The Immortal Genius Spearman

The ground, soaked in blood from the war, still glowed red, and the houses and shops, once touched by human hands, lay shattered and ruined.

Fwoosh!

Flames flickered everywhere.

Thick, black smoke rose like storm clouds into the sky, and the bodies of the dead were strewn haphazardly on the streets.

And in the center of it all stood a man.

Damian stood there, clad in the simple armor and wielding the standard-issue spear given to him for supplies, scanning his surroundings.

‘Again… this dream.’

He hadn’t dreamt it for a while.

But that didn’t mean he had ever forgotten this sight.

He had never forgotten it, not even once.

Every day, he recalled this moment, reliving the regret again and again.

Swearing to himself that he would never experience something like it again.

But then—

Swoosh!

Suddenly, darkness surged toward him from the front, swallowing Damian in an instant.

Trapped in the darkness, Damian frowned as he stared ahead.

And then, a face formed from the blood-red shadows in the darkness.

It was blurry, but the face was all too clear to him.

“…You.”

Damian clenched his teeth.

How many of his comrades had died because of this monster? He had perished as well.

The memory of that moment.

A memory filled with humiliation and despair that Damian could never forget. He raised his spear, staring at the figure.

“I’ll kill you… No matter what it takes, I’ll kill you!”

With a scream filled with rage, Damian’s eyes turned blood red.

His fury burst forth, and the blood vessels in the whites of his eyes seemed to explode. His now-red eyes made him look like a demon. And, unlike before…

Fwoom!

Now, Damian could freely use magic.

The dark, hateful energy began to swirl around his spear as he charged toward the figure.

But just as he swung his spear—

Swoosh!

Black specters spread out from the figure, biting and tearing at Damian’s body, engulfing him.

“Arrghhhhh!”

With a scream, Damian bolted upright from where he had been lying, quickly rolling to the ground and scanning his surroundings.

“Hah… hah… hah…”

Sweat poured down his face like rain, and his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

‘…Where am I?’

The darkness from a moment ago had disappeared, and now he found himself in an unfamiliar room.

No, this place was…

“What kind of nightmare makes you so restless?”

Damian turned to see a man entering the room, holding a teacup.

Golden hair.

Eyes that seemed to pierce through a person’s very soul.

It was Hainel.

“…It seems I had a nightmare.”

“I can tell. Would you like a glass of cold water?”

“Thank you.”

Hainel handed Damian a glass of water, which he accepted.

After drinking, Damian took a deep breath and looked at Hainel with curiosity.

His face clearly showed he had many questions.

Hainel chuckled softly.

“You want to know what happened, don’t you?”

“…Yes.”

The spar with Hainel.

Damian had been sure his attack was flawless.

Not just any swordsman, but even highly skilled knights wouldn’t have been able to block that strike.

And yet, Hainel had blocked it effortlessly.

No, that wasn’t all.

‘…I saw it.’

He had seen the direction of Hainel’s attack, the angle.

He had even grasped exactly where Hainel was aiming.

‘But I couldn’t avoid it.’

Even though he saw it, his body hadn’t responded in time.

He couldn’t defend against it at all.

Hainel smiled at him.

“There’s no need to have such a complicated expression. Just being able to perceive all that in your current state is already impressive.”

“What do you mean…?” Damian asked.

Hainel gave a small, thoughtful smile.

He wondered to himself if he had ever taken such an interest in anyone before.

In the entire kingdom—or even across the continent—how many people at Damian’s age had reached this level?

‘Is this what natural talent looks like? Or… is there another reason?’

Hainel’s gaze was filled with complex thoughts as he looked at Damian.

And then, he spoke.

“Do you think Aura Masters are special?”

“Yes.”

Damian responded without a second’s hesitation.

He hadn’t encountered many Aura Masters in his life.

But from his past, there were two: the one who had led him and his comrades to their deaths, and Hainel, who stood before him now.

Aura Masters possessed something far beyond what ordinary knights had.

Hainel nodded at Damian’s answer.

“You’re right, they are different. They can’t be the same. But then, what do you think makes them different?”

“The fact that they possess a special power like aura, doesn’t that set them apart?”

Damian recalled the overwhelming aura that Hainel had unleashed.

It was terrifying.

The kind of power that made him feel that no matter what he did, it wouldn’t matter.

But Hainel shook his head.

“An Aura Master’s abilities don’t end at merely using aura as a powerful technique.”

Hainel let out a small sigh, as if finding it difficult to explain.

“Hmm… How should I put this?”

“…?”

What was he trying to say that was causing him such hesitation?

After a moment of thought, Hainel spoke.

“There’s an ordinary person. Someone who’s been trained. Let’s place their level of power here.”

He raised his hand, palm open, to a point in the air. Then, he placed his other hand higher up.

“And this level here is where the typical trained soldiers are,” Hainel said, raising his hand higher.

The gap between the palm representing the average person and the one representing trained soldiers wasn’t vast, but it was significant enough to notice.

