The Immortal Genius Spearman

Chapter 151

As the sun set and darkness arrived, dawn came once again.

This cycle repeated for several days.

Seated firmly in place, Damian did not budge. He continued channeling mana and advancing his mana training method without interruption.

Swoooooosh!

The mana that had gathered around Damian’s body began to sway like a living creature, as though it were dancing.

The swirling mana oscillated between fierce turbulence and tranquil stillness, wrapping around his body before surging with typhoon-like intensity again.

"…At this rate, I'm worried something serious might happen," said Villipt, watching Damian.

Beside him, Hainel remained silent, his lips tightly shut as he regarded Damian with a grave expression.

It had already been a week.

For seven days, Damian hadn't taken so much as a sip of water while he practiced the mana training method.

Even though mana could sustain the body’s functions, maintaining this for an entire week was undeniably dangerous.

Seeing Villipt's anxious gaze fixed on Damian, Hainel finally spoke.

"If he doesn’t wake up by the end of today, I’ll force him to wake. Don’t worry."

"…Understood," Villipt replied.

Day after day, he had observed Damian’s desperate efforts.

Perhaps because of this, Villipt found himself empathizing with Damian more and more.

At this moment, he could easily imagine the torment and anguish Damian must be feeling.

Villipt himself had once faced despair in the past.

"Aura… is a realm achievable only by a select few, chosen geniuses."

Reaching this level required unimaginable effort, as though carving away at one’s very bones.

In addition to effort, one needed talent and luck to ascend to a transcendent state that surpassed human limits.

And now, Damian seemed to be floundering desperately at that very threshold.

Though he appeared to be calmly sitting in place, focusing on his training, his mind and body were undoubtedly in turmoil.

The evidence was clear in the puddle of sweat pooled beneath where he sat.

How much sweat must he have shed to reach such a state?

Villipt’s concerns only deepened. Yet despite his worries—

Swoooooosh.

The mana, which alternated between chaotic surges and tranquil calm, began to rise above Damian’s head. Slowly, it coalesced into a distinct form.

At that moment—

Srrrkk.

Damian’s eyes opened.

Although his cheeks were sunken and his complexion pale, his eyes shone brighter and more vividly than ever.

Slowly, Damian rose to his feet.

Stagger.

Was it the toll of a grueling week of training?

As his body swayed heavily, Villipt rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

"Are you all right?"

"…Heh, Villipt," Damian replied.

Though he looked as though he might collapse at any moment, Damian’s expression was brighter than ever.

His innocent smile startled Villipt, who flinched as he looked at him.

"By any chance…?" Villipt asked cautiously.

Damian nodded.

"Just a little… but I think I’ve found a clue."

"…Is that so," Villipt said with a smile of his own. But then he added, "For now, resting should take priority. Allow me to help you."

"Thank… you."

In the short distance it took to reach the mansion, Damian stumbled several times.

Once inside, Villipt and Hainel watched him.

"…Hmph," Hainel chuckled meaningfully.

A day passed.

After resting for an entire day and replenishing himself with ample nutrition, Damian’s condition had improved considerably.

"Haah…"

Upon waking, Damian stretched his arms and rotated his waist to awaken his body.

Although he still felt some lingering fatigue, he seemed fit enough to move.

"Isn’t it still too soon?" Hainel asked as he watched Damian emerge from his room.

Shaking his head, Damian replied, "I want to test it before the sensation fades."

"…I see," Hainel said with a small smile as he rose from his seat. His expression showed that he understood.

After all, having finally grasped a clue, Damian couldn’t simply lie idle.

Hainel, too, had witnessed it.

The sight of mana coalescing as Damian concluded his training was etched vividly in his mind.

"Could it be… that he truly gained insight?"

Though it seemed unlikely, the anticipation quickened Hainel’s heartbeat.

Together, they went outside. Drawing his sword, Hainel pointed it at Damian.

"Come at me with everything you’ve got. I’ll handle it."

Seven days of mana training and meditation—what had Damian achieved?

Outwardly, there seemed to be no significant changes. Yet something was different.

The flow of his mana had become noticeably calmer.

The chaotic turbulence that once characterized his mana was gone.

It had become grounded, carrying a weighty stillness that seemed to alter its very nature.

Under Hainel’s watchful gaze—

Swoosh.

Damian gripped his spear.

"Then… I’ll be in your care."

With a brief nod from Hainel as his only reply—

Boom!

A fierce aura exploded around Damian, shaking the ground beneath him.

The earlier stillness was replaced by a crushing intensity.

It felt as though a massive weight was bearing down, suffocating the air.

Hainel’s eyes glimmered.

"So this… is the nature of your mana?"

The sheer presence of it raised Hainel’s expectations of what might unfold.

Such heavy, imposing mana.

Rather than sharp or aggressive, it felt like an immense wall, unyielding and immovable.

"Haaaa…"

Damian exhaled softly.

As he inhaled deeply, he sought to recapture the sensation from his training.

"A little more… solid."

While his mana had a wild, untamed edge, at its core, there was an unshakable steadiness.

Through long reflection and struggle, Damian had uncovered the true nature of his mana.

It was akin to a boulder—sturdy, simple, and unadorned.

This was its truest form. And the form that suited him best was—

"This."

Rumble... RUMBLE!

A fierce roar echoed as the surrounding mana trembled violently.

