'No time for regrets,' Jacob thought as he forced his body to stay upright, the ache in his limbs growing sharper with every passing second. Maybe, if he allowed himself a moment of honesty, he'd admit that what he had done earlier, throwing himself in front of that fireball, was foolish, irrational, and motivated more by instinct and fear than reason. But now wasn't the time to dwell on such thoughts. The moment had passed. The damage had been done. He had already drawn their attention, both the knight's and the mage's, and there was no going back. All that mattered now was surviving.

"Princess! If you can, try to distract the knight!" he called out sharply, his voice hoarse but urgent as he kept his eyes locked on the mage. In front of the robed figure, a new rune was forming, lines of mana tracing themselves into the air with steady precision. Heat crackled in the air as flames began to flicker around the rune's edges, barely restrained, held back only until the mage gave the final push.

The knight, meanwhile, had already raised his axe overhead, both hands gripping the weapon tightly, his muscles swelling with the dull green glow of his aura. That aura wasn't particularly dazzling, but it had weight to it, an oppressive kind of energy that made the air heavier, made every movement feel a touch slower, more sluggish than it should've been.

"And I mean now!" Jacob shouted again, panic beginning to rise as the knight surged forward. The axe swung downward with terrifying speed, and Jacob realized he didn't have even a second to react, there was simply no time.

But just before the axe reached him, metal rang against metal.

CLANG

The sound was sharp and jarring, echoing across the chaotic hall. Jacob staggered back a step as Leah appeared between him and the knight, her sword raised and glowing with a deep blue aura that moved like mist around the blade. Her expression was tight with effort, her body shaking slightly as she strained against the force of the blow. For a moment it seemed she might falter, but then she grit her teeth, let out a short, low grunt, and managed to push the knight back with a quick pivot of her wrist.

She glanced over her shoulder at Jacob, just long enough to confirm he was still alive, before lunging forward, her blade slicing through the air as she threw herself into the clash with the knight.

Jacob let out a short breath, part relief and part exhaustion, and turned his attention back to Jessica, but then a wave of heat swept across him, so sudden and intense that it sent a chill racing up his spine. His thoughts froze for a heartbeat, just long enough for the mage's next attack to land.

The fireball struck him directly in the chest.

The protective barrier around him flared violently, its surface flickering under the pressure as the impact sent Jacob staggering backward. His shoes scraped across the scorched marble floor, his legs nearly buckling, but somehow, barely, he stayed standing. His arms hung at his sides, too tired to raise in defence, and his breathing came shallow, but his eyes remained fixed on the mage and the rune now glowing in front of him.

'Rank ten fireball,' Jacob thought, 'and I'm being pushed back this badly.'

Rank ten, the lowest tier of magic. Rank zero was the highest, the kind wielded by the most terrifying mages in the world. And yet here he was, getting scorched and nearly flattened by spells at the very bottom of the scale. That could only mean one thing: the mage wasn't powerful he was just weak.

'Tch. Cheap shit,' he thought as he glanced down at his barrier. Flames clung to it, dancing along the front like hungry fingers, and he could already see the shimmering shield starting to deform under the pressure.

He didn't need a second opinion to know it was close to breaking.

He had bought the barrier with money he'd scraped together on his own, refusing to draw from his family's wealth, an act of foolishness driven by guilt, or maybe stubbornness, depending on how you looked at it. But now that decision was coming back to bite him. The barrier was third-rate at best, barely functional, and even the attacks it had managed to block had burned through enough to leave his skin blistered and raw beneath.

This last hit had only worsened things.

His chest stung with fresh burns, his shirt already torn and blackened in several places. His face was still sore from the earlier blast, and now the barrier's front layer was ablaze, small flames flickering like warning signals, licking at the edges of the rune-protected construct as if they were moments away from eating through completely.

As Jacob kept his eyes forward, trying to suppress the rising pain and heat in his chest, he caught the sight of a figure sprinting past in the corner of his vision. It was a man, his body entirely wrapped in oversized, draping cloth that obscured every detail of his appearance. Even his face was hidden behind a long, folded strip of fabric that fluttered slightly as he ran.

For a moment, the man came to an abrupt stop, turning his head as if startled by Jacob's presence. And in that brief moment of hesitation, Jacob felt as though he could sense the thoughts passing through the man's mind, perhaps a flicker of concern, maybe even the instinct to offer help.

But Jacob could tell instantly that the man had no aura around him, no sign of mana either. Nothing. Just an ordinary person, or at the very least, someone without the means to survive in a battlefield like this.

"Keep running," Jacob shouted, his voice hoarse and slightly slurred, "If you can, get help!"

