Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: A New Horizon
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A ‘philosophy’ is not some lofty concept.
‘A particular view on the world, society, or life.’
As long as people live, each has their own life, and life, in turn, gives birth to philosophy.
For instance, the philosophy of the Red Magic Tower, which believes without a doubt that ‘power’ is the absolute value in this world.
The 《King of Pigs》, who believes the supreme value is to spread his seed and pass down his bloodline for generations to come.
The hardline black mages who believe petty morality is nothing more than an obstacle in the pursuit of truth. The hellish mental world once shown by the commanders of the Black-Red Brigade.
The ‘philosophy’ that mages and knights project onto their swords or the world is precisely such a concept.
The values they believe in. Their attitude toward this world, their perspective on life. The systematic collection of consciousness they have experienced and built up throughout their lives.
When that intertwines with the pinnacle of sword and magic, what unfolds is the ‘Avatar’ and the ‘World of Ideas’.
Avatar—a knight superimposes that philosophy onto their sword, armor, and body through ‘aura’.
World of Ideas—a mage superimposes that philosophy onto the world itself through ‘mana’.
The Avatar of a Grimoire is not much different in that context.
Sleet fell in white flurries against the curtain of night. A winter's night, both dark and pale.
There, a steel sword was blocking the blade of the holy sword, Durandal.
The beloved sword of the hero who, as the Empire's hound, had slaughtered countless powerful foes.
‘Peacemaker’.
The arbiter of peace.
That ironically named sword was in Dale's hand, along with the fourth circle now rotating around his heart.
The realm of the 4th Circle. The wall had been broken, and a new horizon beyond it came into view.
Furthermore, in Dale's hand was the hero's sword, Peacemaker.
It was not a real sword with a physical form.
A projection of philosophy. Merely a ‘tangible mirage’ that a mage superimposes onto their world.
But in the World of Ideas, it was by no means a fleeting castle in the sand.
Though there was nothing more reckless or ridiculous than a mage holding a sword hilt and mimicking a knight, Dale's case was different.
He created distance, twirling and readjusting his grip on Peacemaker's hilt. The feel was incredibly familiar.
‘But I still can't draw out 100% of this sword's power.’
It was not enough yet.
“This is my world.”
Dale murmured again, repeating the self-suggestion endlessly.
This world was not one Dale had built alone. Dale's world was never ‘Dale's alone’.
Dale in his past life.
That man had many names. The strongest monster hunter, the Hero from Another World, the Empire's hound.
In most cases, even dedicating a lifetime to either sword or magic offered no guarantee of reaching its pinnacle.
But what about one who had dedicated more than ‘a lifetime’?
That was Dale's realization, and that realization opened the horizon of the 4th Circle.
The Hero from Another World, and Dale of Sachsen.
To fuse the two philosophies born from two lives into a single world. Paradoxically, by grasping the sword, he had elevated his ‘mage's realm’ even higher.
His mind felt strangely light.
Maintaining his distance, Dale looked at the 《King of Pigs》, who was gripping the holy sword Durandal.
‘Can I win?’
Projecting the hero's martial prowess onto his own sword, Dale kicked off the ground.
The sword swung.
Heedless of the fact that he was a mage who couldn't use aura, without even an Avatar, he simply gripped the hilt of ‘Peacemaker’.
Clang!
The holy sword and Dale's sword clashed.
Clang!
They clashed, created distance, and clashed again. With each impact, the power dormant within Peacemaker was awakening.
Furthermore, more distinct memories of being the hero resurfaced.
Simultaneously, Dale's black surcoat fluttered, generating blades of shadow. He accelerated his four circles and released a ceaseless torrent of blackish-blue mana.
“Shard Magnum.”
He instantly erected a wall of ice and detonated it, scattering shards of ice.
“Shadow Bullet, ‘Gatling Style’.”
Instantly, from the hem of his cloak at his feet, shadow bullets poured out. The power and speed of his magic were amplified beyond comparison.
Sword and magic.
Wielding a sword, he covered the weakness of being unable to use aura with magic, managing to hold his own, albeit with difficulty, against one of the strongest knights on the continent.
His body felt light. Unbelievably light, and the world seemed to have slowed down immensely. The feel of the sword in his hand was so familiar that he almost forgot he was a mage.
His movements were such that one would question if he was truly a ‘knight who couldn't use aura’.
‘I can do this…!’
Conviction filled Dale's mind.
It was at that moment.
“Not bad, kid.”
The Holy Sword Master with the face of a boar laughed, baring his tusks.
“...!”
At the same time, the fighting spirit erupting from the Holy Sword Master's body began to rage like a storm.
The aura of a war god.
Just as Dale was about to counter it and test his newfound power.
—The time has come.
Tap!
‘Death’ struck the floor with its skeletal staff. The surrounding scenery froze.
The figures of the Holy Sword Master and the imperial soldiers vanished like a mirage, leaving only Dale behind.
A horizon filled with biting cold and solitude.
There was ‘Death’, resembling a Victorian English gentleman, and the ‘Ancient Mother of Darkness’, who looked like a graceful lady of the same era.
