming the laws of the universe with mana and willpower.

It was hard for humans who had more mana and better control of it. Even the Silverfox family with their famous mana control opted to be spellblades rather than trying to master aura most of the time.

That was more of the reason he had to do it. He had to surpass them. He gripped his swords tighter.

He wasn’t a part of the group when the Silverfox family slaughtered every leader except Börü. He was too busy being sold to slavery by his elder brother. That’s why, despite his intense feelings he couldn’t say they were personal.

Except in one way. They… They killed the parents of the girl he liked. Because of them, she was sad. Because of them, he would never ask them for her hand in marriage. That’s why he promised himself to defeat any Silverfox he came across.

…

How stupid he was. He was weak. He knew that much. When Poyraz told him Blanche Silverfox was stronger than him by a mile he knew that. When he went against his brother he knew he would be defeated.

Fuck, why he was this weak? He couldn’t do Primal Evocation. He couldn’t use aura. His fighting skills were lackluster when you compared them to Morrigan. He didn’t have much mana too.

But it didn’t matter. He had to fight. He had to win. He remembered how Poyraz fought. He wasn’t even from this world let alone being a beastkin yet he fought relentlessly.

He had to be like that. He had to be relentless, restless, and reckless.

Arslan closed his eyes, taking deep breaths despite the pain in his ribs. He focused his thoughts, his intent, and his mana. He pictured his swords glowing with a brilliant golden light, the embodiment of his willpower and determination.

Slowly, the wavering golden aura began to stabilize. It enveloped his swords more firmly, radiating with a newfound intensity. Arslan's eyes snapped open, filled with unwavering resolve. He pushed himself up from the ground, ignoring the pain, and faced the monstrosity once more.

The beast was looking at him intensely. No, not him. He was looking at his swords and the bright golden aura covering them. Despite flaunting it did just a second ago, the creature took a step back. Hairs on its back were raised. It fell on its four limbs and took a stance similar to a tiger ready to pounce.

Looking at it, Arslan felt his throat dry. He was dizzy and he could his heart beat rapidly in his ear. The attack the creature was about to make was the same as he did when he first attacked the barrier. Arslan’s beastkin instincts told him that if he were to just to grazed by it, he would die.

Arslan could feel the Reaper’s scythe being pressed against his throat. He haven’t felt a fear this primal even when he was shackled against his will or when he was faced against his brother. Despite fear growing inside himself and making his knees shake, Arslan flashed his teeth and growled.

He was ready to strike, ready to swing his sword yet he didn’t move. Or rather, he couldn’t move. He didn’t know if it was the fear of death or the damage he endured, he couldn’t move his legs. The only thing he could do was to wait for his enemy to come towards him. Sweat, mixed with blood slowly dripped down Arslan’s cheek.

The moment that drop left Arslan’s face, the creature leaped forward. Fast couldn’t even describe the speed and momentum it had. Even though the distance between them was sizeable, Arslan’s vision was covered with the creature’s massive claw.

Arslan’s brain froze when faced with imminent death. However, his body remembered the way he moved. Countless hours of sweating had already etched what he had to into his body. Arslan twisted his body, combining the movement of dodging with swinging his swords.

An immense pain caused Arslan to loudly gasp. Massive claws of his enemy were too big to dodge without footwork. He tried to not fall on his knees as he bled from the large gash on his chest. Bright golden light illuminating his swords suddenly faded out. Arslan couldn’t see it as his vision was black due to the pain.

His vision only came back to him when he heard something heavy hit the ground. He let out a small noise of pain mixed with relief when he saw the creature lying in front of him, headless.

Arslan's heart was pounding in his chest as he finally fell to his knees, pain coursing through his body from the massive gash on his chest. He could feel the warmth of his own blood soaking through his clothes, and every breath he took sent waves of agony through his chest. When he tried to manipulate his mana, he realized he had exhausted nearly all of it. The victory he achieved took almost everything from him, including nearly his life. He dropped one of his swords and pressed down on the wound on his chest.

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Scarlet blood on his hands reminded him of Amaterasu and her beautiful hair. Just the glimpse of her made Arslan feel the light in this hopeless situation. However, he wasn’t sure if that light would be enough as he looked around and saw other mutated beasts encircling him. They were like sharks, drawn to the blood and weakness.

“At least… At least I will die remembering her face.”

