Chapter 703
Chapter 703
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 703
Chapter Title: Chapter 703 - #141_침묵의 마녀(3)
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 703
Chapter Title: The Witch of Silence (3)
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A point where the outcome had yet to be decided.
However, Lodge had glimpsed the fluttering hem of the goddess of victory's robe.
Within the large-scale Position Board that had manifested, Lodge's frenzied computational prowess proved its excellence.
She had seized nearly seventy percent of the relays—devices that connected paths to facilitate the flow of mana.
Given the game's rules, which limited mana emission paths to those on the board, this suggested that Lodge's available mana exceeded Si-woo's by more than double.
Added to that was Lodge's ability to foresee dozens of moves ahead in a battle of numbers, making any reversal impossible.
Lodge seized the momentum in one breath and unleashed curse magic.
In the cramped space.
A feast of curses unfolded, one capable of annihilating an entire metropolis overnight.
The relays greedily absorbed Lodge's mana without mercy, amplifying it and gradually drawing forth higher-order spells.
Si-woo's only counter was to huddle like a turtle and endure the onslaught, suggesting the one-sided flow wouldn't shift anytime soon.
Raising his guard, tucking his chin, and burying himself in the corner wouldn't help.
His opponent was like a groggy boxer already reeling from heavy blows.
Before merciless barrages, sinking was inevitable.
What remained was tedious, repetitive work.
Finding the optimal move devours monstrous mental power when reserves are evenly matched, but with such a gap, it wasn't difficult.
It was a simple process of maintaining the status quo while reaping tiny gains.
Pummel the opponent fixated on covering—punch after punch after punch.
At this stage, Si-woo had abandoned even attempts to recapture the relays, devoting himself solely to defense.
However.
"...".
Lodge's lips, which should have been chattering excitedly by now, were sealed shut.
She had sensed an inexplicable incongruity amid the repeating patterns.
On the Position Board, the advantage-disadvantage ratio between Lodge and Si-woo stood at 7 to 3.
With the battle defined as a game, the flow should have completely tilted in her favor.
What followed resembled arm wrestling.
Once one arm tilts, reversing it requires bearing the opponent's arm weight too—a phase where even holding on demands extraordinary strength.
Yet Si-woo endured for an extended time, even with his hand on the verge of touching the ground.
At first, she dismissed it as mere final resistance or desperate thrashing.
"What?"
But when that time surpassed three minutes, passed five, and reached ten.
Lodge couldn't help but reassess the battlefield.
What was this?
She had thought it akin to a fisherman finally toppling his foe after a grueling tug-of-war and reeling in the net—victory within grasp.
Yet the opposing line felt tied to an unyielding pillar.
No matter how hard she pulled, there was no give.
Lodge continued her shower of attacks while eyeing Si-woo.
His golden eyes blazed brilliantly as he groped the air, receiving the torrent of curses without flinching in the slightest.
Something was off.
Si-woo had always wielded suspiciously diverse schools of magic before.
But to Lodge, it was primitive—grabbing whatever tools came to hand.
The tools' quality masked it initially, but if asked about efficiency, she could assertively say no.
But now was different.
Si-woo no longer used force fields to block the "Venom Fangs."
He physically intercepted them with ribbons swaying like carnivorous plants.
Against the "Curse Mists," he erected walls with wind elements.
The "Chains of Original Sin," which drastically lowered the user's physical abilities, he pulverized with waves.
In the perfect spots.
At impeccable timing.
Casting precisely only the needed spells.
This was no coincidence.
As Lodge instantly recognized, Si-woo was aware of his magic's limitations.
Disparate, uncoordinated uses that failed to harmonize into one.
This stemmed from their origin—self-generated magic extracted from different witches—a congenital flaw that time might never fully resolve.
Even reinforcing armor with elemental magic or using ribbons as papyrus engraved with force field spells paled as imperfect downgrades compared to the "Source Flows" wielded by Sharon, Ea, and the Yesod Countess.
But Si-woo also knew.
How the Black Knight in his subconscious wielded mere replica tools.
Perfectly mimicking the Black Knight was impossible, of course.
Its talents were so biased that sustaining them long would destroy even itself.
A computational ability bordering on a "disability," in a sense.
Thus, he hadn't fixated on the computational prowess.
Even with the same tools, placement mattered more—and the Black Knight deployed magic far more aptly than Si-woo ever could.
Si-woo was merely imitating that.
Optimal weapons and shields positioned for maximum efficiency.
Only now did the merits of diverse magic shine.
