By Zephyria It was an astonishing stratagem. I couldn’t have imagined mana could be used like this. The binding spell, deployed mimicking the defensive spell ‘shield’, looked like a shield but felt entirely different, sticky, with no piercing sensation.
Caught and suspended in mid-air, my toes lifted.
I tried to cut through the bindings with my sword, but it wasn’t easy. Blood rushed to my face,
Gasp, just as my breath grew ragged, the spell suddenly broke.
Without losing my balance, I landed nimbly on the floor. My ragged breaths did not subside. I shook my head back and forth rapidly to clear my mind. My throat felt raw from being choked so hard.
“Edwin Kiadris, one win. No commentary, 1 minute wait, then the match resumes immediately.”
A silent judgment followed. As I raised my head to observe, Edwin Kiadris’s complexion was also pale. I had learned that they looked like that when mana depletion caused the mana conduits of the circle to become unstable.
I hadn’t intended to win by exhausting him, but I felt ashamed for losing due to a tactical defeat.
I stood up and gripped my sword again, adjusting it.
My entire body tingled with heat. I knew now that even if I had attacked first, I wouldn’t have been able to capture him. He also knew that even if I spammed magic, he couldn’t catch me.
I had to see more broadly, understand more deeply.
In the first bout, I had waited for his magic to be fully cast, but in the second sparring match, I did not.
Wherever mana gathered, I planted the blade of my sword and cleaved its core.
He, realizing my ploy, tried to attack from high up, or very low down, or with many attacks at once, but I cut them all down. I charged from one end of the wide space to the other, occupying the areas above and below.
This was the first time since arriving in this land that I had pushed my Eye Force to its limit. I knew my eyes were bloodshot, even without seeing it.
What I cut were ice, fire, and wind. I understood the way those spells were layered. I saw the spells, which had been perched on a sheet of paper, wrap around mana like a skirt hem, singing and merging with each other.
I understood that when that which should be distant draws near, and that which should be near recedes, the incongruous corners of their alignment become strength.
Gasp, I heard him cough lightly.
I cut without stopping, and cut again. The moment the shield that had wrapped around his body shattered with a faint ‘ching’, I propelled myself forward.
It was the path of the Swift Wind, the path of the Heavens. In three steps, I reached the path and swung my body in a wide arc from left to right.
With that, I swung the sword in my hand and brought it down. As I drew it upwards from below, I could see his neck flying off.
“—Michael Ernhardt, one win.”
This time, the signal for immediate match resumption did not fall. Panting, I scanned ahead.
The sharp edge of my sword was touching his thin, white neck. It was bound tightly with Maelo Sanson’s aura.
The boy with the pale face stared at me, his eyes fixed. What I could read in his expression was not fear. It was defiance, anger, excitement… the eyes of a fighter.
I saw blood trickling from the side of his lips. It seemed the circle had been strained by the repeated shattering of magic formulas. I also struggled to catch my breath, but I couldn’t stop my shoulders from heaving slightly. I could hear my own breathing. My body was drenched in sweat.
Sansone released me from the binding, and I sheathed my sword. I retreated two steps again. Silence reigned all around.
“You seem to have sustained internal injuries. Are you sure you don’t need to rest?”
Edwin replied without a word, wiped the blood from his lips with his sleeve, and then set his staff upright in his left hand.
The anger had vanished from the boy’s eyes. Meeting his gaze, now filled with a strong competitive spirit, I also composed myself.
I did not know what would follow that movement, which seemed to connect heaven and earth, but I was wary and angled my sword.
He placed his palm over his hand on his back and spun his staff in a large circle. In just two breaths, heaven and earth were inverted.
It was an astonishing stratagem.
I felt mana, not weight, from the tiles that descended upon me. It was an illusion. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t broken through my Eye Technique. I cut three directions to the east and two to the south.
Again, I heard a cough, and something was shot towards me from Ikyun. I blocked it directly with my sword. This time, the weight was substantial. It was a stone. He threw a stone mixed with fire. I laughed again, seeing it embed itself in the ceiling with a crunch as I deflected it.
This is enjoyable.
I had lamented that my life’s end would be death amidst the endless stream of monsters that kept coming, no matter how much I cut. I had thought death would be the end of my martial path, a desperate death where if I couldn’t sever a head in one strike, they would collide with my torso, trip me, and bite at my legs.
But now, I was alive, cutting through fire and water. As my sword clashed with things that were not swords, producing clear or dull sounds, my fingertips tingled.
I reached out to find where I should extend. I stepped where I could find footing. Yet, my outstretched hand cut through empty air, and the ground I stepped on crumbled away. It was a bizarre technique that no formation in the Central Plains could match, but I saw a way out. I found the most familiar shape among the formulas I knew.
The most important, primary spell that reached the end of all magic.
I found the round, curved form of the Alpha spell and thrust my sword. I recalled the Crimson Gold mana that pierced the middle of the Purification Formula. I cut the point where the spell began to intertwine in the middle section. The more I widened the gap, the more a path opened.
I walked along the path.
My feet felt light, and my shoulders felt heavy. I didn’t know what kind of technique had created the force pressing down on me, but I had run across the training grounds carrying iron since I was young. I could endure it.