The mana emanating from Damian's body began to take shape amidst the raging storm.

Whoooosh!

Like a typhoon, the swirling currents intensified, gradually forming into a tangible shape.

Watching the spectacle, Hainel swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on what Damian had created.

He had thought it impossible, but now...

"…Hah. This is unbelievable."

Hainel had silently hoped for this outcome, yet seeing it unfold before his eyes left him utterly astonished, his strength momentarily drained by the sheer absurdity of it all.

"And he's only… fifteen years old."

Had there ever been a precedent for this in history?

A teenager creating Aura—an achievement that defied reason.

Hainel’s eyes locked onto the massive creation hovering above Damian’s head.

This was Damian’s Aura.

"…Born to be a commander to his very core," Hainel muttered.

Damian's Aura took the form of none other than himself, mounted on a horse, wielding a mighty spear.

Most Aura Masters Hainel knew of had Auras reflecting elements of monsters or natural phenomena.

For instance, Hainel’s own Aura resembled thunder and lightning, while the Empire’s Aura Master, Calon Xanthos, wielded a fiery Aura.

Galveron, another legendary Aura Master, manifested a massive serpent as his Aura.

But a commander?

Not just any commander—a mounted one, holding a spear.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Hainel burst out laughing as he stared at Damian. Meanwhile, streaks of thunder began crackling fiercely around Hainel’s body.

"Come at me with everything you’ve got," Hainel challenged.

Damian’s eyes gleamed sharply as he extended his spear, pouring his will into his Aura.

"Pierce."

ROOOOAR!

At Damian’s command, his Aura roared to life, hurtling toward Hainel like a rampaging force.

The charge of the massive commander carried a crushing pressure, as though an entire army had launched a single, devastating assault.

It was a force that could rip through and annihilate hundreds of soldiers in its path.

But the true danger lay elsewhere.

Swooosh!

Using the momentum of the charge, Damian unleashed a powerful downward slash.

The tremendous attack descended from above—

"Haahhh!"

BOOM!

Hainel’s Aura intertwined with Damian’s, unleashing a blinding flash of light.

And on that day, the Baroque Kingdom welcomed its third Aura Master.

***

“Urgent report!”

The situation in the Artian Kingdom was precarious, as if they were walking on thin ice.

Before Kalen Diego’s arrival, Calon Xanthos had launched an attack on Drionte, bringing the city to the brink of collapse.

The Artian Kingdom had barely bought time by holding onto the enemy’s heels desperately, allowing Kalen to arrive—but the circumstances remained dire.

The duel between Artian Kingdom’s Aura Master Kalen Diego and the Empire’s Aura Master Calon Xanthos was monumental.

This clash of titans commanded the attention of not only the Artian Kingdom and the Empire but also all neighboring nations.

In the capital of the Artian Kingdom, Chancellor Tirron Sronhart urgently questioned the messenger from Drionte.

"What news? Has Drionte fallen?"

"Well…"

"Speak plainly! Start with the conclusion!"

Though Tirron was typically composed, he couldn’t help but lose his calm. The matter was far too critical, for the very fate of the kingdom hung in the balance.

Pressed by Tirron’s urgency, the soldier blurted out, "The Empire’s Aura Master, Calon, and their forces… have retreated."

"…Ha!"

Tirron, who had risen abruptly, let out a long breath as he collapsed back into his chair.

Relief washed over him, and his legs trembled as the tension left his body.

But the messenger hadn’t finished.

"However, during the battle… General Kalen suffered severe injuries. When I left, he had fortunately stabilized, but his condition was critical enough that he could have lost his life."

"What?!"

Tirron’s eyes widened in shock.

Kalen Diego was one of the kingdom’s most vital figures.

And now, they were saying he was in a life-threatening condition?

"Are you certain his life is no longer in danger? Could the injuries render him incapable of fighting in the future?"

"I cannot say for sure… but his survival is assured."

The use of a high potion and the assistance of a high-ranking cleric had narrowly saved Kalen’s life.

However, whether he would be able to fight again remained uncertain.

Hearing this, Tirron’s expression darkened.

"…And what of the enemy forces under Calon? Were they harmed?"

"Yes. Half of their forces were destroyed, and their supply lines were cut, forcing them to retreat."

"…Even in his state, General Kalen did everything that needed to be done."

Yet, the soldier’s report didn’t mention Calon Xanthos sustaining any injuries.

Even while Kalen was being pushed back, he had severed the enemy’s supplies and forced their retreat.

"…The future is growing dim," Tirron muttered gravely.

With Kalen gravely injured, only one Aura Master remained in the Artian Kingdom.

If the Empire launched another massive campaign, they would be hard-pressed to defend themselves.

Tirron turned to a figure waiting outside.

"Irkan, are you there?"

"You called, my lord?"

The middle-aged man named Irkan stepped into the room as Tirron beckoned him.

"Prepare an audience with His Majesty immediately. I must speak with him."

"Understood."

It was now inevitable—the Artian Kingdom had been drawn fully into the Empire’s conquest.

To prepare for the challenges ahead—

"We must unite with the Baroque Kingdom at all costs."

Facing the Empire’s overwhelming ambition, the only way to stand against them was for these two powerful kingdoms to join forces.

With this resolution, Tirron quickened his steps toward the royal palace, his movements more urgent than ever.