The snow beneath my body absorbed most of the impact, but the pain in my shoulder was excruciating.
The shouts of the mercenaries, now muffled by the fury of the caravan's knights and mages, turned into screams of agony and, finally, into silence.
They were slaughtered.
A few, wounded, tried to flee into the dense forest, and I saw some Frest soldiers pursue them, their armor glinting amid the snow, determined not to let a single one escape.
I was alive.
Reality, once an unrelenting nightmare, suddenly took on the colors of relief.
My lungs heaved, and adrenaline still coursed through my veins, making my body tremble.
I managed to move my legs, my hands groping at the snow, a sense of gratitude so intense it almost made me cry.
That was when a cold, sharp tip of metal touched my neck, pressing lightly against the skin beside my face. A sword.
I looked up, meeting the stern eyes of a man.
He wore a short white cloak bearing the crest of a roaring bear, gleaming iron pauldrons, heavy boots, and a breastplate covering his broad torso. A magic knight of the Frest family, without a doubt.
He was imposing, with short brown hair and a distrustful expression.
"What were you doing here, boy?" His voice was deep, cutting, and he moved the sword just enough for me to feel the blade lightly scrape my skin."And why were you being hunted by vermin like the Mist Raiders? Their mana… it reeks of malice. Unmistakable."
I tried to compose myself, the pain in my shoulder throbbing.
Baelen's body, still weak, couldn't fully rise.
"I… I was running. They… they attacked my village."
The knight pressed the sword a little harder.
"Running? Why? What would scum like that want with a boy like you? Out with it!"
He was pressing me, his expression hardening, and I felt a chill. He didn't seem inclined to give me the benefit of the doubt.
"Jonas, stop that. The boy is clearly injured, shaken, and confused," a calm, authoritative female voice intervened.
An older woman, with long gray hair tied in a braid and dark blue robes marking her as a mage, approached.
She crouched beside me, to Jonas's alarm and concern.
"Step away from him, Yordi! We don't know who he is!" Jonas exclaimed, his sword still at my neck.
I didn't know these characters.
Yordi ignored him, her gentle blue eyes meeting mine.
"It is the duty of mages and knights to help those in need, Jonas. Especially when they are wounded. Now, hold still, boy. This will hurt."
Before I could even process it, she extended her hand to my shoulder.
I felt her nimble fingers grip the arrow's shaft, and with a swift, firm pull, she removed it. A sharp scream of pain tore from my throat, and I writhed in the snow.
Hot blood poured from the wound, staining the snow red.
"There," she said softly, as if the searing pain I had just endured was nothing.
Then, a pale green glow emerged from her hands, and she applied it directly to my wound.
The warmth spread, and the pain, once a burning coal, began to fade, gradually turning into a light tingling.
In seconds, the wound closed, leaving only a faint scar. I was in awe. Real healing magic. Not a game buff or a consumable item. Real, tangible.
The possibilities… an entire world was opening up before me.
She helped me to my feet, her hand firmly supporting my back.
"What's your name, young man?"
"Baelen," I replied, still a bit dizzy and amazed by the instant healing."I'm from a village… a few miles from here. They… they looted and burned everything. I'm the only one left." The lie came surprisingly easily, mixed with truth.
Jonas grunted, sheathing his sword.
"You're damn lucky, boy. Those vermin were just toying with you. If they had been serious and you hadn't run into us… you'd be dead, no doubt." His voice was still rough, but there was a note of acknowledgment in it.
At that moment, the soldiers who had gone into the forest returned, their faces twisted with frustration.
"No one, Captain Jonas. They're gone. Like ghosts."
Yordi turned to me, her expression gentle. "And now, Baelen? What do you plan to do?"
I hesitated for a second, then, as if following a prewritten script, I reached into the inner pocket of my robe and pulled out the invitation to Lumina Academy.
It was an old scroll, sealed with wax and bearing the academy's emblem.
"I… I have this," I said, extending it to her. Maybe they could give me a ride.
The reaction was immediate. Jonas's eyes widened, and even Yordi, who had maintained a serene demeanor, showed a flicker of surprise.
The fact that a commoner had been accepted into Lumina Academy was a secret known only to the innermost circles of nobility and, of course, to the players.
Yordi took the scroll carefully, unrolling it. She read the contents aloud in a low voice:
Dear Baelen Jean-Klerk,
It is with great pleasure that Lumina Academy, in recognition of your extraordinary and rare talent in Reality Weaving, invites you to join our esteemed institution as a student. Your ability to discern and manipulate the Fundamental Laws of Reality, though still in its early stages, is of a potential that cannot be ignored.
Your admission is a testament to our commitment to nurture raw power and innovation, regardless of lineage or fortune. Your presence will be a valuable addition to our academic community.
Present this missive at Lumina's Main Gate before the start of the Winter Solstice to formalize your enrollment.
May your path be illuminated by knowledge.
Sincerely,
Grandmaster Elara Vancroft,Rector of Lumina Academy.
She finished reading, her eyes fixed on the letter, then looked at me. "It's real," Yordi confirmed, a trace of admiration in her voice. "You are an Ethereal Weaver, one of the rare ones."
"Are you going there?" I asked, hope rising in my chest.
Yordi was about to respond when Jonas interrupted her, his voice suddenly tense. "Yordi, wait."
At that exact moment, the carriage door opened, and a young woman descended gracefully.
Her hair was a nearly translucent silver, cascading over her shoulders.
Pointed ears, slightly larger than a human's, peeked from her locks, and her face was of ethereal beauty, yet strangely expressionless, almost stone-like.
She was not Tessa Frest.
My heart sank.
It was her half-sister, Reza Frest, the child of a fairy-human union, born out of wedlock to Tessa's father.
The Silver Spider.
A character who, at first, was secondary, but who became one of the main villains by the end of the first chapter. She was extremely popular for being a manipulator without scruples.
My luck, it seemed, was not as limitless as I thought.