The man didn't move at first, frozen as if trying to decide whether to listen or act on impulse. But that pause cost him. A thin whistle sliced through the chaos, and an arrow shot from somewhere in the smoke-filled hall, heading straight for his chest. The man stumbled forward at the last second, the arrow missing him by inches and instead grazing his cloth. It tore away a long strip from his side and carried it through the air like a streamer until both cloth and arrow embedded themselves into the side of a nearby pillar with a sharp, muffled thud.

That was enough to shake the man free from his indecision. He scrambled back to his feet and ran without a glance behind him, vanishing into the haze of battle. Jacob doubted he was going to fetch help. More likely, he was just running to survive.

Turning his head slightly, Jacob's eyes flicked to his sister. She was still upright but barely so, her sword hung loosely at her side, and blood trickled from her lip where the enemy's last blow had landed. Whatever strength she had left, she was using it just to stay standing.

"Jessica," Jacob called out sharply, "Get behind me. If you can walk, then walk. If you can't, then crawl. And if even crawling's too much, then inch your way here but make sure you're behind me."

He knew full well how little he could do in this situation. He couldn't fight, the most basic combat training he'd received as a child had never progressed beyond sparring. He couldn't cast spells, not a single rune had ever answered his call. And he couldn't run, the mage would catch up instantly, and worse, it would leave Jessica to die alone.

There was only one thing he could offer. His body. A shield.

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He would stand in front of her, take the attacks meant for her, and pray that his battered, flickering barrier would last long enough for someone, anyone, to come to their aid. Maybe Belemir, his assigned attendant, would return. Jacob remembered catching a glimpse of the man while speaking with Castor earlier, lingering at the edge of the banquet hall. But at some point, perhaps while Jacob had been gulping down drink after drink in a futile attempt to override his emotionless state, Belemir had disappeared.

Jessica, breath ragged and uneven, began dragging herself forward, her feet scraping clumsily against the marble floor as she inched her way toward him, trying to move as he'd asked.

Then a voice rang out, calm but laced with derision. "Boy, what exactly do you think you're doing?"

Jacob turned toward the mage, who was now standing still a few paces away. Two runes hovered in the air beside him, glowing with a deep, furious orange. Mana pulsed through them steadily, the curves of the symbols licked by small tongues of flame that coiled and twisted in place, ready to burst.

"You should be Jacob Skydrid," the mage continued, his voice lowering into something almost reverent, "You cannot use magic yet, can you? Not a single rune to your name. A shame, though hardly surprising… Are you not the sinner who dared to peer into the secrets of God?"

Jacob didn't respond. If the man wanted to monologue, let him. It bought them time. But still, it was interesting, Whisper knew about Lucas. More than that, this random grunt-level mage knew about what he and Lucas had done, about Jacob's connection to it, which meant the information had been passed through their ranks. Not just knowledge of the event, but their interpretation of it.

"You may have sinned, Jacob. Gravely. But all sins can be forgiven. You need not burn in eternal judgment. Let me introduce you to my god… Hevri."

He smiled, serene and sincere in a way that made Jacob's skin crawl.

"Hevri is merciful. He bestows miracles upon those who deserve them. Those who believe. Just like this."

He gestured to one of the runes, the orange light surging brighter.

Jacob clenched his jaw.

The two runes floating at either side of the mage shimmered ominously, then ignited, releasing a torrent of flame that twisted and surged outward before pulling inward, coalescing into a pair of dense fireballs that hovered in the air like miniature suns.

Without hesitation, the man clasped his hands together in prayer, his head bowed and lips moving in silent reverence. A strange red hue, not mana, not aura, but something else entirely began to seep from his body, wrapping itself around the fireballs in thin, ethereal strands that glowed with a crimson tint, almost like they'd been soaked in blood.

"One for you…" the mage intoned softly, his eyes flicking to Jacob, "…and one for your sister."

Without any further signal, both fireballs launched forward in unison, burning through the air with unnatural speed. For now, they followed the same trajectory, one neatly behind the other, but Jacob could already sense the subtle divergence in their paths, the moment they reached a certain point, they would veer off, one aimed directly for him, the other for Jessica, who was still dragging herself upright behind him.

There wasn't time to think, not time to hesitate or weigh his options.

He ran.

He pushed his body forward as hard as he could, feet pounding against the blood-slicked floor, arms swinging desperately at his sides. If he could intercept them while they were still aligned, if he could take the brunt of both attacks at once then maybe, just maybe, he could protect her.

'I am so completely fucked,' he thought dryly, a strange detachment settling in as he forced himself into the path of the spells.

This time, there was no warning heat, no wave of warmth pressing against his skin. Whatever the mage had done, that crimson veil made of faith, it had completely smothered the heat, trapping it inside the core of the spell. That hue, faith, was not just dangerous, it was unpredictable. Faith-imbued spells were said to transcend conventional logic, strengthened by belief rather than just skill. These fireballs weren't just stronger; they were fundamentally altered, and Jacob could feel it in the way the air shuddered with their presence.

