Man, I am mad right now.
For the first time in my thirty-two—no, wait. Seasons here are longer. Almost twice as long.So doing the math in Earth years…
In my forty-one-ish years of existence, I finally shared space with someone of the opposite gender—and I didn't even realize it.
Yeah. That stings. Badly.
Hamsa let out a slow breath, forcing the irritation down. This was not the time. Not now.
As his thoughts settled, his senses caught up with reality.
Disturbed treetops. Broken branches. Dust hanging unnaturally in the air.
There.
"I really need to stop spiraling and focus," he muttered to himself.
From the feedback flooding in through his mana sense, he narrowed it down quickly.
"Twelve… maybe thirteen," he whispered. "Big cats."
Not normal ones.
They moved wrong—too coordinated, too heavy. Their bodies were larger than any tiger he knew, muscles reinforced by mana. Worse, they weren't just using mana to enhance themselves.
They were projecting it.
Claw-shaped pressure waves sliced through the air, sharp and compressed, aimed straight at Naga and Gopala.
"They're launching mana attacks," Hamsa realized. "Clean ones too."
Still, his companions were holding their own—barely. Dodging, redirecting, keeping distance instead of engaging head-on.
And Mina…
"She's tailing them," he noted. "Good. She hasn't been spotted."
That meant it was time.
"Well," Hamsa murmured, rolling his shoulders, "guess I should stop spectating."
He drew in a slow breath and began channeling his mana in earnest.
The air around him shifted—not visibly, but perceptibly. A faint pressure spread outward as he laid a thin, carefully measured layer of mana across the battlefield, stretching it wide like a translucent net.
It wasn't for attack.
It was calibration.
By mapping the space in advance and marking the signatures of his comrades within it, he ensured that anything he launched would avoid his comrades.
"Alright," he thought, eyes fixed on the forest ahead."Let's see how this goes when it's not practice."
_____________
What is the Rajkumar about to do?
I tighten my grip on the blade and adjust my footing between the trees.
He's absurd with magic.
I've worked with temple elites. I've seen assassins who can erase their presence so completely you doubt they were ever there. I've seen battlefield mages level squads.
But this boy—
No. This prince—
He doesn't just use mana. He understands it.
I got assigned to this escort because I know this region like the back of my hand. I thought it would be babysitting. A royal playing at danger, two royal guards doing the real work while I handled actual complications.
I was wrong.
He thinks like someone twice his age. Speaks like it too—though his social skills still betray him. Awkward, blunt… but sharp. Painfully sharp. He reads terrain, risk, civilian reaction time. He calculates consequences before the rest of us finish forming the thought.
Most nobles I've dealt with couldn't find a latrine without assistance.
Still.
If he miscalculates, it's on us.
If those beasts break formation and scatter instead of chasing Naga and Gopala, we'll be forced into open engagement.
If the prince overestimates himself—
We clean up the mess.
Then—
Something shifts.
The air feels heavier.
Not air.
Mana.
A pressure spreads outward, thin but controlled, settling across the clearing like an invisible canopy.
Is that him?
They burst into the forest opening.
Thirteen—massive feline forms. Larger than any Mina had seen. Their fur carried faint streaks of luminescence. Mana pooled around their claws, condensing before launching outward in crescent slashes.
Naga and Gopala dodged cleanly, but barely.
Mina circled, ready to intercept if one broke formation.
Then—
A voice from above.
"MOVE!"
It wasn't a suggestion.
All three reacted instantly, diving backward and widening the distance between themselves and the beasts.
The next moment—
The sky cracked.
A violent gust tore downward, compressing the air. Then came a rapid succession of sharp detonations—small, precise, controlled.
Dust exploded upward in blinding clouds.
The beasts roared—
Then stopped.
Silence.
Heavy, unnatural silence.
The dust settled slowly.
The three advanced cautiously toward the center.
All thirteen beasts lay still.
Each had a clean, stone-sized puncture near the skull or throat. No blunt trauma. No shattered bone from impact.
Their bodies were carved with shallow, razor-thin lacerations—as though sliced repeatedly by invisible blades. No steel marks. No burn residue.
Wind.
