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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Xrecker
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I had been observing the duel between the two proud mages from above. When the initially even match suddenly tilted in Bettendorf’s favor, I quickly jumped off my Wyvern.
Damn it, that hothead.
She talked a big game, but victory always slipped through her fingers. Without her carelessness, she would have stood at least a 50% chance of winning. A perfect example of squandered potential.
As I descended, I heard Bettendorf’s deep voice, his staff pointed at the frozen Dorothea,
“Give my regards to my disciples in the afterlife. Tell them their master avenged them.”
It seemed the mages I had inadvertently killed while destroying the gate were his disciples, dispatched from the capital.
Well, that explained his presence here.
Having grasped the situation, I manipulated the wind just before impact, landing gracefully on the roof where the two mages stood.
“You should do that yourself.”
I interjected as I landed.
I couldn’t stand by and watch Dorothea, now a colleague under the Demon Lord, be killed.
While she was considered the weakest of the Four Heavenly Kings, her magic, like mine, specialized in area-of-effect attacks, making her a valuable asset to the perpetually understaffed Demon Lord’s army.
Bettendorf, annoyed at having his revenge interrupted, frowned.
“And who are you?”
I wasn’t about to take it easy on an Archmage. I threw off my robe, which would hinder my movements, and replied,
“Commander of the Demon Lord’s direct foreign legion, Nero’s Hound, Patrasche.”
“If you surrender now, I’ll spare your—”
Spellweave Armament – Whirlwind Bone Cutter
In a single breath, I closed the distance and punched him in the gut, my fist enveloped in a tornado.
“You talk too much.”
A man’s fight should be settled with fists.
Bam!
Caught off guard, the old gentleman flew backwards like a rag doll.
But I had already observed his Spellweave Armament in action and wasn’t about to let him recover.
“Sudden Gust.”
Blades of wind, launched from my feet, shot towards the prone Bettendorf, aiming to shred his limbs.
The old man, rolling to his feet in the muddy water, saw the approaching spell and exclaimed,
“Coward!”
“There’s no such thing as cowardice in battle!”
Bettendorf slammed his mana-infused fist into the puddle.
A rectangular water barrier materialized, narrowly blocking the wind blades.
But I wasn’t finished.
“Thousand Mile Wind.”
Invisible blades of wind appeared from all directions, slashing at the barrier and the Baron.
“Warm Breeze, Gentle Sun.”
Using the tornadoes swirling around my arms as propulsion, I launched a powerful gust of wind, pummeling the immobilized Baron.
“GAAAAAH!”
Blood and flesh splattered as Bettendorf was struck repeatedly, but I continued my relentless assault, not giving him a chance to recover.
While his Spellweave Armament’s healing ability was annoying, it couldn’t last forever. His mana wasn’t infinite.
And having just fought Dorothea, his reserves must be running low, despite his calm demeanor.
My theory was confirmed as his wounds began to accumulate faster than they could heal.
While I could continue whittling him down, I wanted to finish this quickly. I stomped my foot and lunged forward.
Bettendorf, caught in my relentless barrage, suddenly swung his staff.
“Tranquillo!”
But nothing happened. I felt a surge of unease. A moment later, a unicorn made of water emerged, not from the puddle, but from Bettendorf’s shadow.
“Tch!”
Clever bastard!
I threw myself to the side, narrowly avoiding the sharp horn.
The old gentleman, having retreated to a safe distance, regained his composure and, wiping the blood from his hair, glared at me.
“…That magic, that fighting style… if I’m not mistaken, it’s very similar to that of the Mad Mage who joined the Hero’s party. What’s your connection to him?”
I touched the wooden mask still firmly attached to my face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Bettendorf’s expression darkened.
“Then it doesn’t matter. I don’t care who you are. My only concern is eliminating the demons who slaughtered my precious disciples.”
Despite seemingly having exhausted his mana, a powerful magical energy began to coalesce around his staff.
He still had some fight left in him.
This is going to be big.
He was likely preparing to unleash a Hexa Spell (x6), an Archmage’s ultimate technique.
As a fellow Archmage, I recognized the signs.
Having already abandoned my disguise by using original spells, I approached the still-frozen Dorothea and melted the ice covering her mouth with a stream of hot air.
Dorothea, who had witnessed my magic firsthand during our numerous clashes while traveling with the Hero, stared at me in disbelief.
“You bastard! You tricked me!”
“Seriously? Cursing even in this situation?”
I melted the ice encasing her limbs, which she seemed to have forgotten about in her shock, and pointed at Bettendorf.
“I’ll explain later. Just get out of here.”
Dorothea, who had been spewing a torrent of curses, hesitated.
“Are you sure? You’ve been using a lot of magic.”
I waved my hand dismissively.
“Just go. I can handle this.”
I pulled out a mana stone from my pocket.
“I brought plenty of these, so let’s put them to good use.”
Whirrrr
My mana furnace activated, rapidly absorbing the mana from the stone.
Crack
I discarded the depleted, cracked mana stone and pulled out another, repeating the process.
I normally avoided doing this, as the sudden influx of mana could damage my nervous system.
But I had to take the risk.
It was a matter of survival.
“…Here it comes.”
Bettendorf, his preparations complete, raised his staff above his head.
He began manipulating the abundant water element as if it were an extension of his own body.
“Tempestoso!”
A massive whirlpool erupted from the puddle on the ground.
“Tempo l’istesso!”
The remaining steam in the air rapidly froze.
“Tenuto!”
Fist-sized hailstones began to rain down from the sky.
“Vivace!”
Finally, a massive wave, like a tsunami, surged from beneath his feet.
The Fury of Neptune, Baron Louis von Bettenndorf’s signature Hexa Spell, a combination of offense and defense.
It was my first time witnessing it in person.
Facing this powerful, tactical-level magic, I extended my gauntleted hands.
To counter a Hexa Spell, I had to use a Hexa Spell.
And only one spell came to mind, perfect for this situation.
Wind was air.
And air was the flow of fluids.
I compressed a massive bomb of air pressure within a sphere of wind.
The principle was similar to the spell I had used for threshing in the village below the castle.
The only difference was that this one contained a super-low-pressure typhoon made of pure mana.
“You bastard! You were the Mad Mage of the Emerald Tower all along!”
Bettendorf, standing atop the wave, shouted, but I ignored him and yelled,
Wind Hexa Spell—
“Majestic Presence!”
As the name suggested, a spell of unparalleled power collided head-on with the Baron’s tsunami.
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