Chapter 18
Apprentice Mage & Book-Taught Mage (1)
Rude slammed his staff into the ground.
“Wall of Flame!”
Boom!
The snowy ground split apart as though exploding, and flames surged from the fissures.
A blazing crimson wall of fire revolved in a circle around Rude.
The snow evaporated the instant the flames touched it, sending clouds of steam into the air.
Sensing the heat, the mimic spiders instinctively stopped. Countless eyes turned toward Rude simultaneously.
“Too late, you bastards. Die!”
Responding to Rude’s command, streams of fire separated from the blazing wall and shot forward in straight lines.
Whoosh!
Every spider in their path, juvenile or adult, burst apart.
The ones killed instantly were the lucky ones.
Those caught at the edges of the attack were only partially roasted. They writhed in agony until they finally died.
“Waaaaah!”
The mercenaries erupted in cheers.
“Fire Breath!”
The head of Rude’s staff shifted with a click, transforming into the shape of a dragon’s head.
The figure looked almost like a cute ornament at first glance, but it opened its mouth and unleashed a torrent of flame.
The fan-shaped surge of fire melted the spiders.
The flames burned even hotter than the Wall of Flame, literally roasting everything they touched to a crisp.
“Chain... Fireball!”
Mana spiraled around the tip of Rude’s staff, gathering heat. The intense heat condensed into a reddish-orange ball of fire.
“Eat this!”
The fireball, as large as a human head, slammed into the mimic spiders.
Boom!
The spiders writhed as they went up in flames.
But it did not end there.
Another fireball sprang from the flames consuming them and struck the spiders nearby.
The fireball that emerged from the corpses of their own kind triggered a second explosion among the surrounding spiders.
Then came a third blast.
Although each successive fireball was weaker than the first, they still possessed more than enough power to incinerate the mimic spiders.
“As expected!”
“Master Mage!”
“Rude! Rude! Rude!”
The mercenaries cheered at the power of his fire magic. Even the veteran mercenaries who normally disliked him could not hide their admiration when they saw more than a dozen spiders incinerated in an instant.
Arrogant or not, a mage was still a mage.
The mercenaries showered Rude with praise.
“Huff... What do you think?”
Rude turned toward Kaspar, breathing slightly harder than before. His master’s repeated warnings never to cast several powerful spells in rapid succession came to mind.
Powerful magic consumed a proportionately large amount of mana. The surrounding flow of mana would then surge violently as it attempted to fill the resulting void, reducing its stability.
When mana becomes unstable, the next spell consumes even more mana...
He had only ever heard it explained before, but experiencing it in an actual battle made the consequences painfully clear.
The mana surrounding his staff had fluctuated so violently during the final Chain Fireball that the spell had nearly failed.
“Huff...”
Rude recalled the examples his master had given him of the consequences of failed spellcasting.
If you’re lucky, you lose a staff. If you’re less fortunate, you lose an arm.
Rude swallowed hard.
Still, it was fine.
He had demonstrated his abilities to everyone and shown them the difference talent made.
It had been worth the risk.
That was especially true when he looked at the blank expression of the book-taught mage named Kaspar.
Kaspar must have been deeply impressed.
The thought calmed Rude and restored his composure.
“This is the ability of a Second-Circle mage from the Flame Magic Tower. Well? Did that inspire you?”
“Are you tired?”
“...What?”
Rude was bewildered by the unexpected response.
What was Kaspar talking about?
Kaspar asked again.
“Or were you injured somehow...?”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why would I be injured? I merely cast three spells in succession, so I’m a little—”
“Um... But that was only three spells.”
Kaspar tilted his head, looking genuinely confused.
An indescribable sense of incongruity unconsciously stirred within Rude as he stared at Kaspar’s face.
But anger came first.
“You bastard! I went out of my way to show you what I can do, and—!”
“Aaaaaah! They’re coming again!”
The mercenaries cried out in alarm.
Rude’s fire magic had been powerful, but three spells were nowhere near enough to wipe out all the spiders.
Worse still, their numbers continued to increase, as though every mimic spider in the surrounding area had gathered there.
The battle resumed.
Robens urgently shouted while cutting down the spiders.
“Rude! Use your magic!”
“Damn it! I can’t do that yet!”
Rude shouted back with a troubled expression.
What did these people think magic was? Did they believe spells would simply explode one after another as long as he chanted?
What is wrong with them?
He needed time.
Time to stabilize the flow of mana surrounding his staff.
One minute... No, even thirty seconds!
[Eighty-nine adult mimic spiders. Three hundred and ninety-four juveniles.]
“That’s quite a lot.”
At that moment, Kaspar rose to his feet.
Rude turned toward him and nodded.
Right. You’re a mage too, even if you are book-taught.
“Show us what you can do for just thirty seconds, book—taught?”
Rude stared in confusion when he saw the members of the Aezk Mercenary Company hurriedly gathering together the moment Kaspar stood up.
[There’s a colony nearby. That’s why they’ve all gathered here.]
Kaspar nodded.
He looked around.
Mimic spiders surged everywhere. The mercenaries panted as they desperately held off their attacks, while corpses lay scattered across the ground.
He had already decided which spell to use.
Kaspar rapidly completed the pattern.
“Dust Eruption.”
It was the spell Jerpet had used to batter Kaspar’s shield in the refugee camp.
Now, its underlying principle manifested in the distant Eternal Forest.
The metallic fangs and claws of the spiderlings slaughtered by Rude’s magic began floating into the air.
“Whoa! Shield of Bracelet!”
Zrek activated his bracelet in alarm.
The other mercenaries tilted their heads in confusion.
They were on the same side, weren’t they?
The metallic fangs and claws hovered silently in the air.
“Everyone, fall back!”
Sensing that something was about to happen, the experienced Robens shouted to the mercenaries.
A brief silence followed.
By now, something should have happened.
Everyone turned toward Kaspar.
Kaspar scratched the back of his head.
“These are a little different.”
Unlike Jerpet’s flammable metal, the spiders’ metallic fangs and claws did not ignite easily.
I can’t obtain that kind of metal now. In that case...
Kaspar poured in a vastly greater quantity of mana.
He decided to compensate for the poor quality of the materials by drowning them beneath a waterfall of mana.
It was the correct choice.
Crack... Crackle...!
Crack-crack-crack-crack!
A moment later, a violent explosion erupted.
“Waaaaah!—Aah...? Aaaaaagh!”
The mercenaries’ joy at seeing the spell activate lasted only an instant before they groaned in horror.
It was not quite as terrible as Kaspar’s version of the Light spell, which felt capable of rupturing their optic nerves.
Nevertheless, there was no way their eyes could remain unharmed by the flash resonating across the snowfield and scattering light in every direction.
“Urrgh...”
Mimic spiders burst apart all around them.
A short while later, the mercenaries finally managed to open their eyes.
Floating before them was an enormous mass of energy.
A metallic sheen glittered across its surface.
“Ugh... Agh?”
Everyone squeezed their eyes shut in pain as the spiders’ shrieks poured into their ears.
Screech!
The mimic spiders thrashed amid the succession of explosions. Their arthropod limbs writhed within the scattering light, making the scene resemble a glittering ball.
But there would be no pleasant journey home at the end of this dance.
The mercenaries made strange noises as they hurriedly ducked and pressed themselves flat against the ground.
No one had warned them, but their instincts screamed that the thing above them was dangerous.
“Ferrous Stream.”
Crack!
Fissures raced across the surface of the mass.
Vein-like cracks spread across it in an instant.
Blue light leaked from within and flowed along the fissures, shining like a supernova on the verge of exploding.
Shrieeeek!
Skreeeeech!
An ear-splitting noise erupted.
Thousands of razor-sharp metal fragments were born from the explosion.
“My God...”
Rude stared at the metal fragments floating in the air, his face frozen in shock.
For a moment, he found the gleaming fragments beautiful.
Then the metallic torrent engulfed the repulsive mimic spiders.
The spiders at the front were struck first.
They lost their forms before they could even scream. The sharpened metal ground away their shells and shredded their flesh.
One horrific grinding noise swallowed the next.
The torrent did not stop.
It raced through the air like a reaper roaming the world, singling out only the spiders before cascading upon them like a waterfall.
Rattle-rattle-rattle!
But the fragments had not been created merely to exist beautifully.
Responding to Kaspar’s will, the pieces that had been spinning through the air like tops began merging together.
They writhed like a supple serpent, preparing to surge forward once more.
The metallic waterfall that had crashed to the ground spread outward as a raging tide, sweeping away the surrounding spiders.
The tide of metal glittered beneath the sunlight.
Any spider swallowed by it never resurfaced.
The surging metal rose briefly before crashing down again as a waterfall.
“Skreeeeech!”
“Hisssssss!”
Green bodily fluid and severed pieces of flesh scattered across the snow.
The unceasing cycle of waterfall and raging tide swept through the entire area.
All eighty-nine adult mimic spiders that had filled the forest road were annihilated.
But Kaspar did not stop.
“Magma Light.”
Dozens of burning metallic spheres materialized above his shoulders.
There’s more?
The mimic spiders had been reduced to quivering lumps of slimy paste.
Hundreds of legs spasmed against one another, while heads covered in sticky fluid and filth decorated the snow around the mercenaries.
Dumbfounded, the mercenaries searched the area for any surviving spiders.
There were none.
Not a single spider remained.
It had taken only two spells.
That had been enough to end everything.
Kaspar, however, had another target.
Pools of toxic bodily fluid overflowed in every direction.
The fluid followed the slope of the road and slowly flowed toward the mercenaries, as though making one final desperate attempt to kill them.
Kaspar gestured.
Thick spheres resembling molten iron freshly ladled from a forge poured into each puddle.
They shone like sunlight streaming from a sacred painting.
Fwoosh!
Hissssss!
The sticky fluids and venom that had spilled from the mimic spiders’ corpses began boiling instantly.
Purification.
After reporting what he was doing to Allen, who remained inside his shield, Kaspar received no response.
Allen merely stared blankly at him.
“Captain?”
Kaspar stared back in confusion.
What’s wrong with him?
Only then did Kaspar notice how silent his surroundings had become and turn his head.
A short while later, every trace of the mimic spiders’ bodily fluids had been incinerated.
Kaspar carefully checked that even the final puddle had been burned away before saying,
“That’s all.”
Everyone merely stared at Kaspar as though their souls had left their bodies.
Rude’s face, in particular, was strikingly pale.
“My God...”
After a long while, someone muttered the words like a sigh.
The mercenaries eventually recovered their senses and began gathering their fallen comrades.
Unfortunately, most of the bodies were far from intact.
Some had been melted by venom, while others had been torn apart by claws. Almost none were whole, and even fewer still had recognizable faces.
The mercenaries sorted through the corpses, collecting whatever they could to deliver to the bereaved families.
Kaspar sat in the cargo wagon, writing something on a wooden board.
He had inscribed the patterns of the three spells Rude had cast—Wall of Flame, Fire Breath, and Chain Fireball—and was now rearranging and combining their components.
All three spells are less lethal than Ignite. Their range and speed of activation, however, are superior. If I strengthen those aspects instead of their lethality, they could prove useful in ways that differ from Ignite.
Kaspar found the process of constantly modifying and combining the patterns enjoyable.
The patterns gradually became more intricate.
Little by little, they evolved in entirely new directions.
By the time he finally completed the process, Kaspar realized that the original patterns had been utterly transformed.
They were now more intricate and more refined.
At that very moment, spells containing the long history of the Flame Magic Tower had transformed into more powerful forms.
All through the pleasant experimentation of a mage who was still only a boy.
Time passed, and the recovery efforts were mostly completed. Everyone was performing the final cleanup.
The mercenary force had suffered considerable casualties—although those losses were limited to Silver Wolf.
Their original sixty members had been reduced to fifty, and even those who survived had sustained injuries of varying severity.
In comparison, the Aezk Mercenary Company was virtually unharmed.
Ellasen had suffered a few scrapes, but that was all.
“It’s fine. The priest will heal me.”
She glanced at Priest Miley, who was calmly offering prayers for the dead over the bodies.
“What if he asks for money?”
“Then we’ll have to kill him, Captain.”
“The Aezk Mercenary Company’s finances would certainly improve.”
“I never said anything about robbing the priest’s pockets.”
Considering how casually they were having a conversation that would leave them with no defense if an Inquisitor prepared a pyre, she seemed to be doing just fine.
“Do you think there are any more mimic spiders nearby, Fallen—”
Kaspar stopped speaking and looked at the Fallen Throne.
More precisely, he looked at the girl floating serenely above the spiders’ corpses—and the bizarre scene around her that only he could see.
“...”
Pale vitality resembling heat haze rose from the corpses.
The vitality emerging from the countless bodies flowed through the air and converged into a single current.
It became a small galaxy formed entirely from life force.
Standing before that galaxy, the Fallen Throne closed her eyes and inhaled its scent once. Then she smiled.
Opening her mouth, she began drinking in the entire galaxy of vitality without leaving a single trace behind.
Everything was proceeding according to their pact.