Lance's eyes snapped open.
Something was wrong.
His mana sense prickled faintly—three unstable signatures racing through the forest toward the clearing. The mana itself was weak, not worth mentioning, but the wildness behind it and the speed they were moving made it clear what they were.
"Mana beasts," he muttered, standing up slowly. "And by their size… boars. Thankfully not wolves. Those are a pain to deal with."
He dusted off his clothes and reached down to the long sword lying beside him. The blade wasn't fancy—no glow, no ornaments, just clean, solid steel.
He'd made it himself.
It started as a regular sword from the village blacksmith, but he had modified and enchanted it on his own after watching his father work. Roy had refused to make him a proper enchanted weapon, saying."enchanted swords are not for kids is what your mother said."he answered.
So Lance took matters into his own hands.
He carved runes for lightness and toughness into the blade—basic enchantments, but the metal could only handle so much. Still, it worked.
It wasn't perfect—far from what his father could craft—but it was his.
He'd even taught himself how to use it.
---
Flashback – Two Years Earlier
The sun was setting.
Two silhouettes stood in the training yard—one tall and broad, the other short and determined. Their shadows stretched long across the dirt.
"So," Roy said, crossing his arms, "you want to learn swordplay, so that you can gain stronger Combat power due to your lack of attribute huh? Lucky for you, your old man knows how to handle every kind of weapon there is."
A month later…
"And that's basically it," Roy said, wiping his hands.
Lance blinked. "Wait, what do you mean 'that's it'? You only taught me like 5 moves Thrust,overhand, underhand,Diagonal cuts And ,horizontal cuts "
Roy nodded proudly. "Exactly. Perfect form. Swing each one a hundred times a day."
"That's basic form training! What about footwork? Counters? Parrying?"
Roy just smiled. "I said I know how to handle every weapon, never said anything about mastering them. I'm an artifact creator, kid. I just need to know how they're supposed to move, not how to win wars with them."
Lance's expression went flat. "So basically, I got scammed."
"All sword moves are derived from these 5 That's exactly what your grandfather taught me " Roy said, walking away into the sunset like he just passed on an ancient technique.
---
Present Time so he has been practicing these 5 moves until my hands feel tired and then practice their variations and improve upon it on my practice log.
The first boar burst through the treeline with a roar, tusks glinting in the light. Lance inhaled deeply, raising his sword into a ready stance.
"Alright," he muttered, mana flaring faintly around his body.
He dashed forward—his feet bursting with mana every time they hit the ground. His sword sliced across the first beast's snout, sparks flying. It stumbled back, squealing in pain. Lance twisted his body, ducking low as another boar tore through the bushes.
He gathered mana at his fingertips and fired three quick mana bullets.
Thud! Thud! Crack! One hit the shoulder, one missed, and the third buried itself into the beast's neck, stunning it.
"Still not enough stopping power…" he muttered, skidding backward. He raised his left hand, forming a glowing orb of mana. A mana bomb.
He hurled it between the two charging boars.
BOOM!
The explosion kicked up dirt and smoke. One boar fell instantly; the other stumbled, its fur scorched and tusks cracked.
Lance didn't hesitate. He shot forward, flooding his limbs with mana for augmentation. His body glowed faintly blue as he swung his sword down in a clean, vertical strike—sharp, efficient, and fast. The blade split through the beast's skull. It hit the ground with a heavy thud.
The last boar was still up—the first one, wounded but angry. It charged again, faster than before. Lance twisted aside, barely dodging the tusks. Sparks flew as his blade scraped against its hide, but the sword held firm.
"Good," he grunted, tightening his grip. "You're holding up. Guess the enchantment wasn't for nothing."
He pushed mana into his legs and leapt, flipping over the boar's head. As he landed, he drove his sword straight down into its spine.
A final squeal—then silence.
Three bodies.
Still.
Lance stood there, panting, the last of his mana flickering out. He exhaled heavily and lowered his sword.
"Yeah… I overdid it again.i am running low on mana after practice and then these three I barely have any mana left."
Then, the rustle.
His mana sense picked up more movement—fast, heavy, and familiar. He turned, and his face went blank.
Four more mana beasts. Boars. Massive ones.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
The beasts roared and charged, tearing through the brush. Lance stared for a moment, completely still. Then he calmly sheathed his sword.