Condensed and weaponized. Like they have never seen.
They stood there for a moment, stunned.
Then—
"COUGH—COUGH—are they all dead?—COUGH."
They looked up.
Hamsa descended from above, suspended briefly before lowering himself the rest of the way. His breathing was uneven, though controlled.
"Yes," Naga answered. "All dead."
"Good," Hamsa replied, wiping at his mouth lightly. "Then we move. That noise will have drawn attention."
He stepped close to each of them in turn, touching their shoulders briefly.
Mana flared.
Their concealment fields reactivated instantly.
Moments later, they were already slipping past the perimeter as guards and soldiers rushed toward the clearing—shouting, weapons drawn, unaware that the threat had already been erased.
_______________________________________
The four rode in silence.
They had barely cleared the final outposts before word of the forest incident spread and the gates began closing. Once enough distance lay between them and the main road, they veered off into the wilderness.
For a while, the land remained tolerable—dense forests, open fields, the occasional stream cutting through stone.
Then it changed.
Gradually at first.
The trees thinned. The soil darkened. The air felt… wrong.
They had reached the outer fringes of the Great Mana Dead Zone.
Life still existed here—but it was twisted.
Plants grew without leaves, skeletal branches clawing at the air while thick root systems sprawled across the ground like veins. Instead of drawing nutrients from soil, they absorbed ambient mana directly, their bark dull and grey.
Fauna moved differently too.
Worms larger than a man's arm surfaced and retreated through cracked earth. Strange insects scuttled in clusters to regulate their numbers. Once, in the distance, they glimpsed a massive bear-like creature—its frame too broad, its fur patchy and coarse.
They gave it a wide berth.
Mina finally broke the silence.
"Rajkumar… if I may ask—are you spreading your mana around us? To keep the creatures at bay?"
She scanned the surroundings carefully.
"The last time my unit came here, it wasn't this… easy."
Naga nodded. "We've never entered this far ourselves, but the stories don't match what we're seeing."
Gopala gave a short grunt of agreement.
Hamsa didn't answer immediately.
"Well… yeah," he admitted at last. "I am."
He kept his gaze forward.
"You've probably guessed by now that I'm… unusually gifted with mana. Gifted enough that there's a gag order on discussing it openly."
He shrugged lightly.
"The flying back there? Only the three of you saw that. And that stays between us."
They remained silent.
"Before coming here, I studied reports," he continued. "Creatures in this zone are extremely mana-sensitive. Predatory, but cautious. If something radiates a stronger presence than they can handle, they avoid it."
He glanced sideways.
"So I'm leaving my mana loose enough to cover the four of us. To them, we're not worth the risk."
The three exchanged looks.
"Is that so," they replied almost in unison.
A faint smirk crossed Hamsa's face.
"Now that that's settled," Gopala said after a moment, "where exactly are we headed? If we continue like this, soon the three of us may not be able to proceed."
Hamsa's expression tightened.
He had avoided this conversation deliberately.
But they had escorted him this far, fully aware of the dangers.
After a long pause, he spoke.
He explained.
The dreams.
The voice.
The invitation.
The location given within the Dead Zone.
"…So that's why we're here."
Silence followed.
Mina stared at him as if recalibrating everything she thought she knew about reality. Naga's jaw flexed. Gopala looked somewhere between disbelief and reluctant acceptance.
If anyone else had said something like that, they would've dismissed it outright.
Or worse—dragged him aside and beaten the living daylights out of him for even suggesting it.
But he wasn't "anyone else."
He was… him.
A boy strange in ways none of them could properly explain.
Too sharp. Too calm. Too aware.
Like he was always standing half a step ahead of everyone else.
So they let it go.
Eventually, with only a few hours of sunlight left. They reached it.
A cave entrance carved into jagged stone, descending into darkness. The air beyond it felt heavier—mana density increasing sharply.
They dismounted.
Taking horses further would be suicide.
More importantly—
The three of them would not survive much deeper without protection.
Hamsa approached each of them in turn, placing a hand against their chest or shoulder. A surge of mana flowed into them—dense, warm, overwhelming. He did the same for the horses.
"There," he said. "If you stay close together, nothing should attack."