“Let me ask you: do you think the difference between an ordinary person and a soldier is merely that the soldier has learned swordsmanship?”

“No,” Damian replied.

This was a question he could answer confidently.

“The difference isn’t just in swordsmanship. It includes the strength and agility gained through training and the experience that comes with it. Essentially, their overall ‘level’ is drastically different.”

“A good explanation. I think ‘level’ is the most appropriate word,” Hainel nodded in agreement and continued.

“Between an Aura Master and an ordinary soldier, there is also a difference in ‘level.’ To be precise… you might even call it ‘rank.’”

“…Rank?” Damian asked, and Hainel nodded.

“Just as ordinary people cannot react to a soldier’s attack, ordinary soldiers cannot easily react to an Aura Master’s movements. To even begin competing, it’s not enough to just have aura—you must first possess that rank.”

“….”

It was a difficult concept to grasp.

But Damian had a vague understanding of what Hainel was trying to convey.

Seeing Damian’s expression shift toward comprehension, Hainel sat down in the chair across from him and took a sip of his tea.

The warmth of the tea filled his body, and the subtle fragrance that lingered in his nose seemed to clear his mind.

“….”

Hainel looked at Damian silently, patiently waiting to see what conclusion the young man would come to.

Though it was a small matter, it was intriguing to Hainel.

Even Villipt, who had served Hainel for a long time, couldn’t hide his surprise at this scene.

‘He rarely shows interest in others…’

Yet here he was, watching this young man with such keen interest.

A faint smile formed on Villipt’s face.

It had been a long time since Hainel had shown this side of himself.

For years, he had distanced himself from others, keeping to himself while safeguarding the kingdom.

In the Baroque Kingdom, his every move was the subject of attention, and his very existence was a topic of conversation.

His every step was inevitably tied to politics.

If Hainel met someone, rumors would immediately fly: he was scheming, choosing a side.

Such stories had spread countless times.

That’s why Hainel had naturally become cautious about who he met.

But this time, things were different.

‘Is he… someone who could become the future of the kingdom?’

The hesitant look in Hainel’s eyes was now gone.

And then…

“…This is difficult,” Damian exhaled softly.

Hainel looked at him and spoke.

“There’s no need to overthink it. Honestly, achieving this much at your age is already an incredible feat.”

With that, Hainel stood up.

“So, have you finished the business for which you wanted to meet me?”

“…No, of course not. I hate to ask, but may I request your help?”

“It’s impossible to handle the aura right now. To wield aura, you must first attain that rank.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes. Just show me the way,” Damian pleaded, his eyes full of desperation.

He felt like he had finally found a clue, but it wasn’t enough to take him further.

‘Rank…’

Damian instinctively knew that this moment could be a turning point in his life.

Hainel Fremunt, the Baroque Kingdom’s number one Aura Master.

In this era of peace, the kingdom’s foolish politicians had dragged this guardian into their meaningless power struggles.

Though his presence was fading in the political mess, in terms of sheer skill…

‘He’s as strong as any Aura Master in the Empire.’

That’s who Hainel was.

And Damian was determined to continue this golden opportunity.

Of course, it would only happen if Hainel agreed…

And then.

“Alright, I’ll teach you, but there’s one condition.”

“…What?”

“I can’t teach you for free, can I?” Hainel said with a mischievous smile, like that of a playful child.

Damian looked at him in confusion.

He couldn’t be asking for money, could he?

“What’s the condition?”

Hainel chuckled.

“It’s simple.”

After hearing Hainel’s condition, Damian’s face hardened.

* * *

Kiaran couldn’t hide her surprise as she read the letter from Leonhark.

“Did Lord Hainel really send an invitation to Damian?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Edmund nodded.

Even Edmund had been quite shocked.

Lord Hainel rarely met with anyone who wasn’t of significant importance.

And now, this young boy who had just been promoted to sergeant was meeting Hainel?

But then—

“Wait… what’s this part about?” Kiaran muttered.

If it wasn’t enough that Hainel had met with Damian, what was written in the middle of the letter left Kiaran even more astonished.

Edmund asked, “What does it say?”

“It says Lord Hainel made a bet with Damian, and until the bet is settled, he won’t let Damian return to the unit.”

“…What? What does that mean?” Edmund asked, bewildered.

The idea of someone like Hainel, a master at the pinnacle of martial arts, making a bet with a fifteen-year-old boy was astonishing.

While the details of the bet were unclear, the fact that Hainel was willing to make such a wager was strange enough.

Kiaran sighed softly.

Only a month remained.

Once the Caion Unit had solidified, she had planned to move them immediately, but…

“What on earth is he thinking?” Kiaran muttered, exasperated by Hainel’s unpredictable nature.

At the same time, elsewhere—

“Is this all you’ve got?”

“Haaaargh!”

With a fierce determination to kill, Damian was swinging his spear at Hainel.