CHAPTER 92: AUREN’S ACCEPTANCE, AUSTAIRE’S RESISTANCE

"You! Crazy bastard! Get away from me!"

Before Micha’el could shake him away, Auren had already snapped his arm around Micha’el’s neck like a snake, locking it into a precise triangle hold that choked both breath and mana flow in an instant.

His hand struck true- right at the base of Micha’el’s jaw and neck, where the unstable mana had flared only seconds earlier in his special eyes.

Clinging to Micha’el’s back like an overly affectionate monkey, Auren’s smaller frame behind the furious Goldhair turned the moment into pure comedy.

In an instant, laughter erupted from everyone.

"HAHAHAHA!"

"Look at that desperate human!"

"What a pathetic loser!"

"Yeah! That’s it! Hold him tight, little monkey!"

The elves howled, pointing and jeering at what they thought was a last-ditch, foolish attempt to save Auren’s head.

The absurdity of the pose- Auren clinging on like a backpack- was too much for the elves to take seriously.

Until-

Micha’el scoffed, voice laced with smugness.

"You really think this clingy tactic’s gonna work on me? Hah! Just you wai—"

He never finished.

His body slumped.

His glaring eyes quickly dimmed.

His bulging veins suddenly relaxed.

And his crimson raging aura?

Poof. Gone.

THUD!

Micha’el collapsed right before their eyes.

Silence followed.

And after at least ten more seconds of tight coil, Auren finally let go and stepped back, breathing hard but still grinning.

"That was a tough nut to crack."

He said while wiping the sweat off his calm face.

Silent gasps echoed across the platform.

Elves stared wide-eyed, jaws dropping in disbelief.

The golden boy of Runewood- their young hero and prodigy swordsman- was slumped unconscious, held in a basic grappling move by the human with no Divine Frame.

Not a single drop of blood had been spilled.

Not even a single combat spell had been cast from Auren.

Just pure, terrifying efficiency.

The moment Auren finished wiping his sweat, he then calmly raised his hand and turned to the silenced elves outside the platform and shouted,

"Are you not entertained!?"

Auren’s voice echoed across the training grounds, drawing a beat of stunned silence from both young and older elves.

For a second, the crowd of elves just blinked at him. Mouth open wide. Their faces were still in disbelief.

Then, after a couple of seconds, loud roars began.

"You cheater!"

"Unbelievable! You let go of your weapon just to bait him! That’s dirty!"

"That was the dumbest trick I’ve ever seen- who does that?!"

The shouting grew louder, some elves stomping their feet, others tossing leaves in the air in outrage. It was chaos waiting to explode.

They couldn’t accept it. They refused to.

Auren’s unorthodox maneuver was a mockery of form. It was wild, crude, and utterly beneath any warrior of dignity, which the elves are very proud of.

And to lose to that? A clingy, scrappy human who fought like he was still stuck in a back-alley brawl from some outer Runewood slum?

No way!

"We demand a rematch!"Their voices rang out in unison, loud and defiant.

Sensing the mood shifting dangerously toward chaos, Rhiki subtly shifted his stance and gave a barely noticeable nod toward the far end of the ring.

In an instant, the uproar dulled to silence- like the world itself held its breath.

A new figure stepped forward to bring justice to their fallen young hero.

Her presence alone was enough to snuff out the noise like a candle flame in the wind. After all, she is one of the most promising fighter coming from the proud tribe of the Syl Vanthir tribe.

She was non other than Anast’cia.

"Hello! Please go easy on me," she said with a dazzling smile that was anything but humble.

"And don’t even think about trying that little monkey trick on me. It won’t work. Not on me."

Her voice was calm, but her eyes- those gleaming, storm-kissed eyes- told a different story.

She was electric.

Cradled in her hand was a sleek magical spear crackling with arcs of lightning. Its core crystal pulsing with raw mana like a living heart.

Her entire stance radiated one clear message:

"I’ve been waiting for this moment. Don’t disappoint me."

On the other side, Auren’s expression fell.

"...You’ve got to be kidding me!" he grumbled.

"Nobody said this was gonna be survival challenge!" he shouted while looking at Rhiki, who did not even dare face him intentionally.

But before he could say another word, the spear was already slicing through the air toward his face.

"GAH- Darn it!" he yelled, jumping away, picking up his sword mid-roll, and barely blocking the incoming blow.

CLANG!

Another strike followed- fast, clean, and merciless.

SWOSH~CLANG!~

He ducked under it, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Seeing another promising challenger against the cheeky human, the elves were reignited.

"That’s it!"

"Go Anast’cia! SCREW THAT HUMAN!"

Between evasive rolls and desperate blocks, Auren shouted, "Tell me—who’s next?! Is it gonna be Gondar!?

He risked a glance at Rhiki once more.

