Chapter 31

The enemy knights dismounted, swapping their lances for swords.

A warhorse, worth more than ten times the cost of a packhorse, was a knight’s greatest asset. Letting it get blinded or wounded in some back-alley brawl would be a disaster.

Murderous intent spread with their mana, heavy and suffocating. Realizing the raider-knights weren’t bluffing, the caravan’s representative panicked and shouted at Jacob.

“Jacob! Do something, anything!!”

Jacob gritted his teeth, gripping his axe-spear.

“I’ll do what I can. But…”

He didn’t finish, but the representative understood and grimaced.

“…You really can’t manage it? The Wind Mountain Mercenaries have a name for being an elite unit, don’t they? And yet… they outnumber you nearly two to one…”

“Half my men are at least Steel Body users, that’s true. But of those, only four of us, myself included, are Mana Users or higher. The rest are just Novices. And you know how it is—if skills are equal, mercenaries don’t beat knights. Honestly… it won’t be easy.”

“Th-then…”

“So quit yapping and grab a crossbow. Anyone running caravans should at least know how to use one.”

“O-of course, but—”

“I don’t expect miracles. Just stay behind cover and provide some suppressing fire. As for the travelers… tell them if the battle starts turning, scatter into the woods and run. With luck, a few will live.”

“…How much chance do we have?”

“Five percent.”

“Five percent!? Not fifty?!”

“Keep talking, and it’ll be four. Move it!”

At Jacob’s bark, the representative scurried off. The mercenaries tightened their formation, glaring at the enemy knights with grim resolve.

The knights, however, watched them with mocking ease.

“Not bad spirit for mercs. Wind Mountain Mercenaries, was it? Why not join Baron Golgon instead? We’ve only just begun our work and could use lackeys.”

Jacob spat.

“I may just be a merc, but I still know what honor means. Don’t lump me in with filth who lose one battle and turn to banditry.”

“Pfah. Then I’ll tear off your limbs, gouge your eyes, and feed what’s left to the crows.”

“Come on, you bastards. Crawling out of the devil’s asshole without parents to teach you manners.”

From my hiding spot, I watched the standoff. Shia, perched on my shoulders, squeezed my cheek with her soft thighs.

“My dear, will you truly just watch? I might not care what happens, but you do, don’t you?”

I gave her a wry smile.

“I was going to step in anyway. I don’t exactly like seeing people I shared greetings with over breakfast get slaughtered in front of me.”

I hefted my mithril-plated heavy staff—1.5 meters long, fifteen kilograms—onto my shoulder and stood.

Shia tilted her head.

“My dear, what about your sword?”

“Hah. Asking a mage to swing some dull brute’s blade? A mage should wield a staff, obviously.”

“That’s not a staff. It’s a steel club for bludgeoning people.”

“Eh, same thing.”

I set her down and strode toward the tense standoff.

“Hey, you lot.”

Eyes turned toward me, drawn to the sight of a hulking man with a massive steel club slung casually across his back.

Golgon scowled at the interruption.

“What the hell are you?”

“Me?”

Instead of answering, I raised my heavy staff.

Flash!

A globe of light burst from the tip, glowing brilliantly. The same spell the mercenary mage had just used.

“A mage.”

The bandit-knights grimaced faintly; the mercenaries brightened with hope. Mages on the battlefield meant unpredictability—and potential salvation.

Now, with two light globes shining, the forest camp was much brighter. Golgon squinted.

“…Didn’t expect a twenty-man merc group to have two mages.”

Well, I wasn’t actually part of the group, but why clarify?

“Now that you know, maybe you should pack up and leave.”

“Heh. Big words from a gutter mage. Third rank at best. Maybe fourth if you’re lucky.”

I clicked my tongue and wagged a finger.

“Tsk tsk. With eyes that blind, no wonder you ended up as a fake baron. Third rank? Fourth? Ridiculous.”

“Oh? Then what are you?”

I raised two fingers with confidence.

“Second rank.”

“……”

“……”

Golgon blinked, then laughed hollowly, waving me off.

“A clown, not a mage. Laban! Deal with him.”

One of his knights whipped out a bow and fired three arrows in quick succession, each glowing with condensed aura. Even Aura Users who couldn’t project blasts like Blasters could channel their energy into arrows or thrown weapons for deadly ranged attacks.

The air shrieked as the arrows ripped toward me.

A shrill, skin-crawling whistle split the air—then, thump, thump, thump.

I caught the three aura-charged arrows barehanded, all in my left hand.

“…What?”

The sight of me snatching aura arrows out of the air made Golgon’s face twist.

“How… what the hell…?”

“Why? Bitter taste in your mouth?”

