I Summon Female Knights

The first fifteen minutes were a brutal lesson in mental endurance.

Maintaining the Sovereign’s Veil wasn’t like flexing a muscle; it was like holding a handful of liquid mercury. The moment Raphael’s concentration wavered- even for a fraction of a second- the silvery-violet light coating his skin flickered violently and collapsed.

Every time the energy snapped back into his chest, a wave of profound fatigue washed over him, making his knees tremble against the cold, seamless black glass floor.

”You are dispersing the current,” Vanessa warned from above. She floated near her illuminated pedestal, her dark relic-staff hovering effortlessly beside her as her cold violet eyes observed his struggle.

”You treat the authority as armor to be worn over your skin like a heavy cloak. It is not armor, Raphael. It is a refinement of your motor functions. By spreading it thin across your entire frame, you waste precious energy on areas that require no reinforcement.”

Raphael stood in the center of the vast, echoing sanctuary, sweat dripping off his chin and splashing onto the dark, reflective surface beneath his boots. His chest heaved, his breathing ragged and uneven.

The physical ache from his evening sparring session with Elena was still very real, but this internal drain was far worse. It felt as though his very soul were being siphoned through a tiny straw.

He closed his eyes, forcing his mind to go completely still. He ignored the burning in his lungs and the leaden weight in his thighs, reaching back toward the cold, dormant thread of energy anchored deep within his chest- the subtle tether binding his soul to the massive obsidian throne at the top of the marble dais.

’Don’t spread it over my whole body,’ he realized, recalling how his stamina plummeted whenever he tried to coat himself entirely. ’Keep it local. Compress it.’

Instead of forcing the mana across his entire chest, back, and torso, Raphael drew the cold violet current downward through his shoulders, channeling it strictly into his forearms, hands, and calves.

He envisioned the energy wrapping tightly around his muscle fibers, locking into his nervous system like a precision harness rather than a broad shield.

Slowly, the overflowing aura snapped back toward his body. A micro-thin, almost invisible layer of shimmering violet light materialized, clinging like a second skin to his arms and legs.

The change was immediate and profound. The oppressive weight crushing his body lifted in an instant. The rapid, terrifying drain on his stamina slowed from a torrential flood to a manageable, steady trickle.

He could feel every tendon in his forearms pulsing with condensed power, while his legs felt light, spring-loaded, and utterly responsive.

”Narrowing the focus,” Vanessa noted from the air, her silk-like voice dropping its usual biting edge. ”A necessary adaptation for a frail vessel. You have stopped leaking your authority into the empty air.”

Raphael opened his eyes. The world around him seemed to slow down by a noticeable fraction. His vision was hyper-focused; he could see the tiny, intricate cracks in the distant obsidian pillars and hear the subtle, rhythmic pulse of the mana veins beneath the floorboards of the hall.

He looked toward a heavy piece of shattered stone lying near the base of a nearby pillar- a jagged piece of masonry left behind from his first chaotic entrance into the sanctuary.

Raphael stepped forward. His footwork was smooth, balanced, and remarkably silent. Guided by the footwork principles Elena had beaten into his body earlier that evening, he pivoted his hips, shifted his weight seamlessly, and drove his right fist straight into the dense rock.

CRACK.

The micro-thin layer of violet mana flared brilliantly upon the instant of impact. The heavy stone fractured instantly into three distinct pieces, the force of the strike echoing through the cavernous hall like a small detonation.

Raphael recoiled, reflexively bracing for the bone-deep vibration that should have shattered his knuckles or sprained his wrist, but the pain never came. The condensed Veil had completely absorbed and redistributed the kinetic recoil, protecting his flesh from the force he had just unleashed. His hand didn’t even throb.

”Increased physical impact and kinetic dampening,” Raphael muttered, pulling his hand back and staring at his uninjured, glowing knuckles in genuine awe. ”It amplifies my hit without breaking my bones... It turns my baseline strength into something lethal.”

”Do not grow arrogant over a shattered rock,” Vanessa said, her voice cutting through his brief moment of satisfaction. She raised a single slender hand, her dark sleeves falling back to reveal pale skin.

”Impact is meaningless if you cannot deliver it under pressure.”

Without further warning, she flicked her fingers.

Three condensed beads of pure purple energy materialized in the air and shot toward him in rapid succession, zipping through the twilight atmosphere like lethal, humming projectiles.

Guided by the heightened perception of his mana-infused calves and forearms, Raphael didn’t freeze or panic. He pushed off the black glass floor with explosive force, his movement far sharper and faster than his natural human limits allowed.

He blurred to the left, ducking beneath the first orb as it whistled past his ear. He brought his right arm up, using his mana-coated forearm to parry the second orb, sending the energy projectile harmlessly ricocheting into the dark ceiling, and pivoted cleanly on his back heel to let the third orb strike the floor behind him with a sharp hiss.

He landed firmly in a stable, low guard, his feet planted, the micro-thin layer of violet mana still clinging steadily to his limbs.

A dull, thrumming ache immediately blossomed deep within his core, warning him that his internal energy reserves were running precariously low. The technique was remarkably potent, but his current capacity meant he could only sustain it in short, tactical bursts. It was a tool for decisive encounters, not prolonged wars of attrition.

Raphael took a deep, steadying breath, his eyes fixed firmly on the floating Saintess.

”I can hold it,” Raphael said, his voice quiet, determined, and entirely devoid of his earlier civilian doubt. ”I know how to channel it now.”

Vanessa looked down at him, her violet eyes reflecting the faint, shimmering light wrapping his fists. For the first time since he had summoned her, she offered no sharp critique or dismissive insult. She simply raised her relic-staff once more, allowing its tip to hum with ready power.

”Then let us see how long your fragile will can endure,” she said softly.

Raphael tightened his fists, feeling the cold, empowering bite of the Veil pulsing against his skin as he prepared for the next wave.