The Calamity of the Past vs. the Mage of the Past
In the southwest of the Karkor Imperial Capital lay the military city of Karkor. It served as a satellite city to the capital. It was also the region where Imperial Princess Amelia and one of the Seven Stars, the Light Sword Natalya, were stationed.
Inside Karkor’s training grounds, Amelia was sparring. Natalya watched with a satisfied smile as the princess single-handedly subdued over a dozen barbarian soldiers using nothing but pure swordsmanship.
“Your skills improve dramatically with each passing day. Even His Majesty the Emperor in his youth possessed such swordsmanship.”
At Natalya’s praise, Amelia—who had been wiping sweat from her platinum-blonde hair with a towel—grimaced in clear displeasure.
“Are you saying I take after my mother?”
“To be honest, yes.”
Take after her mother? That exhibitionist? Amelia shuddered at the thought.
“Should I take that as a compliment? At least I don’t run around the palace naked like she does.”
Amelia shrugged. No matter what, she still had the dignity of the imperial family to uphold. She would never strip just because it was hot, nor would she wear the kind of revealing outfits that tavern maids favored. If that was what being emperor meant, they might as well just send her straight to a bar. The only reason it worked for her mother was that she still looked young. Just imagine her decades from now as a wrinkled old hag. Would that suit her? The mere thought was so horrifying that Amelia scrunched up her face.
In any case, looking exactly like her mother made it impossible for Amelia to show her face in public without dying of embarrassment. And to make matters worse, her idiot little brother had recently gotten himself bewitched by some woman and caused all sorts of trouble. The imperial family’s reputation was in tatters.
“Haha. Even I take my clothes off at home when it gets hot. What’s the big deal?”
“Still, the emperor should have some decorum. By the way, what’s that note you’re holding?”
Amelia pointed at the slip of paper in Natalya’s hand.
“Actually, we’ve received a request for reinforcements from Ashtar.”
“From Ashtar? That territory? Asking for help?”
A support request from Ashtar? What kind of nonsense was that? It made no sense. A place that boasted both an elite mage corps and a knight order—what could possibly make them ask for aid? If the Ashtar Duchy, which could field tens of thousands of troops on its own, was requesting support, this was no ordinary situation.
“Yes. It seems the Four Heavenly King Pector has appeared.”
“Pector, huh… Then it would be best if you went, Master. A duel between swordsmen sounds perfect.”
The Light Sword was renowned as the empire’s greatest swordsman. That was precisely why Amelia had taken Natalya as her mentor. A battle between her master and one of the Four Heavenly Kings who wielded a sword—how could she not be curious?
But Natalya shook her head.
“Your opponent is one of the Four Heavenly Kings. You must not move from here, Your Highness.”
“I practically grew up outside the palace anyway. Can’t I at least get a look at one of the Demon King’s Four Heavenly Kings? From what I’ve heard, Pector is someone who understands honor and restraint.”
Yes, he certainly did understand such things. Natalya herself had fought him before and knew it well. But there was one problem.
“I would love to give you valuable experience, Your Highness, but…”
“But?”
“His Highness the Crown Prince is currently on a provincial tour. In case anything goes wrong, you must remain here to guard the capital.”
At her master’s words, Amelia clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“That frog-in-a-well chose now of all times to go on a tour?”
“He probably wants to win the hearts of the common people and reclaim his position as crown prince.”
“What’s so great about an emperor’s seat with no real power? If he just sat still, everything would fall into his lap anyway.”
After all, as an imperial princess, Amelia preferred roaming freely outside the capital far more than being stuck inside it. That was why she had been away during the whole controversy over who would become the imperial heir. Even if her younger brother Aslan kept making foolish mistakes, the throne would inevitably end up with him. There was no need to stir up trouble. What was the point of all these pointless schemes?
“From what I’ve gathered, the provincial tour was apparently recommended by that student council secretary, Yuria. The young lady of Ashtar is accompanying them as well.”
The young lady of Ashtar. That would be Olivia, wouldn’t it?
Olivia. A name that brought back fond memories. Her friend.
“Now that I think about it, I really should meet Olivia again sometime soon.”
“Are the two of you close?”
Natalya sounded surprised. The sheltered young lady of Ashtar and her disciple—who had grown up outside, swinging swords and getting into fights—being friends? Or perhaps they had become friends precisely because they could learn from each other.
“She might be on par with you and the other Seven Stars, Master.”
On par with her and the other Seven Stars? Natalya tried to recall what her relationship with the others had been like, but nothing particularly came to mind.
