Celisar Kael
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Chapter 19 | Boar Tactics
🕑 Added 2025-08-04 12:19:01 +0000 UTCLeon stood in the silent ruins of a simulated city, contained by an invisible veil that shimmered when he approached its edges. The environment felt eerily real; crumbling concrete structures with exposed rebar, shattered glass crunching underfoot, and the acrid scent of smoke and dust in the air. Wisps of holographic fog curled around fallen debris, adding to the apocalyptic atmosphere.
The simulation's level of detail was unsettling, down to the way sunlight filtered through the broken buildings and created long shadows across the rubble-strewn streets.
The instructor's voice echoed through the empty cityscape, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.
"Your decisions and reactions are being monitored."
Before him, a holographic rack materialized with a soft blue glow, rotating slowly to display three items: a sword, a shield, and a spear. Each weapon gleamed with an unnatural perfection, too pristine for the devastated suroundings.
The sword was a straight, single-edged blade with a simple crossguard and wrapped grip. More functional rather than ornate.
The shield was medium-sized, curved at the edges, bearing no insignia but appearing sturdy enough to withstand significant impact.
The spear featured a leaf-shaped blade atop a shaft of polished dark wood with a length of approximately seven feet.
The objective appeared as text hovering in Leon's field of vision:
"Reach the destination within one hour while surviving all encounters. Choose one item only."
In the distance, beyond the maze of broken buildings and collapsed roadways, a column of golden light pulsed steadily.
Leon looked at the three weapons in front of him, heart pounding. He had no idea how to fight, but he had to pick something.
The shield seemed safe at first. It could protect him, sure, but then what?
He couldn't attack with it, and just blocking forever didn’t seem like a real plan. He shook his head. That wouldn't work.
The sword looked manageable. It was smaller, easier to carry. He figured it would be good in close quarters. Probably great for quick movements, maybe some defense. It felt like something he could at least try to use.
But the spear. That one stood out. It was long. He wouldn’t have to get too close.
If something came at him, he could jab from a distance or maybe even throw it if he had to. He didn’t know much, but keeping things far away sounded like a smart idea.
“Spear,” he said, his voice echoing too loud in the silent ruins. “I choose the spear.”
The weapon rack vanished in a shimmer of light, and the spear floated toward him. Leon reached out and took hold of it. It was heavier than he expected, not too much, but enough to feel solid in his hands.
He shifted his grip, trying to get used to the length. It felt awkward, but manageable. He gave it a small test swing, careful not to lose control.
Then a glowing timer appeared in front of him, counting down from five. The numbers flashed brighter with each second. The air thickened with tension as they ticked down toward zero.
5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
The restraining veil that had contained him dissolved, and Leon immediately pushed forward into the ruined cityscape. The timer began its relentless countdown in the corner of his vision:
59:59
The simulation environment proved more challenging than it first appeared.
What looked like simple paths at first turned into tricky mazes. Collapsed buildings blocked the way, forcing Leon to backtrack and find new routes. Piles of rubble created obstacles; some he could climb over while others made him take long detours. Tight gaps between walls and broken structures made it hard to move, especially with the long spear in his hands.
He kept a steady pace, trying to move quickly but not carelessly. His eyes were always scanning ahead, watching for danger hiding in dark doorways or behind twisted piles of metal.
Every step was careful, not slow enough to waste time, but cautious enough to keep from tripping or making too much noise. The spear didn’t feel as awkward as it had at first. He was getting used to the weight, the length, the way it shifted in his grip.
He still didn’t know what he was doing, but at least it wasn’t getting in his way anymore.
As he edged through tight spaces or ducked under hanging debris, he adjusted the weapon clumsily.
Sweat beaded along his hairline. His breathing remained controlled, though his hollow chest expanded with each careful inhalation, aware that even the sound of heavy breathing might give him away in this eerily quiet city.
The countdown timer in the corner of his vision ticked on, a constant reminder that time was running out. Leon tried to ignore it. He knew panicking would only lead to mistakes he couldn’t afford.
As he moved, he took mental notes of anything that stood out. He was building a rough mental map to keep from getting lost or looping back by accident.
Twenty minutes in, a strange sound echoed through the ruins. It was low and rough; somewhere between a snort and a growl.
Leon froze for a second, then slowed down, gripping the spear a little tighter. He crept forward, more careful now, as the sound grew louder near a sharp intersection where two broken streets met.
He pressed his back against the wall of a partially collapsed structure, took a deep breath, and peered around the corner. What he saw made him pull back instantly, heart hammering in his chest.
Ohh shit!
Leon hadn’t expected this. A massive Furiboar stood in the middle of the street, blocking the way and taking up the entire intersection.
It stood five feet tall at the shoulder, covered in thick, dark hide bristling with coarse hair that looked more like steel wire than fur. Pale scars crossed its powerful body, and two curved tusks jutted from its jaw; sharp enough to rip someone open with one swing. Strange red symbols glowed along the tusks, pulsing with an eerie light.
Smoke curled from its wide nostrils with every breath, drifting through the air like fog. Its glowing red eyes didn’t blink. Now and then, it scraped the ground with a heavy hoof, leaving shallow grooves in the concrete.
Leon knew what it was. He had seen it in a bestiary he read during his free time. A Furiboar was an aggressive mana beast, fiercely territorial and known to chase prey once provoked. Despite its size, it could move fast enough to surprise anyone. Its hide was tough, especially around the shoulders and sides.
