Chapter 80. Agency (3)
Mages are weak in close combat.
It was an obvious statement. Just expanding one's mana circuit and learning theories and magic alone was already overwhelming, so there was no time to train in weaponry or martial arts.
Besides, with magic, there was hardly any need to risk fighting up close.
This was especially true for elemental mages, who specialized in destruction. Because of this, the nobles could not help but view Verden differently.
"…Wasn't he supposed to be an elemental mage?"
"Enchantments, and on top of that, such movements. Hah, this is truly surprising."
For a moment, a War Mage from the Western Empire came to mind.
It was a faraway country, and so had no ties with the duchy, but it was known for cultivating powerful mage troops who wielded a peculiar combat style by combining magic with martial arts.
But soon, that thought was cast aside.
Though very few in number, there were indeed mages who did not rely solely on magic. Just because a mage was adept in close combat, to consider him a soldier of another nation was an excessive assumption.
And in any case, the Western Empire had no reason to concern itself with the duchy. Even if it did, it would not have revealed itself so openly like this.
The nobles quietly fixed their gazes on Verden.
Last year had been the one-man stage of the Crimson Blade, but this year, there were as many as three candidates for the championship. No one could predict who would win.
The nobles one after another began discussing the matches. The garden of the banquet hall bustled more than usual, and those who had not yet placed their bets wagered on Verden.
The first match ended, and it was time for a break.
The servants of the royal castle busily moved about, carrying trays of food.
Verden picked up a glass of champagne and looked around.
For some reason, despite the tournament being the main topic, the nobles and the participants formed separate groups.
With no particular place to go, he moved toward the area where the participants were gathered.
The moment they saw Verden, the participants shot him sharp looks. Clearly, they were wary after witnessing his earlier match.
Then, Jack approached.
"You're strong."
At the sudden words, Verden had no immediate reply.
After a short pause, he finally spoke.
"Thank you."
"I look forward to seeing you in the finals."
Leaving those words behind, Jack walked away.
Along the way, he crossed paths with Luke, but unlike with Verden, Luke passed by as if he had no interest at all.
"…Savage creature."
Believing himself slighted, Luke's face twisted, but it soon returned to his usual expression.
Leisurely twirling his champagne glass, Luke approached Verden.
"Pleased to meet you. I am Luke, in the service of Count Dabirk."
He gave a courteous greeting.
His mannerisms felt like a parody of noble etiquette, but Verden had no intention of pointing it out.
"Asher."
"I know. Your match earlier was truly impressive. A mage engaging in close combat, it was a rare sight indeed."
Luke's lips twisted into a smirk.
It was clearly closer to ridicule than a smile.
"Well, I do understand that each person has their own peculiar strengths. In your case, it would be those un-mage-like movements. But even so, to avoid a magic duel against another mage? Frankly speaking, it was disappointing."
To evade a magic duel was the same as admitting one's lack of confidence in magic.
Strength aside, it was disgraceful as a mage. At least, that was how Luke saw it. To him, the ideal mage was an artist.
To subdue an opponent more beautifully, more gracefully, through magic alone, was what he believed to be correct. And so Verden's style of combat was utterly repulsive.
"That is why I shall make you a proposal. Forfeit the second match. That way, at least you will preserve the smallest shred of dignity."
Professor Luke.
A former academy professor, and a practitioner of high-tier fourth-circle mental magic.
On top of that, he could wield basic elemental spells as well, making his specialty the shattering of minds and the subjugation of bodies.
To destroy the psyche of a young mage before him would be a simple matter.
Verden, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke.
"Before I answer, I want to ask you one thing."
At some point, the honorifics had vanished from his tone.
Luke arched a brow.
"And what would that be?"
"Is interfering in another's match also something beautiful?"
For an instant, Luke's face froze.
"…What are you talking about?"
"Must I spell it out?"
Even as the duke and the nobles watched, Robin, Verden's opponent in the first match, had displayed killing intent.
Flashes of rage and hatred had appeared on his face. Unless there was some deep grudge, such emotions were not something one would harbor toward a complete stranger like Verden.
And most telling of all, there had been a faint trace of mana in him. The same mana that now emanated from Luke.
'Well, even though it's a match, there are no rules that say it must be fought fairly.'
That was why no one had interfered.
Perhaps his employer, Count Dabirk, had ordered it. To teach that insolent mage a lesson.
Or perhaps it had simply been Luke himself, irked by Verden's words, who secretly made his move.
Whatever it was, Verden did not like it.
Luke was one of those men who were polished only on the outside, but inside as sly and filthy as the mages of the Magic Tower.
After a brief silence, Luke chuckled.
"Judging by the nonsense you speak, you must be terribly exhausted. You should not let your tongue run loose with claims you cannot prove. In any case, I suppose it will be best if I end the second match quickly, for both our sakes."
With a swift turn, Luke left.
Verden glared at his retreating back.
He had never attended the academy, nor cared what was taught there, but one thing was clear — under such a professor, no one would ever become a true mage.
"One more glass of champagne."