He said somberly. He weakly raised his remaining sword. He could at least try to take down one of them before he went out. One of the beasts charged forward at him.

However, before it could reach him, something jumped out of the shadows. With a single strike armored figure beheaded the creature, causing others to back away while growling.

“Oi.”

“Woof.”

Poyraz stood tall with Gökbörü on his shoulder. His dark grey cloak danced with the wind. He looked at Arslan with his back half turned to him. Arslan saw two dark purple lights shine out of his helmet. His helmet turned into shadows and revealed his face.

Poyraz's face, now visible, bore a determined yet relaxed face. His eyes, similar to a beastkin’s, carried a glimmer of warmth. Arslan could tell that something was different. It was not just that he could project his armor again or he was stronger. He had something… divine about him.

“You are too young to accept death like that. Also if you died, my bet with Lily would never resolve. So, can you walk?”

“Never mind.”

Arslan thought to himself. He was still an asshole.

“Barely.”

He answered. Arslan raised himself, using his sword to support himself.

“Have you found it?”

He asked while looking at the sword Poyraz was holding. Despite the question he asked, he knew the answer. The sword Poyraz was holding was what they went out to look for. The question now was whether it would be enough or not.

Gökbörü jumped off while holding a flask in his mouth. He approached Arslan.

“It doesn’t have much but it should at least help you walk faster. Gökbörü will lead you to Nocturna. She could cast healing magic. I’ll handle this.”

Poyraz declared, his voice now a steely resolve. Arslan drank what remained in the flask and followed Gökbörü.

“Arslan.”

Poyraz called out without looking back. Arslan looked at Poyraz’s back.

“You did good. Rest now.”

Shadows closed on his face to form his helmet. Arslan smiled a little as Poyraz charged toward the horde of mutated beasts.

Now that he had no longer to guard wounded Arslan, Poyraz swung his sword furiously. His Sacred Sword of Selection, born out of a desire to punish the wicked and protect the weak cut through mutated beasts easily. Poyraz felt no satisfaction, pride, or joy. He swung his blade with only sadness for the innocents that had been turned into these beasts and fury for the evil that caused all of it.

The blade had a long hilt. That, coupled with its length would make anyone think it was a two-handed weapon yet Poyraz swung it with one hand easily. At first glance, it didn’t look out of the ordinary. It was a sharp sword crafted in darker shades. A single light grey rune was etched across the blade. Even though it was unfamiliar to him and unknown to every other mortal, Poyraz could read it. It spelled the sword’s name: Requiem for Unfinished Dreams.

Its hilt was wrapped in supple, dark leather, providing a secure and comfortable grip. Poyraz had no idea what kind of leather was it, or if it was even leather but he never held a weapon that fit his hand like this. It felt natural to grip it, like it was just a part of him. Entwined within the leather wrap were delicate chains made of a dark, resilient metal. The chains ran across Poyraz’s right arm, contrasting with his light grey wristguards. The sword's crossguard was simple yet effective, serving to protect Poyraz's hands in the heat of battle.

As he cut down poor beasts, the sword let out a soft hum, as if to warn or alert him to something. Poyraz furrowed his eyebrows under his helmet.

“Yeah, I can feel it. Demonic energy.”

Soft hum cut off. Poyraz looked at the beasts. They growled and flashed their fangs but didn’t attack. Their gazes were on his sword. The demonic energy flowing in their veins must be reacting to the divine force Poyraz’s sword carried.

It was more optimal for Poyraz as he was very close to the barrier that held the civilians. If mutated beasts were really afraid or avoided his blade maybe he could chase away from the barrier. While he wasn’t sure if he could defeat all of the beasts by himself, the opportunity to create a space was captivating.

“Alright, no use thinking. If you don’t come to me…”

Poyraz charged towards hesitating beasts. Even though they were repulsed by his sword, they attacked Poyraz still the same. Poyraz dodged their overgrown and unbalanced claws by jumping high into the air. He created three spears in the air. He used his capes like a sling to launch them. All three hit the beasts below, killing them instantly. Instead of falling in just the middle of the horde of beasts, Poyraz balanced himself on the hilts of the spears he threw and struck the remaining ones. When they aimed for him he just jumped to their heads and retreated back while slaying the ones chasing him.

“Masky, masky. Come out, wherever you are.”

He called out in a playful tone.