Neungcheongong

"……."

When a person is truly stunned, they lose the power of speech.

The mind goes blank. Breathing stops. The whole body freezes as if turned to stone, unable to so much as twitch.

That was precisely Count Wendell's condition now.

The alarm had fallen silent. Having received word from the knights that it was safe, he had emerged from the underground safehouse — and could not believe his eyes.

The entire field of vision burned red with wavering flames. Black smoke billowed up from every direction.

The whole area was a sea of fire. Ruins stretched out as though a ferocious war had just been fought there.

The Borsha family's estate — once so lavish, so brilliantly lit — had been wiped clean from the earth.

"Wh-what in the…"

When he had first been told that some unidentified monster was rampaging, he had taken it in stride. The successive explosions from above had already set him on edge, true enough.

But this — this catastrophic annihilation — was beyond belief.

How? How could something like this have happened? What kind of beast had come crashing in? Had a divine beast itself appeared?

What had the knights he fed and housed been doing? Had the defensive magic he had plastered over the place with thick layers of gold even activated?

His fingertips and the corners of his mouth convulsed. Bloodshot veins stood out in his bulging eyes.

His shrewd mind, without being asked, began tallying the damage on its own — converting the collapsed buildings and the value embedded within them into a sum of pure loss. Cascading after that, like a line of falling dominoes, came the businesses, the reputation, the carefully laid plans, all crumbling in a rush.

It was despair. This could not be real.

In a trembling voice, Count Wendell called for a servant.

"The other — the other districts? The other houses? Have they all burned like this?"

"I deeply regret to say…"

The servant stammered that, of the entire Third District, only this place had suffered damage.

"Ha."

A crushing emptiness washed over Count Wendell. He barely managed to keep his buckling legs from giving out.

At the same time, fury struck him to the soul. Rage with nowhere to go turned on the Imperial House, on the gods, on the world itself.

"Useless, every last one of you…"

It turned on the servants, the attendants, the knights, every member of the household. Watching them scramble about scattering water only irritated him further.

What was the point of trying to put out the fire? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Everything had already burned clean through. Reduced to ash and powder. Were they hoping to salvage a foundation stone?

And then —

"What? Our house too?"

"What kind of nonsense is that!"

"Don't talk rubbish!"

Barons Rasel, Chirmoin, and Olamo had likewise received word from their servants — the grim news that their estates were burning just the same as this one. The barons who had thought the disaster someone else's problem frothed at the mouth.

"……."

Raul watched them with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a deeply furrowed brow.

Any cooperation with them was finished now. They would have their hands full just salvaging their own houses.

"……This is absurd."

Of all times — and only their houses, picked out one by one for the damage?

The timing and the circumstances felt like nothing short of a devil's prank.

Leon stripped off his scorched mask and fireproof gear and tossed them aside.

After changing into ordinary clothes, he carefully scrubbed away every last trace of the magic and potion effects still clinging to his body, just in case anyone grew suspicious.

A grand magician would be able to see right through any magic or potion effect layered on another person's body.

If Leon suddenly turned up plastered head to toe in high-grade fire resistance, it would look more than a little fishy. Nobody walked around prepared for that sort of thing on a normal day.

Anything that might invite suspicion was best eliminated thoroughly.

As it was, the Hwasinjo had already torn through the capital as if chasing something. If that "something" turned out to be Leon, things would get very awkward indeed.

Of course, Leon had used stealth techniques to stay out of sight — but the Hwasinjo's movements, its gestures, its flight path alone could still reveal that a pursuit had been underway.

In any case, Leon set off again at a run toward the Hwasinjo.

As the distance closed —

A sharp prickle. Another. His senses were jolted; his lungs felt as though they were being crushed. Mana capable of looking down on the world itself blanketed the entire length of the Rumel Canal.

So this is a grand magician.

Reaching the eighth circle and beyond meant transcending the limits of a human mage.

Just like Jenian, floating now in the sky above the Rumel Canal.

A colossal roar tore through the air.

The Hwasinjo was throwing a fit. Flames several times more ferocious than anything it had shown in the underground cavern of the auction house whirled up in a tornado.