"Here you are."
Verden sipped the fine champagne, enjoying the scenery of the royal castle.
Time passed, and the second match began.
***
"As expected, that man will reach the finals."
The nobles' eyes turned to Jack.
In the first match, he had displayed extraordinary physical prowess. And in the second, he had showcased powerful swordsmanship. His opponent's weapon, which had managed to deflect his strikes again and again, finally shattered under the pressure.
Unlike the Crimson Blade, who employed rapid swordsmanship, Jack's style was the complete opposite — a technique that fully utilized brute strength.
The winners of the second round had put on decent matches, but compared to Jack, their performances paled in many respects.
At last, the final match of the day approached.
Verden and Luke. The two stood upon the stage, each with a staff in hand.
Luke sneered as he faced Verden.
That arrogant boy had declared he would defeat every participant in under two minutes. It would have been better if he had died in an accident during the first match, or at least suffered a miserable defeat.
'Since it has come to this, I'll end it before he even has a chance to resist.'
Mana surged from Luke's body.
A fourth-circle high mage, and no less than a former professor. The crowd's anticipation swelled.
Then, as Lake gave the signal to begin—
Everything around them vanished.
***
'Powerlessness always leads to fear.'
People bowed before overwhelming strength they could not resist. And then, they begged for their lives. Such was instinct.
This spell was the most powerful among all the mental arts Luke had learned.
He looked around.
'So, we are inside the mental realm. A complete success.'
When there was a great gap in rank between mages, the chance of success would drop sharply.
And while there were extremely rare cases of those innately immune to mental magic, it seemed that insolent Asher was not among them.
Surely, he would not have deliberately allowed himself to be caught.
Luke walked forward.
Before long, Verden emerged from the darkness, and their eyes met.
"…Hm?"
But the reaction he expected never came.
There was no fear on Verden's face, only a faint expression of annoyance. Frowning at the familiar face before him, Verden furrowed his brows.
'The tower master again?'
Users of mental magic were rare.
Verden had deliberately not resisted, curious to observe how the mana flowed, how it acted upon the mind. Naturally, he was confident he could escape whenever he wished. After all, not even the Soul Tree — which had trapped tens of thousands, including Leira, in nightmares — had been able to shake his mind in the slightest.
'But this…'
It was far below expectations. Compared to the nightmares cast by the Soul Tree, this was at least three levels weaker. There was nothing worth learning here.
Losing interest, Verden lightly tapped his staff against the ground.
Luke tilted his head at the incomprehensible act.
A pillar of fire erupted from the ground, engulfing Luke whole.
***
"Aaaaaghhhh!"
The moment the match began, Luke let out a pitiful scream, writhing on the floor. As though his body had caught fire, he rolled about, thrashing wildly and slapping his own body.
This was the backlash of entering another's mental realm.
If one foolishly attempted to use it on someone whose mental strength far surpassed their own, one could suffer several times the recoil.
"Aaaaghhhh!"
"What are you doing, take him away, quickly!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
Soldiers rushed in, hauling away the panic-stricken Luke.
By the time his screams had faded into the distance, Verden had already stepped outside. Barely ten seconds had passed since the match began.
The nobles' gazes upon him had changed yet again.
"At this rate, he really might finish each match in under two minutes."
No one argued otherwise.
For in truth, if one added together the time it had taken Verden to win both his first and second matches, it had not even amounted to a single minute.
At that moment, the Grand Duke clapped his hands and spoke.
"It was an entertaining match. Even with new talents competing every year, I never find it dull. This exceeded my expectations. Wouldn't you all agree?"
"I feel the same, Your Highness."
"His Highness speaks the truth."
The other nobles followed suit, joining in the applause.
The participants, receiving the ovation, bowed silently in return.
"Then let us end today's banquet here. The participants of the matches have earned the right to attend tomorrow's final banquet, so come if you wish. I would prefer that all those who advanced to the semifinals be present."
The Grand Duke's eyes paused on Verden.
He gave a slight nod, as though to say he looked forward to tomorrow's matches, before returning to the royal castle.
Count Rodenmeyer approached Verden.
"You certainly have the strength to show such confidence before His Highness. Though the match ended too quickly to be much of a spectacle. Especially the second round, it was over far too easily."
Though he spoke thus, Count Rodenmeyer looked satisfied rather than disappointed.
For his priorities lay not in thrilling duels, but in securing first place. As long as victory was won fairly, nothing else mattered.
"Let us return now. You would do well to sleep early as soon as we arrive. Tomorrow's banquet will drain you terribly."
"Because of the nobles' attention?"
"It would be fortunate if it ended at mere attention. Some nobles with daughters may try to bind you by marriage. Even if your origins are uncertain, you possess exceptional talent as a mage. And, in terms of appearance as well."
Verden scowled, his brows furrowing in disgust.
He had never once considered having a lover, nor had he the leisure to do so. That was precisely why he disliked the notion all the more.
"If such things happen, please prevent them."
"I shall consider it, depending on how you conduct yourself."