"I've rested enough. It was a bit stuffy in the room, so I came out for a stroll."
The woman named Delaersha wrapped her graceful white arm around Roger's neck and, pressing to his ear, whispered something.
Roger embraced her waist, their bodies pressing tightly together like a pair of passionate lovers.
"What a pair!..." Reyn winced mentally and looked away.
These two had met just last night, and they were already acting like they had a long secret romance. Flaunting their feelings in broad daylight right in front of him. Either it was a show for the public, or they were really head over heels.
And he'd thought Master Roger was cold and unapproachable. Turns out it was just a mask.
Reyn grew curious. This Delaersha was definitely a Superhuman, and quite likely a powerful one—otherwise, how would she recognize him as a Battle Mage?
He instinctively wanted to activate his Soul Eye to secretly scan Delaersha, but hesitated.
Last time, when he'd rashly tried to peer into Roger's—Legend's—soul, he'd been repelled by a backlash from the overwhelmingly powerful soul. The unpleasant sensation was still fresh in his memory.
This Delaersha was so mysterious, and tangled up with Roger—who knew, maybe she was a Legendary Superhuman too.
After thinking it over, he didn't look directly at her soul, just skimmed the very edge of her aura, barely touching it.
Before he could make out anything properly, Reyn felt indescribable pressure!
He had a premonition: if he continued, it wouldn't end well.
The sensation was very similar to what he'd felt trying to examine Roger's soul, as if he was about to see something forbidden. The reaction was even stronger than with Roger.
That meant Delaersha was at least a Legendary Superhuman, and possibly even higher ranked than Roger!
"Definitely a Legend. Otherwise Master Roger wouldn't get involved with her. Interesting, what path is she on? Looks like a Mage..." Reyn thought and closed his Soul Eye in time.
At that moment, the pair separated a bit. Roger finally remembered Reyn's presence. With one arm around Delaersha's waist, he looked at the young man and introduced them,
"Reyn, this is Delaersha. She's my... hmm... friend."
"Delaersha, this is Reyn. A very promising young man."
Delaersha nodded slightly. Her gaze slowly traveled over Reyn, studying him intently.
"Indeed, very promising," she smiled. "The soul is still unstable, but already so strong. Amazing that there's such an outstanding young Mage in Longsande."
Reyn felt a bit uneasy under her gaze; it seemed like she was appraising him with special interest.
Delaersha seemed to master body language perfectly: her intonations, gestures, every slight movement—all exuded irresistible charm, stirring the imagination.
He grew wary. Was this some special ability?
Had Master Roger noticed this oddity? Or noticed but... enjoyed it?
Besides, she'd discerned his soul's power. How? Some unique Element, or did all Superhumans at Legend level and above have such vision?
Reyn's thoughts raced, but he kept a modest expression on his face.
"I just got lucky," he said.
"Luck alone doesn't get you a Soul Fusion Seed. This medium is cheap but rare. Since you became a Battle Mage, you definitely have outstanding qualities," Delaersha clearly knew her Mage affairs well. "Which academy do you attend?" she asked unexpectedly.
"Kleyden Academy."
Reyn answered honestly—it was easy to find out anyway. Now he was almost sure this mysterious woman was a Mage too.
Hearing the answer, Delaersha seemed a bit surprised but didn't press further.
"Battle Mage?" Roger, standing nearby, still doubted after overhearing. "I know little about that school. Saw a couple of Battle Mages before, they were decent, but none on first rank were anywhere near as strong as you."
"Unless... you fused with a very rare Demonic Soul..." He guessed, curiosity flashing in his eyes.
Reyn stayed silent, which was as good as admission.
What Demonic Soul a Superhuman fused with was a deep personal secret, usually not revealed even to closest friends.
Seeing Reyn didn't want to talk, Roger didn't push. He just sighed,
"Since you've become a Mage... Well, a bit of a shame, of course. The Wolf School lost a promising follower. But it's not bad either. Mages are stronger than Demon Hunters, at least in most cases. And the Empire treats them without prejudice."
"Thank you for the kind words, Master Roger," Reyn replied sincerely.