And there it was- that smug, absolutely devilish grin stretched across his face like a cat who just fed the canary to a dragon.

Auren’s soul deflated.

Frustration swelling inside him.

"...Come to Kadena they said."

CLANG!~

He blocked a swift spear strike and struck back while grumbling,

"It will be fun they said!..."

CLANG!~

However, what Auren didn’t know was that after that day, his place in Runewood was no longer questioned.

His rights as a warrior- and more astonishingly, the first human ever allowed to remain within the sacred elven lands- had been firmly established.

Under the watchful eyes of Rhiki and Queen Elarya, who happens to be observing through within the bark and soul of the Velzar trees, Auren didn’t stop at defeating Micha’el.

He went on to spar with at least twenty other elves, young and seasoned alike.

Each duel was met with skepticism at first... until he countered, improvised, and, more impressively, taught out of annoyance.

Sometimes he’d pause mid-bout to point out flaws in their footwork or expose the opening they hadn’t noticed.

Auren wasn’t just fighting- he was shaping them.

Bit by bit, the laughter stopped.

The mocking smirks gradually disappeared, replaced first by a heavy, thoughtful silence- one born not of confusion, but of growing respect.

And after a few more sparring rounds, that silence turned into subtle nods of recognition of Auren’s true skills despite his inability to use most of his mana.

By the end of the week, after several more intense sparring sessions and shared meals around the fire, Auren was officially welcomed- not as a guest, but as a citizen of Runewood.

A human. The first human.

But peace has a way of trembling before the next storm.

Far beyond the treetop sanctuaries and golden canopies of Runewood...

The winds in Austerra Kingdom were beginning to howl.

The war for the throne had reached a boiling point- and its flames licked dangerously close to the border.

One late afternoon, near the war-scorched frontier of Runewood...

A wrecked carriage screeched to a stop, its front wheels mangled and dragging through the dirt. Flames danced along its broken frame, the once-proud crest of Austerra now barely visible beneath streaks of soot, smoke, and blood.

Explosions thundered in the distance- closer now. Closer than she dared to look back.

From the flaming wreckage burst a cloaked figure - a young girl, scraped and bloodied, her golden hair tangled and streaming behind her like a banner of defiance.

In her hand, she clutched a golden sword far too beautiful for this moment of ruin.

Behind her, chaos chased like a beast let loose from its chains.

"Go! Run, Princess! Don’t look back!"

Her attendant’s voice cracked through the madness- urgent, raw with fear.

Just as he yelled, the air around him twisted unnaturally, a magical disturbance slicing through the battlefield.

His eyes widened, instincts kicking in. He threw his body forward and raised his staff in both hands, a faint glow flaring from the ring on his finger as a shield tried to form-

But it was too late.

SHLUNK.

The ice spear struck him dead-center in the chest.

"AGGHH—!"

His legs buckled. He flinched, staggered- but didn’t fall. He wouldn’t. Not yet. Not while she still ran.

Around them, her guardian knights pushed back. Brave. Relentless. Suicidal.

They clashed with the shadowed attackers without hesitation, blades gleaming, eyes filled with grim resolve. They didn’t expect to win. They only hoped to buy her time.

Seconds. That was all they could afford.

One by one, they fell. Their weapons snapped. Bones shattered. Limbs froze where they stood.

The enemy?

A flood. Silent and merciless. Their strength was overwhelming, their precision was chilling.

It wasn’t a battle.

It was an execution. One lit by fire and framed beneath the uncaring sky.

The knights knew what their sacrifice meant. So did she.

If the final heir for hope of Austerra fell here, there would be no one left to rekindle the nation’s name. Not at least from the current King.

Magic flared behind her. Trees split. Shields melted. Screams faded.

That day, dozens- no, hundreds- perished defending a single fragile hope: the survival of their future queen.

Princess Austaire stumbled over a root, caught herself, and kept moving, even as blood streamed down her arm and soaked through her torn silks. Her chest burned. Her legs threatened to collapse.

But her eyes- those golden, tear-glazed eyes- never wavered.

"Everyone... I’m so sorry," she whispered through clenched teeth.

"I swear... I’ll return. I will make this right."

And then, like a fleeting ray of sun through stormclouds, her form vanished into the emerald haze of Runewood.

Only one voice remained- echoing across the blood-soaked battlefield like a fading prayer lost in the wind.

"Please... run... You must survive, Princess Austaire..."

And with that final breath, the servant’s body fell still- eyes wide open, frozen between pain and devotion. His lifeforce faded into the crimson dusk, swallowed by the storm of battle.

And just like that, the silhouette of Princess Austaire vanished too, swallowed by the emerald veil of Runewood where the chasing hunters not dare enter.

She was an unexpected survivor.

A half-blood sister of Auren himself.

She is supposedly lost from the kingdom’s history and hidden from fate.

But now, she is running toward it.