“…You said you were a mage.”

“I am.”

“A mage can’t just catch aura arrows with his bare hands!”

“Oh, that? Cut me some slack. I can’t use barrier spells or wind wards yet—I’m only second level. What else can I do? If there’s no bread, you eat cake.”

“…So you couldn’t cast a defense spell, so you just caught them?”

“Exactly. You get it.”

“……”

“……”

For a moment Golgon just stared, caught in pure cognitive dissonance. Then, realizing the mood was slipping out of his grasp, he shrieked:

“Damn it! Kill them all!!!”

Golgon and Jacob slammed together first, axe-spear against knight’s blade, and the battlefield exploded into chaos.

Clang! Smash! Crunch!

“You lowborn trash, die!!”

“Trash? Says the bastards who lost a war and turned to banditry!”

Crash! Crack! Slam!

“You curs dare defy knights!?”

“Shut it, you parentless thieves!”

The mercenaries didn’t collapse as quickly as feared. Their Novices pressed hard, keeping the enemy Mana Users and Aura Users tangled up, while merchants and non–Steel Body men fired crossbows from behind cover.

But most of all—

“Logan! Rian! Edan! That fake mage—take him out first!”

“Yes, sir!”

…my little performance had rattled them. Three Aura Users peeled off just to deal with me.

“Fake mage, huh… what a slander. Fine. I’ll show you what a real mage looks like.”

I aimed my heavy staff at them and closed one eye.

Half-eye method.

One eye open to reality, one eye closed to walk the Imagery.

Inside my mental world, I raised a hand. The Shia-shaped mana flared blue and settled into my palm.

With that blue-lit hand, I drew runes into the Imagery.

-First, [ᚲ] Kenaz—the rune of flame.

-Second, [ᚺ] Hagalaz—the rune of destruction and change.

Simple marks to the eye, but no. Every stroke, every curve, every variance in thickness and mana shading had to be perfect for the rune’s mystery to take shape.

‘…Good. That’s clean.’

Next, I bound them with Co-Runes—the connecting logic, like mathematical operators linking terms.

Runes are operands. Co-Runes are operators. Together, they formed a complete Pattern.

‘Alright. Done.’

The result: Flame Boom, a second-level spell.

I opened my shut eye and dragged the finished pattern into reality.

“Flame Boom.”

Vwoooom—

The spell bent the world around it, warping space, then detonated.

From the staff’s tip bloomed a fiery flower, blasting forward with thunder and searing heat.

KABOOOM!

Watching the firestorm, the knight Logan hissed through his teeth.

KABOOOM!

He recognized the spell—Flame Boom, a staple for war mages of the lower levels.

But the power was… wrong. The explosion wasn’t some localized blast. It was a wall of fire, spanning wide, its heat searing straight through his passive aura.

‘That’s… that’s second-level magic? No. That’s closer to fifth level. Is he some freak hiding his rank?’

It didn’t matter. Whatever his true nature, Logan knew his role: cut through the fire and cut down the mage.

“Push through! Second-level spells can’t break strengthened aura!”

“Yes!”

The knights plunged into the inferno—only to find their blades slicing empty air.

“…What?”

The mage was gone. Vanished in the moment it took to charge through the flames.

“Where did that fake mage—?”

Behind them. Out from the very wall of fire they had just charged through.

“Right here, bastards.”

“…!”

“Gh—!”

“Wha—!!”

SMASH! CRACK!!

Two of them went down hard, struck blindside by the steel cudgel. Logan recoiled, wide-eyed.

“H-how…!?”

The mage brushed smoldering flames off his clothes and smirked.

“Dove into the blaze the moment I cast it.”

“Then that Flame Boom wasn’t to attack us…”

“Obviously. It was cover. I may like easy wins, but I’m not dumb enough to expect a second-level spell to kill Aura Users.”

“You bastard!”

“Yeah, yeah. Quit whining and fight.”

Enraged, Logan lunged. True, his comrades had fallen, but only to an ambush. Now the mage was right in front of him, within reach. No tricks. A mage couldn’t possibly best a knight in close quarters.

“I’ll kill you! Haaah!!”

But the instant his boot hit the ground, dread gripped him.

Sliiiide—!

It was like stepping onto oiled ice. His foot skated forward, sending his armored body pitching sideways.

THUD!!

And he knew.

‘…Glide.’

A second-level spell that reduced friction in an area.

‘He cast it before we even charged? He planned this from the start…?’

As the heavy staff swept down in his blurred vision, Logan remembered advice from a senior knight he once revered:

“The mage to truly fear isn’t the one with the strongest spells. It’s the one who uses them well.”

‘…Damn. I realized it too late.’

CRACK!!