Arden and Marcus stood atop the palisade, their eyes sweeping the shadowy expanse before them. The cool night air clung to them like a shroud, thick with tension and pregnant with unspoken questions.

"Let me get this straight because I might be a bit slow on the uptake," Arden began, his voice tinged with disbelief. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the wooden beams of the fortification. "Thalen's attack, which was initiated by his father—one of your trusted guards, mind you—wasn't really an attack at all. Was it an attempt to keep Ava safe? Safe from another impending assault by bandits, who are actually here to kill Lila but will also plunder anything they can lay their hands on?"

"Essentially, yes," Marcus replied, his eyes never leaving the horizon. His voice was level as if this labyrinth of treachery was all in a day's work.

Arden shook his head in disbelief. "And Chandler, he's what? Not some rebellious playboy but an incredibly cunning royal son?"

"True, though I'm not exactly sure what a 'playboy' is, and Chandler is certainly not royal," Marcus confirmed, finally breaking his gaze to meet Arden's. "He and Ava grew up together. They were close as kids."

"So why couldn't Chandler have just warned Ava about what was coming? Spared her the ordeal?" Arden questioned, his voice laced with doubt and a tinge of frustration.

At this point, Galadrian's laugh sliced through the air, rich and unexpected. "Ah, because that would be too straightforward," he interjected with sardonic amusement. "Since when have the human houses made anything simple, especially politics?"

Marcus chuckled in return, the sound tinged with a mixture of irony and resignation. "That's a bit rich, coming from an elf."

The mood, though lightened, still carried the weight of the situation at hand, each man keenly aware that danger lurked just beyond the walls.

As Arden observed the hurried yet methodical preparations unfolding below him, he was struck by the resilience of the community. A thrum of activity buzzed through the air, their movements filled with a practiced urgency. It occurred to him that this wasn't new for them; they were the last outpost before a wilderness filled with unknown threats. Yet their isolated location had also been their shield against bandits, until now.

The crowd's diversity fascinated him, not just in their backgrounds but in their armaments as well. Most were former soldiers, each equipped with their weapon of choice, swords, shields, axes, worn and weathered from experience. Beside them stood their sons, armed with an array of weapons and armor that seemed to tell a story of their own, each piece a testament to the unique family it represented. But what caught his eye most were the women. They too were armed, primarily with long spears, their tips shining in the sparse light. He knew that in formation, a wall of spears was a formidable defense, nearly impenetrable. It was an unsettling but oddly comforting thought. Everyone was prepared, and everyone had a role to play.

His contemplations were abruptly cut short by Galadrian. "Arden, might you share which skills you've managed to relearn?"

The elf's words, spoken in High Elvish, hung in the air for a moment before registering in Arden's mind.

"I didn't mean to pry," Galadrian elaborated. "I intend to aid you in prioritizing your relearning. Might you divulge your progress on your mana manipulation path?"

Shaking off his daze, Arden replied, "I don't mind. I've been focusing on my [Mana Manipulation]. It feels like I'm about halfway to mastering it." Still fascinated by the workings of his medallion, and how easily it let him speak foreign tongues.

"And have you undergone the Etherweave Attunement practice?"

"The what?"

Galadrian raised an eyebrow. "Has Lila not educated you? A dereliction of her duties, perhaps?"

"It's not her fault," Arden defended. "I've had the skill for less than a week, and we've yet to discuss my training."

"Only a week you say. Then allow me to educate you in a modest fashion," said Galadrian, gesturing to the collar around his neck. "Detect and examine its workings. What do you discern?"

Arden hesitated, a glimmer of intuition flickering through his thoughts. He hadn't used detection before, but something urged him to give it a try now. Taking a focused breath, he sent out a subtle pulse of mana toward the collar, simultaneously activating his [Mana Sight] and [Mana Manipulation] skills to better understand its inner workings.

The collar lit up in his perception, its form and function becoming stunningly clear. Arden was surprised by his own insight; he hadn't expected to understand so swiftly and sharply. "From what I can tell," he said cautiously, not wanting to betray his own astonishment, "the collar is attuned to your personal mana signature and effectively blocks its user from utilizing their mana."

