Chapter 186: The Hand That Would Not Yield

Malgrath charged.

Dark mana erupted around his limbs as he crossed the ruined training grounds, his fist drawing back for a heavy strike.

Lucian planted his feet.

The golden edge of his sword trembled. His remaining mana was barely enough to maintain Heroic Armament, and every breath sent pain through his body.

He knew he could not block the attack directly.

He needed another opening.

*Dreadforge reinforces the body by compressing mana around specific areas. The reinforcement shifts when required elsewhere, but the transition is not instantaneous.*

Lucian tightened his grip.

*I only need to exploit that delay.*

Malgrath’s fist came toward his head.

Lucian moved.

Rather than retreating, he stepped diagonally into the attack and brought his sword toward the demon’s reinforced arm.

Malgrath’s eyes narrowed.

The golden blade had already proven capable of penetrating his defense. He would not allow the same method to work again.

The compressed mana around his arm thickened.

**CLANG!**

The collision sent a sharp tremor through Lucian’s weapon.

His sword failed to penetrate.

Before he could recover, Malgrath twisted and drove his other fist toward Lucian’s chest.

Lucian turned aside, but not completely.

The blow struck his shoulder.

**CRACK!**

Pain shot through his body.

Lucian was thrown sideways. He hit the broken stone hard and rolled several times before coming to a stop.

His sword nearly left his hand.

For a moment, he could not breathe.

His vision blurred.

He forced air into his lungs and pushed himself onto one knee.

Malgrath approached without haste.

"Disappointed?"

The demon glanced at the faint golden light around Lucian’s sword.

"You discovered that my reinforcement does not shift instantaneously. An impressive observation."

His lips curled slightly.

"But you made one mistake."

Lucian said nothing.

"You assumed discovering a weakness meant you could continue exploiting it."

Malgrath stopped a short distance away.

"Once you revealed your method, I only needed to adjust. Now I can reinforce the necessary area before your blade reaches it."

He raised his arm. Dark mana compressed around his fist.

"Your talent is remarkable, Hero. But a remarkable talent cannot compensate for every difference in strength."

Lucian forced himself to stand.

Behind him, the passage leading out of the training grounds was empty.

The last students had escaped.

That was enough.

He had bought them time.

But if he fell now, Malgrath would be free to pursue them—or turn on anyone who arrived to help.

Lucian raised his sword.

The golden edge was barely visible.

Malgrath regarded him with mild disbelief.

"Why are you still standing?"

Lucian tightened his grip on the hilt.

Because he was afraid.

Because every instinct told him to run.

Because he understood how easily someone stronger could kill him.

But none of that changed what stood behind him.

People who could not defend themselves had depended on him.

They had run because he had stayed.

He could not take that back.

"Because..."

Lucian drew a strained breath.

"...I am not finished."

Malgrath stared at him for a moment.

Then he gave a short, humorless laugh.

"Then let me finish this."

He vanished.

Lucian’s eyes widened.

*Too fast.*

He raised his sword, but his body could not respond in time.

Malgrath appeared at his side.

His right hand swept across Lucian’s sword arm.

There was no exchange of blows.

No chance for another maneuver.

Only a flash of dark mana and a sharp impact.

Lucian felt something strike his right forearm just above the wrist.

For a brief moment, there was no pain—only a strange, hollow pressure.

Then he saw it.

His hand, still clenched around the hilt, was no longer attached to his arm.

It hung in the air for an instant before falling, still gripping the sword.

**Clang!**

The sound of steel striking stone rang across the empty training grounds.

Lucian stared at the stump of his right arm.

Blood pulsed from the wound, soaking the torn fabric of his sleeve.

Then the pain arrived.

A raw, white-hot agony tore up his arm. A broken sound escaped his throat as he staggered back, clutching the stump with his remaining hand.

His legs nearly gave out.

The golden light around his fallen sword vanished.

Heroic Armament had ended.

Malgrath stood before him, expression cold.

"You should have retreated when you had the chance."

Lucian tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

His breathing was ragged. The world blurred at the edges.

He had fought until he could no longer fight.

And now he could not even hold a sword.

Malgrath raised his hand again.

