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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Xrecker
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Baron Bettendorf initiated the fight.
He raised his short, wand-like staff and muttered,
“Staccato.”
The activation word was a form of self-hypnosis. By uttering a pre-determined word, the caster triggered a specific memory (spell) stored within their mind.
While spells from the first to third tier had designated activation words, mages who reached the fourth tier, capable of combining all elements, created their own original spells and activation words.
This was the path of the mage (魔道), forging one’s own unique style.
Activation words and original spells were a mage’s signature, an expression of their individuality, and their forms varied greatly.
“Let’s start with a simple greeting.”
A wave of water surged from the ground, following the movement of Bettendorf’s staff, and shot towards Dorothea like a projectile.
“Tch, such petty tricks.”
She scoffed and stomped her foot.
A wall of crimson flames erupted, instantly vaporizing the water projectile.
She stomped again, and eight pillars of fire erupted from the ground, surrounding Bettendorf.
But the Baron remained unfazed.
“Mezzo forte.”
Like a conductor leading an orchestra, the gentleman in the blue tailcoat waved his staff, and a dolphin-shaped wave of water surged from the ground, extinguishing the flames.
But the fight had just begun.
Crack!
Following the swift movements of the small, red-haired girl, crimson flames flickered like heat haze.
Dorothea, gaining momentum, spun in the air.
Her sharp heel aimed for the old man’s head, but a wall of water materialized, blocking her attack.
But her assault didn’t end there.
Fwoosh!
A torrent of flames erupted from her feet, instantly vaporizing the water wall.
A cloud of steam momentarily obscured their vision, and the two began exchanging blows at close range.
Powerful shockwaves erupted with each impact as Dorothea’s surprisingly strong fists collided with those of Bettendorf, whose physique was surprisingly robust for his age.
Their physical abilities were on par with trained knights, thanks to the enhancement magic known as Spellweave Armament.
Every mage had a specialty element, and the effects of Spellweave Armament varied depending on the element and the user.
The old man was enveloped in waves, while the girl was wreathed in flames.
“Annoying!”
Growing impatient with the prolonged exchange, Dorothea made the first decisive move.
She momentarily exposed her back, launching a devastating spinning heel kick.
But Bettendorf didn’t miss the opportunity.
The old man, his hands enveloped in white waves, stepped forward, deflecting the kick with his forearm, and then struck Dorothea in the stomach.
“Gah!”
Dorothea coughed up blood and flew backwards.
She quickly rolled to her feet, but Bettendorf was already preparing his next attack.
A massive ice spear, radiating an ominous aura, materialized above his palm.
This wouldn’t be just a painful blow.
“Here’s a little extra!”
“Damn old man!”
Without time to dodge, Dorothea slammed her hands onto the ground.
A snake-shaped flame erupted from the earth, devouring the massive ice spear.
Having extinguished the immediate threat, Dorothea, without missing a beat, lunged forward, flames erupting from beneath her shoes.
The continuous bursts of fire propelled her forward with explosive speed.
Her entire body became enveloped in flames, rising from her ruby shoes, resembling a fiery cat.
Dorothea, using boxes and walls as stepping stones, leaped into the air, performing acrobatic maneuvers.
Twisting her body mid-air, she shifted her weight to her legs, and a massive, fiery claw, formed from the flames surrounding her lower body, slashed at Bettendorf’s chest.
“Ugh!”
Just as Dorothea had been caught off guard earlier, the old gentleman was struck by the fiery claw, a deep gash appearing on his chest.
It would have been a fatal blow for an ordinary person.
But thanks to his water-based Spellweave Armament, the wound closed quickly, and the burn marks vanished as if time had been reversed.
Unlike Dorothea, who had gained speed and offensive power by imbuing her legs with flames, the old man’s Spellweave Armament, befitting his healing-focused water element, specialized in defense and regeneration.
Having exchanged blows, they looked at each other, their eyes burning with competitive spirit.
“Fortissimo!”
Following the old man’s gesture, massive waves crashed down from all directions.
The sudden deluge submerged the surrounding buildings.
Dorothea, with no solid footing, quickly scaled a wall to avoid the surging water, then grabbed a flagpole on the roof and spun around, her heels clicking together.
Dozens of fireballs materialized in the dark sky.
“Gehenna Sturm!”
Dorothea, who had been relying on silent casting until now, finally uttered an activation word, and blue hellfire rained down from the sky like a meteor shower.
It was an inescapable disaster.
Facing a high-level spell of at least the fifth tier, the old gentleman’s expression hardened, and he raised his staff.
The power of a spell increased exponentially with each layered element.
To counter this spell, he had no choice but to use magic of equal power.
He had reached that conclusion.
“Forte!”
As Bettendorf shouted, a massive form emerged from beneath his feet.
It was a white whale, its body made of translucent water.
As if to protect its creator, the white whale swam through the waterlogged streets before leaping high into the air.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The earth shook with each impact as the falling fireballs collided with the water whale in mid-air.
The shockwaves reverberated throughout the Hamburg fortress.
“Ugh!”
Dorothea, her light body buffeted by the powerful winds and steam created by the vaporizing water, clung to the flagpole for dear life.
“What?!”
But in the brief moment she had closed her eyes against the wind, Bettendorf had vanished.
A chilling sensation ran down her spine. As she tried to retreat, the old gentleman’s voice spoke from right beside her.
“Playtime’s over.”
Dorothea tried to jump back, but her feet were frozen solid.
The gentleman in the blue tailcoat, now standing on the roof, twirled his mustache.
“Don’t you understand yet? Your power is completely inferior to mine.”
Water extinguished fire. It was basic elemental logic.
If she had been fighting a weaker opponent, she might have had a chance. But Bettendorf, who had become an Archmage in his forties and honed his skills for decades, could easily overpower Dorothea, who was still relatively inexperienced.
Furthermore, the Vulcan Mountains were perpetually covered in snow and ice, the perfect environment for a water mage.
The old gentleman approached, his footsteps heavy.
“That was an enjoyable fight. Opportunities to duel with a mage of similar caliber are rare.”
“Mmm! Mmmm!”
Dorothea tried to speak, her eyes wide, but her voice was muffled by the ice encasing her up to her neck. Bettenndorf raised his staff.
“Give my regards to my disciples in the afterlife. Tell them their master avenged them.”
At that very moment—
“You should do that yourself.”
A masked figure dropped from the sky.
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