"Very good, Master" Galadrian responded, managing to make the word 'master' sound like 'apprentice.' "Now inform me how could I disengage it?"

Arden paused, his thoughts racing. Mana had a dual nature. Could one separate their own soul's energy from the world's? "I do believe there is a slim possibility," he began but was interrupted.

"If you had someone's pure mana stored," Galadrian cut in, removing the now-unlocked collar and grinning.

That was indeed a way, though not what Arden had in mind. He felt a strong urge to delve deeper into the complexities of mana and wave-particle duality with Galadrian, but something held him back. Trusting his intuition, he simply said, 'Yes, exactly.' Pondering why, if Galadrian could have taken off the collar at any moment, he chose to wear it.

"Master Arden! What do you think you are doing?" Captain Kael's voice grated like a stone on metal as he stormed up the ladder. His cheeks were flushed, a crimson signal of his ire.

A surge of annoyance welled up in Arden, quickly overtaken by calculated calm. "I did not remove it; the collar must be faulty," he said, his voice a steady counterpoint to the Captain's rage.

"Nonsense. I secured it myself. Are you implying I'm incompetent?" Captain Kael’s words dripped with disbelief and indignation. Arden noticed Kael’s clenched fists.

Arden did not like the man and decided to teach him a lesson. Aloud, he suggested, "Look, Captain, why don’t you put it on me, and we can test it?"

"Master?" Kael’s eyes widened, his eyebrows practically shooting up into his hairline. "I couldn't possibly."

The reluctance in Kael’s voice was almost palpable. "Don’t worry; I trust you," Arden reassured him, adding with a touch of daring, "and you can take it off, can’t you?"

Grimacing as though he’d been insulted, Kael muttered something unintelligible and followed through. The moment the collar clasped around Arden's neck, a chilling void spread from the point of contact. It was like an amputation of his senses as if he'd been stripped of a vital part of himself. Although he could still use his [Mana Sight] to see the mana around him, it felt distant, untouchable. The experience was maddening, like being thirsty while floating in an ocean.

Arden's mind raced. ‘I can't believe how much this limits me. How did I come to rely on magic so much?’ He concentrated hard, forcing his trembling hands to still as he pulled at the volatile strands of external mana. His eyes narrowed, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Finally, he managed to snag just enough mana to unlock the collar. It fell away, and the returning rush of his senses was like air to a drowning man.

"There, you see? Defective," Arden managed, struggling to keep the waver from his voice.

As he spoke, an almost electric sensation coursed through him. His [Mana Manipulation] skill had increased, a small but significant triumph that left him both relieved and vigilant.

***

The attack came at the crack of dawn, the sky just starting to gain its morning colors. Arden's eyes, enhanced by his [Mana Sight], scanned the walls intently. It was so subtle he might have missed it—a flicker of something darker against the lightening sky. Two grappling hooks arced silently over the wall, followed by figures swathed in black, their outlines blurred by magic.

One moved like a shadow toward the guard tower, while the other slinked off in the direction of the gate. As the second figure reached the heavy wooden gate, a muffled thud echoed from the tower—a body hitting the ground, lifeless or unconscious, Arden couldn't tell.

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Suddenly, the gate groaned, unhinging with a creak that broke the morning's silence. A dozen men rushed in, torches and fire magic burning, casting flickering shadows that danced like malicious spirits. But the chaos didn't follow the script the bandits had planned.

A volley of bolts sliced through the air, fired from readied crossbows. Marcus's battle-hardened men burst into action, their sons standing steadfast at their backs. They flanked the invading force, cutting off their advance. The women were not to be underestimated either. Faces etched with determination, they stood their ground in a meticulously arranged formation. Gripping the hafts of their spears, they created a near-impregnable spear wall. Each weapon was positioned at a slightly different angle, providing a staggered but unyielding barrier that herded the intruders into the courtyard, preventing any possibility of a coordinated escape.

Arden noticed the scarcity of magic. An occasional spell flew through the air, only to be nullified by magical shields or deflected by enchanted armor and jewelry. ‘Have they underestimated us?’ he thought, a premature sense of relief tingling in the back of his mind.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, the sky lit up, and a fireball of monstrous proportions detonated in the very heart of the melee. The explosion scattered both defenders and attackers like leaves in a storm, their screams mingling with the roar of the flames.

