Hit and Run
After a brief lull, the masked beauty made the first move.
Swish!
The whip, moving as if alive, lashed toward my neck. I reflexively grabbed it, only to realize too late that it was a trap. Aura had suddenly erupted from the tip like a blade.
“Kgh!”
I barely twisted my head aside, but a long gash opened across my forehead. Still clutching the whip, I spun once in midair. The masked beauty, gripping the handle, was yanked toward me. The moment my feet touched the ground, I shifted my Spell Armament from Whirlwind Blade Bone to Lightning Morning Dew.
Crackle!
Lightning bloomed at my toes. Scattering sparks, I closed the distance in an instant. Unable to keep up with the threefold increase in speed, the masked beauty’s eyes widened. But by then my fist had already reached her.
BOOM!
With a thunderous crash, her small body was hurled backward. She rolled across the garden, healed her wounds in seconds, and rose again—only for me to drive a kick into her abdomen. The impact sent her flying into the air.
Before she could regain her senses, I unleashed everything I had.
Wind Demon Divine Art
First Form: Clear Wind Array
Second Form: Gentle Wind, Warm Sun
Third Form: Thousand-Mile Same Wind
Fourth Form: Wind Forest Fire Mountain
Fifth Form: Wind-Finger Bullet
I hammered five different Quadra Spells into her without pause. Yet her skill was no less formidable. Even while suspended in the air with limited mobility, she blocked or deflected most of the attacks, wielding an ordinary whip like a flexible sword. They say a Sword Master or someone like John Wick could kill with nothing but a pen; apparently that wasn’t an exaggeration.
I should have learned swordsmanship myself.
Retreating at once, I used alchemy to scatter lumps of metal across the garden. The masked beauty landed and immediately gave chase. When she clenched her fist, droplets rained down from every direction—each one sharp as a needle. I wouldn’t escape with mere stings.
Within the accelerated perception granted by Lightning Morning Dew, I finished my calculations in an instant and wrapped a curtain of hot wind around myself. Thousands of droplets evaporated the moment they touched the barrier.
I dropped to the ground, palms pressed to the earth.
Penta Spell—
“Lightning Beneath the Rock.”
Current surged from my fingertips, racing across the damp soil and the scattered metal. Then I raised my right hand overhead.
Hexa Spell—
“Blue Sky Thunderclap.”
There was nowhere to hide. No matter how fast she was, she couldn’t dodge lightning.
CRACK-BOOM!
“Kyaaaaah!”
As expected, she couldn’t block this one. Struck directly by the bolt, the masked beauty let out a pained scream. I continued pouring lightning down on her head for as long as my mana allowed. The once-beautiful garden was reduced to scorched ruin, but capturing her here was all that mattered.
Startled by the relentless thunder, Ozma burst from the house, eyes wide.
“Kaldrasch! What on earth is going on?!”
Controlling the lightning with both hands, I answered.
“Finishing blow.”
Water mages were troublesome. Unlike other spellcasters, they possessed regenerative power that nullified most wounds. At the sixth rank, they were practically immortal as long as they still had mana. The standard way to deal with them was to keep attacking until their mana ran dry.
It was now a contest of whose mana would deplete first. I was confident in this regard. Reaching the seventh rank had massively increased my total mana, and I also possessed Unlimited Power, which abnormally accelerated mana recovery.
Finally, her mana exhausted, the masked beauty collapsed in the courtyard, smoke rising from her body. Her clothes had long since turned to ash from repeated regeneration under the lightning strikes. I stopped casting and approached the motionless figure.
Her pale body lay still. I reached out to check her face.
That was when it happened.
“Look out!”
Ozma’s scream rang out from behind. The masked beauty, whom I had thought unconscious, drove an aura-clad fist straight into my solar plexus.
She still had enough strength left for a counterattack?
