Magic knights like Godolphen—rare as they were—fought with a mixture of physical and magical attacks. However, the two methods remained fundamentally separate, meaning that a magic knight would swap from one to the other throughout combat, interweaving them into a deadly and nigh undefeatable combination. But Leo’s spellsword technique was a true combination of the two methods. His sword was his magic, and his magic was his sword. Unlike a magic knight, a spellsword—which Leo seemed to be well on the way to becoming—could hone either discipline to strengthen the whole technique.
It was illogical. Irrational. No sensible person would even dream up the concept of such a technique, let alone put it into practice. The unavoidable demand on one’s mana would be enough to scare most people off the thought, and the grueling effort required to get such a technique to activate—let alone to sustain it—would frighten some sense into the rest. Mana was one’s most precious resource. Even those without an elemental affinity used Strengthening Magic on a daily basis, enhancing their physical abilities in combat, work, or even just when walking from one place to the next. Managing one’s mana reserves was regarded as just as important as managing sleep or nutrition—more important, in fact. It was, as one might say, just common sense.
Not to Allen, however. The boy’s version of “common sense” seemed to defy all accepted reason, as though it had come from another world entirely—
“Even a man can slay a giant, with the right weapon.”
That’s what Allen had said to Leo all those months ago. Everyone needed a trick up their sleeve, something to pull out as a last resort when faced with a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. When the moment came, you played your trump card and gave it everything you had. At the time, Leo hadn’t thought much of the saying, nor the whole “spellsword” idea in general. But by that point, he understood that Allen’s stubborn insistence always had a purpose, and whenever his classmate clung to one of his whims, the results, though outrageous, were always invaluable.
In reality, when Allen had approached him, he’d only been able to describe the image he had in mind for a “spellsword,” rather than possessing any actual suggestions of how such a technique would work or the benefits and detriments of using it. Naturally, Leo hadn’t immediately jumped at such a vague opportunity, but Allen could be oddly convincing at times. When Leo had questioned the need for Allen’s proposed technique, his classmate had replied, “Well, because it’s awesome.”
“If I could use Emissive Magic, I’d be practicing all day long to become a spellsword! Who cares if it’ll be efficient or not? Where’s your sense of adventure, Leo? Sure, it’ll be a little difficult to master, but I wanna see you swinging around a flaming sword! You’ve got plenty of mana to spare anyway, right? Come on, Leo! Pull yourself together and give it a go! I mean, even a man can slay a giant, with the right weapon!”
And Leo—who, despite his young age, already lived in constant pursuit of continuous self-improvement—had giants to slay. Through trial and error, the pair had turned the vague concept into an actual possibility. It wasn’t until the first flickers of flame had begun to lap along the edges of Leo’s sword that Allen had finally realized, Oh. This might have been a mistake...
“Very impressive, Seizinger. I must take back my earlier assessment of it being a mere party trick,” Godolphen said, emerging from behind a rocky outcrop. He knew even Leo, with his abnormal reserves of mana, couldn’t activate such a draining technique more than once or twice. If this was a real battle with lives on the line, he’d simply force Leo to activate his flames again before retreating, and repeat the process until the boy’s mana ran out. Leo’s only chance to defeat him had been during their initial skirmish; now, Godolphen’s victory was all but decided. Even if the boy was to cast off all restraint and truly face him with every last reserve of his power, there were simply some opponents he lacked the strength to defeat—some obstacles he lacked the skill to overcome. Such challenges were still necessary, lest the boy stagnate instead of striving to achieve his full potential. That was Godolphen’s perspective on the matter, and was why he now chose to face Leo head-on, rather than continue their little game of cat and mouse.
He carefully slid his sword back inside his staff and gripped the latter firmly. “Let us end this, Leo.”
The boy grinned. “As you wish, Sage.” Crimson flames erupted along his sword once again.
Godolphen whirled his staff around before driving the tip—and the fist-sized magic stone embedded atop it—against the ground. The dirt below them began to shift. Four solid walls surged up around Leo and hurtled toward him, encasing him in an earthy prison within seconds.