That's when Garrett walked through the burning gate, flanked by two mages. Their eyes glinted menacingly in the firelight, and Garrett's smug grin suggested he thought he had already won the battle.

Marcus had been explicit: Arden was not to participate in the fight. The reasoning was solid; Marcus's men were seasoned soldiers, and their movements harmonized through years of battle experience. Introducing an unknown element like Arden could disrupt that crucial balance. Consequently, Arden found himself observing the skirmish from the hidden vantage point of the palisade, alongside Galadrian and Captain Kael. He suspected that the captain was there more to keep an eye on Galadrian than for any other reason.

However, as Arden surveyed the unfolding chaos below, an insistent discomfort began to claw at him. When Garrett made his flashy entrance into the yard, hurling fireballs, that unease transformed into a heavy burden. The weight of personal responsibility draped over him like a mantle. He was reminded that he had had an opportunity to stop Garrett before; he had even taken the man’s hand. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Arden arrived at a decision. He could not, and would not, let Garrett continue to wreak havoc unchecked.

As Arden dropped down from the palisade, his boots landing hard on the ground below, he felt a surge of adrenaline course through him. Galadrian followed gracefully, landing with an almost feline agility that barely disturbed the earth beneath him. Captain Kael came down last, his landing heavy and his expression disapproving.

Drawing his broadsword from its sheath, Arden felt the skill runes embedded in the blade awaken. They came alive with a soft golden glow. The magical glow caught Galadrian's eyes, widening them for a moment before recognition sparked.

A laugh, pure and unreserved, bubbled from the elf's lips. "Ah, that does fit to the unfolding tale, doesn't it?" Galadrian exclaimed.

Whirling his newfound spear with a flourish, Galadrian turned his attention toward the enemy mages. "You there, mages! Stay out of this duel, and perhaps you'll live to see another dawn!" His voice carried across the yard, tinged with a giddy excitement. It was a bizarre sight, this spear-wielding elf, joyous amid chaos, speaking in common.

For a moment, the entire battlefield seemed to pause, as though taking in the surreal spectacle. Arden, too, looked at Galadrian, wondering where he had even got the spear. But then he forcibly pulled his focus back to Garrett. He steeled his resolve, pushing his feet forward. With each step towards Garrett, Arden felt his nerves tighten, but he forced himself to keep going. He couldn't back down now, not with so much on the line.

Arden's eyes met Garrett's across the smoke-filled yard. As Garrett approached, he displayed his axe that glinted even more menacingly. On his other arm, where a hand should have been, was strapped a small buckler.

"I hoped it would be you!" Garrett laughed before breaking into a sudden run, his weapon raised for a lethal strike. Arden's broadsword clashed with Garrett's axe, the impact shattering the silence. Instead of aiming to sever, Arden skillfully angled his blade to deflect the attack, sending Garrett's weapon skittering off to the side.

'Exploit his overconfidence; disable rather than dismember,' Arden thought, a mantra running through his mind. He could swear his sword vibrated in disagreement.

Garrett roared, launching into a series of aggressive blows. Each strike was a killing attempt, each one met and parried by Arden's broadsword. Arden's footwork was impeccable—each step taken with deliberate precision to position himself advantageously. He felt as though he was part of a dance, one in which a misstep could be fatal. His body swayed and pivoted, his feet barely touching the ground before they were off again, moving him into a new defensive stance. He maintained perfect balance, the soles of his boots skimming over the dirt as he nimbly sidestepped, dodged, and retreated.

Despite the clear openings Garrett's reckless assaults provided, Arden refrained from capitalizing on them, opting instead to play defensively. The meticulous placement of his feet, the calculated angles of his parries—everything was aligned to deflect and neutralize, not to exploit and maim. His sword seemed increasingly restless in his hands, vibrating as if impatient, almost as if urging him to shift from defense to offense.

Roaring with renewed fury, Garrett lunged once more. Arden's blade met Garrett's axe with calculated precision. His sword twisted around the axe, driving it downward until it slammed into the earth. With a rapid flick of his wrist, he knocked the axe from Garrett's grasp, sending it spiraling through the air to land yards away.

