The Kingdom of Milestia, as a whole, considered magic to be inherently superior to all other forms of combat. Most adventurers had no knowledge of magic whatsoever, and thus did not occupy a particularly favorable position in this society regardless of their other talents. Naturally, the majority of truly great adventurers tended to leave the kingdom for greener pastures. In other words, the only adventurers that remained in Gilbadia were A rank and below.
“Whoa,” someone muttered.
To the crowd of low-ranking adventurers on the ground, Luke’s battle against the ice dragon seemed like something out of a picture book. It was impossible, almost unreal, and yet it was unfolding right there before their eyes. A-rank adventurers were part of an elite class—the best of the best—and not one person in the crowd was deluded enough to believe themselves strong enough to join the battle. Only the truly chosen would be capable of that, the heroic S-rank and X-rank adventurers who stood above even them in the rankings.
They stood on a battlefield, but most in the crowd had lowered their swords. They knew that they had to be ready to move at any time, yet they were completely entranced by the duel above them.
“Luke…just how powerful are you?”
Abel gazed up with the rest of the awestruck crowd.
A single thought filled his mind: Incredible.
It would have been completely natural for him to think, I wish I could be like him someday, but Abel found he couldn’t quite get there. Instead, he landed on an adjacent feeling.
I’ll never be like Luke.
The only confidence remaining within him was the feeling of assurance that he would never approach Luke’s level. He didn’t give up, however. As expected of the main character, he was fully determined to walk his own path.
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He’s so far ahead of me, I can’t even see the distance that lies between us…but…I want to catch up someday. No matter how long it takes, I’m sure eventually I’ll b—
Abel’s introspection was suddenly and unexpectedly interrupted. With the terrible monster, fierce battle, and the ever-present looming threat of death, the crowd was very quiet and subdued. Hardly anyone broke ranks. No one, that is, except for one man.
“Maaarvelous!!”
A scream of crazed joy erupted from somewhere near Abel, and everyone in the crowd turned their heads to find its source. It didn’t take long for them to find it.
As it turned out, the cry had come from a man standing atop a nearby stone tower. It was Alfred, of course, ecstatically watching the show. Claude stood by his side, simply because he was too stubborn to evacuate. Together, the two of them were watching over Luke’s fight from higher ground.
“…Hm? Alfred, what has gotten into y—”
“Maaaaster!! Did you see that blow, perchance?! Ah, truly, he has ascended into the realm of the gods!!” wailed Alfred. “Reached heights I could never summit!!”
Claude blinked. He was suddenly confronted with the fact that, despite Alfred’s many years of service, it turned out that he knew nothing about the man.
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Most magic spells required the caster to make split-second decisions regarding how to divvy up their limited mana—to either make their spell strong, or to make it fast. Most performed this balancing act without much thought and subconsciously selected the ratio between speed and power that they wished for. Luke had learned about this fact during his studies at Aslan Magic Academy, but it really didn’t apply to him. In his case, he could control the balance completely at will. This skill was not something he acquired through practice. Luke could do just about anything he wanted to with magic and had been like that right from the start. Nobody had to teach him, as, to Luke, magic was as easy as breathing—and that was what made it feel so boring.
Luke’s new spell, Wings of Darkness, was an adaptation of Flight magic that was drastically improved by his Dark mana. Every flap of his black wings absorbed mana from the air and turned that into speed. This allowed him to move faster than any other Flight magic spell would permit—at such speeds that not even a dragon, lord of the sky, could keep track of him in the air.
“Stay still! Augh!”
Luke dodged the ice dragon’s bite easily. He slashed at it with his fearsome wings as he soared past, but his attacks had barely any effect. No matter how many times he cut at the dragon, the damage was minimal due to its high resistances and tough hide.
I could use Dark Gluttony…but, well…
That fearsome spell was the greatest that Luke currently had in his repertoire. It was an adaptation of his Dark magic’s ability to absorb mana that allowed him to swallow physical matter whole.
But the spell’s still in development… I don’t know what kind of toll it would take on my body to cast it now.
In any case, I’m not using magic to settle this. I’m going to cut this thing down. I’ve already seen through this damn dragon’s movements. They’re so predictable and dull… I suppose this is just another monster, at the end of the day.
Luke had no intention of using Dark Gluttony during their fight. He would make the mysterious power within his sword his own—a power which was not mana at all—and cut down the ice dragon with it. That, he resolved, was what he had to do.
He remembered his training with Alfred, the days he spent practicing his swing at Aslan Magic Academy, the time he had tested his blade at the blacksmith’s shop. Slowly, what had once been a vague, fuzzy feeling rose into sharp focus as he exchanged blows with the ice dragon.
It would be a wasted opportunity to end this with magic.
Luke had overcome all his previous trials without this unknown power. Every one of them had been so easy that he hadn’t even needed to consider it. Yet now he found himself faced with a truly powerful foe whom he could not slice through. He handled the ice dragon’s clawing, biting, and breath attacks with his sword. As the fight progressed, blow by blow, he felt the power slowly become his own, and a sort of realization washed over him.
“Ah. So this is what it is, then?”
The time was right. Luke didn’t understand the root of that unknown power within him, but his monstrous talent allowed him to wield it anyway. The power was a “warrior’s magic” of sorts—and that, Luke decided, was all he needed to know about the ability for the time being. He quickly shifted gears and focused all of his attention on the sword in his hands, which then began to glow with light.
“Slash.”
Fresh red blood came spurting from the ice dragon’s tough hide. It was more blood than their fight had produced up until that point.
“Graaaaaaah!”
“Mwa ha ha…ah ha ha ha!! Brilliant! I like it!!”
Once Luke had a hold of the sensation, it quickly felt like it was a part of him.
“More!” he laughed, focusing power into his sword again. “I can do more!!”
What would have taken any normal person years upon years of training to master, Luke surpassed in an instant—he could not help but do so.
“Double Slash! Triple Slash!”
“Graaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!”
A two-hit combination, then three, swinging with divine speed. The ice dragon fell to the ground, writhing in intense pain—a sensation it hadn’t felt for almost two centuries. Luke laughed as the blood spatter hit him and appeared to truly be enjoying himself.
“Ah ha ha ha!! So then, what’s next?! Hm?! Why don’t I try mixing things up?”
Luke focused light into his sword again—but this time, something was clearly different. The Dark mana in his sword enveloped the light, dying his blade jet black.
“Dark Slash.”
Luke fired off the attack with ease, as if it weren’t an incredibly complex and advanced technique that probably should have been beyond his understanding. The ice dragon instinctively and immediately knew that the incoming attack was trouble, but it was all too late.
“Graaaaaaaaaaaah!!”
The ice dragon let out a wretched screech as its body was assaulted by an intense pain—far, far worse than the hurt of the initial blow had been. A vision of death lingered in its mind, clear and ever present. As the dragon’s consciousness flickered and faded, it saw something it did not think possible—an even greater, even more terrible power gathering strength in Luke’s sword.