Aura Beyond the Gods
“What the hell just happened?”
“Coming out of the smoke like that…”
“No, more than that—hitting the seniors dead-on and wiping out the orcs in that mess?”
“Does that even make sense?”
The trainees watching the match from inside the Nest via the magic orb buzzed with shock at Adel's sudden appearance.
“...No way. Is he really showing that here?”
“This is gonna cause a riot.”
But unlike their astonishment, Harun and Kasla knew, the moment they saw Adel's drawn bow, that this was nothing compared to what they'd witnessed before.
“We thought it was just bluffing at first too. Until he showed us that.”
“Wonder what the seniors think now.”
“Plenty of hunters can use God's Blessings...”
Harun murmured in a low voice.
“...but ones who wield aura? You can count 'em on one hand.”
“He might just be this match's hero.”
“O... aura?!”
Yoran couldn't hold back his cry of alarm at the faint currents of energy rising from Adel's arrowhead.
[I see. Using my divine power might cause issues, but aura's fair game. Heh heh, look at that punk's face. This is plenty shocking in its own right.]
God's Blessing—the magic of the great natural world—was not aura, the innate special trait and power of humanity itself. Aura was said to grow so potent through honing that it could rival gods and nature alike, but it was no easy feat to attain.
To manifest aura required wielding a single weapon for at least a decade—or perhaps a lifetime, with no guarantee of success.
That's why aura is called the knights' domain.
Aura couldn't be awakened merely by swinging a weapon endlessly. Insight was essential. Knights, therefore, learned the pinnacle through their family lineages, training in aura from childhood.
Yet Adel was just thirteen. A boy from the central kingdoms, his origins unclear at best. It was only natural the Nest's trainees were in an uproar.
In my past life, I hunted countless things.
He loosed arrow after arrow without cease. When the pain had torn his hands bloody and severed them to the bone, piling corpses into towers...
Somehow, Adel's arrows had gathered not a God's Blessing, but another power entirely. Not learned from any mentor, but forged solely from his blood-soaked trials.
[Heh heh... How could this not be delightful?]
Hummmm...
Perhaps because of that. The aura blooming at Adel's arrowhead burned denser than any other's.
[God's Blessings are a power anyone graced by a god can wield. Aura and magic demand self-forging. Grueling cultivation is required.]
Kalderet spoke in a voice thick with anticipation.
[They say mastering a Blessing makes one a warrior. Add aura or magic atop that, and you're a hero.]
Shrieeeek—!!!
The arrow left the string with a ferocious roar.
[Kaaack!!]
Anok glared at the incoming shaft and bellowed as if possessed by rage.
Splat!!!!
The arrow pierced Anok's forehead dead-center. With a dull thud, the orc lord's head exploded like overripe fruit.
Step—step—step—
Adel walked forward calmly as he listened, then drove his dagger into Anok's chest without fanfare. He ripped out the heart and hoisted it overhead.
Thump... thump... thump...
Hot blood streamed down as the heart thrashed desperately, clinging to life a few more agonizing beats before stilling.
“Behold.”
The fallen trainees stared up at Adel standing over Anok's corpse. He could see awe dawning in their eyes.
[But what if one mastered all three? Surpassing even heroes...]
Kalderet eyed the crumpling orc lord's body, then turned to Adel.
[They would become a tyrant king no one could touch.]
One month before the Tomb Tournament.
After training ended, Adel called Kasla and Harun to the open lot behind the dorms. They were dying to know what gave him the confidence to boast of victory.
But the sight before them shattered all expectations.
“...Is this for real?”
“Yeah.”
“No way. Dad said you can use imprinted Blessings on weapons? That's as good as divine grace... At your age? Impossible.”
They gawked, unable to believe it. But denying it was pointless—the proof was right there.
Two practice dummies stood in the lot, both shattered. Yet utterly differently: one blasted to splinters, the other pierced cleanly through the chest alone.
“Divine grace at thirteen wasn't enough—you've got aura too...”
“Imprinted Blessings aren't that hard. No full contract with a god required.”
Weapon imprints—carvings of specific gods' powers—were devices allowing easier access to multiple Blessings without binding to one deity.
“Anyone with divine affinity can do imprinted Blessings.”
“...I can't.”
Harun scratched his head at Adel's words.
“Don't sweat it. Just keep doing what you're doing. Focus on your archery, nothing else.”
“Urgh...”
Harun flinched, as if Adel had pierced his thoughts.
“Aura's ultimately the power from within us humans. Separate from God's Blessings or mana. Blessings and mana need a vessel of compatible bloodline.”
Adel stood before the splintered dummy.
“But bloodline capacity has limits. Blessings and mana share that vessel, so you can't amplify both at once.”
He stepped to the sharply pierced one beside it.