"Give up, Garrett. You will not win," Arden declared, his voice resonating with the confidence he had to muster.

From the house, Marcus emerged, supporting a wounded Lila, his face twisted in frustration. Ava was at his side, applying pressure to Lila's wound, trying to stop the flow of blood. Marcus clearly disapproved of Arden's attempt to coax surrender from Garrett; did he not understand the threat this man posed? But Lila understood Arden's reluctance. She had seen into the depths of his mind and knew that he was unaccustomed to such violence, let alone the act of taking a life. He needed a push, an emotional shove to make him take the final step.

Just as Garrett summoned a new blade from one of his enchanted rings, a weapon with magical, lethal potential, Arden heard Lila's voice slicing through the tension like a blade of its own.

"If you let him hurt Ava, I'll never forgive you!" she shouted.

Arden's frown deepened at the sight of the mana-forged blade, but Lila's words ignited something within him. Ava's face flashed before his eyes, the thought of her being molested by this brute was unbearable. He needed to end this fight for good. His grip tightened around his broadsword, which seemed to resonate with his newfound resolve.

"[Seraphina's Elegance]," Arden whispered, finally unlocking the sword's second skill he had been reluctant to use.

Guided by [Seraphina's Elegance], Arden moved like a blur. His broadsword clashed with Garrett's magical blade in mid-air, then continued its elegant, spiraling arc, breaking the mana-forged weapon into ethereal shards. Completing the arc, his blade sliced through the air and into flesh, cutting a lethal path just below Garrett's ribs.

For a split second, Garrett's eyes widened, perhaps comprehending for the first time the depth of his miscalculation. Then, to Arden's disbelief, the grave wound began to close, the torn flesh knitting itself together.

Confounded and caught off guard, Arden might have loosened his defensive stance, setting himself up for a lethal blow, had his sword allowed it. Instead, the weapon seemed to pulse in his grip, as if urging him to maintain his focus.

Garrett grinned, his eyes glowing unnaturally. "Did you think a magical blade was my only trick?" From another enchanted ring, he summoned a second mana-forged blade, this one crackling with dark energy.

Every instinct in Arden screamed not to block this new weapon. His sword seemed to resonate with the same sentiment, almost humming in agreement. In a move that defied conventional wisdom, Arden did something utterly counterintuitive, he spun away from Garrett's thrust, momentarily turning his back to his foe.

It was a gamble, a moment of high-stakes trust in both his instincts and his weapon. As he spun, Arden reversed his grip and thrust his sword upward behind him without looking. He felt more than saw his blade find its mark. There was a brief moment of resistance, then a grim, sickening give.

The momentum of his spin brought him back to face Garrett, whose eyes were now wide in astonishment, his magical blade disintegrating into a cloud of dark mist. Arden's sword had found the back of Garrett's head, piercing through. The blade resonated with an energy that disrupted and nullified any healing magic, ensuring that not even the strongest of enchantments could mend Garrett's wound.

Arden lowered his weapon, feeling a heavy emptiness fill the space where his reluctance had been. He looked over to Lila, whose eyes met his with a mixture of relief and sorrow. He had done what he had to do, but the weight of it lay heavily on his soul.

***

The sight of Arden's victory offered Ava a fleeting moment of relief, which quickly vanished as she turned back to her mother's wound. It is not fatal, but almost certainly poisoned.

"Stay still, Mother," she urged, her hands glowing with the energy of her [Basic Healing] spell. "This looks like poison, and I don’t know how strong."

Lila chuckled softly. "Oh, it's potent alright," she said, unfazed. Marcus had swiftly neutralized Gretha, the fearless assassin who'd managed the stab. "Just focus on healing the wound, I can handle the poison."

Despite her mother's reassurance, Ava couldn't shake off the sense of urgency. She continued her focus, dropping the ineffective [Heal Minor Diseases] to conserve her focus and mana. Meanwhile, the chaos of battle raged on. Marcus's men, a group of seasoned warriors, moved with practiced coordination. They had flanked the invading force earlier, cutting them off from any chance of a coordinated assault. The intruders seemed disoriented, their ranks breaking as they struggled to mount a cohesive counterattack.

