In the world of Abyssals Chronicles, two opposing forces clashed: "Mana" and "Aura"—or, as many had dubbed it, a tale of Knights and Mages.

Mages, as they liked to call themselves, harnessed the spiritual energy of the world, absorbing it into their bodies and creating what was known as a Mana Core. Knights—warriors or Aura users—on the other hand, were able to harness aspects of their life force, convert that into a form of energy, and create an Aura Core.

In a way, they were the same, but their applications differed vastly.

Mana, along with Incantation (the God's Language), allowed its users to convert mana into physical and abstract phenomena. With mana, one could conjure a ball of flames, summon a streak of lightning, or even manipulate the very essence of space. The only limit was the "Will" of the user.

Aura, on the other hand, allowed the user to boost their physical stats to astronomic heights, with the limit being Intent.

For many years, the two opposing forces had argued over which of the two energies was superior, and generation after generation, none could decide.

A mage lived with the mindset that, with a strong enough skill, they could blow up mountains. Warriors, confident in their physical boosts, argued they could perform a similar feat.

Hence, centuries back, a test was held to see who was right.

The strongest mage of that generation unleashed the most powerful spell in their arsenal, completely leveling a mountain range. The strongest warrior, burning with fighting spirit, followed by using all his might to unleash a punch that left an almost city-wide crater within the same mountain range.

A conclusion hadn't been reached back then—and neither now—as Art's body was assaulted by a tremendous wave of invisible pressure that almost forced him to his knees.

With a pale expression and drenched in sweat, his vision flickered. His knees nearly gave way seconds after the pressure crashed into his body and soul.

Mana Zone.

That was the ability tearing through him.

The phenomenon occurred when a mage expelled large amounts of mana from their body and expanded it. Mana was the essence of the world, filling every part of it—even the air one breathed was saturated with mana.

Hence, merely expanding one's mana shouldn't cause harm… unless said mana was so concentrated that its very essence could be seen. If the mana that filled the world was like morning dew, then the mana from Mana Zone was like a tsunami—large, crashing, frightful, and aimed to flood anything it caught within.

"Ah…"

Feeling his breath grow heavy, Art—holding his sword with one hand—grasped his throat, a suffocating feeling engulfing his being.

"Your body… it's far too weak to handle that… huh?"

Not-so-distant memories flashed at the back of his mind as his eyes widened in horror.

Stumbling back, his back against the wall, only one thought ran through his mind:

Death!

He was going to die like before.

He didn't want to die… death was scary… he hated death.

[User's Emotional Meter: Unstable (1)]

Ignoring the prompt, his heart began to pound rapidly, his legs growing shaky.

The discomfort of suffocation, the fear of death, along with the tremendous killing intent from Villeir, began to wear out his body.

"Fucking mistake!"

Finding the sight pathetic—so pathetic he couldn't help but curse—Villeir took a step forward, his mana surging uncontrollably, sending cracks through the ground with each step.

"Those low-levels should be done by now."

Cutting off the surge from his body and concentrating it all in his right palm, it glowed an ominous red. With a simple thrust, he muttered:

"Sanguis Ten."

The room flashed with a brilliant red light, and what Art saw caused him to steel his body and mind.

BOOM!!

A violent explosion accompanied the light, and once the light died out, a distorted palm imprint had carved through the wall in front of him—

But…

"He dodged."

The murderous intent in Villeir's eyes died out as he saw Art—once cowering in fear—now standing beside the aftermath of his attack with a surprised look.

"You… how?"

Snapping with a bewildered expression, he screamed, causing Art—as clueless as him—to shrug.

"I missed."

Accumulating a new wave of mana into both palms this time, he swung both down at Art. As the light flashed once more, ten claw-like red slashes lunged at Art from the front.

[Snowdance Sword Art Activated]

[Form 1: Balance on Ice]

With a foreign glint in his sapphire eyes, Art—overcome by inhuman swiftness and agility—met the slashes head-on, weaving through them with focused steps and nimble feet.

"HOW?!"

Maddened, Villeir spread his hands apart, manifesting dozens of blood-red spears behind him. With a clench of his fist, the spears began to rotate—

And shot forward.

[Form 2: Snow Lift]

Overcome by newfound knowledge in swordsmanship, Art placed both hands on the hilt of his blade, firmly wrapping them around it to strengthen his grip—

Then swung upward at the incoming projectiles.

His swing was fluid but lacked grace, clashing with the tip of the spear. The force tilted it upward, sending it shooting past his head and lodging deep into the ceiling.

A violent tremor rippled through the building as fragments of the ceiling crumbled and fell.

For a moment, both Art and Villeir stopped and looked up at the ceiling where the blood spear had jammed in.

Villeir was fearful—because he was sure he was at least two ranks above Art. Even if he might had reduced the force his attack carried he hadn't expected it to be parried so easily.

Art was joyful—because even if it had been a tiny spark, he had felt the use of Aura in his parry and that was a sign of his survival.

With a gasp and an almost indescribable expression, the remaining blood spears behind Villeir dissolved into mana particles as he held his forehead in irritation.

The realization the mistakes might not actually be a mistake.

"Congratulations. You've been accepted."

His tone was devoid of much emotion.

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