Opening the Life Gate of the formation, my extended sword reached the opponent’s Celestial Pillar acupoint (*Adam’s apple).
“…Michael Ernhardt, two wins.”
Edwin Kiadris leaned on his staff and did not open his mouth. The smile that had spread across my lips slowly faded.
The end of a sparring match is respect. He had fought admirably, and so had I. I knew this victory was not because my swordplay or skill was superior, but simply because I had the advantage in terms of stamina and internal energy management.
If I hadn’t possessed the refined internal energy within me and decades of experience fighting day and night without rest, I would have lost this fight.
The two professors gave us ample time to think, to gain something from the sparring match we had just had. I sheathed my sword, and Kiadris lowered his staff.
Our calm gazes met for a long time before he finally spoke.
“I’ll introduce you to a senior I know.”
“Thank you.”
“…How were you able to break only the Alpha spell in that situation?”
“I learned it. It was on the first line of the first page of the handout for the midterm quiz this time.”
“…”
Professor Angela Sting’s expression was even more subtle than Edwin’s.
Professor Sanson, after staring blankly at the scene for a moment, nudged Professor Angela’s elbow and asked if he could also have a copy of that handout.
Regardless of what the professors were discussing, I extended my hand and offered a handshake.
This time, there was a hand to clasp. We held it firmly, shook it up and down, and then released it. It felt strange.
It was a greeting I had never seen in the Central Plains. Now I understood the trust and recognition conveyed by a gesture that could immediately grasp the opponent’s pulse.
Hesitating whether to speak or not, I leaned in slightly and whispered in a very small voice.
“But it’s too difficult, so I’m thinking of dropping magic classes starting next semester.”
“…How about fighting one more time later?”
“I’d like that.”
Only then did he chuckle. Only then did I truly realize the sparring match was over.
I thought everyone had watched in silence because no sound could be heard during the match, but I later learned that Professor Angela Sting had erected a soundproofing barrier.
Upon leaving the defensive barrier, the noisy Swordsmanship Department students surrounded me.
They looked like they wanted to lift me up and give me a celebratory toss, but Professor Maelo Sanson intervened, saying it wasn’t proper.
Among the Swordsmanship Department students, I heard Professor Sanson explaining in detail the transitions between moves, the methods used to break magic spells, and so on.
Hands kept messing with my hair, and I didn’t like my sweat-soaked strands sticking out, so I pulled back.
Edwin Kiadris also melted into the crowd of Magic Department students.
Even I felt his studies were not shallow, but it seemed the Magic Department students found them astonishing.
I overheard them chattering about how he could cast the Ice Spear spell fifteen times in 1.2 seconds, whether he had overlaid illusion magic to create the adhesive skill in the shape of a shield, or if it was a physical manifestation, and whether these spells were practiced beforehand or devised on the spot.
As I peeked at the scene, Professor Douglas Mustang led me somewhere. I followed obediently, blending into the unfamiliar crowd of old wizards.
I acted like a child, bowing politely. They spoke in a language I couldn’t understand…
No, it was clearly Shierran language, but it didn’t feel like Shierran. Whenever they asked me questions, I pondered what thoughts had unconsciously crossed my mind before deploying a move, and repeated the process several times.
It was then that I received a business card for the first time. It was a neat and presentable rectangle with a name and contact information.
They said everyone in business had one, so I thought I should have one too after graduation.
Professor Maelo Sanson rescued me from being paraded from one wizard to another, demonstrating various things.
Having received all their business cards, I had nothing to lose and followed along obediently.
My body felt drained of energy, having used up nearly half the internal energy I had accumulated over half a lifetime. It was only when I saw Sanson’s face that I started to smile again.
“Happy?”
“Yes, it’s fun. It was more enjoyable than I expected.”
“You’re quite something, truly something.”
“I’m not complacent. I was lucky this time. I know I wouldn’t have been able to do it if Young Master Kiadris’s spell deployment speed had been even slightly faster, or if his stamina had been a little better.”
“Edwin Kiadris is a genius when it comes to spell deployment speed. As for stamina… it’s a chronic ailment of desk-bound wizards, so we can let that slide. You did exceptionally well, Michael Ernhardt.”
“…Yes.”
Praise from a Martial artist of Hwagyeong always felt sweet.
I asked about a few situations during the sparring match, wondering what would have happened if I had used some of the sword forms I learned later, instead of the Changcheon Muae Sword style. It was a late regret that I hadn’t been able to fully unleash the sword forms I wanted to try, as my body had naturally moved according to habit in urgent situations.
We parted ways, agreeing to discuss the details in advanced swordsmanship class.
That evening, the first-year male dormitory cafeteria was bustling with seniors and friends from the advanced swordsmanship class who had gathered to celebrate.
One of the seniors brought out a pretty bottle, saying it was a drink for celebrations.
After taking a sip, I found it surprisingly delicious, sweet yet slightly bitter. It was a drink I had never tasted in the Central Plains, so I took another sip and asked about it. They told me it was a Shierran traditional drink, made by boiling grape juice with cinnamon and several other spices, then chilled.
Its taste was sweet and rich, and it suited my palate well.