White Flame
“So it was you? You’re the bastard who dumped that fucking curse on me.”
Turan frowned.
He hadn’t expected those to be the first words out of Kael’s mouth the moment he opened the door.
What’s more, Kael had his eyes covered.
“...How did you notice?” Turan asked.
Curiosity came before irritation.
“How else? The stench is so damn bad it’s choking me. Wouldn’t be weird if I couldn’t smell it, but I can.”
The smell was so foul it practically numbed the nose.
Sticky and damp, like a corpse rotting away.
“...Interesting.”
Turan studied Kael closely.
At first, it had only been for the sake of the commission.
He had placed the curse using nothing more than scraps of information about Kael’s identity and location.
The fact that he could curse a target with only that much partial information was proof enough that Turan was an exceptional curse mage.
And yet Kael had not only broken the curse, but turned it back on the caster and inflicted damage in return.
Forget his wounded pride; what truly piqued his interest was how the hell that had even been possible.
The mana coming off Kael was ordinary.
At best, he seemed like one of those common knights who had only just finished probation.
There was no trace of a special spell, no artifact’s aura, no mystic power.
“How did you neutralize my curse?”
For a mage, the urge to investigate was as natural as breathing.
Learn something new, master it, and it became power.
With knowledge gained that way, they refined their magic further still.
But that was Turan’s concern, not Kael’s.
Kael couldn’t care less.
“If you’re that curious, why don’t you go ask your mother?”
The cheap provocation made Turan’s face harden.
“...What a vulgar little wretch. Doesn’t matter. There are plenty of ways to find out anyway.”
Turan slowly raised his arms.
With caster and target standing face-to-face, there could hardly be a better setup for a curse.
And Kael was already completely restrained.
There was nowhere to run.
“I’ll turn you into a doll and find out then.”
Turan’s eyes gleamed with madness.
As his lips moved, vile words spilled out.
He was weaving a far more intricate incantation than usual, one meant to create a more complete binding.
...Hold on. Isn’t this kind of bad?
Watching him, Kael felt unease begin to creep in.
He didn’t understand the words, exactly, but he got the gist.
If Turan was left alone like that, something very unpleasant was going to happen.
Where the hell is that old bastard doing off to?
The reason Kael had been able to stay this calm was because he trusted Balmung.
He’d expected the sword to show up any second, and yet there had been no sign of it at all.
He comes running like a ghost when I’m throwing him away.
Now that I actually need him, he’s gone and taken a dive?
Kael was starting to sweat bullets, and he began writhing against his bonds.
Seeing that, Turan snorted.
“You squirm like a worm. Don’t bother struggling. It’ll be over soon.”
The curse was just about complete.
Black, inky haze began to rise, swelling rapidly until it filled the basement.
Kael, too, could feel the dark energy.
Damn it. I’m the idiot for trusting that scrap heap.
Should’ve used him to peel potatoes or something.
Regret hit him too late, but once the water had spilled, there was no taking it back.
The curse’s power started tightening around his throat.
His consciousness grew dimmer by the second.
Kael fought desperately to stay awake, but his mind kept sinking, little by little, into the depths.
Right before he blacked out.
How dare you put your filthy hands on my wielder?
An all-too-familiar voice rang out.
At the same instant, a blinding flash exploded so brightly that even Kael, with his eyes covered, could feel it.
The white light pouring from Balmung drove the darkness back in an instant.
The vile power of the curse touched that brilliance and burst into flames, crumbling to ash.
Kael’s mind cleared at once.
It felt like someone had grabbed his arm just before he drowned and yanked him back up to the surface in one brutal pull.
The ropes binding his body and the cloth covering his eyes were gone without a trace, and a familiar weight settled into his hand. Kael tightened his grip around it.
He had a lot to say to Balmung for showing up late.
“...Nice timing.”
But for now, he decided to let it go.
* * *
...What is this?
Luke, who had been tracking the remnants of Bipolar, suddenly sensed a massive presence he couldn’t begin to explain.
He frowned and turned his head.
Not too far away. He didn’t have time to hesitate.
Should he chase it, or not?
There were only two choices.
Luke made his decision quickly.
I’ll check it out first.
He kicked off the ground and sprinted.
* * *
“...Cough!”
Black blood spilled from Turan’s mouth.
The curse had broken, and with it came internal injuries.
Agony like being gutted inside out surged through his body, but Turan never once took his eyes off Kael.
No, to be precise, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sword in Kael’s hand.
White flames were wrapping the blade.
This was no ordinary fire.
A noble power that burned away darkness.
That power was unmistakably...
“...White Flame.”
Turan muttered under his breath.
He had thought the white fire existed only in legend, and yet here it was, before his very eyes.
White Flame? What the hell is that?
