A blade of wind shot from his palm, striking the behemoth's head with enough force to knock it sideways. Its concentration shattered, dark energy dissipating harmlessly as it roared in frustration.
With his chest still burning from the dark projectiles, Vel gathered what remained of his strength. The behemoth was preparing another attack, its massive form coiling with deadly intent. This was their moment—he had to act before it regained full control.
"Glacis Solith Feryis!" Vel gasped, directing the spell beneath the creature's feet.
Ice spread across the ground in a widening circle, the slick surface forming just as the behemoth planted its weight. But this time, the creature had learned. Its intelligent eyes flashed with recognition as it felt the familiar texture beneath its claws.
The behemoth bounded upward, lifting its front legs clear of the ice. With practiced agility, it twisted mid-air, positioning its hind legs to land on solid ground beyond the frozen patch. The maneuver was flawless—except it left the creature suspended and vulnerable for a crucial heartbeat.
Celia saw the opening instantly. Her blade moved to a horizontal position over her shoulder, the metal gleaming. Energy crackled along the rapier's length as she shifted into the familiar stance.
"Trinity Volt!"
Three lightning-wreathed strikes pierced the air in rapid succession, each bolt finding its mark on the behemoth's exposed flank. The creature's controlled landing became a stumbling crash as electrical energy coursed through its muscles, disrupting its coordination.
Vel forced himself upright, ignoring the protest from his battered ribs. Light magic surged through his palm as he shaped a familiar spell with deadly precision.
"Luxetahn Lumi Solis!"
The first Light Javelin streaked toward the behemoth's head, striking between its eyes with brilliant intensity. The creature reeled backward, dark mist hissing where light met shadow. Vel's second javelin targeted its injured front leg, the radiant spear sinking deep into already weakened muscle and sinew.
The combined assault proved too much. The behemoth's legs buckled as it crashed onto the ice surface, its massive bulk sliding helplessly. Dark blood pooled beneath its thrashing form as it struggled to rise.
"Now!" Vel shouted, charging forward with his borrowed sword raised high.
This was their only chance. The knockdown state wouldn't last long, but it was enough. Vel drove his blade toward the creature's exposed belly, feeling steel part flesh as the Guardian's Oath enhancement guided his strike true. Beside him, Celia danced between the behemoth's flailing limbs, her rapier finding gaps in its armor with surgical precision. Dark ichor spurted with each thrust, painting the ice crimson.
Mora's arrow whistled overhead, punching through the creature's hide near its shoulder. The impact tore open a gaping wound that revealed something vital beneath—a glimpse of the heart protected by layers of bone and muscle.
Vel yanked his sword free, repositioning for this new target. The behemoth's struggles were growing weaker, its movements sluggish from blood loss. With both hands gripping the hilt, he drove the blade downward with everything he had left.
The steel slid smoothly between ribs, piercing the creature's heart with a wet thunk. The behemoth's dying roar shook the very ground beneath them, its legs thrashing violently before the movements gradually slowed, then stopped completely.
Stillness settled over the battlefield. Vel pulled the sword away from its heart, steel scraping against bone as he withdrew the blade. He remained frozen in place, both hands locked around the hilt, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.
They had done it.
Vel's legs trembled as adrenaline faded. His fingers slipped from the borrowed sword, which clattered to the ground beside the massive carcass. The world tilted, and he stumbled back, landing unceremoniously on his rear.
"Vel!" Celia's voice pierced through the fog of fatigue as she sprinted toward him, her rapier already sheathed.
She dropped to her knees beside him, eyes frantically scanning for wounds. "Are you hurt? Those dark projectiles—they hit you directly."
"I'm fine," Vel managed, though his body disagreed. Every muscle screamed in protest, and the places where the behemoth's projectiles had struck throbbed painfully. "Just... tired."
Mora jogged over, her expression a mixture of concern and amazement. Behind her, the sergeant followed at a brisk pace, still clutching her sword.
"A swordmage."
Mora's eyes widened with recognition. Her professional instincts kicked in, cataloging every detail of what she'd just witnessed.
"I thought they were just guild rumor."
"Spellcasting while maintaining close combat positioning, seamless elemental integration with blade work..."
