High above the battlefield, hidden among the branches of an ancient tree, a figure watched silently.
The middle-aged mage stood upon a thick branch as though gravity itself had forgotten him. Invisible ripples of mana distorted the surrounding air, concealing both his presence and aura completely. To anyone below, the tree appeared empty.
His gaze remained fixed on the battlefield.
The situation was becoming dangerous.
The masked leader was clearly stronger than the children. If things continued this way, intervention might become necessary. He had no intention of allowing the young lady under his protection to die in some forgotten forest.
A faint fluctuation escaped his mana as he prepared himself.
It was insignificant.
Barely noticeable.
Yet at that exact moment—
Jayant's eyes shifted.
For the briefest instant, the boy glanced toward the tree.
Toward him.
The old man's expression froze.
Impossible.
Before he could process what had happened, Jayant suddenly slowed his advance and spoke loudly enough for Meenakshi and Veneela to hear.
"Don't rush. Conserve your mana as much as possible. Unexpected things may happen."
Both girls nodded immediately.
Neither understood the hidden meaning behind those words.
The old man did.
His eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Meanwhile, the masked leader swept his senses across the forest. His mana spread outward like a hunting net, searching for hidden enemies.
Nothing.
No reinforcements.
No ambush.
No hidden experts.
After several moments, he dismissed Jayant's words as a desperate bluff.
The old man remained silent.
Among everyone present, only Jayant had reacted to his presence.
Not Meenakshi.
Not Veneela.
Not even the masked leader.
Yet somehow this boy, whose mana rank was visibly lower than everyone else here, had sensed the tiny fluctuation he accidentally released.
The old man's curiosity deepened.
Just what kind of environment had created such instincts?
The ability to sense danger wasn't taught through books.
It wasn't learned in classrooms.
It was forged through survival.
Through countless battles.
Through standing at death's door over and over again.
For the first time since meeting Jayant, the old man felt genuine interest.
Perhaps this journey would be more entertaining than expected.
Below, the battle finally erupted.
Two masked warriors exploded forward simultaneously, their blades gleaming beneath the moonlight. Their movements were fast, disciplined, and deadly.
They aimed directly for Jayant.
Yet before either blade could reach him—
Two streams of water pierced through the darkness.
The water arrows crossed the battlefield like streaks of blue lightning.
Silent.
Precise.
Merciless.
Both arrows struck perfectly between the eyes.
The masked warriors collapsed instantly.
Their bodies hit the ground before they even realized they had been attacked.
For the first time, the old man's eyebrows rose.
A small smile appeared on his face.
Excellent.
The girl's spell control was impressive.
Her casting speed was above average.
But what truly caught his attention was her timing.
She hadn't simply attacked.
She had waited.
Observed.
Calculated.
Then struck at the exact moment their attention shifted toward Jayant.
Good.
Very good.
Perhaps this generation wasn't entirely hopeless after all.
The remaining masked warriors immediately changed targets.
They recognized the true threat.
The water mage.
Without hesitation, they rushed toward Meenakshi.
The masked leader simply laughed.
"Do you truly believe you can stop me alone?" he asked mockingly.
Flames gathered around his hand as mana surged through the surrounding air.
The temperature rose instantly.
The nearby grass began to curl from the heat.
Even the moisture in the air started evaporating.
"One spell is enough to reduce you to ashes."
Jayant didn't slow down.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't stop.
Instead, a grin appeared on his face.
"Is your mouth only useful for talking?" he shouted back.
The masked leader's smile disappeared.
Jayant continued.
"Or do you actually know how to cast spells?"
For a moment, silence fell across the battlefield.
Then—
The masked leader exploded with rage.
"GO TO HELL!"
Mana erupted from his body.
The surrounding forest shook.
Trees groaned.
Leaves ignited.
A massive spear of crimson fire formed above his head.
The spell radiated terrifying heat.
The old man watching from above narrowed his eyes.
A Fourth-Class Fire Spell.
Not bad.
The fiery spear shot forward.
The attack crossed dozens of meters in an instant.
The ground blackened beneath its path.
The air distorted from the heat.
It was a lethal attack.
Yet just before reaching Jayant—
The wind changed.
Invisible currents suddenly surrounded the spear.
Its speed decreased.
Its trajectory shifted slightly.
Its power weakened.
Not enough for others to notice.
But enough for Jayant.
His body twisted.
The spear barely missed his chest.
Instead, it grazed his left shoulder.
Blood splattered into the air.
Pain shot through his arm.
Yet the grin on his face only widened.
The masked leader stared.
Jayant laughed.
"Your eyesight is terrible."
The masked leader's eye twitched.
"Maybe I should stand still."
Another twitch.
"I never fight blind people."
The masked leader's face distorted.
Rage consumed reason.
