The southern stronghold...
Godolphen appeared calm as he stepped forward from the company to address Leo. “You know why I’m here, young Seizinger. If you do not wish to die, you will release the prisoners at once.”
Leo’s reply was just as calm. “Of course. We’ll release them... As soon as you abandon this invasion and retreat, that is.”
Godolphen’s eyebrows flew upward. “Oh? Bold words from a mere hatchling... Surely you don’t think you’re capable of defeating me, Leo?”
Leo flashed one of his usual fearless smirks. “Well, I wouldn’t pick a fight with you if I didn’t think I had at least some chance of winning, would I? Godolphen von Vanquish, the Indomitable Sage... Give me your best shot. I won’t be holding back today.”
“Today, you say? Why, it almost sounds as though you have been holding back until now... I imagine Jewelry Reverence’s magic has played some part in your newfound determination?”
Leo shrugged. “Buff spells are useful when you need to conserve your mana, but to be honest, I’m still a long way from being accustomed to them yet. Right now, I’m a lot more powerful without any buffs.” He smiled. “Of course, I don’t usually intend to hold back either, but swordsmanship and magic are taught separately back at the Academy, after all. Here, though... Here, I can finally use them together!” As he finished speaking, Leo swung his double-edged longsword down and smirked as bright red flames erupted along the length of it. Gasps could be heard from among the company.
“What in the world...?” Godolphen muttered unconsciously.
“This? Oh, it’s a spellsword technique—well, according to Allen, anyway. He wouldn’t shut up about learning to use my magic to augment my weapons. Apparently it’s ‘just common sense’ from his point of view. Honestly, I thought it wouldn’t amount to more than a waste of mana, but...” Leo trailed off, readying himself for combat.
Incidentally, Allen’s desire for Leo to learn the so-called spellsword technique was chiefly because the former thought it would look awesome. Actually, it was entirely because he thought it would look awesome.
Godolphen chuckled. “I see... So you’ve already honed your magical manipulation to such an extent that you can treat the blade—mithril, I assume?—as an extension of your own body... I can only imagine how much blood and sweat went into the endeavor. Unfortunately, however, your flashy little party trick—” Godolphen’s robe fluttered as he moved with unnatural speed for a man of his venerable appearance, withdrawing a concealed blade from within his staff, “—won’t work on me!” Godolphen, glaring, settled into a combat-ready position of his own, sword in one hand and staff in the other—and then he moved, striking the ground below with the butt of his staff.
The earth below Leo’s feet surged up like a wave, and he leaped backward, barely dodging the attack. That was only the start, however. Stepping forward, Godolphen repeated the attack a second time, and a third, and a fourth, closing the distance between them with each and every attempt.
“How do you intend to defeat me by retreating, Seizinger?!” Godolphen mocked.
Leo jumped backward once again, this time adopting a thrusting stance in midair. As soon as he hit the ground again, he lunged forward with his blade, despite the ten-meter distance between the pair. It soon made sense why he’d bothered with such an ineffective attack, because the flames along his sword extended as he did so, shooting toward Godolphen with the same speed and power as any of Leo’s usual sword strokes and striking the older man squarely in the chest.
“Guh!”
Having never dueled a spellsword before—considering none existed—it wasn’t surprising that Godolphen hadn’t been able to dodge the attack. He hadn’t expected it in the slightest. Even the most skilled mages needed time to prepare their spells. They needed to gather the mana within their bodies, convert it into an element with which they had affinity, release it outward, and control its trajectory and form. For a talented mage, doing so might only take seconds—but those seconds could be all your opponent needed to evade the spell. But the “spell” component of Leo’s “spellsword” technique had already been cast and therefore hadn’t required any time to prepare.
This advantage, however, was also its weakness. Keeping the spell activated indefinitely would consume an extraordinary amount of mana. Only someone with Leo’s immense magical aptitude could hone the technique to a level usable in actual combat. An ordinary mage would drain their reserves within seconds of casting the spell, making it impossible to even practice the technique, much less master it.
Leo swung his sword again, bringing it down in a swift downward strike that Godolphen only just managed to avoid by throwing himself to the side. He rolled across the dirt before leaping to his feet once more, just in time to see the horizontal wave of flames sweeping toward him. There was no dodging this attack. Doing so would have been impossible. Normally, the longer a blade was, the heavier it got, making it slower and harder to control. However, the addition of a ten-meter flame blade to Leo’s spellsword did nothing to increase its weight. There was no way to dodge such a swing. Of course, the flames lacked the sharpness of a blade, and with his Magic Guard activated, there was no risk that the blow would be fatal to Godolphen.
That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt, though.
Godolphen hissed as the flames washed over him, crossing his arms over his head to avoid the worst of the scorching heat. He pressed on, step after step, but every time he drew closer, Leo slipped away, restoring the gap between them as fast as Godolphen could reduce it. The distinctive smell of something burning wafted over to the nervously watching company.
Godolphen feigned yet another step, then suddenly leaped backward, moving out of the range of Leo’s attacks in an instant. Leo rushed toward him, but Godolphen had already taken advantage of the split-second opening he’d gained to send a towering wall of dirt hurtling toward Leo. By the time the boy had circumnavigated the unexpected earthworks, Godolphen had vanished.
“‘Common sense,’ indeed,” Godolphen grumbled, pinching his nose in a futile attempt to block out the stench of his favorite robe smoldering.