Her head shook slowly.
"I've heard stories from the old-timers, but I never thought I'd actually see someone attempt such an ambitious combination."
Her gaze sharpened, calculating.
"No wonder Lady Halen gave you special treatment. If you can actually master that..."
The sergeant knelt on his other side, her experienced eyes assessing him with newfound respect. "Who are you, young man?" she asked directly. "You were able to cast magic, to heal, and to fight up close like that. Those aren't skills most people possess, let alone use together."
Vel let himself collapse fully backwards, his back meeting the cool ground. He stared up at the dark sky above, taking comfort in the vastness of the stars as his breathing gradually steadied.
"Velarian Novalance," he replied simply, too exhausted for pretense or embellishment.
Celia settled beside him, a proud smile spreading across her face. She'd known about Vel's potential, his unique ability to wield both magic and sword, but this was the first time she'd actually seen him fight with everything he had.
Around them, soldiers gathered, their voices rising in near-celebration. Some carried bandages and medical supplies, tending to the few who'd sustained injuries. Others approached the fallen behemoth cautiously, as if still not quite believing their victory.
As the commotion continued around him, Vel's mind drifted back to the battle, analyzing each movement and decision. It was an old habit from his previous life—the post-mortem breakdown after overcoming a challenge. He'd done this countless times after releasing game updates, defeating difficult bosses, or even losing PvP matches.
Should I have used Light Javelin earlier? he wondered, replaying the moment when the behemoth had revealed its dark element attacks. The light-based spell would have been effective against the void corruption, but timing was everything in battle.
If I'd cast it sooner, before we weakened it enough... Vel frowned at the thought. A premature light attack might have enraged the creature rather than subduing it. Whoever stood in the front line—likely Celia with her quick movements—would have borne the brunt of that rage.
His tactics had worked, but barely. The behemoth's dark projectiles had nearly finished him, even with Landre's Light Blessing protection. Next time, he'd need a better counter-strategy against ranged void attacks.
Maybe a reflective barrier spell? Or a faster evasion technique? He mentally cataloged these thoughts for later practice.
"Young master Vel?"
The soft, concerned voice broke through his tactical assessment. Hileya's voice. He didn't turn to look, his body too exhausted to move, but hearing her voice—safe and unharmed—brought a small smile to his face.
Around them, guards had already begun cleanup efforts, dragging smaller debris away and tending to the wounded. The sky remained a deep purple.
Rest now. Analyze later.
He closed his eyes, letting the sounds of activity wash over him. For once, the perfectionist in him—the game designer always seeking improvement—could wait. Right now, he couldn't think of anything else but the promise of sleep.
"Vel! Vel!" Celia's voice carried a mix of worry and teasing. "Don't die on us now!"
"I'm not dying!" Vel snapped back, though his voice lacked any real irritation. "Just want to close my eyes."
He attempted to sit up but immediately regretted the decision as pain shot through his ribs. "Can someone help me to my tent?"
Both Celia and Hileya moved without hesitation, each taking one of his arms and carefully lifting him to his feet. Their combined support made walking bearable, though every step sent fresh aches through his battered body.
As they made their way across the outpost, Vel noticed the soldiers they passed. Many offered respectful nods—acknowledgment from warriors who'd witnessed his performance against the behemoth. The recognition felt strange but not unwelcome.
When they reached his tent area, Vel's heart sank. The canvas lay in tatters, torn apart by the behemoth's initial rampage. Stakes jutted from the ground at odd angles, and his belongings were scattered across the dirt.
"Well, that's just perfect," he muttered.
Hileya immediately began gathering his things while Celia helped him settle against a nearby supply crate. The hard wood wasn't comfortable, but it would have to do.
And just like that, the night was gone—his first real foe defeated through good teamwork. He just hoped he'd get enough sleep to recover for tomorrow's journey.
Morning sunlight filtered through the tent flap, casting a golden sheen across Vel's face. The previous night's battle still evident in every ache and pain. Outside, voices and movement indicated the outpost was already bustling with activity.
Vel emerged from his tent to find a small crowd gathered around the behemoth's corpse. A tall, thin man in official-looking attire circled the massive creature, occasionally stopping to make notes on a small parchment.
