Chapter 173
Chapter 173
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.40 – The Knights' Spring (7)
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The warrior's spear arts were ever-changing.
Whoosh!
Sometimes, like the talons of a bird of prey, it snatched up its quarry in an instant.
Crack!
At other times, like a beast's fangs, it tore into its foe.
Swoosh!
Yet in the next moment, like a reptile's tail, the spear whipped through the air.
It bore only the name of spear, but his weapon performed the roles of sword, whip, shield, or greatsword.
It was a skill so natural in its transformations that one wondered if such fluidity was even possible—a technique where calling him the pinnacle of spear mastery would be no exaggeration.
King of All Weapons.
Debates still raged over whether sword or spear reigned supreme, but judging by this display alone, the spear was undoubtedly the finest.
Yet this assessment held true only because that man wielded it.
A knight with the potential to master any weapon had poured all his talent into the spear alone.
It was a prowess that would let him proclaim himself the Divine Spear without shame.
Crackle!
But the warrior wasn't solely reliant on his spear skills.
His innate murderous intent, transformed into [Crimson Fighting Spirit], possessed sharpness enough to shred flesh on contact and destructive power to pulverize boulders.
He was strong.
Overwhelmingly so.
The mages of the Magic Tower, having experienced it firsthand, no longer dismissed the silver-haired warrior.
Instead, they viewed him as their greatest threat.
And yet, a man pushed past even that warrior.
The knight who had reduced twelve bronze giants to scrap metal.
That knight...
"You're damn good in a fight, but you suck at handling spellcasters. Way too inefficient."
began offering unsolicited advice out of nowhere, and a look of clear displeasure—obvious even to the mages—crossed the warrior's face.
"...Anyone can talk a big game."
"True enough."
"You admit it readily."
"It's the truth."
"......"
Talking was easy for anyone, that much was true.
The Herculean knight admitted it outright.
"I don't share my know-how with just anyone, but I'll show you special."
"?"
"Stay back for now. No one's a better one-shot instructor than me."
"...?"
──Lark de Duron understood what Lee Han meant only three minutes into the fight, after witnessing him snap the neck of a grand mage.
He proved without a doubt that he was indeed a master instructor in mage hunting.
...The Magic Tower's mages began to flee.
Though proud and tied to their research materials in the tower, their lives weren't expendable.
They might stand against lesser foes, but the intruders storming the tower were freakishly powerful.
Warriors who scarcely seemed human.
"The bronze giants are all smashed to bits? That's not human—absolutely not!"
"Just run already."
"But if we flee like this, will the 'Tower Lord' forgive us...?"
Flinch!
"W-We have no choice. We want to live too."
The mages flinched momentarily but shook their heads.
Mages were inherently individualistic creatures by nature.
They sought personal perfection, born with selfish tendencies.
The reason these egoists belonged to the Magic Tower was its superior research facilities, abundant 'research materials,' and generous funding.
...However, when their lives hung in the balance, they were ready to abandon it all.
Pooling strength to repel invaders might seem logical, but not for them.
They craved personal glory, advancement, and research—clues to higher realms of magic.
They joined the tower for that, not to risk their lives for it.
"Still, let's grab this. This artifact's worth four years of funding."
"Oho, then I'll take that one."
"Sigh, any good staves around?"
The mages had evolved into petty thieves, looting the tower's treasures.
Artifacts and magical items worth astronomical sums on the market.
To these spendthrifts with no sense of economy, such spoils would ensure a comfortable future...
"Can't let you do that."
Pffft!
"Sigh, my fellow mages are hopeless. No sense of loyalty whatsoever."
'He' sighed as he strolled leisurely forward.
Yes, what could one expect from 'fellow mages'?
He himself had lacked any sense of belonging in his youth.
But that was then, and this was now.
"You shouldn't touch my property."
Yes, fellow mages would know better.
Never touch a mage's research notes, artifacts, or personal belongings.
...Unless they were a genius poised to revolutionize magic, of course—but otherwise, it was taboo.
So,
"Don't feel too hard done by. For a fellow mage, I gave you a painless end."
He smiled kindly at his exploded kin, their heads like burst tomatoes.
A merciful death, truly.
Stealing from him warranted instant execution, which he'd granted.
Smiling, he resumed his unhurried steps.
And then he saw.
"...Oho, no wonder my fellows find them tough."
He watched the warrior battling the elders with keen interest.
A most entertaining spectacle.
Which was why he,
"Might as well watch a bit longer."
plopped down with a playful grin.
He wanted to spectate their fight a while more.
Five—no, now four grand mages chanted in panic.
For grand mages, everyday speech was indistinguishable from spells.
A mere word could force ordinary folk to their knees or kill outright.
Yet that 'monster'...
[...Spells not working—no, he's tearing them apart...? Am I dreaming?]
Crunch!
[A nightmare, horribly real...]
Drip...
An unseen pressure grazed his nose; the grand mage bled from it.
A pathetic sight, yet he was too stunned to notice, frozen in horror.
Lee Han switched with the spearman.
The guy grumbled, and Lee Han wasn't one to butt into others' fights lightly, but today was different.
'He's a bit sloppy against spellcasters. Rookie vibes.'
It showed he hadn't tangled with many mages.
He fought damn well, sure, but Lee Han couldn't hold back his advice.
Especially as a renowned mage hunter himself...!
So.
"Why take spells head-on? Parry them properly..."
He decided to teach four basics out of a hundred ways to fight spellcasters.
Crunch!
Spells were like arrows loosed by a shaman.
Miss or fail, and they boomeranged back on the caster.
So, sense them instinctively and deflect—the parry happens automatically.
Thud!
"Gaaack!"
Like that.
It took some finesse, but with his special eyes, it'd be easy to learn.
