Lia's POV
The night air was thick with smoke and blood, but it wasn't the darkness that made my chest tighten—it was that sound.
A sharp, deafening crack rolled across Korvath. That was no ordinary skill. Kaito.
I didn't even think. My legs moved before the officers finished barking orders. My mana reserves were thin, but that was never a problem for a Blue Mage.
I raised my staff and pressed the end into the cracked cobblestones. "Blue Magic: Wraith's Sap."
A surge of cold power burst outward. Around me, dozens of lesser kobolds convulsed as invisible tendrils leeched their mana. Their snarls turned to pained gasps as the stolen energy rushed into me—filling my veins with sharp, clean strength.
"Sorry, boys," I muttered. "But I need this more than you do."
With my core brimming, I whispered the incantation that always made my body feel like a gust of wind.
"Blue Magic: Flow of the Spirit."
The world blurred. I zipped through alleyways, leapt over burning beams, slid beneath crumbling archways. Every corner was a battlefield. Screaming civilians, scattered adventurers, smoldering ruins. I shouted instructions as I passed, pointing survivors toward the southern escape routes. Even if I couldn't stay to help everyone, I could still nudge them toward safety.
The main square came into view—half-collapsed, littered with corpses. And at the center of it all was Kaito.
He was on his knees, drenched in blood, surrounded by dead chieftains and kobolds. But his eyes burned with something I recognized—raw, unrelenting will.
I clenched my staff tighter. He's still fighting, even like that? Then I'll make sure he doesn't die here.
I skidded to a stop beside him, already chanting. "Blue Magic: Angel's Armor."
A radiant cocoon of light wrapped around his shattered body. The magic forced vitality back into him, dragging him away from the brink of death whether he liked it or not. His breathing hitched; his aura flickered. He wasn't moving yet, but he was alive. That was enough.
More kobolds charged. I exhaled through my nose and whispered, "Wraith's Sap."
The wave spread again, sucking mana from the monsters as easily as drawing water from a well. The energy replenished me instantly. This was the beauty of fighting in a swarm—you never run out of fuel.
I slammed the butt of my staff into the ground and called, "Blue Magic: Serene Mind."
A soft blue light radiated outward like ripples in water, touching every adventurer nearby. I felt their mana flows stabilize, their labored breaths easing. Warriors who'd been on the brink of collapse suddenly straightened their backs. Casters who'd been running on fumes found new strength in their cores.
"Keep fighting," I whispered under my breath, moving again. Always moving.
I dashed toward a group of civilians pinned beneath rubble, planting my feet and raising my staff. "Fairy's Touch!"
Warm light washed over their wounds as adventurers pulled them free. "Head toward the South Gate!" I yelled, pointing them to the clear path. "Stick together, don't stop for anything!"
A young archer grabbed my arm as I passed. "My squad's down! West alley—please!"
"I've got it!" I shouted back, veering without hesitation.
I arrived to find two injured swordsmen fending off a pack of kobold elites. My mana thrummed in my veins, begging to be used. I swept my staff in an arc—another Wraith's Sap, another surge of energy—and followed it with a burst of Fairy's Touch, knitting flesh and restoring stamina. "You're not dying today. Move!"
Their eyes cleared. They scrambled to their feet, rallying.
This was what I loved about Blue Magic—not just the adaptability, but the impact. I wasn't here to steal glory. I was here to keep everyone else standing.
Back at the square, the tide was shifting. From my position near the ruined fountain, I saw Seikaku's arrow pierce a chieftain's eye cleanly. Another fell under the holy blaze of a Paladin's smite. A third went up in flames under the Red Mage's spellwork, her laughter echoing like a crackling fire.
And through it all, I noticed something strange.
The armor on some of the elite kobolds… it wasn't crude iron or scavenged scraps. It was forged. Refined. And there, on the pauldrons and chestplates, was a sigil I hadn't seen since my academy days.
Valeria.
A chill crept up my spine. "What are you doing here…?"
Before I could think further, a roar shattered the air.
The Kobold King.
The sound hit the city like a shockwave. Tiles flew off roofs. Windows exploded. My ears rang. Some adventurers dropped to their knees, clutching their heads.
I didn't flinch. I raised my staff, took a deep breath, and shouted back, "Blue Magic: Siren's Song!"
The air shimmered with a soft blue resonance, creating a sound-dampening barrier over the battlefield. The roar's impact lessened instantly—adventurers staggered but didn't fall. Archers regained their aim, mages kept chanting.
Mana consumption spiked hard, but that was fine. There were still plenty of kobolds to drain. Another Wraith's Sap, another refill. Like clockwork.
Then it happened. The Kobold King froze mid-swing, its massive head tilting toward the north. For a moment, everything slowed.
It raised its shield and bellowed—not a roar this time, but a command. The remaining kobolds shifted, forming ranks, retreating not in panic but in order.
This is… a withdrawal?
I planted my staff and scanned the battlefield. Dozens of adventurers were bloodied, exhausted, barely able to stand. The city itself was in ruins—walls broken, homes burning.
I wanted to chase the King. Every instinct screamed at me to follow, to learn more, to find out what lay to the north. But then I saw a group of healers struggling to carry the wounded. I saw a little boy crying beside his unconscious father. I saw an archer whose hands were shaking so badly she couldn't hold her bow anymore.
I exhaled sharply. "No. My job is here."
I raised my staff high, gathering every drop of mana I'd stolen. The sigils beneath my feet flared bright blue.
"Blue Magic: Serene Mind."
"Blue Magic: Fairy's Touch."
A massive wave of rejuvenating energy washed across the battlefield. Wounds closed. Mana cores steadied. Breaths came easier. It wasn't a full recovery—but it was enough to make the broken stand again.
I didn't stop there. I moved like a gust of wind—checking pulses, whispering reassurances, dragging the injured away from the worst of the wreckage. I tore strips of cloth from my robe to bandage wounds, poured stolen mana into unconscious casters, barked orders to anyone with enough strength left to follow them.
The Kobold King vanished into the northern horizon, its retreat covered by disciplined forces. I didn't chase. Not because I couldn't—because someone had to stay behind and pick up the pieces.
As I leaned on my staff, the square finally quieted. The flames crackled. The distant horns faded.
My place was here—among the living.