“Hmm. If she’s at that level, I suppose you’ve already had your share of physical sparring.”
“Not exactly like that…”
No matter what, she couldn’t just beat up a noble young lady. They had only exchanged heated words. Of course, that was several years ago. Lately, Olivia had become so obsessed with Aslan that they barely kept in touch. The way she had gone crazy over a man made her no different from any other noble lady.
Come to think of it, all of that happened five years ago.
Looking back, it really did seem like something had happened to Olivia. Who could have guessed it involved a succubus? And now she was even a saint.
“Anyway, it looks like that prince is dead set on continuing his tour no matter what. I should head out immediately. You stay here and hold the fort, my disciple.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be waiting for news of your victory.”
“No need to go that far. I’ll be off then.”
Once Natalya left, Amelia changed her clothes and returned to the training grounds.
The wild mountain near the trading city of Karhem had been devoid of both animals and people for the past several days. There was only one reason.
An unknown energy was flowing from the mountain, making it dangerous to approach recklessly. The locals who lived nearby rarely visited the mountain anyway, so they didn’t pay it much mind. However, the complete disappearance of animal activity was not a good sign.
“Ugh, it was already bad before, but lately it feels especially awful.”
A villager who had been gathering wild greens on the mountain quickly descended the slope. Just getting close filled one with a sense of discomfort and unease. The residents continued to keep their distance, but the anomaly occurring on that mountain was no ordinary matter.
There was something on that mountain. Something that inspired despair in anyone who drew near. Its name was Pector.
A sin from the distant past whose memories had long since faded. One of the calamities that had once brought nothing but despair to countless humans.
Yes. At least until a few years ago, that had been true.
If he had never met that man, he would still be a calamity. He should have swept away the kingdom on the Demon King’s orders and launched an assault on the empire. But his charge had been shattered before a single man.
“Not even the empire. Did I come here for nothing?”
Pector let out a hollow laugh.
The man who had stopped him had slain the Demon King. As one of the Four Heavenly Kings, he should not rejoice at the Demon King’s death. But just as Pector had suspected, that man had been strong. That was why he refused to believe it.
The man’s death.
He could not possibly be dead. No—he must not believe it. If that man were gone, who in this world could possibly kill him?
That half-baked hero who couldn’t even properly wield the Holy Sword? The Seven Stars, impressive for humans but lacking the power to face one of the Four Heavenly Kings? Or the hundreds of thousands of troops the empire—the continent’s greatest power—could scrape together?
No. They might put up a decent fight, but they would never be able to kill him in the end. It had to be that man.
The first meeting with that man had been strange.
It was when he had marched on the kingdom’s fortress of Parkal to deal with the hero, as fate had dictated.
The fortress of Parkal had been dyed red with the blood of the kingdom’s soldiers. Even if the empire sent reinforcements, they would be nothing more than a disorderly mob only slightly more numerous than the kingdom’s forces. Or so he had thought.
Yet what the kingdom sent to recapture Parkal was the hero’s party.
Pector had been excited. The hero who wielded the Holy Sword—Eugene. From the rumors, he commanded the power of light and had never been defeated. Perhaps he could look forward to this fight.
Yes. If this was fate, it wasn’t so bad. Either the hero would die, or he would. In the end, only one of them would remain. Wasn’t that precisely why the Demon King’s army always advanced so leisurely against humanity? To give the inferior humans at least a sliver of hope.
“Hero. Speak your name.”
“I am Eugene, the hero. I am humanity’s hope who will defeat you.”
But strangely, the laziness emanating from this so-called Holy Sword hero was odd. It went beyond mere overconfidence in his power. He simply looked… lazy. Could it be the composure of the strong? He had held such expectations, but they had been in vain.
CLANG!
“Guh!”
The hero Eugene was sent flying back from a single clash of blades. He had only managed to endure thanks to the Holy Sword. Even so, he was merely holding on against Pector’s authority that could sweep away everything with a single swing.
He could not stand against him. Why had the Holy Sword chosen such a man? If this was simply fate, then this generation’s hero was a failure. Humanity’s hope would die, and the Demon King’s army would once again sweep across the continent with renewed fury.
It was then that a man appeared alongside what appeared to be a saint and an elf. The saint and elf immediately rushed to support the hero. But Pector did not spare the hero another glance.
“I see. So the hero was bait.”
While he had been focused on the hero, while he had drawn his sword in anticipation, in that brief moment when both sides sought an opening to strike—the man before him had annihilated the army that had swallowed the Parkal fortress. Otherwise, there was no way the stench of blood on him would be so thick compared to his companions.