“Aura's different. Self-training lets it evolve endlessly. Explosive. Razor-sharp.”
They nodded at his words.
“Aura at thirteen... Unreal. Kasla, maybe Adel's not wrong.”
“About what?”
“That he's stronger than the instructors.”
They hated to admit it, but none of the Nest's instructors wielded aura. Hunters rarely did. Or rather, couldn't.
Aura demanded such precise training it was knights' territory—but beyond depth of practice lay a crucial gap: the weapon itself.
Aura was a ki expelled from within. Swords and spears, knights' staples, channeled it easily through the grip. Bows? Infusing arrows required extreme finesse.
Just who the hell is he?
Kasla stared, lips sealed despite her eyes.
“Who are you? Some assassin raised by central kingdoms? How'd you reach this level so young?”
She gazed at him with genuine curiosity.
“I just shot more arrows, swung more swords than most. Awakening aura's about triggers and insight—not age or time.”
Adel wasn't wrong. He'd bloomed late at twenty, but once ignited, his talent exploded: aura basics in a single mad year.
Though refining it beyond basics took ages...
What he'd shown was mere foundation—plenty convincing.
“Key thing is, are you interested in this power?”
Gulp.
They swallowed dryly without realizing.
“If you are, I'll teach you anytime. I'm no genius—just forged through blood and sweat.”
He rose.
“But keep it secret till after the Tomb Tournament. Price of the lessons, yeah? Heila.”
Twitch.
Her shoulder trembled from her hiding spot, watching them.
“Can't play maid forever. Wanna get back in the field? You've got the potential.”
Adel called toward the dorm's rear.
Crazy... Aura? A thirteen-year-old using what even squad leaders struggle with? Bullshit!!
Yoran scowled at Anok's corpse.
Damn it, what the hell did Heila do? Why stick with that guy! And she didn't report something this big?!
Rage boiled over, but blaming her now was pointless. The match was decided: he'd lost thirty-nine to one.
“Smoke screen, huh... Perfect for narrowing those sand orcs' vision. All thanks to you, bro.”
Adel pocketed Anok's heart as proof, grinning at Yoran.
“You... Think you'll get away with this? Nine started with you at the entrance. Where are they?”
“Taken out. They were gunning for me. Hunt before you're hunted—that's Ulan teaching, right?”
“...What?”
Meant to corner him, his bold reply left Yoran speechless.
“Don't bullshit me! Then who ambushed us in the smoke?! Without your interference, I'd have bagged Anok!!”
Yoran jabbed a finger at Adel, yelling.
“Sure. You'd have gotten him even without me joining.”
“Exactly! You interfered!!! We didn't even attack you!! But you hit us!”
“You'd have beheaded Anok—at the cost of your comrades' lives.”
“...What?”
As if awaiting the cue, Adel swept a hand around.
“Look. I didn't touch a one. Saved 'em, actually.”
The fallen seniors rose heads bowed, too ashamed to meet eyes.
Everyone knows we targeted Adel.
We didn't strike first, so it's cheating? Childish excuse. Pathetic.
For him, snagging Anok first mattered more than our safety.
For that guy...
Disappointment etched their faces. Even illusory beasts could kill like the real thing.
“Wh-what's this?!”
Yoran caught their glares. Loath to admit it, but unlike his backseat orders, Adel's solo hunt screamed true hunter.
“He didn't attack us. Saved us.”
“Embarrassing, but practice didn't prepare us.”
“Frontline collapsed, smoke hid allies, orcs' strikes invisible.”
“Without Adel's arrows, orc axes would've taken our heads.”
One senior picked up the arrow that hit him.
“Blunt tip. Lethal shot? No need for this hassle.”
“Right. His arrows let us dodge the orcs.”
The seniors all stood. Yoran's face twisted worse than at Anok's fall.
“We admit it. We owe him our lives—even in a match.”
“Sh-shut up!! You morons! Owe lives?! Without him, I'd have gotten Anok!!!”
“True.”
Thud—thud—thud—!!
The seniors dropped their weapons.
“This concerns us, not you, Yoran.”
The arrow-holder eyed him coldly, then placed it before Adel.
“Life for life.”
The others bowed in unison.
“We serve another, so we won't follow... but Adel Temir, we owe you. Rank means nothing now. We'll treat you as benefactor and repay this debt one day.”
Adel smiled, satisfied, lips curling.
“Wh-what're you doing?! You bastards!!! Who're you bowing to? No pride?!”
Yoran's shouts rang out, but none lifted their heads.
Seniors bowing to a junior—an unprecedented sight. Wonder what the instructors thought.
“Hm.”
With Anok dead, the spell array reactivated. Adel nodded indifferently, turned, and stepped through the portal.
A perfect victory.