"No need. You made the right choice," Roger spread his arms. Demon Hunter schools struggled to find new adepts, but they trusted fate and never forced anyone.
He'd invited Reyn once, seeing his talent and determination, even considering taking him as an apprentice. But the desire wasn't that strong, so if he missed it— so be it.
Roger eyed Reyn's figure again and smirked,
"Mage... Heh, with that build! Tell anyone—few would believe you're a Mage."
Suddenly he perked up.
"Battle Mages are strong in close combat. How about showing me what you can do?"
"Sure," Reyn himself wanted to test himself against a Legendary Superhuman.
"Do you wield a sword?" Roger asked. Getting an affirmative nod, he went into the room, brought out two of his cruciform swords, and tossed one to Reyn. "You take the steel one, I'll take the silver. No spells from you, none from me. Just swords."
Reyn caught the sword. The moment his fingers closed on the hilt, a strange sensation ran through his hand.
"Metal Touch" had activated.
He drew the blade from its sheath. The sword's weight, shape, center of balance, its entire structure—instantly imprinted in his mind. The sword felt like part of his body, an extension of his arm—no foreignness, as if he'd wielded it for years.
It was an ordinary steel cruciform sword, but clearly no simple weapon: it weighed over thirty pounds sterling, and runes were etched on the blade—a sign of magical enchantment.
Roger explained,
"This steel sword in your hands is called 'Wolf Fang.' It's top-quality gear. Its enchantment is 'Flame Wolf Strike.' In battle, it absorbs your spiritual power, converting it to fire energy, heating the blade and boosting its power. It also lets you unleash the 'Flame Wolf Strike' itself."
"Top-quality gear!"
Reyn ran his fingers admiringly over the steel.
Ellunes' armory was vast. Most items were ordinary, but if an alchemist enchanted a weapon or armor, it gained extra properties and was called enchanted equipment.
Enchanted weapons far outpowered normal ones, but their price was staggering—at least a hundred gold shields. Every Superhuman usually carried one or two enchanted items.
If a weapon underwent multiple enhancements raising its power to a new level, or was forged from special materials infused with a Demonic Soul, it became top-class gear. Such weapons were called "top-quality gear." They cost astronomical sums, hundreds of times more than regular enchanted ones, were rare, and even Superhumans struggled to obtain them.
Better than top-quality were epic items. Their capabilities went beyond simple enchantment.
Epic weapons not only had incredible power but were shrouded in legends that entered history. Each was unique.
As for even more powerful legendary artifacts, they truly belonged to legends. Mentions of them appeared only in heroic sagas. They weren't just weapons or armor—they embodied astonishing stories or even influenced past events.
Reyn was holding such superior gear for the first time. No wonder it felt entirely different.
He wasn't too surprised, though: Roger was a Legendary Demon Hunter, and ordinary enchanted weapons wouldn't suit his level.
Roger didn't describe the silver sword in his hand, but Reyn had no doubt it was top-quality too.
They went out to the courtyard and faced each other ten paces apart.
Reyn had already activated his phone's gyroscope. He placed one foot forward, knees slightly bent, assuming the familiar "plow stance." He held the sword two-handed in front, point up, showing no intent to attack first—a clear defensive position.
"Imperial Military Fencing?"
Roger recognized Reyn's stance at a glance. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile—he clearly felt very confident.
Before the words left his lips, he merged as one with his silver sword, flashing silver light as he lunged at Reyn at unimaginable speed.
Reyn tensed inwardly. He knew Roger was fast, but not this fast!
Yet he managed to track the silver blade's trajectory.
Without hesitation, he thrust his steel sword sideways for a block, retreating half a step to create space. With his legs, he channeled all his muscle power into the blade.
Clang!
A sharp ring! The runes on "Wolf Fang"'s blade flared, turning the whole sword crimson as if red-hot. Sparks flew where it met the silver blade.
Huge force transmitted from the sword, numbing Reyn's hand between thumb and forefinger, but the impact was bearable.
He immediately shifted his feet again, pivoting slightly to change position, and slashed horizontally with the steel sword—as if rehearsed, perfectly parrying Roger's second thrust.
