“So… this is where the trial takes place?” Saki’s voice reverberated softly through the vast, shadowy cavern, her words swallowed by the immensity of the space around them.

  After a winding descent through narrow, torch-lit passages, they had emerged into a cavern so colossal it seemed to defy the natural world. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and ancient dust, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the distance. A single shaft of light pierced through a fissure in the cavern’s ceiling, illuminating a solemn altar at the far end of the chamber. The beam of light caught motes of dust that swirled like tiny stars, giving the space an otherworldly glow.

  Dominating the scene was the towering skeleton of a dragon, its massive bones arching high above the altar. The creature’s remains were impossibly large, its skull tilted downward as if to watch over the sacred site.

  Surrounding the altar were countless swords, their blades rusted and broken, driven into the ground like grave markers. Countless fallen warriors who tried their luck here, in the hope of becoming a Dragon Master.

  Saki stepped lightly forward, her boots crunching lightly on the gravel-strewn floor. She felt a slight chill run down her spine, though whether it was from the cool air of the outside, or the trial ahead, he couldn’t say. Granbell followed closely, his narrowed eyes darting across the cavern as if expecting the dragon’s bones to suddenly move.

  “Araka isn’t here?” the dragonkin murmured, his hand holding the hilt of his sword tightly.

  “Doesn’t seem like so,” Saki shook her head, her eyes fixed on the altar. “Perhaps we arrived first?”

  “Or perhaps… not!” a voice boomed through the cavern, and a shadow appeared from behind the altar. The Jarl’s body, or rather Araka took a step forward, his steel axe resting casually on his broad shoulders.

  Swinging against the fur of his coat and the leather of his armor, a single pendant, a jewel resembling a small dragon tooth held by a string. The Amulet of Dreikheim.

  “I took a villager and killed it before the altar. Counted as a duel to the death, don’t you think?” Araka smiled, his teeth flashing against the ray of light coming from the ceiling.

  Granbell growled, his stance lowering. “You bastard—!”

  Saki looked down, only to see the body of a man in a pool of blood at the base of the altar. With a resigned sigh, she picked up her whip and made it crackle in the air.

  “Oh, you’re raring to go? But aren’t you forgetting a little detail?” Araka chuckled while tapping the amulet with his nail. “I’m not alone.”

  A guttural and deep roar echoed through the cavern, making both Granbell’s and Saki’s ears bleed from the sheer strength of it. Heavy steps shook the cavern as it advanced forward, and blasts of winds pushed them as it moved its wings.

  It was raw power incarnate, the strongest living species in Tamia that was looking straight at them.

  A red dragon, its nostrils flaring as steam came out of it, his golden slit eyes looking at them like prey ready to be devoured. Its scales gleamed like molten rubies, the ridges along its spine jagged like the mountains it called home.

  An apex predator assessing its next meal.

  “That’s…” Saki exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the handle of her whip. “That’s a big one.” Even without testing her weapon, she knew—her whip would be useless against those scales. Even her wind blades, sharp enough to cut through steel, would be little more than an annoyance against its armored hide.

  She swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight.

  “Leave the dragon to me, Saki,” Granbell stepped forward, his stone blade drawn. “I’ve slain a dragon before. Though it wasn’t alone, so I can’t promise you anything.”

  Saki huffed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’ll take the amulet before you get yourself killed, okay?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Granbell flashed her a smile before assessing the beast he would hunt today. With a burst of speed, Granbell launched himself forward, just as the dragon’s massive forelimb swept through the space where he had stood moments before. The impact sent debris flying, dust exploding into the air. He landed on his feet, rolling smoothly before charging once more, his blade raised.

  Saki, on the other hand, spread her black wings wide and took flight toward Araka.

  “A succubus and a dragonkin, eh?” Araka chuckled as he raised his hand toward the flying succubus. “Never thought I would battle demons in this war against humanity,” the palm of his hand flashed blue, and icicles were hurtled toward her at high speed.

  Saki twisted midair, her body spinning in a rapid barrel roll as the deadly shards whizzed past her, some barely missing by inches. The cold bit at her skin, but she didn’t stop. She flicked her wrist.

  The whip lashed out, slicing through the air like a serpent and coiling around Araka’s axe. She pulled hard, aiming to rip it from his grasp—

  However, he just simply held it in place, and yanked it backward, making Saki fly further toward him. With his free hand, a brutal punch slammed into her stomach. Magic-enhanced force tore through her like a shockwave. Her breath hitched, stolen from her lungs, pain exploding inside her body. It felt like her very organs were being crushed under the sheer impact, her ribs screaming in protest.

