Chapter 108
Chapter 108
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: Resentment Pursuit -5
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Let's quickly summarize the current situation.
The bastard seems to specialize in close-quarters combat. It wasn't a simple guess that he'd be a frontliner just because he was wielding a sword... I based it on the muscles bulging through his tailcoat and the way he moved his feet.
No thrown weapons in sight. If he has any ranged attacks, they'd probably be mana projectiles or spells.
His charge toward me was faster than anyone I'd ever faced. Blink, and the rapier's tip would punch a hole through me.
First things first, block his approach. He seems like the prideful type, so I'll weave some illusion magic to prick at his ego.
"Hmph!"
The bastard snorted. Good, underestimate me all you want. If you think my illusion magic is the same as any other mage's, you're in for a rude awakening...
Clang!
He batted the spell away with his rapier. Shit.
Now I had a rough idea. When something defies common sense, it means the opponent's using a metamorphosis. But what exactly was his ability?
His speed dipped a bit from deflecting the spell, but he didn't stop charging. I had one turn left before he closed the gap completely.
Spending that turn to widen the distance would just buy me a little time before he caught up. The mobility gap between us was beyond imagination.
I recalled various stories from my past life. East or West, ancient or modern, the side that accurately grasps their opponent's abilities has the higher win rate. I decided to use this turn to probe his metamorphosis.
I unleashed different types of illusion magic—mental waves and light-based phantoms—while observing without even blinking.
The moment the spells entered a five-meter radius around him, they solidified.
Illusion magic, which shouldn't have physical properties, gained physical force. It was like firing an air cannon only for it to turn into an ice blast in an instant.
Opponent can magically parry. Check.
Clang!
He swatted them away again. The distance closed completely. Close enough to make out our reflections in each other's eyes, he flashed a sinister grin. The rapier thrust forward.
His gaze screamed victory. A mage letting him get close? He thought he had me.
...If I didn't have an AI, that is!
A directive overlaid my retina. Step forward with my right foot to plant my stance, deflect the incoming rapier with my forearm, then strike his centerline with my opposite hand.
Gather mana and punch like I'm shoving it away.
Thud!
"...Kuh!"
A massive bell tolled as he flew back three meters through the air. Steadying my breath, I quietly delivered the line I'd always wanted to say.
"Taijiquan."
"A mage... punching?"
He shook it off and stood quickly. No sign of pain.
I'd expected as much—it wasn't a clean hit. If I'd been a warrior instead of a mage, that strike would've wrecked his meridians, but oh well. Gotta play illusion mage for TRPG.
He looked rattled but recomposed and closed in again. Messages on my retina traced trajectories, success rates, projected damage.
It was the combat assist system from the AI that had run countless simulations—codename Heavenly Demon. I sneered.
"You thought a mage would just roll over if you closed the distance?"
"Wriggling around with weird moves...!!"
Counter after the fact—post-initiative preemption.
Tap, ta-tap. Pop! Crack!
Twist wrists together, redirect his incoming force against him. Target vitals for maximum damage with minimal motion. Four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds, you punk.
Crack!
I uppercut his jaw. His head snapped back, eyes flashing hot then cooling to ice. Danger sign.
Boom! Whiiiish!
Mana exploded under my feet, launching me backward. Five strikes too fast to track hammered where I'd been.
Staying put would've turned me into Swiss cheese.
"Hoo..."
"......"
He sighed, brushing back his disheveled bangs, then grinned like he'd figured something out.
"I'll give you that. No idea why a mage learned to punch, but not bad for peasant trash."
"Think swinging down like that makes your jaw hurt less from a peasant punch?"
"...Ha, haha. Flutter your tongue all you want—your breathing won't hide. You haven't taken a breath since earlier, and your limbs are shaking. How many more minutes of your little show?"
"......"
Caught. Damn it.
Obviously, a mage can't match a frontliner's physical specs. So I had to read three moves ahead and preempt. Otherwise, no countering.
I'm not hauling a simulation rig, so Heavenly Demon's combat assist runs in my brain. Which also controls my body. Honestly, my head felt like it was about to explode.
My body couldn't keep up either. Trying martial arts with an untrained frame meant backlash, ragged breathing, lungs shriveling, choking for air.
And he didn't even seem hurt. Duh—a mage's punch isn't gonna do much.
Buy time to catch my breath.
