Chapter 8: A Mission For The Saint Azel exhaled deeply, the sound blending with the rustling leaves around the clearing. The sun had risen high, casting golden rays through the trees and illuminating the practice grounds behind the cottage. He slid his blade into its sheath with a practiced motion, the leather grip soft and familiar in his hand. It had been a year. A whole year since Steven had demonstrated the first form of the Dragon Saint Style. And in that time, Azel had gone from barely swinging a sword to mastering both the First Form: Star Strike and Second Form: Reversal — the latter being a powerful counterattack technique that required precise footwork and a burst of rotational power. But more than anything, what had changed was his body — and his control over Aura. There were two types of energy in this world: Aura and Mana. Aura was the domain of swordsmen — life force drawn from nature itself. It could be used to strengthen muscles, reinforce bones, even pour into specific veins and organs to heighten a warrior’s physical ability to inhuman levels. With enough mastery, one could cover their entire weapon or body in aura, becoming a walking fortress of raw power. Mana, on the other hand, belonged to the mages. An ethereal energy that coursed through the soul and mind, forming spells, illusions, and elements. It was said that a single high-tier mage could turn the tide of a battlefield with a flick of their wrist. The two energies were like fire and oil — never meant to mix. They conflicted at a core level, disrupting each other when present in the same vessel. But Azel knew that was nonsense. After playing Fall of Ares, he had learned of a hidden technique called Soul Veining, an ancient process that involved carving specific mystical channels into the soul using a forbidden alchemical ritual, the Protagonist had gotten it by helping an old woman in the mountains who belonged to some ancient tribe by the Fifth calamity. These channels allowed the body to house both aura and mana by keeping them in separate "soul compartments," avoiding internal combustion — literally. Azel hadn’t reached that point yet. But the knowledge burned in his mind like a brand. He’d get there. Eventually. Right now, he had more immediate concerns. He turned his eyes toward Steven, who sat cross-legged on a tree stump, lazily enjoying a meal of roasted rabbit and herbs. The scent made Azel’s stomach growl again, despite the fact he had just eaten. Azel narrowed his eyes, then activated his most dangerous move: Puppy Eyes of Doom. "Master..." he said, elongating the syllables sweetly, hands behind his back and eyes as wide and sparkling as a lake at dawn. Steven didn’t look up. But his lips twitched in amusement. "I’ve already mastered the first and second techniques of the Dragon Saint Style," Azel said, inching closer. "Can we pleeeease proceed to the third one?" Steven finally looked at him. "Mastering aura and those two forms within a year is impressive," he said, setting aside his wooden bowl. "It shows your potential with the sword." Yes! It’s working! "If you’re so eager," Steven said, rising to his feet and dusting his pants, "I’ll show you the third—" CAW! A loud caw echoed above as a dark-feathered bird descended gracefully from the sky and landed on Steven’s shoulder. Azel blinked. "Is that a... crow?" The bird gave a disgruntled squawk. Steven chuckled. "That’s not just a crow. That’s the Royal Postal Service." Azel looked at the crow more closely and saw the small scroll tied securely in its beak. Steven turned to him. "Get the bird seeds. They’re in my room." Azel bolted inside, kicked over a stool in his rush, and returned with a wooden box labeled "For Crow Buddies." Steven took a small handful of seeds and gently offered them to the bird, who ate with grace and dignity, like a noble avian lord. Then Steven untied the scroll and unrolled it. His casual smile began to fade. Azel saw the subtle shift in expression. "What’s wrong?" Steven’s eyes scanned the contents before he read aloud, "Imperial Princess Sarah has been kidnapped during her journey back to the capital. The Royal Knights request the aid of any trusted affiliates in the western region." Azel’s heart thumped. Princess Sarah... He remembered this from the game. It had only been mentioned in flashbacks. The protagonist was too young to be directly involved, but the kidnapping of Princess Sarah had been a turning point. The kidnappers, a secret cult, had drained large amounts of her blood for a dark ritual. By the time she was rescued, she was sickly — frail. She died a year later in a quiet palace chamber, mourned by few. That blood, infused with dormant dragon lineage, was later used to awaken the Ancient Skybound Wyrm, a colossal dragon that razed the imperial castle and decimated the noble line. A calamity born from bloodshed. "This is... a serious issue," Azel muttered, his face paling. Steven looked at him, expression unreadable. "It is. But this is also an opportunity," he said. Then, without warning, he reached forward and patted Azel’s head. "You’re ready." Azel blinked. "Huh?" Steven stood up fully and stretched. "This is the perfect time to put your training into practice. The world isn’t going to wait for you to finish mastering forms." Azel frowned, trying not to feel too excited. "Wait... you’re not just trying to bring me along so I can carry your stuff again, are you?" Steven smirked. "I mean... you do have stamina now." "Hmph! Child labor!" Azel crossed his arms and pouted. Steven only laughed and began moving back toward the house to prepare. But Azel stayed in the clearing a moment longer. His fingers traced the hilt of his sword. The third form of the Dragon Saint Style would have to wait. For now, a princess needed saving. It was finally time to start reaping the System, after all, that girl was called the [Forgotten Heroine].