  The world blurred, her wings faltered, and for a moment, everything slowed—until she was sent hurtling backward, crashing into the cold cavern floor.

  “One down.”

  His voice was casual. Almost bored. As if he hadn’t just sent her flying like a ragdoll. Of course, he was a general. One of the strongest opponents you could find in this continent. Saki never stood a chance against him.

  She knew that better than anyone, and yet, she stood up once more. With her breath ragged and her hand clutched to her stomach, she rose to her feet, her vision blurred but fixated on her enemy.

  Araka raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his features. “Oh? Still standing?”

  Meanwhile, across the cavern, the battle between Granbell and the dragon raged on.

  The beast thrashed, its massive tail swinging with brutal force. The air shuddered with the sheer weight of the attack, stone cracking under the pressure—

  But Granbell was faster.

  He darted beneath the strike, his small frame a blur of movement. His sword rose in perfect timing, its edge meeting the dragon’s tail in a precise deflection. The force of the impact was enough to send a shockwave through his arms, but he used it—redirecting the momentum, making the dragon’s tail slam into the ground beside him instead.

  The dragon snarled, frustration flashing in its molten gold eyes.

  Then, its throat ignited.

  A deep rumble vibrated through the cavern as a surge of fire erupted from its maw, an inferno hot enough to reduce stone to molten slag.

  Granbell didn’t flinch.

  With practiced ease, he raised his blade, angling it just right. The dragon’s fire crashed against the stone, flames splintering and roaring around him. His sword glowed with the intense heat, but it did not break.

  His dragonkin blood ensured that the flames, lethal to most, would not burn him outright. His body, resistant to extreme temperatures, endured the searing heat, though the air around him glowed with rising waves of pure fire.

  The ground beneath his palmed feet glowed red-hot, cracks forming as the cavern floor threatened to melt.

  Granbell gritted his teeth, pushing forward through the storm of flames. He couldn’t afford to be on the defensive.

  Not against this monster.

  With a powerful burst of strength, he surged through the fire, his blade raised for a decisive strike on the dragon’s head.

  But the dragon’s eyes narrowed—then in a blur, it lashed out with its claws, aiming to catch him mid-charge. Granbell couldn’t avoid it so he blocked it once more, and was sent hurtling into the cavern’s wall.

  Granbell gritted his teeth against the pain that shot through his body like lightning. His vision blurred for a split second, but he forced himself to stay conscious.

  Through the settling dust, he saw the dragon’s hulking form turn toward him, nostrils flaring, steam rising from its mouth. Its deep, rumbling growl reverberated through the cavern, a clear signal—

  It wasn’t done with him yet.

  Granbell groaned, forcing himself to move. His muscles screamed in protest, but he planted a foot against the rubble and pushed off, flipping back onto solid ground. His grip tightened on his sword.

  This dragon was different from the ones he had fought before.

  It was stronger and smarter.

  And it wasn’t the only enemy here.

  Across the cavern, Saki had risen to her feet, her wings tattered but still spread wide, her green eyes locked onto Araka with unyielding resolve. Blood trickled from her lip, her breathing ragged—but she wasn’t backing down.

  The battle had started badly for both of them, their opponents showing clear intent to kill as well as the strength to back it up.

  But as soon as everything seemed hopeless, a deep crash filled the cavern. One that came from within it, from far away. Then another came, this one closer. It was as if explosions were coming straight toward them. All four combatants—Granbell, Saki, Araka, and even the dragon—turned their heads toward the source of the sound.

  When suddenly, a specter came out of the wall, her face flashed with irritation as she phased through the pillars supporting the cavern.

  “He is so persistent!” Freya grumbled as she landed on her feet, her daggers poised to receive the threat coming from behind the stone walls.

  There, an explosion came from behind the wall, sending debris flying everywhere and dust settling in the cavern. From there, a young man in a jacket emerged, his body emitting steam from the different talismans he used on his body to power his punches.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  With a casual stride, he stepped forward, his hand waving to disperse the cloud of dust he had just made.

  His voice came crystal clear as he eyed the situation. His comrades, Saki and Granbell, were fighting two of the most dangerous opponents he had seen so far. A dragon, and a general of Kaeris’s army.

  Freya was just a specter. Even though she was a general, without her ability to phase in and out of the mortal realm, she was nothing more than an assassin below Julius’s level.

  Nothing too hard to handle.

  His eyes locked onto Araka. Ignoring the stares of his friends, he declared, loud and clear.

