Episode 34

A fierce battle raged high in the sky. The people of the royal capital stared wide-eyed at the high-speed aerial combat that used ice footholds—no one could correctly grasp what was happening… except for one cleric.

(Thought so. If its mana is infinite, there’s no reason to hold back.)

What Hiroto had feared was this: getting caught by an opening while charging a big spell, and getting ground down once his mana ran low.

In the extreme, the enemy could keep fighting at maximum output forever—an invincible state.

That was why he’d kept chaining fast, small attacks.

(Copy bastard. You don’t know, do you? Even a villain has to spit blood and claw for survival.)

He charged in with a reckless, injury-accepting rush. Just as expected, he took a heavy hit—his shoulder burned with pain.

But Zeke was smiling.

He’d locked the shadow—whose silhouette matched perfectly—into a firm hold.

“Do it, tough guy!”

“—Lady Maria, grant us Your protection… bless this one—Variant Circle.”

A transparent barrier wrapped around the two fighters in stalemate.

The spherical, mystical barrier faintly reflected the figure of a woman.

The shadow’s focus slipped off Zeke for an instant, reacting to the barrier.

That was enough.

Zeke slammed in his signature shock-force strike and drove the shadow into the barrier wall.

“Too slow, fake…”

He used the opening to gather mana all at once and assumed a casting stance.

The spell he chose was Ice Prozion.

A mana detonation inside a sealed space—a suicidal self-destruct technique.

No matter how tough Zeke’s body was, it wouldn’t come without consequences.

Sensing the surging mana, the shadow lunged to stop the spell.

It slashed with a sword that mimicked Zeke’s as perfectly as its body—but the false blade cut only air.

Zeke had already finished the cast and teleported outside the barrier.

(As I thought—this thing can’t use teleportation.)

Hiroto judged it couldn’t use teleportation, nor holy arts, and possibly other things depending on the case.

If it had no escape route and no reason to stay inside the barrier, refusing to integrate holy arts into combat would be idiotic.

With infinite mana, it should deploy holy arts and fight, and use teleportation constantly for movement—Zeke would.

For whatever reason, the shadow only reproduced the original’s canon abilities.

He didn’t want to leave unknowns for later, but for now, it was fine.

All that mattered was winning.

“At zero distance, that’ll hurt, won’t it? Now disappear.”

A tearing boom echoed across the skies above the capital, and the shock made the air tremble.

The mana detonation cracked even one of the Maria Church’s finest barriers.

When the view cleared, the inside of the barrier was empty.

The shadow had been swallowed by the spell and completely annihilated.

“You alright, kid?”

“…None of your business.”

Zeke was bleeding from various parts of his body. Bart tried to heal him, but Zeke refused.

“Waste of time. I’m done here.”

“…Heading toward the noble district?”

If Bart could sense it, Zeke had certainly already noticed.

Thunder that had rumbled throughout the fight—likely from lightning magic.

It had stopped now, but Bart could tell it had been battle-made.

“Doesn’t concern you. Go babysit.”

“…Can’t. I’m not letting an injured man head into a battlefield alone.”

“Hmph. Do what you want. If you get in the way, I’ll kick you out of it.”

“H-hahahaha! So this is an ancient relic!”

Clotted held a cube-shaped object glowing gold.

By some principle, it shone with a dull light without a single smear of Clotted’s blood.

“St… op…”

Aaron lay collapsed on the ground. One arm was charred, one leg bent in an impossible direction.

Blood poured from him in obscene amounts.

Anyone could see he was critically wounded.

“You made me work for it… huh!? Aaron, you—!?”

“Re… lease… the magic. Or else… I’ll self-destruct.”

Aaron reached out with desperate effort and grabbed Clotted’s foot.

It was his last strength—his hand crackled with lightning, charged and sparking.

“D-damn… You got lucky, brat!”

The lightning cage imprisoning Philia vanished.

She looked unharmed.

Seeing that, Aaron’s consciousness began to blur.

“Let go! You’re in the way! …Normally I’d kill you myself, but you’ll die on your own soon enough. Hey, brat! Watch closely! Because of you, someone’s going to die!”

Clotted ran off with a shrill, triumphant laugh.

In his fading awareness, Aaron kept stretching his hand out.

When had his relationship with his brother twisted beyond repair?

What had he done wrong?

Was this ending really what he had wanted?

There was nowhere to find an answer.

“…Clotted… brother.”

The road leading into the noble district was devastated.

When Zeke and Bart arrived, what they saw was Philia screaming in the middle of the road, and Aaron lying in blood.

“D-daddy? Help! Daddy, help! That weird big brother—please, help him, quick!”

