14

Corbelli was blasted sideways as well, rolling across the ground.

“Yes!”

Laika shouted as she jumped up.

At Sophia’s feet lay Corbelli’s hood, shredded into pieces.

“…No. I failed.”

In Sophia’s line of sight, Corbelli—battered, filthy, and torn up—stood back up.

Under the robe was an ordinary shirt and long trousers. Even those had been ripped open in places from rolling on the ground.

“…For a moment, I thought I was dead. Thanks to you apes, even my precious clothes are ruined. But too bad. For a muscle-head, that was a decent idea—yet you still failed to finish me.”

Before Sophia could take his head, Corbelli had slammed a fireball into the ground. By throwing himself into the explosion, he had used it to fling himself away.

Of course, the blast had damaged him as well. Even so, in that split-second decision, Corbelli had avoided the worst possible outcome.

Corbelli cast a basic healing spell on himself as emergency treatment.

“Still, you managed the bare minimum. Now I know where your absurd mana supply is coming from.”

She had at least taken the robe she suspected contained the trick.

He had been casting that much magic—he must have hidden a large number of mana stones inside.

Sophia rummaged through the robe, searching for them.

“Oh, was that what you wanted to know? There’s nothing in that robe.”

Corbelli answered while brushing dirt from his messy black hair.

“What?”

Sophia’s hand froze mid-search.

Corbelli opened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled out several sheets of paper hanging from his neck on a cord, holding them up as if to show them off.

“If you were curious, you could’ve just asked. The answer’s here.”

Laika and Sophia stared at the papers in Corbelli’s right hand.

“…Ghk!”

Both were struck by agony, like being punched directly in the brain.

“Stop. Don’t try to read it. That’s part of the Original Canon’s original text, you know? You don’t want to go insane and die, do you?”

“…I-I see. The original text itself carries immense mana. You used the overflowing mana from it, so you never ran dry.”

“That’s right, you damn ape. The robe was only to keep my appearance hidden.”

At Corbelli’s words, despair washed over Sophia.

That earlier failure had become decisive.

There had been no trick in the robe she suspected as the mana source—Corbelli had been wearing a fragment of the original text itself. That meant he could keep firing spells without ever exhausting his mana, just as before.

And with no fundamental solution for Corbelli’s restraints, Sophia and Laika’s group had been pushed to facing an enemy beyond their ability to handle.

“Now you can die without regrets, right? Country swordsman—you’re last. That anti-magic sword of yours is annoying. I’ll kill the young lady and her friends first, then take my time tormenting you to death.”

Corbelli tucked the original text back into his shirt and picked up the staff he had dropped.

“Abbreviated incantation: ‘Fire Lance ×50.’”

Fifty vicious crimson spears flared into existence around him.

He twisted his face, ready to signal the volley at prey frozen by despair.

That was when—

“Sorry, sorry—I’m late. There were some pretty loud noises, so I thought something happened… Wait, Sophia, you’re seriously hurt. What happened to the potions?”

A bright, utterly out-of-place voice spread across the battlefield, colored with surprise.

“My apologies, Ains-sama. I did receive the potions, but this is the result.”

Sophia stood caught between frustration at failing to finish Corbelli and a sense of accomplishment at having held out until her lord arrived.

“…Who the hell are you?”

Corbelli stared at the suddenly appearing, uncanny man—Ains—in shock.

“Hm? I’m Ains. And hey, put that dangerous stuff away.”

Ains pointed at the Fire Lances with the index finger of his left hand and lowered his fingertip downward.

“—!?”

Corbelli realized he was pouring sweat.

In sync with Ains’s finger, every Fire Lance was erased.

‘Did he hijack my spell? Or did he cast something else in that instant to cancel it?’

He didn’t know. But Corbelli forced down his agitation and spoke.

“You a mage?”

“No, I’m a sorcerer.”

“A sorcerer? You too?”

Corbelli studied Ains.

The man’s appearance was unsettling, but Corbelli believed his own sorcery could still handle him.

“You too… so you’re the sorcerer Laika mentioned? Huh, perfect! Show me your sorcery!”

“W-What is wrong with you? You’re creepy.”

Hearing “sorcerer,” Ains’s eyes sparkled.

“C-Creepy… I just want to see your sorcery because I’m interested. For my own learning, too.”

Until now, Corbelli had never fought a sorcerer. Even among the Next-Era Luminaries, there were those strong enough to call themselves sorcerers—but none had been enemies.

Ains didn’t call himself a mage; he called himself a sorcerer. Corbelli still didn’t understand what Ains had done to erase the spell, and it made him uneasy—but he did understand one thing: he couldn’t afford to hold back.

“Hmph. You’re with the country swordsman and those muscle-head apes, aren’t you? Fine—I’ll torment you all to death together!”

“Country swordsman? Sophia, are you being called a country bumpkin?”

“He is a fool who calls the people of the Autonomous City of the Ains Domain ‘country bumpkins.’”

“Wait… then me, who was holed up even deeper in the forest…”

Ains slumped for a moment, quietly depressed at the idea that he might be even more “country” than Sophia.

“Formal incantation: ‘The alchemist deceives. Sand becomes gold, white becomes black, and thus the sheep reap profit’! Now even the country mage is in the palm of my hand!”

Corbelli finished the incantation.

“Huh? Formal incantation? Hey—just now, that was—”

Something snagged in Ains’s mind.

“‘Approaching is a loss.’ Don’t come closer, country bumpkin. Your stink will rub off.”

Ains’s legs—his prosthetic left leg and his right leg—stopped as he moved to approach.

“—!”

Ains looked down at his immobilized prosthetic and his right leg.

“Hah. My sorcery is impregnable! Spellcaster, swordsman, mage—it doesn’t matter. Once I stop your movement, you’re finished! I won’t even let you use magic!”

Corbelli believed he had completely sealed Ains.

Meanwhile, Ains—

“Huh. Interesting. …‘Alchemist’ implies conversion of phenomena. ‘Deceives’ means tricking the target—so, interference with recognition. ‘Sand to gold, white to black’ reinforces the emphasis on ‘alchemist’ and ‘deceives,’ does it… Then ‘sheep’ indicates the spell’s target…”

Muttering to himself, Ains smiled.

“You use an interesting kind of magic. I think your sorcery might be worth looking forward to as well!”

Ains spoke with genuine anticipation.

“Ains-sama, that sorcery is extremely troublesome. Unless you catch him off guard, we could not break through it. Please do not lower your guard.”

Sophia fixed Ains with a steady gaze as she warned him.

Behind Sophia, Laika and her knights stared at Ains with the same anxious eyes.