“This idiot. Was he supposed to be bait? I didn’t expect him to fail to withstand even a single blow.”
The man watched Eugene being dragged away by the women even while standing before Pector, completely at ease. What gave him such confidence? To even use the hero as bait—he was no ordinary individual.
Pector could tell just by looking into a human’s eyes. Perhaps the fate commanded by the Demon King did not lie with the hero, but with this man.
“A mage? Magic doesn’t work on me.”
“A swordsman? Swordsmanship doesn’t work on me either.”
The white-haired mage drew a faint arc at the corner of his lips, taunting him. He truly was no ordinary person. To face Pector’s despair head-on and still show such composure—it was a completely different kind from the hero he had seen moments ago.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone with such spirit. What is your name?”
“I am Noah, from the Land of Destruction.”
The Land of Destruction—the land of the Godslayers.
“Noah, you say. Noah. And the Land of Destruction. If you come from the land of the Godslayers, you must be no ordinary person.”
Then he was worth fighting. The mage touched his left hand to his right and created a blade made of pure, high-density mana.
Yes. Now the question was answered. From the very beginning, within the hero’s party, the hero had merely been the figurehead. The rumors had originally belonged to someone else.
“I’m busy. Let’s finish this quickly.”
“Sword Magic, is it?”
Sword Magic—the unique magic of the Godslayers who had slain the gods. The descendant of those Godslayers stood right before him.
‘An opponent truly worthy of facing.’
For the first time, Pector felt a shiver run through his body. He adjusted his grip on his sword. He had to respond seriously to the composure of this powerhouse that he could sense even without crossing blades.
The mage vanished from his spot. In an instant, he appeared before Pector and swung his mana blade. Pector met the strike without yielding.
Kiiiiing!
Kigigigig!
Fragments of mana and sparks flew violently. The mana sword, formed by drawing out and extending mana directly from his hand, was receiving Pector’s deep despair.
CLANG!
Both sides were repelled by each other’s power. With that single exchange, Pector felt his hand tremble for the first time. For the first time in a contest of pure strength, he had taken impact through his sword. The power the man possessed was not merely mana wrapped around a blade. It was something that could be called the power of the soul itself.
“You mustn’t forget that my main job is mage.”
The man used teleportation to appear before him once again. The combination of teleportation and Sword Magic—the harmony of swordsmanship—flustered Pector for the first time. He couldn’t even claim superiority in stamina. The man’s fighting style minimized stamina consumption.
Kling!
Kaang!
The ferocious onslaught. All Pector could do was parry the indiscriminate slashes that came through teleportation. To think such a man had been in the hero’s party.
“Unexpected. You don’t underestimate me just because I’m a mage.”
“The strong transcend class. Your attacks are more than enough to compete with me. On the contrary, it’s surprising that a mage can harmonize magic and swordsmanship so perfectly.”
Kaaaaang!
In terms of size or race, Pector held every advantage. Yet the man before him overcame all those disadvantages. Moreover, rather than closing the distance with physical techniques like a Sword Saint or Sword Demon, he used teleportation, making his movements impossible to predict.
Pector quickly read the mage’s movements. He was one of the Four Heavenly Kings, after all. He was no fool who would lose in close combat. He thought he had grasped the mage’s pattern.
‘From above!’
“It’s from below.”
Kaang!
The mage vanished for a split second, then struck upward from below. Pector barely managed to block it.
“How can you move like this…”
If it looked like it would come from below, he struck from above. If it seemed like it would come from the left, he would mockingly appear from the right and thrust in. To think there was a mage like this in the world!
Pector was moved. The existence of a mage who could pressure him while facing his despair made Pector’s heart race for the first time in a long while.
“But you mustn’t forget my main job either, Pector.”
At some point, a magic circle had formed in the man’s hand and ignited. He could even use chantless casting? But Pector laughed. Magic in this situation? It seemed the man did not know him. The man was certainly strong. However, Pector was immune to magic. He wasn’t sure about pure high-density Sword Magic, but elemental magic would never work on him.
Suddenly, a chilling smile flashed across the man’s lips.
Or not. Pector revised his thoughts. Seeing that brilliantly shining magic circle, perhaps he intended to use a spell that obscured vision. If a mana sword pierced his vitals while his sight was blocked, it would be dangerous. So he was probably planning to use a vision-obscuring spell.
But now that Pector had seen through it, it was too late. He had already read the man’s hand. Or so he thought—until he heard the words the man quietly uttered.
“Meteor Fall.”
The heavens and earth shook.