“That sure sent us flying, eh?” Zelos said.
“How’d we even survive?” Ado replied. “Like...that kinda thing’d usually kill someone, right?”
“It’s not the first time, but I still can’t believe how tough my body is here. We’re practically superhumans, don’t you think?”
Zelos and Ado couldn’t hide their shock—they’d been hit by an attack that could kill a regular person a hundred times over, and here they were, still alive. People who’d unlocked Zenith Breaker seemed to be on a whole other playing field from everyone else.
By this point, the Sages had experienced so many things against their standards of common sense that they were on the verge of giving up on even trying to understand it all. What use was common sense, they thought, in a world where levels meant so much?
Between their monstrous physical strength and immense pools of mana, they were weapons of mass destruction in this world.
“For example,” Zelos said, “if the average person in this world did just a bit of leveling up, they’d be able to win a gold medal back on Earth. And then you have us. We’re probably on par with nuclear weapons, wouldn’t you think? That’d make the average mage here about the same as...hmm, well, about as strong as an Aegis battleship?”
“What kind of comparison is that?” Ado laughed. “Who are you—Jack Rakan? Are you saying that even regular people here are crazy strong?”
“There are races here who can fight head-to-head with dragons, remember? One thing’s for sure, at least: Earth’s version of common sense means nothing here. I’d say this world’s knights could take down a whole nation’s army back on Earth, and it wouldn’t be particularly close.”
“I guess. Actually, wouldn’t Earth’s laws of physics mean that magic would just keep growing stronger and stronger? I can see a big magic battle on Earth turning into, like, some kind of world-ending event...”
“Mm-hmm. I’d assume anything that instantaneously changes the properties of matter—like attack magic, for example—would be incredibly dangerous to use. Especially if you added a formula for a nuclear explosion to the Explode spell... That’d be no joke. It’d consume a crazy amount of mana, though, so it wouldn’t be practical. Spells like that are nowhere near as efficient as self-sustaining magic.”
“Huh. Didn’t know that.”
As a general rule, an attack spell’s potency depended on the complexity of its formula and the caster’s mana supply. Generating enough power to rival a nuclear explosion would consume an enormous amount of mana, so almost nobody possessed the mana required to activate spells like that, let alone make them actually function. Only something like a demon dragon ruler could possibly have enough energy. Even then, the sheer scale of the formula required would fill so much of that creature’s subconscious that they wouldn’t have any room left to learn other spells, turning them into the ultimate one-trick pony.
Nobody in this world could use magic like that, even if they supplemented their mana with nature’s. Zelos and Ado were just the exceptions that proved the rule.
On the other hand, the “self-sustaining magic” Zelos had mentioned was typically installed into defensive locations like castles or forts. It powered its formulas by drawing mana from nature.
Such magic was semipermanent, but inscribing the necessary formulas onto buildings or other spots was time-consuming. Plus, a huge amount of mana was required for its initial activation before it could begin sustaining itself. And with humans having nowhere near enough mana to do so, people nowadays only saw such magic in ancient ruins.
For example, if mages wanted to bolster the defense of a fort’s walls with self-sustaining strengthening magic, they’d need to incorporate it into the fort’s design while the fort was being built. Plus, activating up the formula would require some sort of artificial aid—or mechanical aid, perhaps.
Nowadays, it was next to impossible to install self-sustaining magic formulas. Researchers were working on the subject, but they had yet to reach a full understanding. After all, mage society had lost the knowledge of how to harness nature’s mana.
By the way, the wide-area annihilation spell that the Wiesler mages had been devoting so many resources to research fell under this category. The formula for that spell took up about as much space as the Colosseum.
Of course, no human could ever activate something like that by themselves.
“H-Hang on a second! Zelos? That Gluttonous Void spell we use—that’s annihilation magic, yeah? If humans from this world can’t use annihilation magic, then how are we able to use it?”
“Well, we are kind of inhuman, aren’t we? By the standards of this fantasy world, we’re something like disciples of the gods, right? We were sent to this world by gods from another one, after all.”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that. And... I dunno if I’m just imagining it, but I feel like I might’ve also gotten a little smarter since I arrived in this world.”
“No, you’re not just imagining it. Have you looked at your Intelligence stat recently? Personally, I’ve been scared to look at mine ever since I got here, but if our stats are the same as they were in Swords & Sorceries, then wouldn’t our INT be high enough to make this world’s geniuses cry out of frustration?”
“Uh, I don’t feel like I’ve gotten that much smarter...”
“Remember, the game did treat Intelligence as a yardstick of how your ability to memorize and control massive spell formulas, so I’d assume something similar would be the case here too. And even if that’s all it is, that’s more than enough to make us loose cannons in this world.”
“Yikes...”
“Vast reserves of mana, superhuman strength... Mwah hah hah. We could be whatever we want here—gods, demons...”
Zelos had checked some of his stats—just his HP, his MP, and his skills, for the most part—but he had yet to confirm the rest.
His good sense had made him hesitate.
He already had so many maxed-out skills that he struggled to use them all. His physical strength alone was higher than he knew what to do with.
It wasn’t like he’d compared his stats with the inhabitants of this world, but going about his day-to-day life had made him fully aware of what an abnormality he was. If he actually did compare stats with anyone—if he forced himself to confront the extent of his own nature—he risked never being able to recover.
He wanted to keep believing he was human.
“I, uh... I hadn’t thought about it that deeply before.”
“Speaking of which, my dear Ado, let me ask: You haven’t been making any magic tools that people here might see as artifacts, have you? Because if you have, let me tell you: It’d be incredibly dangerous. You’d risk changing the face of war in this world completely.”
“N-Ngh! I’ll... I’ll watch out.”
Ado had, in fact, been creating some absurd magic tools and substances—not that he’d tell Zelos about them.
Worse, he’d even tried to kill Zelos at one point. If Zelos found out about that, there was no doubt that Ado would receive a punishment so horrific that he’d pray for death. And knowing that, Ado fully intended to take that knowledge to the grave.
“A-Anyway... We should get going. No point standing around in this wasteland forever, right? Plus, the others are waiting.”
“Mmm... Yeah, sure. I don’t see any signs of the givleon now, and as for the goddesses... Well, it’s just my intuition, but I think they’re still alive. It’s all a little murky, but I’d say we achieved what we came here to do, so let’s hurry up and get back.”
“Oh—and you did say you’d tell me where Yui is, remember? I helped you, like you asked. Now it’s your turn.”
“Yes, yes. I’m a man of my word.”
Despite an unexpected intrusion, they had fought the great givleon. Ignoring the fact that it had ultimately blown them up, it seemed the danger had passed for now.
Zelos and Ado made their way back to the fortified city of Slaiste—after stocking up on a truckload of magic stones, of course...