Chapter 192
Chapter 192
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: The Mage of Mages (12)
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****
Crunch!
“Whew! You look pretty beat. Gonna throw in the towel? If it’s too much, you can just lie down right here.”
“Cough, cough! Ugh... If I ever believe you again, I’ll eat a shoe. After that first hit when I went down, you came running over with that worried look, asking if I was okay—then you stomped the floor in two!”
“Hahaha. Shouldn’t have tried your tricks, then. The moment Idrasil came to me, she said, ‘That human’s head exploded, but he’s still walking around.’ So how could a little chest-crushing kill you?”
She’s insane.
“You’re smashing people based on something like that? What if it was ‘He won’t die unless you destroy the core in his chest’ or something?”
“Hmm... Wasn’t the case?”
“The fact you’re so sure after smashing it proves you’re no human being!”
She’s crazy. No doubt about it—this elf is totally crazy! Three hundred years must’ve turned her brain to tofu!
It’d been ten minutes since I’d been roped into the Elder’s “morning exercise” against my will.
I desperately missed Hyde, who was probably out there right now busting his ass to keep this guy alive.
If he’d been here, he could’ve controlled the infection factor to stop my wounds from healing, letting me relax in near-death bliss under my comrades’ care.
Crunch-crunch!
At first, I’d emptied my mind, thinking of it as a rare experience. Sure, it was brutal, but it was a chance you don’t get every day, right?
A former hero from the old world who’d survived to the end of the March World main scenario, the final battle— a top-tier hero unit on par with the world’s strongest. Testing myself against her now to gauge my growth and see how much further I had to go? Sounded good.
Until I took a few hits.
Crunch-crunch!
The massive hammer, which should’ve been slow as molasses, swung at invisible speeds, splintering the wooden floor.
“You’re dodging pretty well now!”
“Can’t dodge, I die—thanks for the personal demo!”
Wood shards flew like grenade shrapnel, embedding in my skin, but thanks to my boosted durability from the mutation, they didn’t pierce as deep as before. Makes sense—even civilian-level toughness wouldn’t get shredded by flying sawdust.
Anyway, after eating a few hits and dodging for dear life, her attacks were starting to feel familiar.
Crunch!
‘Here it comes!’
First, that wood-splitting sound. The heavy weapon made even a light lunge crack the floor, signaling the attack’s start.
Whoosh!
A pattern I’d learned the hard way after getting smashed a few times. A textbook overhead smash—predictable enough that you could brace for it. Dodge too close, and the impact throws off your balance.
Crunch!
Step back early, and she follows up, pivoting on her left foot for an uppercut. Somehow defying inertia and gravity, that downward hammer flips in an instant toward your jaw like it’s a rapier or dagger.
Crackle!
‘Last time, that’s where she nailed my chest. I see it. Starting to see!’
The Elder’s style wasn’t pure hammer work—it mimicked swordsmanship. Specifically, elven sword arts.
A race that poured everything into archery stats, weak up close, so they used shock-and-retreat techniques to create distance: strikes to stagger, then pull back.
She wielded that with a brutal warhammer. Deadly jabs that kill on hit, and if you flinch from the shock, she doesn’t retreat—she charges, piling on more impact!
‘Each attack sets up the next. She swung upward. Weapon’s high, arm raised—shortest path next is...’
Crack!
“Oh ho.”
‘...Elbow!’
Her rock-hard wooden elbow clashed against my black left arm. Her eyes gleamed as I blocked it, but when my side absorbed her incoming knee too, a single wrinkle creased her smiling face.
“...Magic?”
“I’ve built up a few things myself!”
Thwack!
Blood Armor converted the shock straight to propulsion, flinging her knee back hard. My upper body was already inside her guard, out of the hammer’s range. Finally, my turn to strike. After getting pulped!
“You said no hard feelings!”
Graaaah!