"Enough."

A sudden presence cut through the battlefield.

Malgrath’s expression changed the moment the mana pressure descended.

Emerald light flooded the training grounds. A complex magic circle formed beneath his feet, interlocking patterns rotating in opposite directions. The air grew heavy, pressing down with precise force.

He tried to move.

The circle brightened.

**BOOM!**

An invisible weight slammed into him from above. His knees bent. The stone beneath his boots fractured as his body was driven several inches into the ground.

Malgrath looked up.

A figure descended onto the battlefield.

Long green hair. Elegant elven ears. Emerald eyes that held no warmth.

Elowen.

She had sensed the concentrated surge of demonic mana from across the academy and moved the moment she confirmed the source.

Recognition flashed across Malgrath’s face.

*Her.*

He had been warned about this one.

A Peak Eighth Circle Mage. The elf whose Arcane Eyes could dissect a spell’s structure in real time and turn it against its caster.

His mission had been simple: kill the Hero before reinforcements arrived.

He had underestimated the boy’s stubbornness. Now, with Elowen standing between them, he had lost his chance.

Elowen’s gaze moved across the battlefield. The blood. The fallen sword. Lucian standing unsteadily, his remaining hand pressed against the stump of his right arm.

For a brief moment, her expression tightened.

She had arrived too late to prevent the injury.

But she could still stop Malgrath from finishing him.

"Seventh Circle Spell," she said quietly.

"Gravitic Bind."

The magic circle expanded. Several smaller circles appeared around its outer edge, rotating at different speeds. Using her Arcane Eyes, Elowen tracked the flow of Malgrath’s compressed mana and continuously adjusted the pressure. Whenever he reinforced one part of his body, she redirected the force elsewhere, exploiting the brief adjustments Dreadforge required.

Malgrath strained against the force. Dark mana flared around his limbs. Cracks spread further across the stone, but the circle held.

He looked up at her, something close to genuine fear entering his eyes.

He understood now.

He would not complete his mission—not while Elowen stood between him and the Hero.

Elowen’s voice remained calm.

"You keep reinforcing your body to answer every threat. Let’s see how well that works when you cannot move."

Malgrath glared at her.

"You think this will hold me forever?"

"No," Elowen replied. "Only long enough."

Her gaze shifted briefly toward Lucian.

He was still standing, but barely. Blood continued to seep from the stump of his arm. His face was pale, and his remaining hand trembled as he tried to keep pressure on the wound.

She needed to end this quickly—and stabilize him before the blood loss became fatal.

---

Lucian barely registered what was happening.

The sounds of the battlefield had grown distant.

He could see Elowen standing between him and Malgrath. He could see the emerald light surrounding the demon and the magic circles pressing him into the ground.

Help had arrived.

He should have felt relieved.

Instead, his legs began to shake.

He tried to straighten his back.

*I need to stay conscious.*

His gaze drifted toward his fallen sword and the severed hand still locked around its hilt.

He had wanted to keep fighting.

Even after discovering Dreadforge’s weakness, even after Malgrath adapted, he had continued searching for another opening.

But he had reached his limit.

His right hand was gone. All he could feel was the searing pain of the wound.

He could not help Elowen.

He could not retrieve his weapon.

All he could do was remain standing long enough for her to deal with the demon.

He pressed harder against the wound with his remaining hand.

The pain was beginning to fade into a distant haze.

That frightened him more than the pain itself.

*No... not yet.*

He tried to take another step.

His knee buckled.

Lucian caught himself, but the effort sent a wave of dizziness through his head. The battlefield tilted. His vision narrowed.

He could hear Elowen’s voice somewhere in the distance, calm and controlled as the magic circle beneath Malgrath brightened again.

Lucian wanted to know whether she could defeat the demon—whether everyone would be safe.

But his body no longer obeyed him.

The last of his strength slipped away.

Elowen noticed him falling from the corner of her eye, but she could not release Gravitic Bind while Malgrath remained a threat.

The last thing Lucian saw was the emerald glow spreading across the ruined training grounds.

Then his legs gave out.

Lucian collapsed onto the bloodstained stones, unconscious.