Its radiance turned the deep evening into bright day. Water boiled and evaporated; the canal's water level dropped, and white steam rose in thick columns.

Must be because the hunger wore off. It's looking pretty lively.

That was true enough.

And yet, at a certain point, the flames that had been claiming every direction were abruptly stopped cold, unable to advance further.

The flowing river was the same. As if dams had been set before and behind it, one section of the canal had been cleanly cut out and frozen in place.

Ahead, the water was draining away. Behind, it was piling up. The isolated middle was drying out under the Hwasinjo's heat.

It was the mana of Grand Magician Jenian. The formless energy he had unfurled had shaped a vast spherical barrier over the area, sealing the Hwasinjo in place along with the space itself.

Simply by adjusting the power he already possessed, he had rendered that monstrous Hwasinjo completely immobile. In truth, Jenian had yet to cast a single proper spell.

"……."

Leon watched for a moment as Jenian handled the Hwasinjo. The concentration of mana rose, and with a few formulaic constructs a complete barrier formation took shape.

Planning to wear it down a bit before capturing it?

That seemed likely. And there was probably some curiosity mixed in — a desire to observe the creature called a Hwasinjo a little longer.

Then I'll wait exactly thirty seconds before going in.

Leon suppressed his presence to the absolute minimum and waited for the right moment, savoring the Hwasinjo's fire show and Jenian's mana.

……And so, thirty seconds later.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go…"

Leon drew his sword and sprang forward with light, buoyant steps. This was the perfect moment to crash the party.

As he unfurled his light-foot technique, the scenery whipped past behind him, and the river, Jenian, and the Hwasinjo rushed into view.

On a sudden impulse, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Leon decided a little acting was in order.

"Uwaaaaaaah!! You bastard!!!"

Like a martial artist whose blood was boiling at the sight of a monster that had attacked the capital, he charged with eyes wide, locking onto the Hwasinjo.

— ……?!

Jenian's head turned toward Leon, his face flooding with alarm.

A mana message shot straight into him.

— Hold on — aren't you the Crusif boy? Stop for a moment. I can handle this thing without any trouble, so…

Ah, whatever, whatever.

Leon ignored it. Gritting his teeth, pretending not to hear, he drove his soles into the ground and shoved off.

His staggering light-foot speed carried him to the Hwasinjo's nose before Jenian had even finished speaking.

"……Oh, for heaven's sake."

Jenian squeezed his eyes shut. He stretched a hand toward Leon.

A rush of precise mana wrapped Leon's body, inscribing a heat-resistance spell upon him.

It was better than the combined resistance of potions, Aria's magic, and the fireproof gear put together. Substantial.

Okay.

Leon cheered inwardly. He had stripped off all his fireproof measures so freely precisely because he had expected Jenian to do this.

With a sharp crack, he stomped the earth and shot upward. Passing through Jenian's mana barrier, he called out loudly to the man.

"Thanks for the magic. I'll be joining in."

"I keep telling you, that isn't necessary…"

Leon let Jenian's words wash past him and unleashed a sword strike.

Jecheon Sword Style, Second Form — Manunbicheon.

A great rush of blue cloud-flocks surged forward to hunt the sun that had risen so high.

Where the waves of fire met the mass of clouds, they split and scattered. The heat shattered into fragments as sword-ki stormed toward the Hwasinjo.

— !?!!

The beast flinched at the approaching cloud-swarm. It tore its beak open wide and sprayed flame in a broad fan.

A tremendous roar. In midair, mana and fire-energy collided with savage force. Blue and crimson light vomited out an enormous brilliance. The sky over the capital's Fourth District blazed with dazzling color.

Having poured out one full sword strike, Leon dropped back downward, thinking as he fell.

Definitely better than before.

He meant the level of the Jecheon Sword Style. He had felt it in training, but confirming it in real combat made it certain.

Centered on swift-sword principles, the blade now produced a power of a different quality than before.

Take the Manunbicheon he had just unleashed. The clouds were faster, more precise. Solid, with real force behind them. Once the skeleton was set, he could see how messy the old forms had been.