LEARN SIMPLE THROWING TECHNIQUES
Aim for head, mouth, or heart. Use pebbles or glass shards like darts.
Thwack!
Anything in Lee Han's hand became a projectile.
Finger Bullet Technique.
Hurl them skillfully, like throwing knives.
If unavailable, learn ranged strikes like Hundred-Step Piercing Fist or Ridge-Shattering Palm.
Thwack!
...Bullseye.
AGAINST DISASTER-TIER SPELLS
Parry small ones. For big ones, tank and push through. Grind it out.
Rumble!
"Those guys are a headache."
Some spellcasters unleashed cataclysmic magic, mimicking natural disasters.
The prior lessons handled most, but not these.
Advanced stuff, really.
In such cases,
"You just hack away relentlessly. It's a grind, basically."
Fwosh!
It demanded stamina and focus.
Deflect minor spells; for majors...
Boom!
'...Endure.'
Tank it with your body and break through.
No dodging or retreating.
No shields either.
Because backing off or turtling against a strong spellcaster meant death.
Even if flesh tore and bones snapped, pushing through for that one hit was the only path.
Crack! Grind!
Flesh and bone yielded as he advanced.
Slash!!
Land the first blow on the strong spellcaster.
...Just a chest gash this time. A bit wasteful.
"Tch!"
Lee Han clicked his tongue.
He'd aimed for a flashy demo, but the bastard was tricky.
Old spellcasters were tenacious.
...Scratching his head sheepishly, Lee Han backpedaled with an embarrassed look.
RUN IF IT GETS TOUGH
Honor? Chivalry? Screw that against spellcasters. Live to fight another day.
If the fight turned sour against a spellcaster, flee immediately—no shame in it. Retreat freely and wait for an opening. Obsessing over honor was a loser's game.
Having demonstrated all lessons personally, Lee Han returned to his impromptu student, looking awkward.
"Ahem, embarrassing. Only sent one to hell."
"......"
"Anyway, that's the condensed version. Use it well."
"...Where the hell would I even use this?"
"Where's a lecture this good? Such a complainer."
"...Hah!"
The guy stared at him incredulously, borderline disrespectful.
...Lark de Duron's prowess was overwhelming even in Galahad.
His obscurity stemmed from operating in shadows, hiding his strength.
He emerged publicly when 72 pirate ships raided Galahad's rivers, single-handedly crushing 50.
That feat first publicized the name 'Fierce Wolf.'
- Is that Galahad's next commander?
- Commander Kuring must be thrilled. Such a talent as his junior—retire easy.
- Brutal, though. Pirates or not, wiping them out without survivors.
- Know what's creepier? Every pirate died in one strike. Even famed mercenaries and warriors pierced instantly.
- Reminds me of Sir Maximus's debut. Heh.
A top candidate for commander of Galahad's pride, the [Turquoise Unicorn Knights], his might rivaled northern Maximus, earning him the moniker 'Spear Ghost' or 'Divine Spear.'
His name and title personally bestowed by Duke Blake, forsaking his birth name—an honor, no regrets.
Lark de Duron wasn't one to gawk; he inspired awe in others.
When his ordinary sister became a knight, he'd coldly remarked, "Foolish girl, should wed instead..." (then endured three hours of cursing), reacting flatly.
Meeting Maximus first time? Just pondered, "Can I kill him? Or not?"
Being surprised was rarer than rare for him.
Even with liege Blake, it was excitement, not shock.
So Lark wished to deny his current emotion.
Of all people,
'This thug...'
Feeling admiration for such a rogue...
Utter humiliation; his eye twitched.
Yet denial failed...
Slash!
──The bastard fought brilliantly.
As if,
'...He eats just to kill mages?'
An absurd thought, yet fitting.
But the teachings? Lark deemed them a mess.
From impossible spell-parrying, to unseen long-range strikes, finger-shooting pebbles like musket balls.
Not even Galahad knights could mimic that.
...Lark might manage with effort.
But the last one.
'Human? Or lizard?'
Yielding flesh and bone, yet already regenerating impossibly.
Lark was certain.
If this rogue became an enemy, kill without fail.
Otherwise...
'He'd be the deadliest foe.'
Lark judged this single knight more dangerous than the grand mages still manipulating the skies.
Then.
"...Really pissing me off."
"...Ahem."
Had he noticed the stare?
Awkward situation.
They were allies now; deeming him foe was a mistake.
Rarely, Lark tried an apologetic look—
"Hey, you there. Done spectating yet?"
Whoosh!
──Lark's spear shot out nimbly toward Lee Han's pointed spot, unleashing a mighty strike.
Regrettably,
Thud!
...It was effortlessly blocked.
Lark's eyes widened; his pupils shook at the smooth deflection.
"Oops, caught me?"
The 'boy' emerged with a mischievous grin.
"......"
"Impressive block. That's penta-spell, no, hexa-spell power. Insane fighting spirit, haha."
"......Kid?"
Lark struggled less with the blocked strike than it being halted by what seemed a mere fifteen-year-old.
But the unbelievable words...
......The grand mages' title for the boy.
Tower Lord.
Meaning,
"First-timers never believe it. Nice to meet you—Tower Master Tür."
Tower Master Tür.
...He knew that name.
Tür de Seigan.
A name even clueless knights recognized, etched in history books.
This man...
"A grand mage who's lived 400 years..."
"Precisely 453. Cursed longevity, eh? Haha!!"
"......"
Lark and Lee Han didn't laugh.
Stone-faced, they sweated coldly.
They were certain.
This man's power...
"......"
"Run. We can't win."
"No honor?"
"Honor against spellcasters? Waste of time."
"......"
"So, running or not?"
"...Hmph."
...Lark conceded: he really was a master instructor.
Impeccably practical lessons.