"Who's that?" Vel asked, approaching Celia who stood nearby watching the proceedings.
"An inspector." she replied without taking her eyes off the scene. "Arrived at dawn to assess the behemoth's remains."
The inspector prodded at the creature's hide with a metal rod, carefully noting its thickness and resistance. He extracted samples of its blood, scales, and even shards of its broken horn, meticulously labeling each specimen.
"Those parts will fetch a good price," Mora commented, joining them. "Behemoth hide alone is worth more than most villagers see in months. Add the void corruption element, and scholars will pay double for research materials."
Hileya appeared with their packed belongings. "I've gathered our things. The carriage driver is eager to continue our journey."
"Alright," Vel nodded, wincing slightly from the movement. "We've already lost a night. The entrance exams won't wait for us."
As they prepared to leave, the sergeant approached, her stance more relaxed than the day before, though dark circles under her eyes betrayed a sleepless night supervising repairs.
"Last night'll be a damn tale for the barracks," she said, extending her hand to Vel with gratitude in her voice. "Ain't none of 'em forgetting that mess soon—especially you, kid."
Vel clasped her hand firmly. "We couldn't have done it without your soldiers, Sergeant."
She smiled, the expression softening her weathered features. "Safe travels to Lona. The road ahead should be clear—we've increased patrols after yesterday's incident."
With final farewells exchanged, Vel and his companions boarded their carriage. As they pulled away from the outpost, Vel glanced back at the behemoth's massive form one last time, still surrounded by soldiers and the meticulous inspector.
Half an hour later, the carriage crested a hill, revealing the fortified silhouette of Everfront against the midday sun. Unlike Elnor's sprawling markets and wooden structures, Everfront presented a disciplined array of stone buildings and regimented streets. Military banners fluttered from watchtowers that punctuated the high walls.
"Everfront," the driver announced, gesturing ahead. "Last major stop before Lona."
Vel leaned forward, taking in the sight. Where Elnor bustled with merchants and craftsmen, Everfront pulsed with a different energy—soldiers drilling in formation within the parade grounds, smiths hammering out weapons rather than common tools, and guards at every corner maintaining vigilant watch.
"It's so... orderly," Celia remarked, adjusting her position to get a better view.
Mora nodded. "Military towns always are. Everfront serves as the kingdom's first line of defense against threats from the northwestern mountains."
As they passed through the iron-reinforced gates, Vel noted how different the atmosphere felt. Citizens moved with purpose, many wearing partial armor even in civilian clothes.
Their carriage navigated the cobblestone streets until it reached a modest waystation. The driver turned to address them.
"We'll need to resupply here. The road to Lona is clear but long. I suggest taking a few hours to stretch your legs while I tend to the horses and replenish our provisions."
"How long would the stop be?" Vel asked.
"We could leave by mid-afternoon if that suits you. Or stay the night if you prefer a fresh start tomorrow."
Hileya glanced at Vel. "It might be wise to explore a bit. Military outposts often have unique merchandise we won't find elsewhere."
"And I could use a proper meal," Celia added, stretching her arms. "Something that isn't travel rations."
Vel considered their timeline. The entrance exams weren't for another three days—they had some flexibility.
"A brief exploration sounds reasonable," Vel agreed. "Let's meet back here in three hours."
Vel stepped onto Everfront's main street with Celia and Hileya walking alongside him. Unlike Elnor's meandering paths and organic growth, Everfront's thoroughfares cut through the town in precise, strategic lines. Every building seemed to serve a specific purpose in the military machine.
"This place feels like it's always preparing for something," Vel observed as they passed a blacksmith's forge where three apprentices hammered in synchronized rhythm, creating a thunderous percussion that echoed through the street.
Hileya nodded. "Everfront was established specifically as a military outpost after the Warlord Rebellions two centuries ago. It's grown since then, but its purpose never changed."
A squad of soldiers marched past them in perfect formation, their boots striking the cobblestones with mechanical precision. Not a single head turned to observe the visitors—their discipline was absolute.
"Do they ever relax?" Celia whispered after the squad had passed.