Philia begged Bart in a shrill voice.

She was only a child, but she understood Aaron was in danger.

“…What happened, Philia?”

Bart spoke gently to calm her while instantly deploying a healing barrier.

Then he began treating Aaron with another healing spell.

A double-cast of high-level healing—something only a top cleric could do.

In other words, Aaron’s wounds were so severe that even Bart needed that much.

Philia explained desperately. Her words were clumsy, but the situation made it clear what had occurred.

Bart’s already vicious expression twisted further.

As Bart kept treating him, Aaron’s condition gradually stabilized.

Temporarily, Aaron regained consciousness.

“…Mr. Bart? Is the little lady…?”

“Philia is safe. …Because of you. Thank you.”

Aaron whispered, “Good,” then shifted his gaze toward Zeke without moving anything else.

“Brother… should’ve headed toward the western gate.”

“Yeah.”

Zeke seemed injured too, but the fact he was here meant he’d likely defeated the counterfeit.

Zeke had fulfilled his duty.

Aaron hadn’t.

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t protect—”

“Are you stupid? I never expected anything from you. …………From here on… leave it to me.”

“—Th-thank you… Please… stop my brother…”

Tears ran down Aaron’s face as he closed his eyes.

He lost consciousness again, as if falling asleep.

“Kid… going alone?”

“…Don’t think about useless things. Heal him, no matter what.”

Zeke picked up Aaron’s rapier that had been left on the ground.

Bart couldn’t see what expression Zeke wore with his back turned, but the emotion was easy to imagine.

Mana leaking from Zeke became cold and froze nearby buildings.

“Big brother… it’s my fault, that weird big brother—”

“…Brat. Quit pretending you’re the victim. He chose of his own will. So what you should do isn’t wallow in guilt. —If you want to change something, get stronger.”

An ice pillar formed at Zeke’s feet and speared upward.

He leapt with it, then vanished westward across the capital’s skies.

In the mountain range west of the royal capital—an area with almost no foot traffic because travelers avoided the mountains on their way to Spirito—Clotted stood on a rarely used mountain path.

“Y-you… Weren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“That body’s no good anymore. More importantly… from the look of it, you succeeded.”

“O-of course. I’m the strongest.”

Clotted thrust out ‘Spare Rise’ at Pariaach, preening with pride.

“—No doubt. This is the real thing.”

Ancient relics floated around Pariaach, moving unlike anything before.

Clotted stared, stunned.

“Congratulations. You fulfilled your role as promised. Then I’ll answer you in turn.”

Pariaach snapped his fingers. Clotted’s injured body rapidly recovered.

“What is this!? Power’s flooding into me!”

“I carved a stronger formula into you. Now, all that’s left is to regroup with my companions.”

Pariaach gestured toward a tall cave carved into the mountainside.

It was man-made—part of a passage that crossed through to the far side.

“Don’t forget the world I want! …So I just go through that cave? Easy!”

Clotted dashed into the cave.

Pariaach watched him like he was looking at something ridiculous.

“Right. —Charge straight toward the end, you foolish noble. Hahah.”

Ancient magic wrapped around Pariaach. With his business done, he began preparing to move immediately.

“Geh!? This feeling… He’s already chased me this far. Bad, bad—time to bail, time to bail…”

Clotted ran through the dim cave.

Under the reinforced formula, he moved at absurd speed—mistaking it for his own hidden power.

“Everyone’s an idiot. Wasting their lives without knowing a thing.”

A father fighting daily for the marquis house’s honor.

A knight order risking their lives for the country.

Those shabby commoners.

The moment Clotted learned he could reshape the world at will, all of it felt stupid.

If it could be changed conveniently, choosing the efficient route was only natural.

He basked in superiority—he was different from Aaron, who trained relentlessly in magic and swordsmanship.

“Still… these ‘allies’ must be competent, right? They better not drag me down…”

The exhilaration of crushing the hated Aaron still clung to him.

—So he didn’t notice the unnatural cold that had swallowed the cave.

‘What are you in such a hurry for? Your home isn’t this way, is it?’

“!?”

A voice echoed through the cave.

He recognized that insolent tone—like it was laughing at him.

‘After using such cowardly tricks, you got embarrassed because your little brother handed you the win?’

They’d only spoken a few times.

They’d never even crossed blades directly.

And yet that absolute power—forcing him to recognize the difference in their very rank as living beings—was unmistakable.

‘You were nothing but a worthless eldest son. Delusion is a terrifying thing.’

“W-why… Why are you here…?”

‘Did you really think my fake could do anything to me? That’s why you’ll stay a useless eldest son forever.’

It was blatant contempt.

Anger would have been natural, but what Clotted felt was fear and confusion.