Hand cards each holding an edge in any scenario.
The combinations they formed induced efficient exchange rates.
Linking spells to invent new ones? Just once, at this juncture, sufficed.
The result of this mindset: success in erecting a final defensive line against Lodge, who commanded nearly double his mana.
It was a bizarre sight.
"...".
To any onlooker, Si-woo was clearly pinned in a one-sided defensive—yet his expression remained calm and cool-headed.
"Eek...!"
Lodge, a hair's breadth from clinching victory, ground her molars with bloodshot eyes.
Inexplicable anxiety gnawed at her.
Never before on a Position Board had this occurred.
She had utterly won, overwhelmed him.
Sweet victory dangled like fruit on a low branch, ripe for the taking with a mere stretch.
Yet no matter how much mana she poured into attacks, the game showed no sign of ending.
"Damn persistent!"
But soon, now.
His mana plummeting toward depletion was plain to see.
His struggle—leveraging diverse magics for optimal exchanges—was praiseworthy.
But he couldn't infinitely endure a twofold mana efficiency gap from the start.
"Die now!"
Lodge unleashed her finisher.
The massive ritual constructed from remnants of shattered, scattered spells thus far.
The mightiest curse mortals could never eternally escape: death.
The reaper's scythe, bestowing pure death itself, cleaved through the air.
-Kuaaaaaah!!!
The green darkened to pitch black at the blade's tip, ceaseless horrific shrieks like wails of the damned resounding.
A finisher, yet infused with unshakeable confidence of victory.
Timing that slipped off-beat into the gap of Si-woo's defensive casting.
Position targeting his vulnerability—everything flawless.
Yet, staring unblinking amid persistent unease, Lodge witnessed it.
"Manifest."
A black ring materialized above his head.
Magic like Dorothy's "Angel's Halo"—instantly serving as an external core to boost output several-fold.
-Wheeeeeeng!
The ring spun precariously, accelerating repeatedly.
-Wheeeeeeng!
The moment its rotation—devouring mana like a bottomless barrel—peaked.
Something surfaced on the ring.
A golden fractal pattern he had never revealed before.
Vividly visible despite the blistering spin.
-Patsutsutsutsu!!!
Simultaneously, the black ring began to molt.
Behind the crumbling black surface gleamed a golden ring, more radiant than any gold coin.
Si-woo had linked two.
Dorothy's Angel's Halo, amplifying all magic effects in an instant.
His innate self-generated magic: repeated amplification.
If linking two foreign magics proved difficult.
Why not link one self-created? An experiment born of that notion.
The result was a resounding success.
-Kuuuuuwuuuuuw!!!
Fused with repeated amplification, the Angel's Halo spewed mana far beyond Si-woo's capacity—like an inexhaustible cornucopia.
Though sustaining it long was impossible, the burden crushing his body, Si-woo took one step forward.
To Lodge's eyes, Si-woo—at the heart of a colossal storm—appeared as a crouched giant rising.
-Thud!
Merely one step.
The giant's footfall stirred a mana tempest, crushing space itself.
Golden mana rampage incinerating all malignance rent the playroom's enforced "rules" asunder with raw power.
"That's cheating!"
Lodge foamed at the mouth, protesting as Si-woo overturned the game board.
Si-woo had no spare breath to respond.
He wasn't as serene as he appeared.
The newborn mana was explosive enough to unravel his self-generated magic on its own.
Indeed, a mere twitch of his finger sent his ethereal form quivering perilously.
Even amid that storm, Lodge's scythe hurtled undiminished toward Si-woo's nape.
He had originally planned a crude but effective push: condense mana into mana orbs and blast through.
But he challenged himself once more.
Weaving spells into the disparate magics.
Amid mana overflowing on the brink of rampage, he selected one of Lurye's self-generated magics: "Wave."
For it promised supreme results with minimal motion.
He recalled Lurye's magic-sea waves.
Lurye—innately wielding more mana than even Amelia—summoning a tsunami that devoured all resistance.
A spell's cost too steep for even Coast to attempt...
But now, possible.
He pinpointed resonances in the chaotically swirling mana.
A small wave birthed a larger one.
Layered log waves coalesced into one colossal surge.
This sequence unfolded in a blink—the instant before the light-speed scythe reached him.
-Kugugugugung!
The golden shockwave battered the chamber.
The first shattered the curse scythe.
The second engulfed the manifested Position Board.
The third plunged Lodge deep into defeat.
An unequivocal, total victory for Si-woo.
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