Each of Marcus's fighters knew where the other would be, moving in a dance of blades and shields that left no room for the enemy to exploit. It was clear that their years of training and battle-hardened experience were paying off. One by one, the bandits fell, overwhelmed and outmatched. The difference in skill and teamwork was becoming increasingly evident, and the intruders' morale waned with each fallen comrade."

What truly grabbed Ava's attention, however, were the two mages trading spells with Arden. When Arden killed Garrett, the mages attacked at once. In any magical duel, facing two opponents simultaneously was practically a death sentence. It was widely known that when two mages combined their power against a single target, even the most potent magical shield would shatter under their combined onslaught.

To Ava's amazement, not only did Arden's shield withstand their combined assault, but he also found the energy to retaliate. This was unprecedented—beyond what any mage was rumored to achieve. The sheer might required to defend and counterattack against two mages was beyond her understanding, yet here Arden was, defying all expectations.

"Do you think it's normal for someone to be as resilient as Arden?" Ava asked, her eyes fixed on the spectacle at the gate. "He's a swordsman who even impresses Father, and now he's standing toe-to-toe with two spellcasters."

Before Lila could answer, their attention was seized by Galadrian's attack on one of the mages. Wielding a spear with deadly efficiency, the elf silenced his opponent in a seamless, lethal dance. They couldn't help but marvel at the finesse and accuracy of his moves, which swiftly brought down the mage.

Both women were struck speechless as they witnessed a surreal moment unfold on the battlefield. With a flair that bordered on the theatrical, Arden offered a quick salute with his sword, then unleashed an otherworldly volley of [Magic Missiles]. Known as a difficult skill to master and generally considered less potent, Arden's execution proved otherwise. The second missile struck true, and the subsequent projectiles left no room for survival for the remaining mage.

"Do you see what I mean?" Ava inquired, her voice tinged with awe.

Lila turned toward her daughter, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and wisdom. "Yes, but remember—for all intents and purposes, he's your master now."

Ava looked at her mother, disbelief spreading across her face. "You're fine with that? We don't even really know who he is. I trust him, but—"

Lila interrupted her voice firm. "I know more about him than you might think. Trust me on this, Ava. You can learn much from him. He may not be familiar with our customs, but he holds knowledge—knowledge that no other human possesses."

Caught off guard by her mother's earnest words, Ava could only nod in response. It was evident that Lila knew something unspoken about Arden, something that gave her confidence in his role in their lives.

"Mother, are you certain you'll be alright? There are others here who need healing as well," Ava questioned, her eyes scanning the wounded around them.

"Yes, I'll manage," Lila reassured, revealing a small vial filled with a mysterious green liquid. "This special blend will, at the very least, slow the spread of the poison."

Drawing in a deep breath, Ava nodded. With renewed determination, she set to work, extending her healing touch to her friends and family.

The battle’s tide turned unmistakably in their favor. Her father's men, relentless and unforgiving, cleared the battlefield with ruthless precision. Sword met armor in a cacophony of clashing metal, the invaders' screams echoing across the field. Any attempt by the invaders to regroup was quickly squashed. The speed and brutality of the men left no room for a counteroffensive, turning the field into a one-sided skirmish.

As the last of the invaders were neutralized, the dust of the battle began to settle. Ava, her hands still glowing with the light of her healing magic, approached Arden. He stood at a distance, staring at the battlefield, lost in thought. His face was scratched, but he appeared unharmed.

“Arden,” she began, placing a gentle hand on his arm, “are you alright?”

He looked down at her, his eyes deep pools of emotion. “I need a moment,” he murmured. “I need... time to process.”

Ava nodded in understanding, her concern evident. “We’ll need to tend to the wounded. Can you—”

“I know,” Arden interrupted, his voice soft but firm. “Focus on the healing. I’ll manage.”

Before she could reply, he turned away, walking toward the keep. Ava watched him for a moment, her thoughts a whirlwind. She respected his need for solitude, remembering her mother’s words about the depth of knowledge he held.

Drawing a deep breath, Ava channeled her energy back to the task at hand. There was much to be done, and she was determined to see her friends and family healed and safe.