Chapter 122: Piercing the Mana Heart
Chapter 122: Piercing the Mana Heart
Raven’s consciousness rose from the Illusionary World like a diver breaking the surface.
This time, there was no exhaustion in his eyes.
There was light.
A quiet, dangerous hope.
[What happened, kid?] Zera’s voice echoed in his mind.
Raven did not answer immediately. Instead, he stood and summoned the Frozen Ender into his hand. He took a stance, exhaled slowly, and let his aura rise.
Yellow light wrapped around the spear at first—steady, controlled.
Then the color shifted.
A faint red began to bleed into the edges of the aura, concentrating along the tip and tracing the blade’s contours like molten veins.
The air trembled.
Zera fell silent for a moment before her voice returned, incredulous.
[…How did you push your spearmanship this far in such a short time?]
Raven finally spoke, briefly recounting the countless loops, the deaths, the cavalry, the patterns carved into his mind. He did not linger on the suffering, only on the result.
Then he began preparing again.
As always.
[If an Advanced aura is needed to injure Jace,] Zera asked while he worked through the potion mixture with steady hands, [why not ask Jacob for help?]
Raven only smiled.
The answer was obvious.
Some walls had to be crossed alone.
The past scenes unfolded once more—the deception, the clash, the pursuit. Raven endured the exchanges with greater clarity than ever before. When the moment came and Jace’s aura blade was prepared to detach—
“Solis.”
Time froze.
Raven moved through suspended reality with deliberate precision. His spear aligned with the wound he had memorized across countless attempts.
This time, when he thrust, the blade pierced through Jace’s back.
Not shallow or superficial, but three full inches.
The spear tore through iron-like flesh and nearly reached the heart.
Then it stopped.
Not against bone but against something else.
It was an invisible wall.
Even though it wasn’t visible, he could tell it was dense, solid, and unyielding.
Raven felt the resistance and pulled the spear free.
“Tsk… so that’s it.”
If the heart was protected—
Then he would dismantle the body.
Without hesitation, Raven redirected his attack and slashed downward at Jace’s left leg, targeting the tendons behind the knee. His aura flared crimson-yellow as steel met hardened flesh. The first strike scraped without breaking through. The second strike carved deeper.
The third strike severed the tendons.
He felt it.
Time began to fracture.
Raven withdrew and pivoted away just as time resumed.
The emerald aura blade that would have decapitated him cleaved empty air.
Jace staggered.
For the first time, his expression shifted—not in fear, but in strain. His hand moved to his chest as a tearing sensation rippled outward from the wound Raven had driven deep. Blood spilled from his back.
He stepped forward—
And his left leg buckled.
He stumbled.
Solomon’s voice cut through the battlefield.
“You’ve held enough, Your Highness.”
The sky ignited.
Thousands of molten spears formed above, burning crimson against the dark.
Raven activated Shadow Teleport without delay and reappeared beside Solomon just as the first lava spear descended.
Jace did not retreat.
Even with a pierced back and severed tendon, he raised his sword and faced the falling inferno.
One spear split.
Then another.
And another.
He carved through molten death as if it were rain, aura blazing red and green as lava splashed across his ruined body. Flesh burned, bone cracked, and smoke swallowed him whole.
The bombardment continued for over a minute.
When silence finally fell, the courtyard was unrecognizable—melted stone, charred walls, thick smoke choking the air.
Raven exhaled slowly.
“He isn’t dead yet,” Solomon rasped before collapsing to one knee, blood staining his lips.
Through the smoke, a silhouette moved.
Slowly and deliberately.
As the haze thinned, the figure emerged.
Jace.
His left arm was gone. His left lower leg was nothing but charred bone. Skin hung in blackened strips. His face was burned beyond recognition—ears torn, nose ruined, jaw cracked and bleeding.
Only the right side of his body remained relatively intact.
Yet his right hand still gripped the sword.
“H-He survived that?” Raven’s voice carried disbelief despite everything he had witnessed.
Solomon forced himself upright enough to speak. “Mystic Walkers protect their true heart with a mana heart formed from elemental energy. Unless that is destroyed, killing them instantly is nearly impossible.”
He narrowed his eyes at Jace. “But his mana heart is collapsing. It’s weakened—perhaps even degraded.”
