Chapter 20 | Into the Goal

Leon's breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled from the rubble-strewn alley into the final stretch to his objective. The golden column pulsed enticingly, beckoning him forward, but a groan escaped his lips as he surveyed what lay between.

Open ground. At least 150 feet of it.

No debris piles for cover. No narrow passages to slow pursuit. Just flat, exposed terrain stretching between him and his goal.

The thundering steps behind him grew louder. Time was running out.

Leon pressed his back against the wall of a collapsed building, blood from numerous cuts sticking his clothes to his skin. He checked the timer:

14:23

More than enough time to cross the distance…if he didn't have two enraged mana beasts on his tail.

Think. Think.

Taking on both Furiboars in open ground would be suicide for a Nullari. But even with his head start, the beasts' raw speed would overtake him long before he reached the column.

The ground trembled beneath his feet. One of the creatures was close. Very close.

Leon's eyes darted around frantically, searching for anything that might give him an advantage. His gaze locked onto a solitary light pole, somehow still standing amid the surrounding destruction. Its metal surface was scarred but intact, rising at least fifteen feet from the ground.

Without allowing himself time to hesitate, Leon sprinted toward it.

The sound of crumbling masonry erupted behind him as the first Furiboar burst through the weakened wall of a building, sending bricks and mortar flying in all directions.

The beast paused momentarily, its red eyes scanning the area before locking onto Leon's moving form. It lowered its head and charged.

Leon reached the pole seconds ahead of the creature. He leapt, arms wrapping around the cool metal surface, legs scrambling for a hold. His injured shoulder screamed in protest as he pulled himself upward, muscles burning with the effort.

The Furiboar slammed into the base of the pole just as Leon pulled himself above the reach of its tusks. The pole shuddered under the impact but held steady. Below, the beast paced in circles, snorting in frustration and pawing at the ground.

Leon climbed higher until he was out of reach, then stopped to catch his breath. The Furiboar stayed right beneath him, occasionally rearing up on its hind legs to scrape its tusks against the metal. Each strike sent a harsh vibration through the pole and into Leon’s hands.

From his vantage point, Leon spotted the second Furiboar emerging from the ruins. It moved slower than the first, more cautious. He didn’t have long.

Tightening his grip on the spear, Leon studied the beast below. He only had one shot. If he could hit a vital organ, he might bring it down.

He forced himself to breathe steadily, ignoring the burning in his arms. Carefully, he adjusted his stance on the pole, shifting his weight to aim more precisely. The Furiboar continued to circle beneath him, unaware of what was about to happen.

Wait for it... Wait for it.

When the Furiboar passed directly beneath him for the third time, Leon pushed away from the pole. He launched himself downward, both hands gripping the spear, its point aimed between the creature's massive shoulders.

Time seemed to slow. The wind rushed past his face. The beast sensed his descent too late, starting to turn just as Leon's full weight drove the spear downward.

The impact jarred every bone in his body. The spear penetrated deep into the creature's back, sliding between vertebrae, but angled wrong. Leon felt the resistance as the weapon missed the heart.

The Furiboar's shriek pierced the air, a sound of primal agony that seemed to shake the very ground. It bucked violently, spinning in frenzied circles, trying to dislodge both the foreign object and the human still clinging to it.

Leon held on for his life, hands locked around the shaft of his weapon as the beast thrashed beneath him. His body became a ragdoll, whipped in all directions by the creature's desperate movements. Each jolt threatened to tear his grip free, muscles screaming in protest against forces his unaugmented frame was never designed to withstand.

Blood sprayed from the wound with each violent movement, coating Leon's hands and making his grip slick. Still, he held on, gritting his teeth against the pain as the beast's movements became less coordinated.

After what felt like an eternity of chaos, the Furiboar's legs finally buckled. It staggered several steps forward, then collapsed to its knees before rolling onto its side. Its breathing came in wet, labored gasps that slowed until they stopped entirely.

Leon released his death-grip on the spear and rolled clear of the massive corpse, every inch of his body throbbing. He allowed himself only two deep breaths before struggling to his feet and pulling his spear out.

A thunderous roar announced the arrival of the final Furiboar. The same one whose tusks were still stained dark with the blood of its companion. It stood at the edge of the ruins, red eyes focused on Leon.

The column was still 120 feet away.

8:47

No choice.

He turned and ran, pushing his battered body toward the goal. Behind him, the Furiboar chased close; heavy hooves pounding the ground, getting faster with every step. No normal person could outrun a beast like that, especially one already hurt.

His mind raced, trying to figure out the distances and speeds. He was too far from the goal, and the boar was too close. The math was clear. He wouldn’t make it by just running.

Halfway across the open ground, a desperate idea came to him. It was painful and risky, but it was the only choice left.

With the column just twenty feet away, the beast's hot breath practically scorched the back of his neck. In one fluid motion, he swung the spear behind and across his shoulders, gripping both ends firmly.

He heard the rush of air as the Furiboar lowered its head for the final charge. Every instinct screamed at him to dodge, to throw himself aside. But Leon held his course, bracing his arms against the spear shaft spanning his back.

The impact came with stunning force. When the Furiboar's charge connected, its tusk pierced his left butt cheek.

Simultaneously, its massive forehead impacted the shaft of the spear. The combination of momentum and leverage catapulted Leon forward.

A strange yelp of pain and surprise escaped his lips as he flew toward the column. The golden objective rushed to meet him, its surface glowing brighter as he approached.

Leon crashed into the column with bone-jarring force, his arms wrapping around it instinctively. For a moment, he hung there, stunned by pain and disbelief that his desperate gamble had actually worked.

Warcenturion Victor Vauhn's POV

In the simulation control room, Warcenturion Victor Vauhn stood with his arms crossed over his formal white and gold uniform, his weathered face illuminated by the glow of multiple displays. The gold Imperial Covenant insignia on his chest seemed to catch the light as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing with unexpected interest.

"Give my interface access to his file," Victor instructed a nearby technician, his gaze never leaving the screen showing Leon's completion.

The technician's fingers moved quickly across his console. "Sending data now, sir."

Victor had initially flagged this recruit after receiving notification of anomalous readings during the absorption assessment. His first suspicion had been a potential security threat. Perhaps an infiltrator or a system malfunction.

Instead, he witnessed something far more intriguing: a Nullari who chose to confront threats that most in his position had simply avoided.

The majority of Nullaris who ran the course focused on reaching the objective with minimal engagement. This one had systematically eliminated three Furiboars. A feat that demonstrated unusual resourcefulness.

"Interesting approach," Victor murmured, replaying the final moments where Leon's improvised defense transformed the boar's attack into forward momentum. "Pain response genuine, but controlled. Tactical thinking under extreme pressure."

The Warcenturion chuckled at the undignified but effective final tactic.

"Run a full background check," he ordered without looking away from the display. "I want to know everything about this recruit before Wave Two begins."

"Sir," the technician hesitated, "he's Nullari. Standard processing protocol—"

"Did I ask for protocol?" Victor cut him off, voice suddenly sharp. "Full background. Now."

As the technician hurried to comply, Victor settled back in his chair. Perhaps there was more to this Nullari than the initial data suggested.