  "Granbell, take care of the dragon, but don't take any risks. Saki, focus on Freya. Imbue yourself with mana, or your attacks won’t land."

  With a quick flick of his wrist, he adjusted his jacket and began stepping forward, his movements slow and deliberate.

  “Let me handle Araka.”

  His voice rang clear and unwavering, cutting through the dust and tension in the cavern. His eyes—sharp, calculating—locked onto Araka with a chilling intensity that made the air around them seem to still.

  Granbell and Saki both paused, their movements faltering for just a moment. They didn’t need to question his command. Even if they weren’t used to seeing him taking the lead like that, they had no other choice but to trust him.

  There was no uncertainty in his tone, no second-guessing. Luka wasn’t a leader by nature, but there were moments, rare though they were, where his instincts took precedence over his doubt. And this, he knew, was one of those moments.

  His heart pounded in his chest, but there was no turning back now.

  Luka’s eyes never left Araka. He trusted Saki and Granbell with his life, knowing that hesitating about the dragon and Freya was just going to wear down on him.

  “So,” Luka smirked, an unusual confidence surging through him. “A worm is controlling dragons now.”

  “What?” Araka frowned, his eyes narrowing.

  “You guys are just side-steps,” Luka muttered under his breath, his eyes never leaving Araka as he adjusted his glove. “A side-step toward the goal to save mankind. Compared to Kaeris, you are nothing.”

  Though it was mostly to amp himself up, the black veins on the Jarl’s body began to stir and his eyes flashed with anger.

  Araka stepped forward, his fists clenching, his voice seething with rage. “So, now that you’ve fought our lord, you think we’re nothing, huh? How cute. How fucking special you must feel, being the center of the Liberator’s attention…”

  Luka blinked, his eyebrow arching in confusion. I am? He tilted his head, momentarily stunned by the demon general’s angry outburst. Why is he so worked up over this?

  “Must be nice, huh?” Araka snapped, cutting him off. “Not having to fight in the shadows like Freya and I. People care about Korver. They care about Krane. But us? We’re just fucking pawns. Here we are, wiping out villages, and no one even remembers we exist!”

  “I… I don’t really… car—”

  “Shut up!” Araka cut him off once more, his axe raised toward him. “I’m going to skewer you with my icicles once I’m done with you.”

  “I said,” Luka continued, unfazed by the demon’s outburst. “I. Don’t. Care. You guys are here, killing people for a stupid reason while I already have enough to deal with,” he stepped forward, his glove’s runes shining.

  His heart ached for a split second before returning to its normal state.

  “Now let’s go,” raised his hand, his fingers curling as if beckoning the demon forward. “Come at me with everything you got.”

  From the side, Saki’s head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Whaaaaa—?” she stammered, clearly shocked at Luka’s words.

  Araka’s snarl twisted into a cruel smile. “You think you’re ready, human?” He took a step forward, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ll make sure you regret those words.”

  His hand shot up, and again, icicles were sent flying toward him. However this time, Luka threw at talisman at them, creating a barrier just in time which stopped the ice spikes momentum. The sound of cracking ice echoed, but the shield held firm, the talisman’s magic absorbing the impact.

  He didn’t have time for petty tricks like that. His feet moved forward, his upper body lowered. The barrier turned off, the magical energy fueling it finally consumed. An icicle passed by him, grazing his cheek, but it didn’t matter.

  Araka leaped forward, his axe raised to cleave him in two.

  Kanami, thanks for the training.

  And master, thanks for showing me the way of magic.

  “I’m not just any other human,” Luka shot up a glare at Araka who was in the air. “I’m the goddess Daji’s number one disciple!”

  With a swift motion, Luka hurled a handful of talismans toward the Jarl. A firestorm erupted from the talismans, its intense flames billowing up, turning the air into a furnace. The flames surged toward Araka, wrapping around his body like a living beast, aiming to consume him whole.

  But Araka was ready. With a growl, he summoned a massive wave of ice, freezing the air around him. The ice spread, forming an impenetrable shield that cooled the firestorm in an instant, leaving nothing but steam and smoldering heat. Araka crashed down to the ground, his axe slicing through the air, narrowly missing Luka’s form as it struck the ground with the force of a hundred blows, splitting the cavern floor in two.

  With a sharp jab, Luka punched the Jarl’s face, but Araka didn’t even budge, his next swing coming even faster.

  As Luka saw the blade arrive in front of him, he muttered.

  Control, Zone.

  His focus narrowed to a pinpoint, his every sense hyper-aware. He ducked low, his body moving instinctively, narrowly avoiding the axe blade that would have decapitated him. The sharp metal grazed the air just inches above his head, the sound of it cutting through the space like a thunderclap.