“Hey, brats!? Lagias is here! Do something!”

‘Now, now. Don’t rush. We’ve got plenty of time.’

Clotted’s face drained into despair.

He pushed his speed higher, desperate to shake the pursuit—and reached the depths of the cave.

There, waiting with a wicked smile, was Lagias’s devil.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Something scary in your sight?”

“Why are you here? How are you faster than me…?”

They faced each other in the dim cave. Clotted’s breath turned white.

“Did you come to take back the relic? H-hah… too bad! It’s not in my hands anymore! Everything’s too late—wasting your time!”

“…What are you talking about? Did your brain rot?”

“Yeah! So just get out—huh?”

“I don’t care about that thing. The reason I’m here— is to crush you.”

A violent cold wind erupted, turning the cave into a blizzard.

It looked like Zeke’s emotions made manifest.

“What? You got stronger with borrowed power, didn’t you?”

“!? I’ll make you regret insulting me!”

The formula on Clotted’s face spread across his entire body.

It pulsed, flickering faster and faster, and began to heat up.

“This formula’s power depends on the user’s capacity! It’ll respond to my hidden potential and keep making me stronger!”

Mana surged beyond what he could ever naturally possess.

In the flood of over-limit power, Clotted tasted omnipotence.

“Begging now won’t save you! I’m going to— ‘Already done?’ W-what…?”

Clotted had raised his right arm to fire a spell.

But it lowered on its own, against his will.

No matter how he tried, it wouldn’t move.

It had blackened. A scorched stench drifted out.

“!? U—UGYAAAAAAH!”

“Dramatic. Quit screaming.”

In a blink, the one trying to kill Zeke with lightning was instead pierced—his arm blasted through by Zeke’s lightning.

“You’ve got another one, don’t you?”

“!? GYAAAAAAH!”

The instant he saw lightning arc again, pain tore through his left arm.

Both arms, nerves burned through, stopped functioning.

“You were making a lot of noise like you were having fun, weren’t you? Show me, huh?”

Zeke vanished, reappeared in front of Clotted— and a kick shattered Clotted’s leg, the dull impact echoing through the cave.

“Ah—AaaAAAA! My leeeeg—!?”

With both arms and one leg disabled, Clotted rolled in agony.

“Pathetic. …Don’t worry. I’ll heal you right away.”

Silver light enveloped Clotted.

His charred arms and shattered leg restored completely.

Only the pain remained.

“W-what… are you going to do…?”

“You’re the marquis’s precious boy, aren’t you? Thought I’d give you a grand welcome.”

Lightning pierced his arms again. A leg snapped again.

Then holy arts healed him—only for Zeke to break him again.

Again. Again. Again.

“…I-it hurts. Please… stop…”

“It hurt, didn’t it? Him—no matter how hated he was, he still believed in his brother… and you betrayed him!”

Zeke smashed Clotted with a holy-empowered shock-force strike.

He teleported to meet Clotted mid-flight, kicked him upward, then slammed him down from above.

“Did you ever think about why he kept playing the clown? Not even once, huh!?”

Zeke drew his sword and carved into Clotted’s body—careful not to kill him—while simultaneously healing him with holy arts.

“Feel honored. There’s no one in history who’s had their body healed by holy arts this many times.”

“M-monster…”

Holy arts, said to overturn every misfortune except death.

The ultimate form of healing magic.

Its one and only flaw: it cannot erase the pain you’ve already felt.

Pain can only fade with time—if it fades at all.

Zeke sheathed his sword and took out a new weapon.

A plain, unadorned rapier.

Clotted reacted the instant he recognized it.

“Burn it into your brain. Never forget this pain again.”

Lightning crawled over the rapier in Zeke’s hand.

It crackled and snapped, charged and vicious.

“I won’t kill you. You’ll live, keep suffering… and die at the very end.”

He leveled the lightning-wreathed rapier at Clotted.

By coincidence, both had seen this swordsmanship before.

One noble had witnessed overflowing talent and felt jealousy.

One villain had, for the first time, sensed the danger of death—and bared caution.

“That’s impossible—why do you have that…?”

“Trash like you doesn’t get to talk about him.”

A lightning-fast sword, godspeed itself.

A double-edged blade—miscontrol it and your own arm can be blown away.

The roar of vast mana thundered through the cave.

Then the thunder fell silent for a single beat.

That silence became Clotted’s end.

“Izosaar-style Court Swordsmanship: Thunder Radiance!”

Swallowed by a torrent of blue-white lightning, Clotted’s consciousness vanished.

“Be grateful… to your capable little brother. If it were me, I’d feed you to monsters without a second thought.”