Clang again! Reyn blocked the second strike and without pause turned to face Roger, swinging to block his attack and guard his center line.
This was the essence of Imperial Military Fencing: using footwork on minimal space to control the center line ahead with the sword, defending reliably and seeking counterattack chances.
The courtyard rang continuously with clashing swords, almost blending into a single hum.
Silver and crimson flashes from the blades flickered nonstop. Roger's silver sword moved like a storm wind, circling Reyn, probing for a gap to break his defense.
Reyn's steel sword created an impenetrable shield.
Under Roger's onslaught, he was like a cliff battered by Violent Waves: it seemed about to collapse, about to be overwhelmed, but he stood firm, unshakable and enduring.
His feet never retreated more than three steps; he just pivoted on a small spot, putting power into his strikes. The steel sword in his hands traced no fancy figures—just continuous blocks.
These were mere blocks, nothing more.
Roger was a Demon Hunter, not famed for raw strength, but as a Legend fused with over ten Demonic Souls, he definitely outpowered Reyn's first-rank strength, even with Reyn's power-boosting Element.
Not to mention the Demon Hunter wasn't moving at full force—maybe not even half his normal speed.
Even so, it was extremely hard for Reyn.
He strained to meet Roger's blade weak spot with his sword's strong part—the front half of the edge—to reduce recoil. Then, with footwork, he dissipated inertia, keeping balance. He barely managed not to lose, but counterattacking was out of the question: from start to end, he was under total pressure.
With such a vast power gap, "Wolf Fang"'s enchantment barely mattered.
He held out for almost a minute like that.
The pressure suddenly vanished. Roger leaped back several steps and ceased his attack.
"Why did you stop?" Reyn asked, slightly out of breath.
Though this sword duel had been grueling, he felt far from his limit. If the fight had continued, he might have found an opening for a counterstrike.
Roger shook his head, his face etched with extreme astonishment.
"Continuing the sword duel would be pointless. Without using magic or restricting my speed, it would be very difficult for me to defeat you with fencing alone," he stared at Reyn like some kind of monster, then his gaze dropped to the young man's feet. "Your footwork is superb, your strength control incredibly stable. The key to Imperial military fencing is precisely 'stability.' I landed dozens of strikes, but couldn't disrupt your rhythm at all. Astonishing."
With these words, Roger sincerely raised his thumb and admiration shone in his eyes.
"Master Roger, you're flattering me," Reyn said. Though not shy by nature, he was a bit embarrassed by such praise.
In truth, since arriving in this world, he had barely practiced fencing. It was only thanks to his prior foundations, precise body control via his phone's gyroscope, and "Metallic Touch," which gave him perfect sword sense as if it were an extension of his hand, that he achieved such results.
If he had picked any other weapon instead of a sword, the outcome wouldn't have been much worse.
Unaware of Reyn's thoughts, Roger snorted dismissively:
"No need to be modest. I know my own fencing level well. There aren't many in the entire Empire who wield a sword better than me.
"Do you really think Zoltan calls me master just because I play cards well?
"Now I'm even a little regretful. With your talent for the sword, becoming a mage is such a waste! If I'd known sooner, I'd have dragged you into the Wolf School by force."
His expression turned less than pleased.
It wasn't just that the Wolf School had missed out on an incredibly gifted follower. What he regretted most was Reyn's choice: the world had lost a future sword master.
Battle mages fought up close and used swords too, but their foundation was spells. Magic was the source of their power—otherwise, how would it be a separate school of mages?
As a top-class sword master, Roger loved fencing to his core.
He could see Reyn had no special passion for the sword, treating it merely as an ordinary weapon. And now, as a mage, he was unlikely to devote himself to the art of the blade.
Reyn said nothing, simply sheathed "Wolf Fang" and silently returned it to Roger.
"What an exciting duel!"
Delaersha broke the silence that had fallen over the courtyard. Wrapped in her black cloak, she approached and gently pressed against Roger.
"Reyn, you did excellently," she smiled. "Don't listen to Roger. The path of the mage is definitely more promising than that of a demon hunter. Becoming a Battle mage is the best choice for you."