  Luka landed in a crouch and picked another talisman from his pocket. This time, he stuck it to the floor before launching another right behind Araka.

  “Chains of heaven!”

  Joining his palms together, the two talismans clicked into place, their magic flaring to life. In a flash, glowing chains shot out from the ground, snaking through the air and wrapping around Araka’s arms and waist, pulling him taut and binding him in place.

  “What is this?” Araka struggled to get them off of him as the chains pulled him from every direction. Then, facing Luka, he saw the young man pointing his finger at him, a rock spinning at its tip while coated in flames.

  The Jarl barely had time to react. The rock slammed into his cheek, tearing through the skin and leaving a gaping wound. The pain was enough to make Araka howl in fury, his voice vibrating with anger.

  “Fuuuckk…” Araka grunted, his eyes filled with rage. “You’ll pay for that!”

  With a forceful twist, Araka managed to break one of the chains off of his body. The talisman, its magic ruptured, shattered into sparks as the Jarl freed himself from the binding chains.

  Luka’s eyes sharpened as the Jarl raised his axe, the ground beneath them freezing in an instant. Ice spread in every direction, sharp spikes sprouting up like deadly teeth. Luka leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding the first wave of spikes that tore through the space where he had been standing. A few of the spikes grazed his jeans, leaving deep cuts in the fabric, but he kept moving forward, closing the distance between him and Araka.

  The Jarl swung his axe in a wide arc, but Luka was faster.

  “Balweiln!”

  With a flick of his wrist, his left arm glowed from the contract he had with Saki. He summoned a barrier of wind that deflected the blow just enough for Luka to move past it. As he closed in, his right arm, now enhanced with magic from a talisman stuck to his body, swung up to block Araka’s powerful punch. The impact rattled his bones, but Luka managed to absorb the blow, twisting his body in a fluid motion.

  Two other talismans flared up, his body glowing as his left fist was launched.

  “Svelto, Five!” He gritted his teeth as a surge of power enveloped him, his fist coated with mana. The punch was fast, precise, and filled with raw power, aimed directly at the Jarl’s chest.

  The blow connected. Araka’s body bent under the pressure of the punch and he was sent flying backward. His massive form crashed into a pillar of stone, the force of the impact sending shards of rock flying through the air. The Jarl crumpled to the ground, his breath ragged and labored, the air thick with the smell of burning flesh and magic.

  His eyes widened as he saw the dragon almost trampling on him as Granbell and the creature were fighting. He rolled to the side, and leaped once more, ignoring the signals of pain coming from his host’s body.

  A stream of fire from the dragon grazed him as his axe came down on Luka, the fire searing their skin as the young man blocked it with his bare hands.

  “You are full of tricks, aren’t you?” Araka growled, his legs shooting upward in a savage knee strike.

  Luka blocked it with both of his arms, the shock reeling him backward before pulling another talisman. The paper glowed brightly before erupting into a burst of flames, but Araka simply passed through it.

  Luka’s eyes widened as Araka emerged from the flames unscathed, his massive frame wreathed in smoke and embers.

  “Fire won’t work on me, you idiot!” Araka snarled, his black veins moving around the Jarl’s body.

  He threw another talisman to the ground and, just as Araka lunged, Luka sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the axe’s deadly arc. At that exact moment, the talisman activated, glowing beneath him. In an instant, Luka vanished—switching places with the talisman itself.

  Reappearing behind Araka in a blur, Luka pivoted on his heel, launching a swift roundhouse kick. The Jarl reacted fast, bringing his forearm up just in time to block the blow. Undeterred, Luka’s sharp eyes followed the movement of the Jarl’s axe as it spun in preparation for another strike. Timing his move perfectly, Luka’s hand shot out, catching the flat of the axe head mid-spin. Using the momentum against Araka, Luka redirected the weapon’s force, twisting it away from himself and sending it careening in the wrong direction.

  For a split second, Araka was exposed.

  His fists shot forward, twin strikes connecting cleanly with the Jarl’s face. The impact rattled the worm habiting the Jarl’s body, and his head snapped back.

  Of course, that was far from enough.

  With Araka momentarily stunned, he used this moment to take a step back and pull out two talismans.

  “How many of those do you have?!” Araka growled, cracking his neck back into place with an audible snap.

  “Wanna see more?” Luka’s grin widened.

  With a flick of his fingers, he pressed the two talismans together—one a duplication talisman, the other a control talisman. The magic pulsed between them, and in an instant, the single control talisman became two.

