Mana Release

Mana Release.

The power that had let Sir Isra tear through battlefields even when her specs fell short. The signature skill of every B-class warrior-type hunter.

So why…

…had it appeared on me?

"Because of the Heavenly Martial Body, of course."

Don't just skate past it like one-plus-one-equals-two is self-evident. You have to actually explain.

"Hrm. You already know the Heavenly Martial Body lets one master every form of martial art."

It said as much in the skill description. That was precisely why I could learn the Imperial Sword Style — and why Sir Isra could pass warrior-class techniques to me without the usual class restrictions getting in the way.

"You already hold the answer, my lord."

"Having no restrictions doesn't mean I become a warrior-type."

"Do not draw such lines in your thinking."

Sir Isra's words hit me square in the back of the head.

Draw lines, huh.

She was right. Looking back, my own ability had never stayed inside any neat box. I casually crafted undead that had never existed before. Fresh undead data sometimes even wrote itself onto a new page of the Akashic Record. The idea that I didn't need to think inside a frame settled into me with perfect, satisfying weight.

"Thanks, Sir Isra."

"Haha! It seems you have gained enlightenment."

Mana Release. An opportunity I had never even imagined had dropped into my lap.

"Next comes Miss Yeondo's turn."

"Oh! Finally!"

"Miss Yeondo shall train in the same sword style as my lord."

The Imperial Sword Style? I looked over in open surprise, and Sir Isra simply nodded.

"Her talent is considerable. Ordinary swordsmanship could never bring out the full brilliance of it."

Even during sparring she had rated Yeondo as pretty good — but good enough to hand over the Imperial Sword Style? That I hadn't expected.

"Is it really okay to just teach that to anyone?"

Wasn't the sword style of the Imperial Knight Order supposed to be restricted from leaving the palace?

"There is no empire in my lord's world, is there?"

"Well… true."

"And Miss Yeondo is my lord's acquaintance. She is hardly 'anyone,' so it is fine."

I could have treated her like a stranger, but her family had looked after me. Call this paying back a debt.

And so the training that began that morning stretched on until the sun hung against the ridgeline.

"Hah… hahh…"

"Gentlemen. You have all worked hard today."

Sir Isra stood atop the hill in a stern posture, looking down over the gathered company. The support-team guys and Yeondo were all gasping for air.

"Hah… hey, mister."

"Yeah?"

"Mister… hah… why… are you… still fine?"

"My constitution's a little weird."

Sir Isra did not discriminate when she put people through the wringer. She was every bit as ruthless with me. Without the Heavenly Martial Body, I would have been wheezing right alongside the support team.

Ingrid and Mijeong, who had been training separately, returned as well.

"How was your side?"

"She's improved quite a bit since last time."

Mijeong's face flushed pink.

"I… practiced a little."

"You still have a long road ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ahead. Work harder."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Yeondo joining the roster. Sir Isra restored to her living appearance. There had been a few distractions, but overall the training had gone smoothly.

After the Chinese hunters' ambush, I stayed away from Blacksmith Street for a while. Rebuilding the undead soldiers I had lost took priority. Now that the ranks had been more or less replenished, I figured I would go ask for more lessons — only to get a reply.

I wrote back that I understood. So what to do with the free time?

"Boss. Think we can book a few more gate raids?"

"Of course."

What else? Gate clearing. Medium Cavalry Tigris had joined the fighting force, and both of my contracted undead had been further strengthened through modification. It would have been nicer if another B-class gate with matching entry restrictions had popped up the way the last one had, but—

"I'll reserve whatever comes up for raids."

"Eh. You're just saying you'd like something good to show."

No choice, then. Time to overwhelm them with volume.

"Kiihihihihit!"

The source of the screaming was a flock of harpies — upper bodies nearly human, brown-feathered wings where arms should have been, lower halves pure bird-monster.

"Ugh… hyung."

"I'm dizzy…"

The support-team guys staggered. Even from a considerable distance, the cry had slapped them with debuffs like Dulled Senses and Balance Disruption. Up close, it would have dealt physical damage as well.

"Grrrrhhh…"

Tigris tipped its head toward the sky and let out a low growl. Against flying types, even its miraculous breakthrough power struggled to shine.

"Ingrid."

"I have been waiting for Master's command."

Five complete spells, fused into one. Time required: 1.4 seconds. Before, it would have taken around ten. In the space of a single breath, the finished magic streaked out in a straight line and bloomed wide before the harpy flock could react. A scorching gale — Fireballs and Wind Bombs braided together — swept over them.

"Kiiiieeek!"

Harpies rained from the sky. Direct hits charred black. Even the ones that only caught a graze lost sections of wing and could no longer stay aloft.

"Once isn't quite ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠satisfying, is it?"

She deployed the identical formula again in sequence. From rearrangement to release to impact: less than three seconds. Another string of explosions, and the remaining harpies were roasted to a perfect well-done.

"Uh, hyung… Miss Ingrid seems… different."

"I upgraded her a bit."

"That did not look like 'a bit.'"

Fair enough. More than double the mana stat, and Multi-Cast had accelerated her casting speed beyond any reasonable comparison. Dozens of flying monsters cleaned up in under ten seconds — using nothing but D-class spells. It was a performance that left hunter common sense in the dust.

"See that, Ironhead?"

"Hmph. My turn next, magic-slinger."

Sir Isra kicked off cliff faces all over the valley and carved the harpies apart. Was that a rocket or a person? Maybe it was the restored living form, but her streaming golden hair looked almost dazzling as she ruled the air.

"Think you can escape Sir Isra's judgment merely by fluttering about the sky?!"

…Why was the secondhand embarrassment mine to carry?

"Great Lord! If you would but grant this humble servant a body as well, I would distinguish myself most splendidly!"

Could our self-proclaimed archaeologist fly, or drop harpies with a wave of his hand? No. But I didn't say so out loud. No need to crush my own summon's spirit. Zaug's specialties were stealth and ambush. I had already sorted through the Chinese hunters' gear for suitable pieces; a modification job was coming soon.

"Kirururuk!"

The boss monster — the Harpy Matriarch — loosed a shriek.

"Do not get in my way, magic-slinger."

"You're the one in the way, Ironhead."

Five strands of lightning twisted into a single spear of thunder and punched straight through the Harpy Matriarch. Almost in the same instant, Sir Isra kicked off the cliff face and her blade took the creature's head.

"Enemy general — slain!"

"Don't steal my kill!"

"That trifling lightning failed to fell the beast in a single blow."

"Hmph. Want a taste of it yourself?"

Everyone had energy to burn, apparently.

"Clearing a C-class gate in under thirty minutes…"

"That's an automatic SSS-rank clear, hyung."

Huh. Not even thirty minutes yet. Both contracted undead were still fresh, and I hadn't even pulled out the rest of the undead. I still needed more performance data on Tigris, too.

"Want to run another gate?"

"Ah—ahaha. If hyung says we go, we go."

"Clean-up, please. Quickly."

"Of course. Come on, kids — let's move!"

Everyone looked so eager to make money that it was almost heartwarming to watch.

"I do not believe they are doing this because they like it, Great Lord…"

Come on. Everyone likes making money.

That day, we cleared three C-class gates in a row.

Executive Director of GGG, California's largest guild. The hunter known as the Saint of Los Angeles. Sophia had spent two weeks in Korea.

Her real objective was already complete. Park Minho — a rising star recognized by the Executor, a legendary hunter on par with the Twelve Heroes. She had succeeded in forging a connection with him.

Even so, she did not fly home at once. Her official reason for coming to Korea — establishing a GGG foothold in East Asia — still required meetings with the domestic Big Five and various other organizations. In the leftover hours she changed into comfortable clothes, sunbathed, and splashed around in the water.

"Haaah… I can't even remember the last time I rested like this."

Smiling with deep satisfaction, Sophia picked up the tablet she had left nearby.

Articles about Minho refreshed almost daily.

Good thing I put a line on him early.

A C-class ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hunter clearing three same-rank gates in one day? The pace was absurd. Forget stamina and mana consumption — mental fortitude would give out first. Even Sophia, the so-called Saint of Los Angeles, would clearly collapse before long if she tried to raid at that tempo.

It's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thanks to those unusual summons of his, no doubt… but so what?

Commanding powerful retainers was itself the mark of an outstanding necromancer. On top of that, the Minho she had met in person also possessed outstanding warrior-type talent.

I'm looking forward to what's next.

By contrast, her meetings with the domestic Big Five — the powers said to steer Korea's hunter industry — had been less than satisfying. Skill-wise, they were all excellent. Korea was a small country, not even a third the land area of California, yet the quality of its hunters was remarkably high. And that was as far as it went. Setting aside the SS-class Executor, the Big Five fielded several S-class hunters who served as their figureheads — but none of them were partners GGG particularly needed to court.

"James."

"Yes, Director."

"We're scheduled to return the day after tomorrow, correct?"

"That's right."

"Could you arrange a meeting with Mr. Park for tomorrow?"

The A-class hunter serving as both bodyguard and secretary frowned slightly.

"You're meeting that man again?"

"I don't know when I'll next be in Korea. I'd like to leave him a gift."

"Yes, ma'am. Understood."

The A-class hunter spun on his heel. From an angle Sophia could not see, the hunter called James bit down hard on his lip.

Investing this much in some damn yellow monkey…!

His clenched fist went bloodless. Swallowing the rage, James typed out a message to someone and sent it.