My full-power punch ripped out a gruesome muscle-tearing sound, white light gleaming as my fist rocketed toward the old elf’s face on a perfect trajectory.
Arms and legs pinned, using my size and reach to drive down a crushing fist. In the lightning-fast exchange, I’d read her perfectly and struck her opening!
Siiiplash!
In my hyper-heightened senses, the glowing fist tore the air,
‘Got her!’ flashing through my mind—
“...Not bad.”
Baaaaam!!!!
With the Elder’s low murmur, my body was suddenly airborne. Not hers—mine.
‘Why? I had her locked... Even now, her arm’s still in my grip...!’
The sky’s yellow. Not just a figure of speech—pure forsythia yellow.
Before I knew it, yellow pollen soaked my eyes, blurring vision. Every joint stung, stiff and sluggish.
Crunch!
That sound again. Before I hit the ground, she was on me, hammer raised. Grinning ear-to-ear, her unbroken wooden arm swung the massive warhammer. That fervor, battle ecstasy and madness mixed, loomed like a mountain through my half-blinded sight.
Ah, I’m dead.
Boom!
No holding back—like she meant to kill—the jagged ore mass filled my view.
Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting!
Krrrrrrsh!
A pot-banging clatter from below, and her hammer grazed my head by a hair.
Crack... groan... patter.
The yellow pollen clogging my eyes vanished like a lie.
...Gulp.
Vision cleared: hammerhead buried right by my temple. Steam rose faintly in the cool morning air—friction heat from the swing. Not a feeling—real hit would’ve killed me.
“Hmm. A bit disappointing, but any more and breakfast’ll be late. Call it here?”
“Damn. Didn’t even land one hit.”
“Heh heh heh. You, not even a century old, got this far against me—and you want more?”
Slink, slink—
As she turned, something snaking out of my joints and skin.
“That’s... flowers? Twigs?”
“Your senses and skill are solid, but inexperience shows. Never forget your opponent’s race.”
The Elder, El Farnah, kicked a splinter toward me from the sawdust-littered floor.
Pulverized wood chip. Rubbing it, bark peeled to reveal a small, streamlined nut inside. Smooth brown seed.
Seeing debris everywhere, I got it—what she’d done.
First miss, slamming the floor—shards flying at me. I’d shrugged off the scratches.
“No way that ‘miss’ was...”
“Don’t assume what you see is all. Fighting an elf, no? Should’ve expected plant tricks.”
Some elf talk.
“Hand on heart—do you really think you fit the word ‘elf’?”
“Heh heh heh. More than anyone!”
Rumble—
Power drained from toe to head after that last hit. I flopped onto the seed-and-splinter floor. Watching new wood grow naturally around the restored floor—walls, table, chairs, kitchen sprouting—it drew a hollow laugh.
‘Forget power—her style’s just vicious.’
Heavy hammer. Skin-piercing plants, growing flowers’ pollen.
A CC warrior: rigidify, bind, blind with debuffs.
Her elven hammer arts started as elegant spirit-sprinkled swordplay confusing foes with flowers and trees—then she slapped on a heavy weapon, birthing a monster.
Bind ‘em, then smash. Delicate finesse birthing raw brutality.
“Agh, Teacher Cheon, how the hell’d you beat that monster...”
Trembling hands from anemia smeared chest blood on the wood, writing.
[Thousand Stream Emperor. El Farnah duel footage.]
‘Gotta study it later. See how he caught and crushed her.’
Like a dying message, I scrawled the note with effort, then passed out. Body limp, didn’t wanna move.
“Stop whining and get up. That’s where the bookshelf goes.”
“Yess’m.”
But couldn’t if I wanted. Scary elf granny nodded at the kitchen, ordering me to catch a fish by the river outside the village.
“No picky eater, are ya?”
Crack, crunch!
“Urgh, gotta eat whatever’s served.”
“Good, that’s the spirit.”
Now in an apron, knife and root in hand.