Mina's eyes widened slightly as she assessed the influx within her.
"Rajkumar… this is a massive amount. Each of us is carrying nearly double what the three of us combined would normally hold."
She looked at him sharply.
"Will this not hinder you?"
Hamsa shook his head.
"My mana pool is… significantly deeper than you're imagining."
That was putting it lightly.
"I'll be fine."
He stepped back.
"If you lose the connection you feel from my mana—leave. Immediately. Don't hesitate. Don't look back."
He reached into his cloak and withdrew a sealed parchment.
"And if something goes wrong—deliver this to the Royal Family. It clears you of all responsibility. You won't be punished. You won't be dismissed."
Mina accepted the letter slowly.
Before any of them could respond—
He turned.
And leapt into the cave.
The darkness swallowed him almost instantly.
The three stood there in stunned silence.
After a moment, Mina exhaled.
"You think he'll be alright?"
Naga folded his arms.
"We saw his training," he said evenly. "And what he did yesterday."
Gopala nodded.
"He should be fine."
Mina stared into the cave's shadowed mouth.
Wondering if this was the last they will ever see of him.
________________________________
Sorry, guys. I lied.
I gave them almost three-quarters of my entire mana reserve.
Technically, I can recover quickly—if I absorb the ambient mana in this area. But that would mean lowering my guard while doing it. And in a place like this? That's basically asking to get ambushed.
And we don't have the time to sit and recharge.
I could've managed with one-quarter.
Even two.
But they came here knowing they might not return.
The journey felt easy—that was because I was here.
They didn't factor that in. They were prepared for the worst.
Not willingly, maybe.
But knowingly.
The least I could do was tip the scales in their favor.
I just hope they're safe out there.
And I really hope what's ahead stays as "manageable" as everything so far.
Please don't let it be some twisted mana-mutated horror.
No giant spiders.
No giant snakes.
No nightmare fuel.
Please.
With those thoughts circling his mind, Rajkumar Hamsa stepped deeper into the cave.
Mana flowed from him in controlled streams, forming a faint luminous veil around his body. It lit the tunnel in a soft glow while simultaneously layering into a defensive barrier over his skin—dense enough to deflect sudden strikes, thin enough not to drain him too quickly.
The cave walls were jagged and uneven, streaked with dark mineral veins that seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light. The air grew colder the deeper he went, and with every step, the ambient mana density increased—thicker, heavier, pressing against his senses.
He had hoped for an uneventful descent.
Silence.
An empty tunnel.
Maybe a strange relic or two.
Instead—
The ground beneath him trembled.
Not violently.
But deliberately.
Something shifted in the darkness ahead.
And then—
Multiple faint, rhythmic sounds echoed through the cavern.
Not wind.
Not dripping water.
Breathing.
Slow.
Heavy.
And not alone.
"This is going to get ugly," he muttered under his breath.
He rolled his shoulders once, steadying his breathing.
The Rajkumar was fully armed.A double-edged sword and a mase rested across his waist.Half a dozen short javelins were secured on his back—light enough to throw, sturdy enough to serve as improvised spears.In his right hand, he gripped a small spiked mace—a Gada, compact but heavy.
He didn't carry a shield.
He didn't need one.
Mana would serve that purpose.
He shifted his stance.
Right hand: mace.
Left hand: free—for spellcasting or quick weapon transition.
Then he drew deeper.
Mana surged outward, thickening around him like a second skin. He knelt briefly, gathering several small stones and remove some dry leaves and branches from his pouch.. A spark flickered at his fingertips. He fed it carefully—just enough heat to ignite.
A small flame caught.
He didn't let it grow uncontrolled. Instead, he shaped it—guiding air currents with fine strands of mana, compressing oxygen flow, stabilizing combustion. The tiny fire split, stretched, and formed into several compact spheres of flame.
He extinguished the original source with a flick of his fingers.
Now three controlled fire orbs floated around him, rotating slowly in a triangular pattern.
His defensive layer thickened further, reinforcing vital points: throat, ribs, joints.
The air ahead still trembled.
The breathing grew clearer.
He stepped forward.
Every sense sharpened.
Ready for whatever the cave chose to throw at him.