  This was a trick he had once used against Kaeris, a way to create multiple talismans on the fly.

  But through his journey, he had discovered something even better—a method that let him create a barrage of talismans with almost no effort.

  Luka tossed the two control talismans into the air.

  At that same moment, Araka roared, raising his axe high. A storm of ice erupted around him, swallowing the cavern in a blizzard of cutting winds and razor-sharp frost. The ground trembled beneath the sheer force of the magic, the battlefield rapidly turning into a frozen wasteland.

  Luka’s breath misted in the air as he leaped backward, avoiding the first spike of ice that shot up from below. But he wasn’t trying to dodge—he was positioning himself.

  As the talismans fluttered above them, Luka channeled his spell into them.

  “Mana reactor: On.”

  The two control talismans hovering in the air sparked to life, spinning in a tight circle as intricate magical lines connected between them. A sigil formed, pulsing with energy.

  I can’t use my Od directly, but just like my master channels the earth’s leylines to fuel her magic, I can do the same.

  If I can’t use Od, then my talismans will.

  As the Mana Reactor hummed with power, drawing in the residual energy of the battlefield, Luka reached into his pockets and pulled another batch of talismans.

  Araka’s eyes flickered with confusion as Luka grinned.

  “They’re a little weaker than if I made them manually…” Luka admitted, his fingers working fast. “But this’ll do just fine.”

  One talisman to duplicate blank talismans. Another to inscribe written spells onto them. And a final one to link them all together.

  Luka pressed them together.

  “Copy… and Paste!”

  In an instant, his single handful of talismans expanded, multiplying in the air. Within seconds, his fingers gripped nearly twenty identical talismans, each glowing with the same inscription. The Mana Reactor he had just activated surged, linking to the entire set, feeding them with a steady stream of mana.

  With one talisman with the same amount of mana used, not much could be done.

  But what about many with a little bit of mana?

  Luka’s grin widened.

  He flicked his wrist.

  The talismans scattered in all directions, their glowing forms darting like embers through the frozen air.

  Araka’s eyes narrowed. “Tch. More tricks.”

  The Jarl swung his axe, and a wave of ice shot forward, seeking to obliterate the approaching talismans.

  But Luka’s hands clasped together and he muttered.

  “Grand Magic: Activates”

  For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze.

  All eyes turned to him.

  Each talisman pulsed with an eerie glow, inscriptions of Control carved into their very essence. They hummed in unison, vibrating with unseen force.

  A ghost appeared behind him.

  The talismans flared, forming a grand sigil in the air.

  And his grand scheme was now revealed.

  “Absolute Control.”

  It’s preposterous at best, even my master Daji would laugh at me for calling it Grand Magic.

  But…

  It came close to it.

  The battlefield froze, as if time itself had stopped. What was now a raging snowstorm summoned by Araka through the Jarl’s power became a still landscape. The talismans weren’t burned out yet, and this space was now his.

  Luka could feel it, the grasp of his magic tightening around a confined space—just a small 5-meter radius. It was a limited domain, but within this space, he had authority. Temperature, air pressure, almost everything bent to his will.

  Araka’s instincts screamed at him to move.

  “Ice spikes!” The Jarl didn’t hesitate. His axe pulsed with energy, and another barrage of jagged ice spears tore through the frozen air, each one aimed directly at Luka’s heart. Each shard was imbued with his magic, making them impossible to halt outright.

  And yet…

  Luka didn’t flinch.

  Because Absolute Control was not about stopping magic. It was about extending his mind into his domain.

  Within this space, his instincts and awareness weren’t bound to his physical body alone. His very consciousness stretched across the battlefield, making every movement, every trajectory, every possibility clear to him.

  The ice spikes surged forward.

  Luka simply walked.

  Without fear. Without hesitation.

  Each shard of ice missed—veering just inches away from his body, as though fate itself had shifted. Not because he dodged, but because he knew.

  Knew where each attack would land. Knew exactly how to step between them.

  It was more than just enhanced perception—it was a probability shift, a form of clairvoyance, the very act of manipulating what should have been uncontrollable.

  The world.

  To Araka, it looked impossible—like Luka was strolling straight through certain death, untouched, unfazed.

  Moreover, the young man was in the meantime preparing a spell, all the while taking another talisman from his pocket.

  “This guy…” he muttered, his grip on his axe tightening. The disbelief in his voice was laced with something else. Not just frustration. Not just irritation.

  Respect toward a true warrior.

  “Kiku was right.”

  A grin broke across the Jarl’s face, sharp and wild.

  “He’s a straight-up genius magus.”