Jace tried to speak, but the ruined shape of his jaw turned his words into unintelligible sounds.
Then his gaze shifted toward Solomon.
Raven stepped forward.
This time, Jace did not advance.
He couldn’t.
But when Raven attacked, the sword still moved with terrifying precision.
Even maimed, even crippled, each parry carried crushing force. Raven felt the weight of Master-level technique in every exchange. Worse, he sensed Jace subtly drawing him closer—luring him within range.
Suddenly, golden footsteps appeared faintly to Raven’s left.
Danger screamed in his instincts.
He followed the golden path without hesitation, barely avoiding an invisible aura slash that carved through the air where he had stood.
He circled and attacked again.
‘Less than a minute,’ Raven calculated. ‘The potion’s backlash will begin soon.’
His muscles were tightening, his breathing grew heavier, and he needed an opening.
Then—
A sharp whistle split the air.
From atop the knights’ quarters, a dark-silver arrow streaked downward, its tip glowing red.
Jace reacted instinctively, raising his sword to block.
In that fraction of divided focus—
Raven vanished.
He reappeared behind Jace and drove the Frozen Ender forward with everything he had left.
The spear struck the same wounded region.
This time, there was no invisible wall.
Steel tore through flesh, through weakened mana, and through heart.
The spear tip burst from Jace’s chest.
A hoarse, broken scream echoed across the ruined courtyard.
Raven withdrew the spear immediately and stepped back as Jace dropped to his knees.
Jace’s body refused to fall.
Even with his heart pierced, even with mana bleeding out of him in ragged pulses, he forced himself upright inch by inch. A guttural groan tore from his ruined throat as he planted his sword into the ground and pushed.
Raven did not hesitate.
He circled.
The Frozen Ender traced a smooth arc through the air as he shifted into a tight rotational stance, feet gliding over scorched stone. The spearhead blurred as it cut toward Jace’s neck in a clean, decisive slash.
Steel rang.
Even now—at the edge of death—Jace’s sword rose.
He blocked it.
The impact shuddered up Raven’s arms. For a fraction of a second, silence stretched between them.
Solomon stared in disbelief.
Raven’s eyes hardened.
This was not stubbornness, but will.
He attacked again, with greater precision and speed.
Each thrust carried more intent, more compression of aura along the spear’s edge. Jace’s movements had grown unstable; his stance wavered, his breathing ragged. Yet the sword still moved with remnants of Master-level precision.
Then a flaw appeared, and his grip faltered.
Raven shifted his angle and drove the spear down in a diagonal cut. Crimson-yellow aura flared violently along the blade as it carved through bone and tendon.
Jace’s wrist separated.
The sword fell from nerveless fingers.
For the first time, his balance truly broke.
Raven stepped forward without pause.
There was no speech or declaration.
He thrust with full force.
The spear entered beneath the jaw and tore through the throat in one clean motion.
Jace’s body stiffened and then went still.
The courtyard fell silent except for the crackling of cooling stone.
With a trembling hand, Raven withdrew the spear slowly and let the corpse collapse.
He turned toward Solomon.
Their gazes met for a brief moment—acknowledgment, calculation, exhaustion.
Without a word, Raven cast the ‘Shadow Teleport’ spell.
Darkness swallowed him.
Solomon, drained and bleeding, barely registered the faint distortion in elemental currents. In his prime, he would have tracked the spatial fluctuation instantly. Now he lacked even the strength to lift his head.
Raven reappeared inside his room in the Knights’ Quarters.
The door remained closed. The air remained undisturbed.
Only then did his legs finally give way.
He caught himself on the edge of the bed before collapsing onto it fully. Pain flooded in as the potion’s backlash began to surface—muscles trembling, veins burning, consciousness fraying at the edges.
But he did not allow himself to rest yet.
With deliberate movements, he altered his appearance.
Thomas Holmes.
Hair shifted. Facial structure softened. Presence restrained.
He changed into plain formal attire, removed the hat and monocle, and stored them inside his inventory. Every trace of Raven the Prince was erased.
Only after confirming everything was in order did he allow his eyes to close.
Exhaustion swallowed him whole.
And for the first time since the loops began—
There was no reset waiting in the dark.