"I imagine they must," Vel replied, though he couldn't help but notice how even the children playing nearby organized themselves into neat rows for their games.
They continued down the street, passing armories, training yards, and supply depots. Even the taverns seemed regimented, with signs displaying military crests rather than the colorful names common in Elnor.
Suddenly, the flow of pedestrian traffic halted ahead. People gathered in a widening circle, voices rising in excitement.
"What's happening?" Celia asked, standing on tiptoes to see over the crowd.
Vel nudged his companions toward a side alley that offered a better vantage point. The crowd had formed around two officers in ornate uniforms, their insignia marking them as high-ranking. They circled each other with drawn swords while onlookers maintained a respectful distance.
"A duel," Hileya whispered, her eyes widening with recognition. "I've read about this in my studies. Officers sometimes duel for promotions or to settle disagreements about tactical approaches."
"They're fighting for a job?" Celia asked incredulously.
"It demonstrates their combat prowess and leadership qualities," Hileya explained. "The military values strength and skill above all. In Everfront, this is considered a more honest assessment than political maneuvering."
Vel watched intently as the two officers exchanged lightning-fast strikes, their blades catching the afternoon sun. Neither showed any hesitation or fear—only calculated precision and years of training.
The crowd gasped as the shorter officer executed a perfect disarming maneuver, sending his opponent's sword clattering to the cobblestones. The defeated man immediately dropped to one knee, accepting his loss with dignity.
Vel's stomach rumbled, pulling his focus away from the duel's aftermath and reminding him they hadn't eaten proper food since before yesterday's behemoth attack.
"Let's find something to eat," he suggested, glancing at Celia and Hileya.
"I could use some real food," Celia agreed. "Those travel rations taste like leather and salt had an unfortunate child."
Hileya nodded. "There should be a reputable establishment nearby. Military towns often maintain strict standards for their food services."
They followed the flow of off-duty soldiers and locals until they reached a sturdy two-story building with a wrought-iron sign depicting a shield and tankard. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted through its open doors.
"The Iron Shield Inn," Hileya read from the sign. "It seems popular."
"Even their dinning is disciplined," Celia whispered as they navigated toward an empty spot at the end of a long table.
A server approached them immediately, her movements efficient as she placed three mugs of water before them without being asked.
"Today's offerings are mutton stew, roast chicken, or fish pie. All served with bread and seasonal vegetables. What'll it be?" Her delivery was clipped and professional, not unfriendly but certainly not the warm banter of Elnor's tavern staff.
Vel quickly calculated the prices listed on a slate board behind the counter. His funds would cover their meals, but just barely. He'd have to be more careful with expenses until they reached Lona.
"I'll have the stew," he decided, choosing the most economical option.
"Chicken for me," said Celia.
Vel glanced at Hileya, noticing she hadn't ordered anything for herself. She must be hungry after the long journey, but she's still trying to maintain her servant role. That wouldn't do—not when they were traveling together like this.
"And another stew," Vel called out to the server.
Vel watched as their meals arrived, steam rising from the hearty portions. Despite choosing the least expensive option, the stew looked substantial, chunks of meat and root vegetables floating in a rich broth. He took a spoonful, savoring the warmth and flavor after days of travel rations.
"This is exactly what I needed," Celia sighed contentedly, tearing into her chicken with surprising enthusiasm.
Hileya ate more delicately, but Vel noticed her spoon returning to the bowl with increasing frequency. She must have been just as hungry as they were.
The calm meal was interrupted by a heavy hand landing on Hileya's shoulder. A broad-shouldered man with a flushed face and alcohol-reeking breath loomed over her.
"Haven't seen you serving here before, pretty one," he slurred, leaning uncomfortably close to Hileya's pointed ear. "Bring another round for my table and maybe something special for me after your shift?"
Hileya stiffened, her spoon frozen halfway to her mouth. "Sir, I'm not—"
"Don't be shy now." The man's fingers pressed into her shoulder. "I pay well for good service." His other hand reached down to stroke her hair.
Vel set his spoon down, muscles tensing as he prepared to rise, but before he could move, Celia was already on her feet.
"Remove your hand before I remove it for you," Celia stated, her voice cutting through the ambient noise with chilling clarity.
