I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. Tanks had a secret ability—by dispersing a ranged attack and carefully controlling the direction of scattering, they could use that attack as a shield. Its common name was Reflection, and it was a defensive miracle that seasoned tanks who put in unrelenting effort only rarely pulled off.
Yet, the five before me had just managed it. I was almost entranced, but I managed to keep myself together. I sent a transmission to the rear unit. The [Eisspeer] had hit straight into their target.
‹Rear unit, prepare for a second attack! Begin the enchantment!›
I adjusted our formation and had them move into a second attack. The dust cleared, revealing the wyvern.
It had collapsed, but was desperately attempting to get back to its feet. Its countless eyes darted around the room in a panic, though it had maintained enough composure to gather information.
This was bad. It was practically uninjured. Maybe the attack had only done damage to its insides; it likely had some sort of anti-magic something on its skin. Pushing through was an option, but one that would come with pointless risk.
‹Rear unit, stop your chants! The wyvern is an unusual type! Prepare to retreat! I’ll step in myself.›
I unsheathed my sword. Times like this called for the type of warriors who had been granted unnecessary nicknames. My strength suited the vanguard, though the others always got mad at me for using it.
While the others retreated and took up a new formation, I rushed toward the wyvern. I couldn’t defeat it alone, but I could safely buy us some time.
Just as that thought occurred to me, I remembered the Reflection skill I had just witnessed. Those in Nachtlibelle were the cream of the crop, but could all five of them simultaneously pull off such a miracle? Could a feat that exceeded their usual capacities have occurred today out of pure coincidence?
I didn’t think so. A miracle was a miracle, but multiple ones only happened when it was inevitable. There must have been a reason for it, but what?
That was obvious—it was Wim. I was listening in on the discussions between the shield unit, and his granting magic was unique in more ways than how he just bestowed magical buffs.
I sent a transmission to Wim. ‹Boy! Could you cast a buff on me?›
‹Camilla?! I-is this a personal transmission?! O-oh, right! But um, what?›
‹Strengthen my attacks. You’re familiar with my sword, yes?›
‹I am! But…›
‹I’ll adjust most of my senses myself.›
✦ ✦ ✦
Just as I was marveling at how Camilla had immediately realized there was something special about this wyvern and ordered her party to retreat, I was shocked by the news that Camilla would be heading into the vanguard herself—and she had asked me to cast some buffs on her.
She sure was a fiend for battle. I guess that’s what made her the leader of Nachtlibelle, this “silver-haired” Camilla.
‹Wim. How much can you raise my abilities using your strongest buffs?›
‹Um, it’s hard to say for sure, but if we’re considering impulse, I should be able to raise it to about three times your normal capabilities, considering everything.›
‹That much? No, I’m sure you could manage even more.›
‹What was that?›
‹You have a habit of emphasizing safety more than is necessary. If you raised the risk, you’d be able to strengthen me even further, right?›
‹No! No, no, no, no, no!›
What the hell was she thinking? How could I cast a buff that could fail on the party leader? I couldn’t take on that responsibility!
‹Don’t be so negative. No, I guess that’s just how you are. Then what about 5 percent?›
‹Five percent?›
‹A 5 percent risk. If I allowed a 5 percent risk of failure, how much stronger could you make me?›
‹Probably…around ten times, I guess. No, but I can’t cast a buff like that!›
A success rate of 95 percent was way too low! I couldn’t allow that!
‹Show me that you can take that risk! And don’t worry! Those of us in Nachtlibelle won’t blame you for something so minor!›
“No! I can’t take on that responsibility!” I shouted, cutting off the transmission.
‹Did you say something?›
‹N-no…›
‹Aha ha! I, Camilla, grant the support caster, Wim, to use his buffs on me!›
This woman was crazy.
‹This isn’t my fault!›
“[Analyze,]” I said, beginning my symbolic chant as if I had accepted that this would be my fault.
Chants were how magic was cast, and symbolic chants were just one type. The more advanced a spell was, the longer and more complicated the chant. You could, however, use magic that quickened those chants and make a long chant shorter. These shortening spells came in a variety of types, each one complicated in its own right.
Symbolic chants involved cutting a long chant into individual lines and assigning a tag to them. A written record of those tags could then be read aloud, and would serve in place of a longer chant. This was what defined the symbolic chants.
I analyzed Camilla’s body. Her physique was crazy. It went beyond having just the anatomy of a man or a woman—her build was beyond human. I pinpointed her joints, using their minor displacement to determine her center of gravity, calculate fulcrums, stress points, and points of action.
“[Bauen!]”
I created buff codes to cast on each of her muscles. Obviously, I needed to adjust them as time went on, so I established a path between us as well.
This was what set my granting magic apart from others. Usually, support casters granted buffs with a time limit and left them alone after that. I could use similar magic to some extent, but given my low MP, I would reach my limit after granting just a few buffs. If I tried to add an elemental attribute, I would run out after one spell.
So, I needed to develop new buffs that maximized their effectiveness. I divided them into further categories, casting the most apt one on as few places as needed for as short a time as possible.
I finished my preparations, the path connected.
‹Camilla! You’re enchanted now.›
‹I can tell!›
Camilla was engulfed in a pale light. The buff had been cast.
She unsheathed her sword and held out her right hand, grasping the sword’s unnaturally long hilt with both hands. It was a magic sword, and she had been chosen by it. The blade reacted to her unique magic to grow in size. Its name was “Decapitator.”
She targeted the collapsed wyvern, sprinting to pick up some momentum, and lifted her sword high to the sky as she leaped into the air. Jumping caused her entire body to flex, but her next movements would pull her agonist and auxiliary muscles in opposite directions. So, I reversed some of the codes and slightly adjusted the rest, giving these orders via the path between us.
The codes were established. Now, I just needed to stay focused until she was done, to avoid being a nuisance. The rest was up to her.
“[Multiply.]”
At her command, the Decapitator’s blade began to grow. Based on what I could see, it seemed to expand to about twice its size. Once her blade reached its zenith, she flung it downwards. It grew to four times its size, then eight, then sixteen. It was enough to warp one’s sense of perspective, but she made her attack look effortless.
These were the depths her blade magic had, an anomaly that kept her velocity stable, while only increasing its mass.
“[Giant Hunter!]”
Her ginormous blade cut into the wyvern as if its skin didn’t protect at all. She gracefully landed on the ground, and Decapitator returned to its usual size, the extra mass disappearing into thin air. Her steps echoed through the walls as she cautiously examined the wyvern’s corpse.
‹Boy.›
‹That was magnificent, Camilla!›
‹Thanks. Your buffs were excellent.›
‹Th-thank you.›
Camilla looked through the monster’s corpse thoroughly before finally turning back to us.
‹By the way, Wim. I didn’t bother to ask, but what would have happened should your buffs have failed? What side effects could I expect?›
‹Oh, um… Well, if we’re talking about the risk that entailed, your brain and body could have fallen out of sync if my buffs were off. It’d be uncomfortable, and if I messed up even more, then, um…your muscles could have snapped.›
‹Sounds painful. But how painful? Like tearing a muscle?›
‹It would be as painful, yes.›
‹Really painful? You wouldn’t actually be injured?›