Just a few minutes prior, an equally fierce battle was unfolding. The forest was shrouded in a noxious mist, and it rushed at Wil as if it had a mind of its own.
“Huh, I should have expected nothing less of the previous Demon King’s right-hand man. It’d be hard to counter this with anything but wind magic, wouldn’t it?” asked Wil, nonchalantly sidestepping the mist as if he hadn’t a single care in the world.
To be accurate, though, the mist had grazed Wil. He simply wasn’t injured by it.
Mischel summoned a multitude of various miasmas to attack Wil, but Wil just dodged them, looking completely disinterested. Mischel was vexed, though he didn’t panic either. The reason for that was simple. “Why do you dodge? No, I suppose it doesn’t work against you at all, does it? Well, I see my first order of business is figuring out why. But while I may not know that, I do know one thing. You specialize in defense, which makes your offenses weak, no?” asked Mischel with utter confidence.
The basis of his conclusion lay in the fact that Wil had yet to attack despite his overwhelming advantage. He had simply been avoiding the mist, not fighting against it.
Of course, Mischel had considered that might be a ploy, but he simply couldn’t see any pros in employing such a strategy. Defeating Mischel was Wil’s best course of action, clearly. Yet, he hadn’t done so. Thus, Mischel had concluded that Wil wasn’t just trying to buy time, but that it was all he could do.
“Good job, you’ve got it exactly right. Unfortunately, I have no means of attack.”
“So, I was correct. Then answer this: Is the potion you just drank the key to nullifying my poison? You have no need to dodge, yet you do so anyway, and always at a regular interval. This is just my theory, but you’re using that timing to secretly drink your potions right before the effect wears off, aren’t you?” Despite claiming this was just a theory, Mischel again brimmed with confidence.
Realizing lying would be useless, Wil gave up on the idea. “Right again. You’re quite observant, I see.”
Put simply, Wil’s battle techniques relied on using potions and magical items to fight battles of attrition—in other words, to focus solely on defense, and his greatest defensive trick of them all was his ability to nullify magic. By consuming his specialty-made potions, he could break magic back down into mana right before he came in contact with the spell. These potions’ weaknesses, however, lay in the fact they could only nullify limited types of magic, and that he had to correctly determine a spell’s affinity and drink the corresponding potion to produce this effect. Additionally, he could drink another nullification potion to switch which affinities he was immune to, but not become immune to two affinities at once.
Up until this moment, Wil had simply been drinking the right potions in advance. He had no nullification powers himself. It was also worth mentioning that it was thanks to a potion that completely concealed his mana signal that he hadn’t been detected earlier. Through the use of various potions, Wil deprived his enemies of any means to attack—that was his fighting style.
“I suppose that puts me in a pinch, huh?” However, Wil remained calm. That was because he had figured out that Mischel lacked any means to attack himself. They were equally matched, and neither had the power to take down the other.
There would be no game-winning blows to this battle, which meant one thing: Whoever completely figured out the other first would prove victorious in the end. Trump cards had to be used only at the best of timings. That was the incredibly simple gamble that played out between them.
“So, how are you going to corner me? I’m happy enough just keeping you preoccupied.” Wil determined there was no need to go out of his way to attack. Instead, he’d wait for the right timing while fundamentally focusing on defense.
Mischel, meanwhile, had the exact same thought. He had only been asked to aid Grist, which meant there was no need to put any extra work into this job. He didn’t serve the current Demon King, and he had no particular allegiances to the king either. Grist could just do all the hard work, and if he were going to lose, Mischel could just retreat. All he wanted was the reward Grist had promised.
“Well, I simply have no need to risk my life, you see.”
The two fought carefully, keeping a watchful eye on the other. That’s when a blast of wind and gigantic boom assaulted them. It had come from the forest, right where Lloyd and his party were fighting.
The strong blast forced the trees to creak and sway. It also pulled the hood off of Wil’s head, revealing his face.
“This must mean...” That blast was enough for Mischel to know Grist was cornered. This was the secret trump card he had divulged—a mana explosion. While Mischel didn’t think Grist would lose this battle, he knew that even the Fiend would have a hard time fighting a party of S-rank adventurers and Hero at once.
“I guess that means an end to my dawdling...” Meanwhile, the blast had inspired some panic in Wil, who knew perfectly well how irregularly strong Lloyd’s supporter skills were. There could only be a few supporters on the continent who exceeded his talents—perhaps not any. After all, he had been raised by Merlin, the strongest, most knowledgeable mage Wil knew. With the strongest, evilest Hero fighting by his side, Wil was quite confident they wouldn’t just win, they wouldn’t even struggle.
However, Grist apparently had been holding back something as well. Given the size of that blast, it was clear its force was far from normal. “I suppose I may have underestimated the Four Fiends,” said Wil, regretting his naivety. He could no longer afford to just buy time.
Wil had means to attack, an ace up his sleeve only he could use. But utilizing this trick would mean revealing himself as the Phantom Alchemist. Mischel had been the previous Demon King’s retainer, and while they had never directly fought before, he would have certainly known of Wil. Luckily, Mischel had yet to notice. But using this trump card—especially given the unique fighting style he employed—would make his identity glaringly obvious. It would mean employing the proper noun of “Phantom Alchemist,” after all.
Officially, he was dead, which made him a free soul who could work as he pleased. Revealing his identity had no merit for him—it’d only put him in the crosshairs. Clearly, there were many more cons.
“Hmm. Quite honestly, I didn’t intend to reveal myself here.” Plus, Mischel had seemed to think he had the upper hand, but he was now clearly panicked. Wil wasn’t sure why, but he had to have some reason for that. He was likely about to unleash his full power, which meant it was no time to keep careful hold of his own. “But I suppose I have no choice.”
Yes, this was simply what he had to do—that was the conclusion Wil had reached. “It’s time I used my own trump card,” he said, activating storage magic. With a multitude of colorful potions now at hand, he took up a fighting stance.