"No. Hell no," he said flatly.
He turned around—and ran.
"DAAAAD!!!"
The fields echoed with his shout as he sprinted toward home. Each step released bursts of mana under his feet, a desperate technique that used small controlled explosions to boost his speed. His father had jokingly called it the 'Run and Shout for Help' style.
"HELP! MANA BEASTS!! DAAAAD!!!"
His voice carried across the fields as the panicked boy sprinted home at full speed, leaving behind a trail of dust—and four very confused mana boars.
Later evening:
The smell of roasted meat filled the small wooden house.
On the table lay dinner—thick slices of boar meat, cooked perfectly golden with herbs from the garden. Steam rose in slow curls as Cecil carefully cut the portions, serving each plate with quiet precision.
Roy sat at the other end of the table, half-distracted, his new creation resting beside his plate. A bow—sleek, polished, and faintly humming with mana.
He wasn't eating. He was admiring his work.
"Look at this beauty," Roy said proudly, tracing the carvings on the bow's limbs. "Using your script magic idea to bypass the rune restrictions was genius, Lance. I never thought of channeling elemental attributes through a single inscription system."
Lance blinked, halfway through a bite. "I… just said maybe if we used flexible text arrays instead of fixed glyphs, the elemental commands could link better."
"Exactly!" Roy grinned, snapping his fingers. "That's the whole point! Now I can switch between fire, water, earth, and wind arrows just by injecting mana into different runes. No external catalysts, no manual rune swap. The design's flawed, sure—but damn, it works!"
He held up the bow like it was a trophy. "If you awaken my script magic, kid, you'll put me out of business before I hit fifty. Even without it, you'll reach my level eventually—maybe when you're old and wrinkled, but still."
A sharp thwack! cut him off.
Cecil had smacked the back of his head with the serving spoon. "Stop belittling the boy and eat before it gets cold."
Roy rubbed the spot with a groan. "Ow!"
"Stop boasting!" she replied sweetly, handing Lance his plate.
Lance chuckled softly, then went quiet. His food sat untouched, fork resting on the plate.
Roy noticed first. "Hey. You good, kiddo? You've been staring at that meat for five minutes straight. You planning to eat it or interrogate it?"
Cecil frowned, leaning closer. "Lance?"
When he didn't respond, she reached out and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. He blinked, startled, eyes glossy.
"I…" He hesitated, then looked down again. "I was just… thinking."
Roy leaned forward, curiosity fading to concern. "About what?"
Lance's voice cracked as he tried to explain. "About The ceremony. I don't… want you both to come."
The words came out small, but heavy.
Cecil blinked, confused. "What? Why not?"
He took a shaky breath. "What if I don't get a grimoire? What if I fail? I don't want you to be there and… see that. I don't want to disappoint you."
The room went still. Only the faint hum of Roy's bow filled the silence.
Then Cecil smiled softly and stood, walking around the table to kneel beside him. She cupped his face gently, forcing him to look at her.
"Lance," she said softly, "you're our son. You could walk out there and come back with nothing but a pebble, and we'd still be proud. You understand me?"
He tried to look away, but she held his gaze. "I just don't want to let you down," he whispered.
"You won't," she said firmly. "You're too kind, too stubborn, and far too clever for that. If there's any justice in this world, your grimoire will be as beautiful as you are handsome."
Roy snorted quietly. "Now that's dangerous. A beautiful grimoire for a good-looking brat who inherited his father's looks—he'll never focus on magic again, women will chase him for autographs."
Cecil shot him a glare. "Roy."
He raised his hands in surrender. "yes ma'am ."
She turned back to Lance, her voice gentler now. "If you really want to go alone… then we'll trust you. You've been to town before. You'll be fine. Just promise me one thing."
Lance nodded, sniffling. "What?"
"Come back and tell us everything. Whether you awaken a grimoire or not. No hiding, no running off."
He managed a small smile. "Deal."
Roy leaned back in his chair, finally picking up his fork. "Good. Now eat before I finish your share too. And if another herd of boars shows up tomorrow morning, you're dealing with them."
Lance chuckled, finally taking a bite. "No promises."
Cecil sighed, shaking her head. "You two are hopeless."
For a moment, everything felt right again—the warm light, the smell of dinner, the quiet laughter of a small family who didn't need much to be happy.