Rain fell over the capital.
Not heavy.
Just enough to blur lanternlight and quiet the streets.
Arthur was not in the palace.
He was in the southern quarter again — still in altered appearance.
He had begun returning frequently.
Testing people.
Observing.
Building something quietly.
Tonight, he was speaking to the young lantern-repair girl from before.
Her name was Marin.
Sharp eyes.
Grease-stained hands.
Curious mind.
"You're saying mana can be redirected without increasing output?" she asked, skeptical but intrigued.
"Yes," Arthur replied calmly. "Efficiency matters more than volume."
She crossed her arms.
"That's not how knights think."
"Knights waste power."
She smirked faintly.
"You don't."
He didn't answer.
Because he couldn't afford to.
Not anymore.
A scream cut through the rain.
Both of them turned.
Two figures stood at the end of the street.
Twisted.
Too tall.
Veins glowing brighter than the previous subject.
Their movements were smoother.
Less erratic.
More controlled.
Arthur's expression changed instantly.
"Go," he told Marin.
She didn't argue.
She ran.
The creatures didn't chase her.
They charged him.
Arthur stepped forward.
He didn't wait this time.
He struck first.
Precise cut across the first creature's thigh joint.
It staggered—
But recovered faster than expected.
The second attacked simultaneously.
Coordinated.
Arthur blocked—
And then he felt it.
The air shifted.
Not from the creatures.
From above.
A faint violet ripple across rooftops.
He didn't need to look.
He knew.
Suppression field activated.
Stronger this time.
His core constricted violently.
Mana output halved.
Fifty percent.
The crack burned like molten glass.
His footing faltered for half a second—
And that was enough.
The first creature slammed into him.
He absorbed the blow—
But it drove him through a wooden storefront.
Timber shattered.
Pain flared across his ribs.
He stood immediately.
But slower.
Marin hadn't gone far enough.
He could still sense her behind a stack of crates.
The creatures advanced.
Not mindless.
Directed.
One lunged high.
One low.
Arthur parried high—
But lacked the output to fully deflect.
The low strike hit his side.
He felt bone strain.
Not broken.
But close.
He adjusted tactics instantly.
No more dominance.
He switched to precision crippling.
Target joints.
Target unstable mana nodes.
But under suppression—
His reaction window narrowed.
The second creature caught his wrist.
Crushed hard.
His blade dropped.
For the first time—
He was disarmed.
The first creature raised its arm—
Mana condensing into unstable burst.
Arthur made a decision.
He released.
Not wide-scale.
Not explosive.
But deeper than safe.
He forced mana through the crack.
Overrode suppression for a fraction of a second.
Golden light flared violently around him.
The burst struck him point-blank—
He redirected it downward—
Shattering the street stone.
Both creatures were thrown back.
Arthur retrieved his blade—
And ended the first cleanly.
The second lunged blindly—
He severed its spine.
Silence fell.
Rain resumed its gentle rhythm.
The suppression field flickered—
Then vanished.
Arthur dropped to one knee.
The crack pulsed wildly.
He tasted blood.
That had been reckless.
Necessary.
But reckless.
"Arthur!"
Darius's voice.
He landed seconds later, breath heavy.
He looked at the destroyed street.
The bodies.
Arthur kneeling.
"…They pushed you."
"Yes."
Darius's eyes darkened.
"They were stronger."
"Yes."
He noticed something else.
"You dropped your blade."
Arthur met his gaze calmly.
"Yes."
That unsettled Darius more than anything.
Arthur stood slowly.
Then froze.
His eyes shifted past Darius.
Behind the crates.
Marin lay on the ground.
One of the creatures' earlier shockwaves had struck the stack.
Crushed inward.
She wasn't breathing.
Arthur walked to her.
Slowly.
Darius followed, silent.
Arthur knelt.
Placed his hand on her chest.
Nothing.
He pushed mana gently—
Too late.
Her mana channels had ruptured.
Internal collapse.
He had told her to run.
He had engaged too close.
He had underestimated coordination.
Darius's voice was tight.
"…We got here fast."
Arthur didn't respond.
He simply stood.
Rain washing blood from the stones.
He didn't look toward the rooftops.
But far above—
Lyra and Caelum watched from a distant tower.
Through crystal projection.
Lyra tilted her head slightly.
"He overrode suppression."
Caelum adjusted the device.
"For 0.8 seconds."
Lyra smiled faintly.
"And paid for it."
She watched Arthur standing in the rain beside the fallen girl.
"Now he understands."
Caelum's voice was calm.
"Do we increase?"
Lyra nodded.
"Yes."
—
Back in the palace infirmary—
Arthur's ribs were wrapped.
His wrist bruised.
The crack in his chest flickered unevenly.
Seraphina stood nearby.
"You pushed beyond safe threshold."
"Yes."
"You lost one."
"Yes."
She watched him carefully.
"You're not reacting."
He looked at her.
"What reaction would you prefer?"
She didn't answer.
He continued quietly.
"They are refining pressure."
Seraphina's eyes sharpened.
"And you?"
Arthur's voice was colder now.
"I will stop reacting."
He looked out the window at the rain-soaked city.
"They want emotional instability."
"They want suppression to matter."
"They want me alone in the field."
He turned back.
"They will not get that again."
Darius stood in the doorway.
Silent.
Watching his brother.
For the first time—
He had seen Arthur disarmed.
Seen him nearly crushed.
Seen him fail to save someone.
And something shifted in him.
Not insecurity.
Resolve.
Elsewhere—
In the royal library—
Arthur returned the black-spined book to the table.
He opened it again.
The word stared back at him.
Transcendent.
His birthmark burned faintly.
And for a moment—
He saw a throne again.
A golden sky.
And someone smiling.
Not kindly.
Arthur closed the book.
"They think they are breaking me."
His eyes hardened.
"They are building something worse."