Adrian’s white-blue flames tore through another cluster of lesser beasts, their forms dissolving into ash and steam. His mana thrummed like an ocean inside him, vast and overflowing in ways that still amazed him.

When a C-rank beast lunged from the crimson surf, its massive form crackling with electric fury, Adrian gathered everything he had. He unleashed Starbreaker at full power.

Space itself buckled around the creature. Light and shadow collapsed into its form, shredding half its body into absolute nothing. Though it did not vanish completely like the weaker beasts, it staggered backward, shattered nearly to death before nearby Defenders finished it with desperate strikes.

Adrian stood there, stunned by his own power. His growth was undeniable. His mana no longer felt like a candle flickering in darkness. It felt vast, overflowing, limitless.

For the first time, he thought, “Even a full C-rank… nearly shattered by one spell. Maybe with my mist, I could even stand against a B-rank…”

But there was no time to test such dangerous theories. B-ranks were locked in deadly combat against veteran commanders, their battles shaking the very foundations of the fortress. His job was clear, save who he could.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Adrian carved through the horde. Slowly, the tide receded as high-rank Defenders brought the chaos under control.

Corpses of sea beasts floated in the crimson surf, their forms bobbing like grotesque islands. For now, at least, the deaths had stopped.

Adrian blinked back onto the wall where Mira and Liora stood. Salt spray clung to his bloodstained robes.

Liora was furious, her golden robes whipping in the wind. “Are you insane? You were sent here only for support!” Her voice cracked like a whip across the ramparts. “I came here to ensure your survival, and you make it impossible!”

“If I went back to that desk,” Adrian’s jaw tightened as he met her glare, “if I just inscribed basic runes while people died, would it have saved them?” His voice burned with conviction. “It felt meaningless.”

“That’s not meaningless!” Liora shot back, anger lacing every word. “Humanity has survived on those seconds for years! Basic runes are all we can mass-produce because stronger ones are affinity-bound.”

She gestured toward the battlefield where medics tended the wounded. “If even one barrier or spark scroll buys someone enough time to live, then it matters! You can’t save everyone, Adrian. None of us can!”

Her words hit hard. He had no answer for that brutal truth. Seconds were all that stood between life and death out here, and she was right, he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

But then her phrasing struck him. Affinity-bound.

That was why they mass-produced only the basics. Anything advanced required the right affinity to activate. healing runes, advanced barriers, destructive spells. All is useless if the Defender couldn’t wield that specific affinity.

But what if that limitation could be undone? What if anyone could wield them, regardless of their affinities?

“What if…” Adrian muttered, half to himself as the possibilities bloomed in his mind. “What if the chains of affinity could be broken?”

Mira looked between them, confusion written across her ink-stained features. “What are you talking about?”

“Basic runes aren’t enough. They’re too limited.” Adrian’s eyes burned with sudden inspiration. “Affinity-bound… there has to be another way.”

Liora shook her head, exhaustion replacing her anger. “There is no other way, Adrian. Stop chasing impossible dreams.”

Adrian said nothing more, but his mind was already racing, sketching possibilities no one else dared to consider..

“No. There has to be.”

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…

The three of them stayed to help the wounded. They moved through the medical bay, stepping carefully around bloodstained stretchers and groaning wounded.

Adrian knelt beside a young Defender whose chest had been torn open by claws, ribs visible through shredded flesh.

Emerald light flowed from Adrian’s hands. The man’s wounds sealed with impossible speed, torn muscle knitting together as bone fragments realigned themselves.

Mira’s jaw dropped as the soldier sat up, blinking in confusion at his unmarked chest. “How… that’s master-level healing. You’re not even trained as a healer.”

“Echo,” Adrian said simply, moving to the next wounded Defender.

Liora watched in stunned silence as Adrian worked. A woman with a shattered leg stood and walked within minutes. A man bleeding from internal wounds stopped gasping and breathed easily.

“This is impossible,” she whispered. “Healing magic requires years of study, intimate knowledge of anatomy. You can’t just copy it perfectly.”

Adrian’s hands never stopped moving, emerald energy flowing like a river. “People are dying. I don’t have time to explain limitations.”

