The boy ran to survive. He nimbly moved across the scouts, who were startled at his sudden appearance.

  "CATCH HIM!" one of them shouted, his voice filled with urgency. Mana surged in their bodies, enhancing their speed as they chased him.

  In his panic, the boy tripped over the roots running across the damp soil.

  Fear gripped his heart once again. His face was full of panic, looking everywhere for a way out as the scouts kept running, closing in.

  He attempted to run again, but this time, the knight was already hot on his tail.

  No matter how fast or nimble he was, he couldn't outrun a trained knight.

  He remembered how his mother used to say knights were good people. But he was sure that the one after him wasn't.

  He started losing all hope. Behind him, the knight was less than forty meters away, and ahead, a scout was blocking his way.

  To his side, more scouts gathered, filling the routes between the thickly entangled trees.

  It was then..

  ROAAAAR!

  A feral bellow echoed through the forest—his friend, the terrakin, had arrived.

  It charged into the fray, knocking away one of the scouts as it rushed to help the boy.

  The knight sneered. "Even beasts dare stand in my way?" he mocked, unsheathing his sword.

  A subtle hue surrounded the blade of his sword. He moved methodically, aiming for the terrakin, which had already slain a second scout in its charge.

  The boy instinctively felt it—this hue was dangerous enough to kill the terrakin.

  Though he didn't know much about the world, his senses were sharp. He could assess the level of danger without words to explain it.

  He hated his weakness, his inability to fight back. His fear grew, but it wasn't fear for himself—it was the fear of being left alone.

  All alone.

  He couldn't let the terrakin die. He refused the thought of having no one again, of roaming aimlessly again.

  At that moment, the boy stopped running. He turned and lunged, changing his direction and charging at the knight. His white hair seemed slightly redder now.

  The Terrakin met his gaze briefly—it was telling him to run.

  But this time, he refused.

  Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on his spear.

  He remembered long ago—his father had told him to run, and he had obeyed, tears blurring his vision.

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  But he failed... He failed to run away.

  The last words he had heard from another person still echoed in his mind.

  An emotionless voice had declared, "This one is useless. Throw him away. He'll die on his own."

  That was the only reason he was still alive.

  He never understood what those words truly meant, but it didn't matter.

  He would fight.

  And he would keep on living.

  He lunged at the knight with his spear, disregarding everything.

  Slam!

  But he was small, and the knight's armored boot sent him sprawling into the mud.

  Yet the boy got back up right away.

  Mud clung to his skin, mixing with the blood of the fallen scouts.

  The knight was impressed. "This is a tough one," he muttered, his eyes glinting with greed. "I can't tell what mixed race he is, but he'll sell for quite a bit of money."

  He was irritated, feeling he had wasted time and resources chasing a mere brat. Losing a few scouts was acceptable, but under these circumstances, it hadn't been worth the effort.

  Now, however, the boy looked like a walking gold purse.

  At that moment, the Terrakin—smarter than the boy had expected—grabbed a thick branch from a tree and tore it free with immense force, unleashing a deafening, feral roar.

  

  It swung the branch at the knight, who realized he could cut it but wouldn't avoid the force of the blow and splintered wood.

  The knight reluctantly stepped back, narrowly evading the force of the branch with each swift movement.

  The boy's wide eyes tracked everything, searching for an opening.

  His father had taught him well, but he had never fought in a real battle—especially not against a knight.

  Could he even stand a chance?

  His mind slipped into a strange state where nothing existed but this battle. Life itself was reduced to a single purpose—the will to survive, to kill the threat before him, and to keep on living.

  He rushed at the knight again.

  The knight wore full-body armor, restricting the boy's reach. The boy managed to land a few strikes on the metal, but his spear was starting to fall apart.

  The knight was momentarily startled by the successive rapid attacks. The spear style was unlike anything he had seen before—it was high-level, without a doubt.

  But only for a moment. The knight sneered, realizing the boy's movements had more to them than met the eye.

  In an arrogant and demanding tone, he stretched his free, left hand to the boy. "Brat, wanna come and work for m—"

  Before he could finish, the terrakin swung the branch again.

  The boy had been waiting for this moment. As the knight dodged, the boy anticipated the move.

  Bang!

  As soon as the branch hit the ground, the boy dashed forward. He jumped over the branch, reaching the knight's eye level.

  By instinct, he stepped onto the giant branch as it lost momentum upon impact.

  His grip on the spear tightened, his knuckles white against the mud-slicked wood. His father's voice echoed faintly in his mind, the only fragment of comfort he had left.

  'Your spear is an extension of your will. Never let go of it unless you've given up on yourself. Or so you'll hear frequently as you grow up, but the spear is just a tool. If it doesn't hit, then it's useless. So, forget what these lousy people say. As my son, victory is forever more important than a lump of iron. That's how teacher taught all of us...'

  He hadn't understood it back then. But now, as his body moved on instinct, he realized this was what his father meant.

  He recalled his father's movements, his eyes now burning with purpose. But he wasn't distracted—to him, it was merely a fleeting moment of clarity.

  A moment of understanding and insight.

  The knight looked at the boy's fearless jump. The smile on his face deepened—he had expected this. They were barely a meter apart.

  At that distance, the knight was still beyond the boy's reach.

  In a fluid motion, the knight raised his foot to kick the boy again—and he did.

  Slam!

  For a brief moment, a chuckle escaped his lips. He struck the boy hard enough to keep him down—while, of course, accounting for his tough physique.

  As a trained knight, he never thought he would struggle against a Terrakin and a mere brat, yet here he was, doing exactly what he once believed impossible.

  But what the knight didn't expect was that the boy had been waiting for the kick.

  The boy remembered his dad's form... screamed in his heart...

  [Formless Arts - Within Reach]