Reason controlled mana.
Mana controlled spells.
The moment reason disappeared—
So did efficiency.
The old man immediately understood what Jayant was doing.
Interesting.
The boy wasn't trying to win through power.
He was trying to win through patience.
Through psychology.
Through provoking mistakes.
The masked leader unleashed another barrage of fire.
Fireballs.
Flame blades.
Explosive bursts.
One attack after another.
The forest trembled beneath the assault.
Jayant danced through the destruction.
Sometimes he dodged.
Sometimes he redirected attacks with wind.
Sometimes he blocked with crude wind shields.
Each exchange left new wounds on his body.
Cuts appeared across his arms.
Burns marked his clothes.
Blood slowly stained his shirt.
Yet his smile never disappeared.
And that smile infuriated his opponent more than any spell ever could.
Meanwhile, Meenakshi's battle progressed rapidly.
Water arrows rained through the narrow passage.
The terrain worked in their favor.
The masked warriors couldn't surround her.
They couldn't exploit their numbers.
One by one they fell.
A throat pierced.
A heart shattered.
A skull crushed by compressed water.
Every spell was efficient.
Every attack deliberate.
Behind her, Veneela supported tirelessly.
Soft green healing light flowed continuously from her hands.
Whenever Meenakshi's mana reserves dropped, Veneela restored her stamina.
Whenever minor injuries appeared, they vanished moments later.
The old man watched with growing approval.
The healer knew her role.
The water mage knew hers.
And the wind mage...
The old man looked toward Jayant.
That boy was something else entirely.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The battlefield slowly changed.
The masked warriors were dead.
All seven.
Only their leader remained.
The masked leader's breathing had become ragged.
Sweat covered his forehead.
His mana reserves were nearly depleted.
Only now did he realize something horrifying.
He had been played.
The entire battle.
The insults.
The laughter.
The provocations.
Everything.
"You little bastard..." he growled.
Jayant wiped blood from his lips.
The grin remained.
The masked leader finally snapped.
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
The remaining mana inside his body erupted wildly.
The surrounding forest trembled.
Yet this time Jayant didn't retreat.
His expression finally became serious.
Wind gathered around him.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
The air screamed.
A massive tornado suddenly formed beneath the masked leader.
The exhausted mage's eyes widened.
"What—?!"
The tornado lifted him into the air.
Branches shattered.
Dust exploded upward.
The spinning winds blinded him completely.
For the first time during the entire battle—
The masked leader lost sight of his enemy.
That single moment was enough.
"MEENAKSHI!"
Jayant roared.
Mana erupted from her body.
The surrounding moisture gathered instantly.
Water surged forward.
A massive dragon formed in midair.
A living torrent of destruction.
The Water Dragon opened its jaws and charged.
The masked leader finally sensed danger.
But it was too late.
The dragon crashed into him.
The impact shook the forest.
Water exploded in every direction.
The tornado collapsed.
Silence followed.
Then—
A lifeless body fell from the sky.
Thud.
The masked leader never moved again.
The battle was over.
Jayant stared at the corpse for several seconds.
Then all strength left his body.
His legs gave out.
The world tilted.
The last thing he felt was something surprisingly soft.
Veneela had rushed forward and caught him before he hit the ground.
His head landed directly on her lap.
Warm.
Soft.
Comfortable.
Green healing light immediately began surrounding his wounds.
Jayant slowly opened one eye.
For several seconds, he remained completely silent.
Then he sighed.
"If touching a goddess's lap feels this good..."
Veneela blinked.
"...Huh?"
"I'm willing to fight every day."
Her face instantly turned bright red.
"J-Jayant!"
Meenakshi stared at him in disbelief.
"You nearly died."
"I know."
"You were covered in blood."
"I know."
"You couldn't even stand."
"I know."
"And that's what you're thinking about?"
Jayant thought seriously for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Priorities."
Veneela buried her face in her hands.
Even Meenakshi struggled to remain angry.
After a few moments, she looked toward him and spoke softly.
"Thank you."
Jayant blinked.
"For what?"
"For keeping us alive."
For a brief moment, silence filled the forest.
Then Jayant smiled.
A tired smile.
A genuine one.
"I'll accept your gratitude."
Meenakshi rolled her eyes.
"Of course you will."
Jayant looked toward the sky.
Then patted his stomach.
"I'm still hungry."
Both girls stared.
He continued.
"I barely ate at the inn."
"You ate seven plates."
"That was an appetizer."
Meenakshi looked horrified.
Veneela started laughing.
Then Meenakshi laughed too.
Soon all three were laughing beneath the moonlit sky.
Far above them, hidden among the branches of the ancient tree, the old man silently watched.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
The sparks of a new generation had begun to shine.
And for the first time in many years—
He found himself looking forward to the future.