The medical bay doors exploded inward with a crash that shook dust from the ceiling. Renard strode through, seawater streaming from his battered armor, a wild grin splitting his weathered face despite the exhaustion carved into every line.

Scarlett followed like winter itself, her robes pristine despite the battle. Her expression could have frozen the ocean.

Renard whistled low, surveying the miraculous scene before him. “So you’re the one blinking around out there, hauling people out of the jaws.” His grin widened as he watched another soldier rise from near death. “Not bad, kid.”

“Hells, boy, reminds me of myself at your age.” He clapped Adrian on the shoulder with enough force to stagger a normal person. “Space affinity, eh? Takes real guts to use it like that in the thick of things.”

Adrian met his eyes without flinching, emerald light still flowing from his hands. “I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I was trying to stop them from dying.”

Renard’s laughter boomed through the medical bay. “Exactly! That’s the right bloody reason, lad.”

Scarlett’s gaze cut through, “And yet you nearly got yourself killed fighting C-ranks.” Her voice carried the chill of arctic storms.

She stepped closer, “At your age, killing even a D-rank is considered miraculous. But you threw yourself at that horde like you were A-rank already.”

“Do you have any idea what your death here would mean?” Her words fell like hammer blows. “Someone with your potential, throwing himself away before blooming, it would be a waste humanity cannot afford.”

Adrian’s fists clenched, emerald energy flickering. “If I hide behind that desk while people die, what use is my potential?”

“You came here to support, not to bleed out in the surf.” Scarlett’s eyes narrowed, “Do you understand?”

“You see only the bodies in front of you,” Scarlett continued, “I see the war. One life thrown away recklessly, with potential like yours, weakens all of humanity.”

“Survival is not selfishness, boy. It is strategy.” She gestured toward the healing soldiers around them. “Learn the difference. Humanity needs you to bloom.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the groans of the wounded and the distant crash of waves.

Mira shifted uncomfortably, her ink-stained fingers fidgeting with her apron. Liora watched the exchange with barely concealed tension, ready to intervene if necessary.

Finally, Adrian spoke, his tone quieter but carrying steel beneath the surface. “Then maybe I need to find a way where survival and saving lives aren’t separate.”

Scarlett studied him for a long moment, without another word, she turned and walked away.

…

By evening, the fortress never slowed. The walls shook again, not from another breach but from inscribers resetting runes and preparing for the next wave. Healers slept in chairs, only to be shaken awake minutes later.

Dead were carried out quietly, replaced by the next shift. The Bastion of Tides did not rest. It prepared. Always.

Adrian watched it all from the ramparts, the endless machine of survival grinding forward. Salt wind whipped his robes as another group of stretcher-bearers passed below.

His hands itched for parchment. His mind burned with a single phrase that wouldn’t leave him alone.

Affinity-bound.

Mira found him there, staring out at the dark ocean where phosphorescent foam marked the retreating tide. She carried two steaming cups, offering one without a word.

“Tea,” she said simply. “Father always said it helps after the first real battle.”

Adrian accepted the cup, warmth seeping through his fingers. The liquid tasted of herbs and honey, cutting through the salt coating his throat.

“Your father’s been through this before?” Adrian asked.

“Every month for the past eight years.” Mira settled beside him on the stone ledge. “Sometimes twice a month when the deep currents shift.”

She sipped her tea, watching the fortress below. Inscribers hurried between workshops, arms full of fresh parchment and mana ink.

“You’re thinking about something,” she observed. “Father’s eyes get this same look when he’s working through a problem.”

Adrian turned to study her profile. Ink stains marked her fingers like battle scars, and exhaustion shadowed her features.

“Tell me about affinity restrictions,” he said suddenly. “Why can’t a fire user activate a water rune?”

Mira blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “Because the mana doesn’t match. Fire mana tries to force itself through water patterns.”

“You think there is no way to break this rule?” Adrian’s voice carried growing intensity.

“That’s impossible.” Mira shook her head. “The Language of Mana is absolute. You can’t just rewrite fundamental reality.”

Adrian said nothing, but his grip tightened on the cup.

And he knew what he had to break next.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep