Chapter 8: Another Kind of Tracking Magic
It was the eighth day of their adventure.
Serie was no longer talking to Kurtz.
The reason was simple: she had been deeply struck.
At this moment, Kurtz noticed a Grayhorn Rabbit in the forest ahead. Only its gray tail showed behind a thick oak tree, the rest of its plump body hidden from view.
Without large-scale attack magic that would devastate half the forest, catching such a skittish creature would prove nearly impossible.
But Kurtz had a way.
He crouched low, studying the rabbit's position through the undergrowth. His fingers traced patterns in the air as he calculated angles and distances.
Then, with practised ease, he cast a small Light Arrow spell. The gleaming projectile arced through the air in an impossible curve, weaving between branches before striking the Grayhorn Rabbit with a soft thud.
That's right, Kurtz had already learned Serie's tracking magic.
However, compared to her methodical approach of weaving magic power directly into an attack spell, Kurtz had adopted what he considered a clever shortcut.
He pre-marked the target's position in his mind, then manipulated the spell's trajectory mid-flight, essentially creating his own version of homing magic through spatial calculation.
This method required no extensive practice or tedious theory memorisation. It saved considerable time and effort.
The cost was that Miss Serie was thoroughly displeased.
Serie leaned against a towering pine with her arms crossed, golden hair cascading over her shoulder.
After witnessing Kurtz's entire demonstration, her usually composed expression had grown rigid with barely contained frustration. Her delicate features were drawn tight, her lips pressed into a thin line.
She deliberately turned away, refusing to meet his gaze. "That's just a trick," she said.
Her voice carried the particular frost reserved for students who dared to take shortcuts. "You're not using tracking magic at all."
Kurtz held the Grayhorn Rabbit by its long ears, his movements efficient as he quickly field-dressed the creature and tucked it into his leather backpack.
A helpless smile tugged at his lips despite Serie's obvious irritation. "But it's really practical, isn't it?"
The very thought of Serie's orthodox method, painstakingly weaving magic power into each attack spell, maintaining perfect control while tracking an enemy's aura, made his head throb.
His approach was infinitely simpler, if admittedly less elegant.
Heaven knew what cosmic forces had been at work when they'd sent him, a former engineering student, into this fantasy world.
Worse still, they'd blessed him with creative magic talent that constantly urged him to apply scientific principles to spellcasting.
Sometimes he wondered if the gods had a sense of humour.
"True tracking magic requires weaving magic power into the attack itself," Serie finally turned back to face him, her golden eyes blazing with righteous indignation.
Each word came out clipped and precise, like a professor correcting a dense pupil.
"The spell determines direction through the enemy's magical aura, and most importantly, even if the target dodges, it performs secondary and tertiary attacks. As long as the magic power within the spell remains, it can continuously pursue the opponent."
This was the most Serie had spoken during their days of travelling together, her usual silence broken by genuine agitation.
Her hands gestured sharply as she explained, punctuating each point with controlled movements that somehow made her frustration even more apparent.
"Is it like a guided missile?" Kurtz ventured, using terminology from his previous world.
"What nonsense is that?!" Serie's entire expression transformed into fury, becoming incredibly animated, and, if Kurtz was being honest, rather endearing in its outrage.
Her eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, the ancient elf looked almost childlike in her bewilderment.
"In short," she continued, regaining some composure but still clearly flustered, "this isn't true tracking magic!"
Deep down, Serie wanted this human to continue surprising her with his unconventional approaches to magic.
But the prerequisite was that these surprises shouldn't wound her professional pride quite so thoroughly.
Why had she spent decades perfecting tracking magic when this man could achieve similar results in mere days?
Even accounting for his unorthodox methods, the practical outcome was undeniably effective.
So Miss Serie desperately attempted to save face, absolutely refusing to acknowledge his technique as legitimate tracking magic.
Watching the diminutive grandmaster with her flushed cheeks and indignant posture, Kurtz found Serie even more charming than usual.
If he wasn't reasonably certain she'd incinerate him on the spot, he might have been tempted to reach out and ruffle her carefully arranged hair, or perhaps playfully pinch one of those puffed-out cheeks.
"Alright, alright," he conceded with exaggerated gravity, "this really isn't true tracking magic."
The exact terminology hardly mattered to him, and he had no desire to prolong Serie's suffering over what was, ultimately, a semantic argument.
"If our esteemed Miss Serie doesn't mind, could you perhaps teach me once more? This time, I promise to seriously study the real, genuine, and absolutely orthodox tracking magic."
In truth, Kurtz had gradually realised that this tracking magic was likely one of the elves' most closely guarded secrets.
The implications were staggering once he considered the tactical applications.
Picture this: you're facing a mage in combat.
You successfully dodge their initial barrage of spells, and just as you're preparing to close the distance for a decisive strike, you discover their magic has curved around behind you, homing in for a second attempt.
The psychological impact alone would be devastating, never mind the physical danger.
He couldn't help but wonder why such a valuable technique hadn't been passed down to later generations.
Was the learning curve so steep that most practitioners gave up? Or had magical evolution simply rendered tracking magic obsolete, replaced by more direct and overwhelming force?
Kurtz suspected there had to have been some catastrophic event or systematic suppression that caused this knowledge to vanish from the magical world.
Serie naturally had no insight into Kurtz's historical speculations.
But hearing him formally acknowledge that his method wasn't true tracking magic, combined with his respectful request for proper instruction, caused the corner of her mouth to curve upward in the faintest hint of satisfaction.
"Since that's the case," she said, attempting to sound gracious while clearly pleased, "seeing how sincere you are in your request..."
She raised one pale hand with practised grace, allowing magic power to condense at her fingertips like liquid starlight. "Watch closely. This is the authentic method for—"
Her words were cut short by an explosion that echoed from somewhere far beyond the treeline.
Both mages turned their heads in unison, looking toward the distant horizon where the clear afternoon sky had suddenly darkened.
Black and purple storm clouds gathered with unnatural speed, crackling with energy that made the very air taste of copper and sulfur.
"That's..." Serie's expression shifted instantly from tutorial mode to battle-ready alertness. Her golden eyes narrowed as she assessed the magical disturbance.
"The aura of demonic beasts. And not just any beast."
Kurtz immediately cast his Grand Detection spell. The magic circle materialised in his palm, glowing with soft blue light as it reached out across the landscape.
The explosion's origin point lay exactly at the limit of his detection range, but what he saw there made his blood run cold.
The magical display showed dense clusters of moving dots, far too many for comfort.
"There are many of them," he said, his voice grim as he studied the readout. "Dozens, at minimum."
His current version of the Grand Detection spell was still primitive, unable to distinguish between friend and foe or gauge individual strength levels.
It could only provide rough estimates of numbers and general positioning, but those numbers were deeply troubling.
"What do you say?" Kurtz asked, glancing sideways at his elven companion. "Do we retreat to a safe distance, or investigate this... whatever it is?"
If he'd been travelling alone, he would have been sprinting in the opposite direction the moment that explosion shattered the afternoon quiet.
But with Serie beside him, Serie, whose combat abilities far exceeded his own, he felt obligated to defer to her judgment.
Serie studied Kurtz for a long moment, her expression shifting to something that might have been excitement. A predatory gleam entered her golden eyes as she cast her own, more sophisticated detection spell.
After a few seconds of magical analysis, her lips curved in anticipation.
"Let's go," she decided with obvious relish. "At least it won't be boring."
Her enhanced detection had revealed no particularly overwhelming magical signatures among the disturbance, nothing that posed a serious threat to an elf of her calibre.
The prospect of actual combat, after days of relatively peaceful travel, held definite appeal.
"Alright." Kurtz nodded, shouldering his pack properly and checking that his spell components were easily accessible.
Together, they moved through the forest toward the sound of distant battle.
After traversing dense woodland for nearly an hour, pushing through tangled undergrowth and navigating around massive tree trunks, they finally emerged at the forest's edge.
A small settlement spread out before them in the valley below, and the scene that greeted them was one of chaos and destruction.
The air hung thick with the smell of smoke and the metallic tang of fresh blood.
Flames rose from several burning structures, and the sounds of combat, shouting, clashing metal, and inhuman howls, carried clearly across the distance.
"Dwarven territory," Serie observed, taking in the architecture and defensive layout with a practised eye. "It looks like they're under assault by demonic beasts. A coordinated attack, by the positioning."
Kurtz raised his hand to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun as he studied the battle below.
The village's stone wall had been breached in multiple places, with one particularly massive gap that looked like it had been blown open by explosive force rather than simple battering.
Through these openings, dozens of wolf-like creatures poured into the settlement, their dark forms weaving between buildings as they hunted the defending dwarves.
"High-Grade Wolf Fiends," Serie identified, her voice taking on the tone of a scholar cataloguing specimens.
"They're an evolution of the common magic wolves we encountered earlier. Pack hunters with high intelligence. Their combat effectiveness increases dramatically during full moon nights, and they tend to enter berserk states that make them even more dangerous."
Kurtz squinted at the creatures, noting their unnaturally large size and the way they moved with predatory coordination.
These Wolf Fiends bore an uncanny resemblance to the werewolves from his world's folklore, though far more bestial and horrifying in appearance.
Their fur was matted with dark stains, their eyes glowed with red light, and their movements carried the fluid grace of apex predators.
The numerical disparity was immediately apparent and deeply concerning. While the dwarven defenders fought with admirable courage and skill, they were clearly overwhelmed.
This wasn't a large settlement, Kurtz could see from one end to the other with little difficulty, and there appeared to be perhaps twenty or thirty combat-capable dwarves at most.
Against what looked like twice that number of Wolf Fiends, the outcome seemed inevitable.
Unless something changed, the battle would soon be over.
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