Dawn broke over the dense forest, casting a pale glow into the depths of the cave. The fire had long since burned out, leaving only embers and the scent of smoldering wood. Leonhart stood near the entrance, his sharp golden eyes scanning the horizon. Behind him, the mage sat cross-legged, her wrists still bound, though she no longer struggled against them.
"Are you ready?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm.
Leonhart turned to face her. "Do it."
She nodded and closed her eyes, drawing in a slow, deliberate breath. Despite her captivity, she still radiated an air of control. A faint shimmer of mana danced around her fingertips, flickering like a dying flame.
"I'll guide you," she said. "Mana exists everywhere. It flows through the world, through living beings. You must become a vessel for it, let it enter you instead of trying to take it by force."
Leonhart exhaled slowly, skeptical yet desperate. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling she described. The air around him shifted, almost vibrating with unseen energy. Then, he felt it—an invisible current brushing against his skin, tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach.
"Good," the mage murmured. "Now, open yourself to it. Let it in."
He hesitated. Something felt off, but he pushed the thought aside. If this was the only way, then he had no choice.
Leonhart allowed himself to surrender to the flow. And for the first time, mana entered him.
Pain.
An unbearable, searing agony exploded through his body. His veins felt like they were being torn apart, his bones shattering from within. His vision blurred, blood surged up his throat, and he collapsed to his knees, choking on the metallic taste of his own suffering.
The mage's eyes gleamed with triumph. "It's working," she whispered. "Just a little more."
Leonhart's instincts screamed. His body wasn't adapting—it was rejecting the mana, violently. Something inside him twisted, tearing apart, breaking. He was dying.
The realization hit him like a hammer.
This was a trap.
Through his blinding pain, he forced himself to look at her. She was smiling. Not in kindness, not in encouragement, but in victory.
"Why?" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.
The mage's smile widened. "Because monsters can't use mana," she said simply. "It rejects you. It destroys you. And I knew you'd be arrogant enough to try."
His blood turned ice cold.
She had never intended to help him. She had lured him in, knowing full well that forcing mana into his body would tear him apart from the inside. This was her revenge.
Leonhart collapsed fully, his body convulsing. He could feel his organs failing, his very essence unraveling. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision.
No. Not like this.
A surge of something ancient, something primal, roared within him. The agony twisted, condensed—then suddenly, it changed. The mana that had been burning him alive ceased its attack. Instead, it melted into his body, merging with him, fusing seamlessly.
His mind reeled as memories—not of this life, but of his past—came rushing back. He remembered the way mana had once obeyed him, how it had flowed without resistance. This body had forgotten, but his soul had not.
Leonhart's body stopped convulsing. His ragged breathing evened out. Then, slowly, he stood.
The mage's smirk faltered. "That… That's not possible."
Leonhart flexed his fingers, feeling the raw energy coursing through his veins. This was different. More potent. More natural.
His golden eyes locked onto her, dark with fury. "You tried to kill me."
She stumbled back, genuine fear flashing in her eyes. "Wait—"
His hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat. Her breath hitched as he lifted her effortlessly, her feet dangling above the cave floor.
"I should rip you apart," he said, voice cold as death.
She clawed at his hand, panic consuming her. "Please, I—"
With a swift motion, he flung her down. Her body hit the stone floor with a sickening crack, and before she could recover, his blade was at her wrist.
"No!" she shrieked.
He didn't hesitate. The blade sliced through flesh and bone, severing her hand. Her scream echoed through the cave, but he wasn't done. Another strike, and her other hand followed, blood pooling beneath her writhing form.
Leonhart watched, impassive. "You wanted to strip me of my power. Now I've stripped you of yours."
She sobbed, curling into herself, pain radiating from her trembling body.
"Lock her up," he ordered the goblins. "She's no longer a teacher. Just a resource."
The goblins obeyed immediately, dragging her away despite her broken cries.
Leonhart exhaled, feeling the mana within him settle. This power—it had returned to him. Not stolen, not borrowed, but rightfully his.
This was only the beginning.
His gaze drifted toward the cave entrance. If humans feared him before, they had no idea what was coming.
It was time to rebuild. To conquer. To remind the world that a monster could be more than just prey.
He was going to become their nightmare.