Seeing her overlap with the “battle-mad Elder” from before, I bolted to the river.
Too, too scary.
****
“Ooh! What a humble, beautiful home! May fresh winds grace these ancient branches and stay. I’m Ottoman Baudelaire of the Lead Flow School.”
“Good to meet you with smiles. Welcome, human mage. Heard you arrived in Carnellan suffering your... usual ailment?”
Around 7 a.m. Guided by Idrasil (and her scornful glare), Ottoman arrived at the Elder’s hut, gushing admiration nonstop.
“Hahaha, showed my shameful side. A scholar lifelong pursuing water and flow—rare spirit right before me, couldn’t curb my curiosity, so...”
“No excuses needed. Back in my day, I bashed plenty of empire mages who lost it and charged me. Knew mages mean no harm. Racial... instinct, like. The ‘mage’ species. No need to judge you for it. Better now?”
“Luckily, a comrade alchemy expert helped. Just a tickle of anticipation in my chest now.”
Ottoman showed a vial from his robe. He claimed recovered, but gulping reagents frantically, bulging vials suggesting willpower and drugs holding him together.
“Then, shall we chat over breakfast? I’ve revived an old empire water mage favorite—just enjoy without worry.”
Tap tap.
Elder tapped the table; Professor, standing at attention behind, swiftly and politely set eight bowls.
“You... why’re you here?”
“...Talk later. Head’s spinning.”
Clack.
Aldrich’s weird morning meds plus total-body exhaustion had my stomach glued to my back.
Got thrashed hard, but food’s innocent.
Having seen it made, Professor itched to bury his face in a bowl—mindful of the Elder’s gaze.
Arm-thick freshwater fish filleted thin, bones ground into sour herb water, guts (bitter bits removed) mashed with dewdrop grains and herbs into round garnishes.
Complex even from side-glances doing chores: 12 herbs, ofrom (lotus-root-like, dry inside), fish, water only.
Elven cold stew.
Expected fishy hell. Took the spoonful like punishment—but creamy cool broth hit his tongue, enlightening his food ignorance.
Washed battle heat and fatigue clean. Balanced spices bloomed on the tongue, fish sashimi umami delighted, garnishes’ starchy sweet chewiness laced with subtle bitter guts whetted appetite wildly.
A taste rewarding this grueling morning.
Elder beamed as they ate heartily, then tapped for attention when bowls scraped bottom.
“Right. Heard the outside gist. Like old dead rising—maybe worse?”
As expected. Holed up in woods, but kept outer news.
Few visitors—mostly spirit gossip. Monsters everywhere, humans dying, forests wasted. Vague like that.
“Yes, ancient branch. As our group mentioned, we’re here to mend interspecies ties, and aid in dire crisis shines brighter...”
“Enough. Expected concise from a mage. You speak, hero. I’ve pledged to help—what do you need?”
Ottoman finished first but got ignored—Elder hated long-winded. Baton passed to me, who’d unwittingly won her favor.
What we want here? One thing came to mind.
“Come down for a visit after all this time?”
“Hm? What?”
I pointed my spoon at her.
“You, Elder. Don’t need anyone else—just you.”
That power I’d tasted firsthand this morning. No normal level.
‘Interspecies harmony ain’t sealed by bigwigs shaking hands over [Let’s do that from now]. Starts from bottom, common folk mindset change. Isn’t the Elder the perfect hero?’
Perfect framing too: ‘Comrade of the world-saving recluse great hero emerges, braving racial strife to save humans in new crisis.’
Recruit quests like this reward scale with affinity. She’d personally beaten me liking me—worth a shot.
“Huh...”
El Farnah pondered—unexpected. Yes, pondering! Real chance this insanely strong elf joins—
“Hmm. This one needs more hits...”
“Pardon?”
“Seems so. Stay after breakfast. I’ll cover what morning lacked.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
Ah.
Her glance at the casually leaned warhammer against the wall—yeah, went too far.
****