Not an innocent young girl, but a jet-black lady with two black ram's horns rising from her head.
Archetypes at the base of the collective unconscious.
Primordial images shared in the unconscious of people since antiquity, before history even began.
Beings that serve as motifs in various myths and legends, transcending time and borders. Primordial symbols—those very avatars were looking at Dale.
And so, Dale asked.
“Did you know about my identity from the beginning?”
—Ah, we know so very many things, little one.
‘Death’ replied. It held the skeletal staff in one hand, while a cigar had appeared in the other.
—The name of the most delicious cigar in this universe...
Placing the cigar in its mouth, ‘Death’ continued.
—And how you escaped ‘my visit’.
“...!”
At those words, Dale quietly sucked in a breath. After swallowing, he was about to say something.
But.
—Ah, don't you worry.
‘Death’ cut him off, as if to say there was nothing to worry about.
—Death is always tight-lipped.
Tap!
Simultaneously, ‘Death’ struck its skeletal staff again, the cigar held in its mouth.
Dale's world vanished. He was now in a room within Duke Sachsen's castle.
“...”
His father, Duke Sachsen's, office. After looking around, Dale turned his gaze to his father.
“It seems you've passed his test safely.”
Lord Black spoke, unable to hide his satisfaction.
“That being...”
“When I reached the World of Truth, I made a pact with ‘Death’.”
Lord Black said.
“I finally succeeded in drawing a part of that being into my grimoire—『The Scales of the Heart』.”
“Does that mean Duke Frederick the Undying also...”
“Correct.”
Duke Frederick the Undying also succeeded in reaching the ‘World of Truth’. The Book of the Black Goat, which he wrote long ago and which has rooted its tentacles in Dale's heart, is the proof.
“However, these beings by our side,”
Lord Black continued.
“Are nothing more than ‘shadows’ cast on a cave wall.”
Not the real thing, but merely a part of the shadow cast by the real thing.
“This world is one large cave.”
“...”
“And we are prisoners who believe the shadows on the cave wall to be reality.”
That is why mages pursue the world of light beyond the cave, the World of Truth (Idea). The final destination of philosophy.
“It seems this was a rather difficult topic for you.”
Having said that, Lord Black smiled. It was the unmistakable smile of a father.
“Congratulations on reaching the realm of the 4th Circle.”
The jet-black tentacles rooted in his heart were coiled around Dale's four circles. Four circles. The realm of a proper mage, and beyond.
Reaching the 3rd Circle by one's early twenties was worthy of the title 'prodigy', and it was not uncommon for those without talent to fail to reach the 4th Circle even after a lifetime of effort.
And he had attained that very realm at the tender age of twelve.
An achievement that the word 'marvelous' could not even begin to describe. This was the reputation of the 'Black Prince' that people spoke of.
And with this newly acquired realm, the time was approaching to prepare for the next journey.
***
“Master Sephia.”
Around that time, Dale, having reached the realm of the 4th Circle, reported his achievement.
“...It seems there is nothing more I can teach you.”
The 6th-Circle elf mage smiled bitterly.
“That's not true.”
Dale shook his head and smiled.
“There are still so many things I want to learn from you, Master Sephia.”
Even though they had shared a meeting of minds, Sephia was still young Dale's tutor.
Furthermore, the realm possessed by a 6th-Circle elf mage was not to be taken lightly.
Above all, there was the technique Sephia had shown against the Red Tower's elder, ‘Walter of the Blazing Blood’.
Spell Counter.
“Is there any other magic you wish to learn?”
To Sephia's question, Dale nodded without a hint of hesitation.
As a 4th-Circle genius mage, and furthermore, as a dual mage pursuing the twin attributes of Water and Darkness.
“I want to learn Dispel magic.”
***
The next day, Lord Helmut Blackbear tilted his head in confusion.
Dale, who should have been training with his shadow cloak as usual, had requested to train with a ‘knight's sword’ just like theirs.
“A proper sword...?”
At this unexpected sight, Lord Helmut tilted his head in confusion.
“There's something I want to test.”
Dale replied calmly, as always.
“To see how far a mage who cannot use aura can stand on equal footing with a knight.”
“Are you insisting on a knight's fighting style?”
A mage could also strengthen their body in their own way. However, it could never compare to the body of a knight who uses ‘aura’. It would be absurd, reckless, and inefficient.
That was the thought of one of the Seven Swords of the Continent—Lord Helmut Blackbear—but the one before him was none other than the 'Black Prince'.
“Very well, my lord!”
Therefore, Lord Helmut did not doubt him.
“You would do well not to underestimate a mage's sword.”
Dale readjusted his grip on the sword's hilt. Along with his 4th-Circle awakening, he recalled the beloved sword from his past life, now held in his hand.
After reaching the realm of the 4th Circle, the direction Dale pursued was quite simple to understand.
Returning to his roots.
It was the same as when he first trained at the House of Duke Sachsen.
Lord Helmut the Mad Sword, Lord Black, and the elf mage Sephia. To unfold and polish his talents without reservation among the best of teachers.
And the Dale of now was not the fledgling of those days who had just grasped a sword and formed his circles.