Fighting it head-on was risky for anyone. Suicidal for someone like him with no enhancements. Even with the spear’s range, one mistake could get him killed. Leon edged sideways, scanning for another option: a path around the beast, higher ground, anything he could use to his advantage.
The Furiboar didn’t move, but its eyes tracked him. As he tried slipping through a narrow gap between two piles of rubble, the creature’s muscles tightened under its scarred hide.
For a moment, everything went still—
"RRRRAAAAH–"
The roar hit him like a shockwave, vibrating through his chest. The beast lowered its head, tusks pointed forward, and charged. It moved with terrifying speed, its hooves cracking the concrete with every step as it thundered straight at him.
Time seemed to slow as the Furiboar charged. Leon’s body froze, muscles locked, ignoring his brain’s frantic commands. A cold wave of fear washed over him, leaving his limbs numb and heavy.
At the last second, instinct took over. He dove to the side, just as the beast thundered past, missing him by inches. Wind from its passing slammed into him. Unable to stop, the Furiboar crashed into a pile of rubble he had been eyeing as a possible escape route.
The impact sent dust and debris flying. The beast roared in fury, back legs kicking wildly while its front half remained stuck between slabs of concrete.
Leon scrambled to his feet, gripping the spear with both hands. He kept wide of the thrashing legs and lunged toward the trapped creature, driving the spear into its exposed head.
The tip broke the hide, drawing a shallow line of blood before glancing off the skull. The Furiboar shrieked in rage, thrashing harder. Cracks spread through the concrete holding it.
Leon backed off, heart racing. Random attacks won’t work.
Come on think—
He remembered a diagram from the bestiary; vital organs behind the front legs, less protected than the skull or shoulders.
The Furiboar heaved again. It was almost free.
Leon refocused, adjusted his grip, and aimed for the fold of skin behind its front leg. As the creature surged forward, nearly escaping the rubble, Leon stepped in and plunged the spear deep into its chest.
The beast froze. A low, confused grunt escaped its throat. Its legs buckled then collapsed, head hitting the ground with a dull thud. The red glow in its eyes dimmed.
Leon didn’t move. He held the spear tight, breathing hard, watching for signs of life. After several still seconds, he braced a foot on the body and yanked the weapon free with a wet pull.
But before he could rest, he heard it. Multiple sets of heavy steps, closing in fast. Snorts and growls echoed through the ruins.
More Furiboars.
Leon checked the timer:
32:17
The golden column still flickered in the distance, far beyond the shattered streets.
He took off running.
Behind him, two Furiboars emerged from side streets, eyes glowing red, tusks longer and brighter than the first. They locked onto him.
The ruined city that had once slowed him now became an asset. Leon darted down narrow paths between collapsed buildings, weaving through debris. The bigger creatures struggled to follow, forced to detour around obstacles or smash through them.
He squeezed through a tight gap, hearing the beasts roar in frustration. When a waist-high concrete barrier blocked his path, he vaulted over, not stopping. The Furiboars would need to go around or plow through.
His body protested. A sharp sting in his hand. Glass.
Muscles burned, lungs ached. He ignored it.
It’s just a simulation, he reminded himself. But his body didn’t care. It hurt. It felt real.
He risked a glance back. The distance was growing. He allowed himself a flicker of hope. Until he looked forward again.
Another Furiboar stood twenty yards ahead, blocking the narrow path toward the goal.
Leon froze. Trapped.
To his right, a broken storefront window was wide open. The supports were damaged, but still standing.
The Furiboar ahead snorted and lowered its head to charge.
Leon dove through the window just in time. The building shook as the beast thundered past, its charge sending dust and debris from the ceiling.
Inside, he gasped for breath. The store was ruined with tables overturned and shelves broken. Through cracks in the wall, he saw all three Furiboars circling, drawn by the noise. They shoved at the building’s sides, testing its strength. The opening he had used was too small for them, but they had him surrounded.
Timer:
24:46
He was two-thirds of the way there.
Cuts stung along his arms and legs. His forearm bled from a deep gash. His ankle throbbed. But he couldn't stop.
He threw a broken piece of furniture through the window. One of the Furiboars charged, slamming into the wall. It shook violently, but didn’t break through.
A plan formed in his mind.
Leon dragged a heavy table toward the window, bracing it as a barrier. Then, from the side, he threw another piece of debris.
The beast slammed into the table. A tusk pierced the wood, just missing Leon.
Before the creature could back away, Leon lunged. He drove the spear through the opening and straight into its eye.
The Furiboar screamed and reared back. But the spear stayed embedded while Leon held on.
The force yanked him through the window and onto the beast’s back. One hand clung to the spear, the other grabbed its ear as the creature bucked and spun, trying to throw him off.
The world blurred. He caught flashes of the golden objective. Then he saw it: another Furiboar charging straight at them.
Leon had no time to react.
The second beast’s tusks slammed into the first one’s neck. Blood sprayed, and Leon was thrown clear, crashing hard onto the road. His shoulder hit first, pain exploding through him.
But he got up.
One arm hung uselessly. His ankle screamed. But he ran.
Behind him, one Furiboar lay dead. The other two had turned their attention back to him and gave chase.
He didn’t look back again. He focused on the glowing column ahead, now growing larger with each painful step.
18:03
His body was wrecked, but his mind was focused. This simulation had taught him something important: direct combat wasn’t his strength. Survival was.
The sounds of pursuit faded as he limped through the ruins, bloodied but alive.