The man blinked in confusion, turning to face this unexpected interruption. "Mind your business, girl. I'm just talking to the serving wench."
"She is not a serving wench," Celia replied, her stance shifting subtly into the fighting position Vel recognized from their training. "She is our companion, and you are making a mistake."
The man scoffed. "What are you going to do about it? You're barely tall enough to reach my—"
In one fluid motion, Celia's hand shot out, gripping the man's wrist and twisting it at an angle that made him gasp. With her other hand, she applied pressure to a point near his elbow that Vel had never seen her use before.
"Gods above!" the man yelped, immediately releasing Hileya and dropping to one knee.
Vel stood up and stepped closer to the man, a smile spreading across his face. It was a polite expression, carefully measured to appear friendly while his eyes remained cold and calculating.
"Sir, it seems you might have made a mistake," Vel said with forced pleasantness. "This is our friend, and we are customers just like yourself. Maybe you've had too much to drink and this is just a misunderstanding, how about we pretend this never happened?"
The man's face contorted with anger as he struggled against Celia's hold. "You little—I don't take orders from children!"
Something shifted in Vel's expression then. His smile remained fixed in place, but it transformed into something altogether different—no longer a social courtesy but a predator's display of teeth. His eyes narrowed slightly, and though he added no magical enhancement, something in his gaze conveyed the absolute certainty that he could inflict harm if provoked further.
The man flinched visibly, his protest dying in his throat as he met Vel's gaze. Whatever he saw there made him pale beneath his alcohol-induced flush. He jerked his arm free from Celia's loosening grip and took a stumbling step backward.
"No harm meant," he mumbled, averting his eyes and rubbing his wrist. "Just a mistake."
Without another word, the man retreated to the far corner of the inn, his companion snickering but still throwing observing eyes toward Vel's group.
Vel returned to his seat, exhaling slowly to release the tension built up in his shoulders. He noticed Hileya's fingers self-consciously adjusting her hair to better cover her half-elven ears, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort.
Celia slid back onto the bench across from them, her movements fluid and controlled. She glanced around the inn before leaning forward.
"That was unnecessary," she said quietly. "I had it handled."
"I know you had," Vel said, picking up his spoon. "Just wanted to ensure the message got across."
Hileya kept her gaze fixed on her stew. "Thank you both," she whispered.
Of course this would happen, Vel thought, stirring his stew with deliberate slowness. At least we avoided the classic bandits-on-the-road scenario, only to walk straight into the drunk-harassing-women-at-the-tavern cliché.
He could practically hear Kenji's voice from their old development meetings: "Players love these moments! It gives them a chance to be heroic!" The junior programmer had always been obsessed with what he called "genre expectations," arguing that familiar tropes made players feel comfortable in the world.
Vel had pushed back then, insisting their writing team move beyond lazy plot devices. "Come up with something original," he'd told them repeatedly. The response was always the same dismissive shrug: "Players don't notice these details as long as the story's compelling."
Maybe this world hasn't fully evolved past the tropes we originally designed, Vel mused, watching Hileya slowly regain her composure. Or maybe Kenji was right, and I'm the only one bothered by recycled scenarios.
Another sigh escaped him as he took another spoonful of stew. Even in this new world—his creation made manifest—he couldn't escape the storytelling conventions that had plagued their development process.
At least Celia handled it well, he admitted, acknowledging that some clichés existed because they reflected genuine human behavior patterns.
Looking around, he noticed several patrons watching their table with newfound interest. In a town built on military discipline and association, they'd just drawn unwanted attention. The drunk man was now muttering to his companions, occasionally throwing dark glances their way.
"We should finish quickly," Vel murmured. "One wrong move could upset the wrong group of people."
Celia nodded slightly, understanding his concern without needing elaboration.
"Better to stay invisible until we reach Lona," Vel added, his appetite diminishing as he calculated the potential complications.
Vel stepped outside the inn, squinting against the afternoon sun. The cobblestone streets of Everfront remained as orderly as ever, but after the confrontation inside, the military precision of the town felt more oppressive than impressive.
"Let's head back to the stagecoach," he suggested, noticing how Hileya kept her gaze downcast, still affected by the encounter.