A Mage's First Battle

Having swallowed the flesh of some two hundred people, the Magic Tool stood complete — an enormous hand. The nameless thing threw back its head and roared at the sky.

A flock of birds startled by the distant cry took flight. A chill wind swept through and shook the trees with violent force.

In ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that taut, breathless moment, the Magic Tool moved first.

Its fingers dug into the earth as the arm lifted high.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom!

The ground caved in with every impact as those fingers came crashing down in a furious sweep.

Being a Magic Tool, no flame of life showed itself. My specialty was, for all intents and purposes, sealed off.

Would a blow even register against a body that size? Even if it didn't, I had no other choice. I kicked off the ground and dodged the lunging hand.

The thing had packed on mass along with all that extra flesh. I figured it couldn't possibly match me for speed.

It didn't take long to realize how wrong I was.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The remaining four fingers slammed into the ground without breaking stride. Bracing itself on those four supports, it swung its thumb at me in a sweeping arc. The whole motion was far more stable than any human body.

I kicked off the earth in a hurry and leapt into the air. The thumb came down and stamped the spot where I'd been standing.

It was only a thumbprint, but the ground crumpled and gouged out deep. If I'd still been there, I would have met the same fate.

And the hand wasn't finished.

With its thumb still pressed down, it flicked the rest of its fingers upward. That enormous bulk came crashing down toward my head.

Just before it reached me in midair, I stomped on the thumb and launched myself forward.

KRAAAAAANG!

The back of the hand slammed into the earth, shaking the entire area in a cloud of dirt. I barely managed to roll across the ground and scramble back to my feet.

This was a completely different kind of fight from anything I'd ever had with monsters or men.

But now, while it was down — this was my opening. I gathered mana into my arm just before it could rise. My biceps and triceps swelled at once. The force carried through to my forearms, and the instant it hit its peak, I drove my fist forward without a moment's hesitation.

The gauntleted fist punched through the dust and slammed into flesh.

THUD!

A rough, ringing impact. I slowly lifted my head — and the hand rose as if nothing had happened.

Of course.

Even a blow from a body packed with mana couldn't close a gap like this. The opponent was a Magic Tool. It had none of the weaknesses a living thing would naturally possess. Throwing punches at it was like swinging my fist at a boulder.

Then again, my fists could smash boulders too.

The problem was the sheer difference in size.

The hand swept its fingers at me again. I pulled back before I could get caught up in it.

Blows were useless. My prized instant-death magic was useless. So was I supposed to just give up and go home?

Buildings crumbled as I weaved between the incoming fingers. Every time the thing slammed its body into something, the structures shattered to pieces. A sharp fragment of debris lodged in the hand. It shook the piece off as if it were nothing.

In the end, this thing was made of gathered human flesh. And flesh, naturally, could be cut.

It can be cut.

The only reason I'd focused on striking until now was to land my instant-death magic more easily. But against an opponent that magic didn't work on, was there any point in sticking to blunt force?

Mana is a thin membrane that wraps the entire body.

Mana can change form freely at any time. Mages actually apply this principle to manifest their own worlds and cast spells. Fire, wind, water, lightning — they create whatever they please.

So why couldn't mana become a sharp blade?

A blade alone won't be enough.

It needed to be something even sharper — a weapon that could tear flesh apart.

But I was still an apprentice mage. A greenhorn who hadn't even made the seed inside me bloom. Creating fire and lightning the way ordinary mages did was impossible. Forming a sword was equally out of the question.

Besides, I'd handled more cleaning tools than swords in my life. There's nothing more pathetic than a novice swordsman.

What I had going for me was my physical ability, the hand-to-hand combat I'd trained for, and the mana I wrapped around my entire body.

Mana always flows like water.

And that flow can be accelerated at any time.

Picture a raging waterfall. It shatters rock, gouges the earth, and carves out lakes.

My gaze fell on my fist. I slowly opened my hand.

If I couldn't make a weapon, then I would become one.

The flow of mana concentrated along the edge of my hand began to accelerate. A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blue light visible to the naked eye slowly took shape.

KRAAAANG!

In that instant, the hand slammed the ground again, kicking up a cloud of dust. For a brief moment my vision was blocked — and a finger came flying through the haze.