Shocked by her absurd stamina, I was sent flying like a toy. Suppressing the pain, I tried to regain my posture and restrain her, but thick water mist had already filled the area. By the time it cleared, the masked beauty was gone.
“…She escaped.”
Ozma and Dorothea rushed over to support me.
“Kaldrasch, are you all right?!”
“What happened?”
I told the two worried women that I was mostly unharmed, then stared at the spot where the masked beauty had vanished. I had let her slip away this time, but next time I would catch her for certain.
“Come to think of it, where’s Barnet?”
“Barnet grabbed her sword and ran off saying she’d catch the one who hurt you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. That was just like her. For the masked beauty, now forced to flee, Barnet would be nothing short of a nightmare.
I gave myself emergency treatment with water magic, then let the two women help me back inside the house.
***
Sophia returned to her mansion just as dawn was fading. She had barely escaped Patrasch’s residence only to be chased by the black-armored knight, forced into a desperate game of tag to stay alive. A maiden who looked no older than a girl had been reduced to running naked through the capital with nothing but a single cloth, yet she could at least breathe a sigh of relief that she had survived.
“Master… what exactly…”
“Prepare a change of clothes, Alfredo.”
The elderly butler, who had rushed over upon seeing his master injured for the first time, nodded and hurried to the hidden wardrobe. While Sophia wiped her body with a damp towel, she spoke to Alfredo as he brought fresh garments.
“Next time you make a phantom thief outfit, add insulation.”
“Understood. You must be cold—please get dressed quickly.”
She donned a white shirt and trousers—practical attire more suited to activity than to a noble lady—then roughly tousled her dust-covered golden hair with the towel.
“Senior Financial Officer Patrasch is every bit the formidable mage the rumors claim. I was confident in my own abilities, yet I was overwhelmed like this. His accumulated combat experience really is on another level.”
“You will surely surpass him one day, Master. You are the hero chosen by the heavens.”
“I know that. But time is short. If I had just two more years—no, even one more year—I could have reached an even match. It’s truly regrettable that things turned out this way.”
While handing his beloved master a cup of warm tea, the old butler asked,
“So the mission to infiltrate was a complete failure?”
“Yes. I didn’t have time to retrieve the petition. I’m afraid we’ll have to unilaterally cut ties with the sponsors who funded us.”
“…Understood. I will handle that matter myself.”
After confirming her hair had returned to its brilliant golden color, Sophia removed her earrings. Her previously brown eyes reverted to their original crimson.
“I want to soak in warm water.”
“…I will prepare it at once.”
“Thank you, as always, Alfredo.”
“It is only natural, my lady.”
The master and servant, separated by many years, left the hidden room and headed for the mansion’s bath.
***
“The masked beauty is probably the hero.”
That was the conclusion I had reached after long deliberation. Dorothea, who had been clinging to my side and serving me, gave me an incredulous look.
“What are you suddenly saying while we’re eating? The hero died a long time ago.”
“Ah, that hero did die. I’m talking about the newly born hero.”
Two years ago, after Artorius died in prison, it was only natural that a new hero would be chosen. Back then we couldn’t find any trace, yet here we were, two years later, finally catching a clue.
“The masked beauty is the hero? Why are you so sure?”
“Because she’s strong.”
“What?”
“I didn’t get a good look at her face, but she looked to be in her late teens to mid-twenties. Someone who reached that level of achievement at that age doesn’t just appear out of nowhere.”
If an ordinary person had done so, rumors would have spread everywhere.
“Unless you’re an overwhelming genius like you, Dorothea, reaching double-master status at that age is theoretically impossible.”
“But she existed.”
“That’s exactly why I suspect she’s the hero. As far as I know, the only human who could possess such absurd talent is the hero.”
Recalling Artorius, who had been a cheat code incarnate, this generation’s hero—the masked beauty—was an even greater monster. When the previous hero fails, an even stronger one is chosen. And there was only one way to deal with a monster that would keep growing if left alone: crush it before it got any bigger.