And then the first fireball hit him.

It struck dead-centre in his stomach, the impact sudden and forceful, but his barrier, flickering, sputtering held, absorbing the bulk of the damage. For a moment, Jacob thought it might survive, that he might survive, but then he saw the light around him dim, thinning until the barrier looked less like a shield and more like a ghostly shimmer. It wouldn't last through the second strike. It was already dying.

And worse, the force of the hit had knocked him backward, sliding across the floor, and he realized with a jolt of panic that if he gave the fireball enough space, it would veer off, shift toward Jessica and strike her instead. He couldn't let that happen.

With no other options, Jacob surged forward again, and this time, as the second fireball closed the distance, he raised both arms and thrust his hands into it.

Pain.

It was blinding, searing agony, like his skin was peeling off in layers, like his bones were cracking from the heat, like his fingers were melting away into the core of the spell. He gritted his teeth and groaned, the sound raw and involuntary, as if dragged from somewhere deep within.

His hands passed through the fireball, of course they did, it was fire, but the motion disrupted the spell's structure just enough. Not a second later, it detonated in a thunderous burst of light and force.

For a heartbeat, Jacob saw his barrier pulse, just once, gathering every last reserve of energy to contain the blast. And then it shattered, vanishing like shattered glass swallowed by the air.

The force of the explosion hit him a moment later.

He was flung backwards, the world becoming a blur of motion and light, until his body crashed violently into the side of a stone pillar, the breath leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale. Smoke coiled around him as he crumpled to the floor, dazed and gasping for air, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

His vision swam. His chest burned. And when he looked up, blinking through the haze, he saw the mage once again preparing another spell, as if the last attempt had merely been a test, an opening salvo meant to wear him down before delivering the final blow.

It was the same fireball.

The same rune.

The same smirk on the mage's face.

And Jacob, now without his barrier, without a plan, and without the strength to rise, could only stare back at it.

Jacob pressed his palms flat against the ground and pushed himself upward with slow, trembling effort, the dull ache in his limbs making even the act of sitting up feel like a monumental task. As he shifted to stand, he felt a slight tug at his side, something snagging against the remains of his tattered suit.

Glancing down, he spotted the cause, a half-buried arrow lodged in the base of the cracked pillar, and caught on its shaft was a piece of cloth, fluttering faintly from the impact. It was the same arrow that had nearly impaled the fleeing man earlier, the one whose ragged clothing had been torn by the shaft.

Jacob was about to ignore it, there were more pressing matters, after all, but something about the way the cloth sagged strangely caught his attention. It wasn't just fabric. It hung with weight, as if concealing something inside. Narrowing his eyes and bringing a bit more focus to his senses, he felt it, just a faint trace of mana, a presence so subtle it would have gone unnoticed in the chaos if he hadn't been inches away.

'I can't be that lucky... right?' he thought, already reaching down. He tore the arrow free and pulled the cloth into his lap, quickly fishing through the folds until his fingers brushed against something small and cool to the touch. It was circular, dense, and fit neatly into his palm. As his fingers curled around it, he recognized it instantly: a mana-infused stone, carved with a rune, an artefact.

Before he had time to properly examine it, the mage across from him finished drawing his next rune, and with a burst of mana, a fireball erupted from it, streaking through the air. It struck Jacob square in the chest just as he managed to raise the artefact, exploding in a violent blaze of force and flame. Smoke engulfed him. The ground cracked beneath the pressure, and the mage, without waiting for confirmation, turned his gaze to Jessica, already assuming that Jacob had been incinerated.

"I've thought it over," came a voice, strained but still steady, "and I don't really think religion is for me."

The mage's head snapped back toward the smoke.

Jacob stood there, hunched slightly and visibly scorched, but still very much alive. In his left hand he clutched the circular stone, the rune carved into it glowing faintly with a warm yellow hue. The shimmering light of a protective barrier still surrounded him, flickering slightly from the strain but intact nonetheless. It wasn't an elite-grade artefact by any means, but it was leagues beyond the junk he had been relying on before, and it had just saved his life.

He exhaled through his nose and offered the mage a half-smile, one that was tired more than anything else. "Looks like in the absence of faith for your god, you'll just have to kill me with good old-fashioned violence. Try your hardest."

And judging by the flicker of anger now crawling across the mage's features, whether at Jacob's defiance or the rejection of his so-called salvation, it was clear the man had taken the words personally. He was no longer looking at Jessica. All his attention was locked on Jacob.

Good.

That was the idea.

Jacob adjusted his grip on the stone and took a slow step forward, each movement sending spikes of pain through his burnt and bruised body, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. Every step counted, and he wasn't about to falter now that Jessica had a chance to breathe.

He let out a breath through clenched teeth and muttered quietly, more to himself than anyone else, "Yeah... I really do hate pain."

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