I'd already locked onto it. I pulled back at once, dodging the finger.

Then the sky above me went dark.

I thought for a split second that clouds had covered the moon — and then I saw four fingers blotting out everything overhead.

Oh, hell.

KRRAAAAAACK!

An explosion of sound shook the earth. The hand had completely covered the ground. Nothing living could exist beneath it.

The hand flicked its tongue and laughed. At last — the joy of catching that pesky little fly.

How long did that laughter last?

The hand must have started to feel something was wrong. Because through that laughter, a sound that shouldn't have been there began to rise.

KRRRRRRIND—

A bone-chilling noise, like something being furiously ground away.

By the time the hand traced the source of the sound, it was already too late. The noise was coming from the center of the hand itself.

CRUNCH. KRRRRRRIND!

A violent roar, and blood and flesh erupted all at once. I burst through the darkness, both hand-blades still slashing.

The hand's scream reached me even from here. Naturally — its center had been shredded and pulverized.

But it was too early for screaming.

My eyes flashed like a beast's.

I'd found the way to beat it. What came next was a foregone conclusion.

I swung my mana-spinning hand-blades into the flesh. Every stroke ground the meat to nothing, sending ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blood spraying. Muscle, bone — it made no difference. A single sweep of the blade reduced everything to pulp.

The Magic Tool hand realized the danger too late and thrashed. It moved its fingers and tried to rise, desperate to shake me off and flee.

But I'd ridden medium-sized monsters more times than I could count. Movement like this wasn't going to throw me. Instead, I spun mana at high speed beneath my feet, grinding the flesh and locking myself in place.

Once you grasp how something works, you only need to learn it once. Application is up to me.

Pinned to the hand, I slashed like a madman. The flesh peeled away, hollowing out in an instant. Then I stretched my legs and started sprinting across it. Everywhere I ran, the flesh was ground to nothing.

The hand was tenacious. Like a living thing, it rolled itself over again and again, slamming into walls, trying anything to survive. But thanks to my mana, ordinary impacts meant nothing to me. I wouldn't die unless it pressed down and crushed me with its own force.

So partway through, I dove into the flesh itself and tore through it at a dead sprint. I severed its fingers, pulverized them, and split the whole thing in two.

Thud. Thud.

At last the hand could move no more and collapsed to the ground. It trembled, then went limp, no longer functioning.

The scene was soaked in blood and strewn with chunks of flesh. Anyone else would have vomited on the spot. But I'd been a monster cleaner — it didn't faze me. Large monster carcasses looked far worse than this.

"Hmm."

Just then, the light grew bright. I looked up — the sun was already rising.

Had that much time passed already? I'd lost all sense of it fighting the hand.

This was how mages fought. I was a proper mage now.

As I stood there, satisfied, I noticed the flesh beginning to scatter. The Magic Tool was finally deactivating.

More importantly — what even was this Magic Tool? I wasn't an expert, but it was nothing like the ones the capital's monster hunters used to carry. And why did a bandit have something like this in the first place?

Weren't Magic Tools supposed to be so precious that you named your own price?

Master Zorbanof would probably know. But I wouldn't go back to him until I'd risen another rank as a mage. I couldn't go see him now.

Then the scattering flesh suddenly began to swell.

Thinking it might explode, I jumped down and went on guard — but the swelling flesh all contracted toward the center.

Clink—

And there it was. The Magic Tool I'd seen earlier, lying on the ground.

I'd crushed it underfoot myself.

"...So the main body was the giant hand?"

It was absurd, but I picked the Magic Tool up anyway.

Come to think of it, why had that bandit chief kept collecting corpses for this thing? He clearly knew how to activate it, so he must have known how to use it. Had he really planned to use it for mere banditry?

"Not like I can ask a dead man."

A shame I couldn't.

Then something tickled my ear.

I dug at my ear, wondering what it was, and then I heard it again.

I frowned, then my gaze fell on the Magic Tool. I realized the sound was coming from it.

The moment I held it to my ear and listened—

I thought my eardrums would burst. The sound punched straight through my ears and left them ringing. To do that to ears protected by mana — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that was no ordinary set of lungs.

"...The Magic Tool talks?"

"Huh."

Well. I'd gotten my hands on something extraordinary.