"……Oh?"

Jenian was mildly surprised. Leon's skill was better than expected. He might actually be of some help.

Leon fell toward the shallowed surface of the water. There was nothing to plant a foot on — no floating debris. Even if there had been, it would already have burned and sunk.

But —

Right now…

With firm conviction, Leon spun his mana.

And the instant the tip of his foot touched the water, he activated the new light-foot technique he had created.

A soft impact. Then another, and another, and another —

Faint ripples appeared here and there across the surface. Leon's feet began to skim the water.

He ran across it.

It works.

Exhilaration welled up, and at the same time came the thought that with this technique, the result was only natural. The light-foot art had that kind of capacity.

In that moment, Leon knew.

If this martial art he had developed continued to grow, he would be able to fly through the sky itself — and even deceive the heavens.

Was that not enough to say he had surpassed the sky?

A little arrogant, perhaps.

Neungcheon. Surpassing Heaven.

……The name drove itself into Leon's chest.

And rather than attaching the character for "step," he would attach the character for "art" — Neungcheongong was right. It held too much to be confined to mere footwork.

"Yeah. Neungcheongong. Has a Crusif ring to it. I like it."

Leon nodded. From now on, this martial art's name was Neungcheongong.

With a sharp crack, Leon used Neungcheongong to bound across the water like a water strider.

You little…

At the same time he glared up at the sky, locking onto the Hwasinjo. He corrected his stance and his energy, preparing a single decisive blow.

Then —

Leon's eyes met the Hwasinjo's golden ones dead-on.

— ……!

Out of nowhere, the Hwasinjo screamed like a thing gone mad.

It had recognized him. It had registered that the one who had toyed with its food had come back.

"My ears hurt, you lunatic."

———!!!

The beast thrashed and raged without restraint. As its tantrum intensified, the flames grew stronger with it.

Jenian reinforced the barrier, puzzled by the creature's sudden fury.

The Hwasinjo fixed its gaze on Leon. The fire-platform beneath it heaved violently.

A deep, rolling roar. Vigorous energy gathered above the beast's head. Bundles of fire-energy tangled and compressed, forming a sinister sphere.

In an instant the sphere swelled past fifteen meters in diameter.

The shockwave rolling off that fireball was bone-chilling. A truly terrifying presence.

If that thing dropped, every inch of ground inside Jenian's barrier would be cleanly erased.

Shit. Hold on.

In a panic, Leon bellowed at Jenian floating in a corner of the sky.

"Could you get rid of that thing for me?!"

Jenian answered flatly.

"Hmm. Can't you dodge it on your own? Taking the hit would actually be more convenient for me. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I have to worry about collateral damage first, you see."

Jenian was drawing out even more mana and pouring it into the barrier, shrinking its range to protect every individual structure.

He was trying to cover, alone, a bombardment with the power to wipe out the entire Fourth District. He simply did not have the spare capacity to look after Leon as well.

"You—!"

A double helping of curses climbed all the way to Leon's throat.

He could not even flee outside the barrier. It was the kind of seal you could enter freely but not leave — and Jenian had just reinforced it, packing the mana density far higher.

— Ah. This works too, then.

Jenian, who had been about to cast another spell on Leon, paused and murmured to himself.

A deep, rolling roar. The Hwasinjo's head slowly tipped forward. The massive fireball writhed and began to descend.

Just as Leon was about to shout at Jenian in absolute earnest —

Through the center of the fireball, a red starlight drew a clean, straight thread.

That starlight was incomparably more brilliant than the Hwasinjo's own flames.

— Crack.

A diagonal fissure split open, and the fireball, carved cleanly in half, peeled wide apart.

Every bundle of fire-energy severed. The vast mass of flame lost its power as if it had been a lie, and scattered. Leaving only heat-haze and sparks, it melted away into the empty air.

Only the elegant path of starlit steel remained, etched deeply into the night sky.

It was a majestic and beautiful sight.

"Ah…!"

Leon's eyes went wide.

His fists clenched tight. A shiver ran down his spine.

He bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Noona, why are you only getting here now?!"