Right now is not the time to be asking that. I already burned through most of my power just now. From here on out, you’re on your own.
...Huh? What?
Kael almost thought he’d misheard Balmung’s shocking declaration.
To make matters worse, the fiercely blazing white fire went out as well, fading away in an instant.
One unexpected situation after another.
If the guy across from him had been some pushover, Kael might’ve figured out a way to handle it alone, but that gloomy bastard standing in front of him looked anything but ordinary.
“...Where’d you get that sword?”
Turan’s voice was soaked in greasy greed.
His eyes, mad and glittering, fixed on Kael.
The moment Kael saw them, his body moved on instinct and took up a stance.
Then he grinned.
“If you’re curious, go ask your mother.”
Turan’s expression, which had remained blank up to that point, twisted viciously.
He raised a hand and chanted, “Hand of the Dead.”
The floor warped, and blackened hands burst up from below.
But before those hands could fully emerge, Kael’s body moved first.
Swish.
The blade carved a half-moon through the air.
The hands thrusting up from the ground were severed in an instant.
Turan’s cheek twitched.
That was faster than expected, and Kael hadn’t even flinched.
Deciding his opponent was no simple matter, Turan immediately prepared his next spell.
“...Seed of Curse.”
Black seeds shot out like bullets.
There weren’t a few of them, and they were fast, too.
But Kael slipped through the barrage by the width of a sheet of paper.
Movement honed into something close to art.
Pop!
Kael kicked off the ground and closed the distance in an instant.
Sensing danger, Turan hurriedly cast another spell.
“Shroud of Decay!”
At the last possible second, a dark red veil unfurled.
Kael’s sword slammed into it and was stopped.
It looked flimsy, but its durability was considerable. Turan thought it could block at least two or three strikes.
And then Kael’s eyes turned calm.
Balmung’s words came back to him.
Don’t doubt.
If you believe you can cut, then anything can be cut.
Straight Mind.
With an unwavering heart, he cut.
Kael’s focus sharpened to its absolute peak.
What stood before him was no longer a barrier.
Only something that needed to be cut.
The blade sliced through the veil and came crashing down.
...What?
At that instant, Turan’s eyes widened to the brink of tearing.
The veil he had been so certain of was cut apart in a single stroke.
Startled, Turan quickly put distance between them.
Alarm surged through him like instinct. This was no longer a time to be choosy about methods.
Just as he was about to unleash his trump card.
Kael was already right in front of him.
Turan tried to chant in panic, but no sound came out.
“...Ghk.”
By then, the tip of the blade had already pierced his throat.
Blood burst out like a fountain.
From his throat came only the hiss of escaping breath and the wet gurgle of blood.
Life drained rapidly from Turan’s eyes.
Kael stared down at him with a cold gaze and twisted the hilt.
Crack!
With the sound of his neck snapping, Turan collapsed.
There was no question of survival. He was dead.
“...Hah.”
Kael let out a long breath.
...What the hell just happened?
Honestly, he had no idea how it had gone down.
It hadn’t been a plan or even a calculation, really, just movement that felt almost purely instinctive.
“Did... the old man do that?”
What nonsense are you talking about? If it had been me, that would’ve ended with the first strike. Swinging three times at a pathetic little thing like that... Tsk. You’re still far from ready.
That said, Balmung couldn’t hide its own shock either.
The man who had just died was by no means an easy opponent.
At the very least, he had the skill of a royal palace mage. Even if Kael had managed to wound him with White Flame, the difference in real combat experience between them had been enormous.
And yet Kael had taken him down in just three attacks.
Especially when he cut through the barrier.
At that moment, Kael’s movement had been, frankly, flawless.
How long has this bastard actually been training properly?
Half a month.
It had only been fifteen days since Kael began serious training.
And yet he had already reached this level. It was absurd.
“...Hmph.”
Unaware of Balmung’s thoughts, Kael scratched his cheek while looking down at his own hand.
He felt strange.
Of all the things he’d done, the sensation of a neck giving way under his blade was still so vivid it lingered at his fingertips.
This was, in effect, his first kill.
It was different from when he had killed Harkan.
Back then, that had been Balmung’s will. Kael had merely handed his body over to the sword.
But this time, it had been Kael’s own will. Even the finishing blow had been his.
This was the first time he had killed someone with his own hands.
It wasn’t guilt. If he hadn’t killed the man, then he would’ve been the one to die.
It just didn’t feel real.
Well, thinking about it can wait.
There was still work left to do.
Killing that one bastard didn’t mean everything was over.
Then he sensed someone approaching fast. The moment Kael started to tighten his grip on the hilt again—
“...What exactly are you doing here?”
Luke appeared.
And he looked absolutely miserable.
* * *