“AAAAAARGH!” Leo’s shout was only muffled for a moment as he swung his sword, carving a charred opening through the dirt before slamming his shoulder into it and toppling through. He charged at Godolphen. Only five meters separated the two as Leo raised his sword again. The flame blade was shorter now as Leo’s mana dwindled, barely long enough to cover the distance between them. Godolphen sidestepped the diagonal swing by a hair’s breadth and drove his staff into the ground once more just as Leo repeated the same stroke in reverse. The flames, shorter still, clung only to the blade itself now, causing the mithril to glow with a near-blinding brilliance. Suddenly, Leo’s sword—which was on a direct trajectory to decapitating his elderly teacher—flew upward. Rather, Leo himself flew upward as a result of Godolphen’s most recent spell, with the well-placed mound of dirt underneath his right foot throwing him off-balance. The sharp blade sang as it whipped over Godolphen’s head.
Desperate, Leo let his weapon go, instead swinging his left leg around in a vicious kick which was immediately blocked by Godolphen’s staff. Leo—now completely off-balance—crashed to the ground. Godolphen drew his sword once again and pressed it against the boy’s neck. “You’ve fallen in battle, Leo Seizinger.”
Leo sighed. “Yeah... You win, Sage.”
✦ ✦ ✦
“I was sure their forces would have been concentrated at the southern stronghold, but it was deserted apart from the prisoners. The students probably fled as soon as you defeated Leo Seizinger. The prisoners were largely unharmed. Some had been wounded in battle, but they reported that Jewelry Reverence treated any serious injuries,” Jipro explained. He and his company had stormed the southern stronghold following Godolphen’s battle with Leo.
Godolphen nodded. “It’s safe to assume they’ve abandoned this stronghold, which means they’ve likely moved east, where they can avoid a flank attack most easily. For caution’s sake, send one squadron to each of the eastern and western strongholds to see what they can discover, and send a messenger to the northern stronghold to inform them of the situation. While we wait, assess the prisoners, and reorganize our forces here into some more suitable units. We shall need to leave one or two squadrons here to occupy this stronghold when we move again.”
“Yes, Sage.”
However, when the squadrons returned, the reports they bore defied Godolphen’s expectations entirely.
“Both strongholds have been deserted?! Those children have nowhere left to shelter... Jipro! Are our forces ready?”
Jipro grimaced. “Well... It’s unbelievable, Sage. Somehow, they’ve made sure there wasn’t a single squadron leader or commandant among the prisoners, which is making things extremely difficult. The prisoners all say they seemed to be picked at random, but clearly, the kids had a way of making sure they only took regular soldiers hostage.”
“They planned this well. They’ve outmaneuvered me every step of the way...” Godolphen froze. “Including by luring me out of the northern stronghold. Another trap, no doubt. I must return at once!”
His urgent flight was immediately delayed by several unexpected arrivals, however. The first was a lone soldier from among the two companies Jipro had deployed to patrol the supply lines/messenger routes before the battle had commenced. The second was the messenger Godolphen had previously sent north.
“Urgent report, Battalion Commander! Commandant Gale’s company has been annihilated by a surprise attack! We got ambushed by about ten enemy soldiers out of nowhere... I was the only one to escape. From what I could make out, it seems like Sari’s company was wiped out too. I left signals to let any other survivors know to head to the southern stronghold, but I don’t have much hope...”
“What?!” Godolphen shouted, his voice rising several octaves. “What is Tim doing up there?! Why didn’t he send reinforcements?!” He spun around to face the messenger who’d just returned from the northern stronghold, glowering at him almost accusingly.
The ashen-faced messenger’s voice trembled. “Ur-Urgent re-report... Vice Captain Tim was killed in battle. The northern headquarters has fallen, along with the battalion that was stationed there, all...all at the hand of Allen Rovene!”
“WHAT IN THE—”
✦ ✦ ✦
An hour or so earlier...
While Godolphen and Leo were (assumedly) locked in their life-or-death struggle, I stood, alone, atop the watchtower of the northern stronghold.
“Ha ha ha... MWA HA HA HA HA!”
Crap, I think I’m overdoing it a little again...