I mouthed silently, using magic to voice words. Pretend casual while sneaking breaths he wouldn't notice. Oxygen never felt so precious.
"Using a metamorphosis?"
"Metamorphosis—Mana Hardening. Magic around me gains substance. Curses, blessings—all of it."
"......"
"Despair must be setting in. Squirm some more! I'll clap for your peasant tricks."
So my spells turn into arrows or rocks.
Illusion magic's big combat merit? Near-guaranteed hits—no aiming needed. Just pierce mental barriers, and it's 99% in.
But physical substance wipes that out. Now even the scraps are gone.
Grant substance?
Fine, treat 'em like magic missiles. I prepped dozens of light spells—from itchy feet to phantom pain.
His metamorphosis doesn't block; it solidifies for parrying. If his rapier misses, he eats it.
One at a time? Parry. But barrage faster than he can swat? Game over. Try parrying twenty-plus!
"Sword Ward."
Shh-shh-shh-shred!
Dozens of razor slices through paper. All my spells shredded. Bennett's omnidirectional shield.
"...You parry that too."
"My metamorphosis puts mage and knight on equal footing. Not stabbing gaps—pure skill comparison, peasant."
"Close combat between mage and knight is 'fair'?"
"Fairness in battle?"
"......"
This prick.
That got under my skin.
His eyes stayed cold. That line was calculated to rattle me. Still stung.
Obvious paths get blocked? Fine, make trajectories so genius-only complex.
Fire spells. Overlap trajectories to collide. Repeat simultaneously. Billiard balls scattering paths chaotically.
Ting, ting-ting-ting!
"...Petty tricks!"
Calculate ricochets too, hotshot!
Whiiiish!
Rapier whipped wild arcs. But one hand can't stop a wave. A spell grazed the ground, ricocheted, pierced his guard into his chest.
Hit...!
Ting!
Light burst from his necklace, blocking it. I sighed.
"...Artifact?"
"Knowing I parry magic doesn't mean I skip protection. Didn't think that far, huh? Peasant."
Thought tailcoat rapier parry guy stuck to the aesthetic! Bastard layered anti-magic gear too. Infuriating.
No trick shots? Parry. Hit? Blocked by weak spell. Meanwhile, he thrusts at blinding speed.
No time for new spells. Can't win? Run. But scattering clones won't shake him...
Hold till Violet Magic Tower Master arrives. Or somehow take him down.
Artifacts like that? That's what Piercing Illusion is for. Buy cast time / land it, win.
So cast while ricocheting unblockables. Doable. Just need time.
Whiiiish!
"...Kuh!"
"Squirm more, why don't you? Huh?"
No time—that's the problem. Body failing. Muscles maxed, brain brute-forcing sims—not humanly sustainable.
Blackout hit. Vision blackened. Circulated mana to kickstart metabolism—mind back, barely.
Pfft.
Shoulder pierced.
Like a hot poker. Fine. Pain's bearable. Hurts like hell. No frontline—that's the issue.
Holograms buy enough time? Pessimistic. Rock-lobbing holos lack stopping power.
As I pondered, impatience flickered on his face. Mage dragging this out when he should've ended it—feeling the heat?
He spoke.
"Violet Tower Master's disciple, huh... No wonder you're sloppy, learning from defective trash."
"......"
Provocation. Primitive. My mental training's not that shallow...
"Die first and wait. Violet Magic Tower Master'll follow soon."
This fucking prick.
Shaken. Wouldn't have before, but her face flashed—go on a date with me—and rage surged hotter.
Fist neared.
His fist slammed my solar plexus, hurling me back.
Blacked out briefly, then woke.
Body unresponsive. Wiggled fingers—rustling sensation.
Felt something hit my back mid-flight. Crashed through the building exterior. How hard did he hit to shatter a wall with my spine?
Instinctively wrapped mana around myself, or I'd be dead.
Brush with death.
"......"
No fear even at death's door. Ace up my sleeve.
I could force metamorphosis anytime.
Brainpower suppressing that. Pull resources from there.
Temporarily reclaim emotions blocked by that, fire Piercing Illusion at my head. Aftermath unknown... but theoretically, metamorphosis easy.
Short burst—won't fully lose body to that. Deep infiltration, more brain to repress later...
But can't die worrying about tomorrow.
Rising, about to unseal in my mind. Spotted something rolling on the floor. Familiar metal lump.
...Armor?
Capital Knight Order power armor. Guess I crashed into their HQ.
"......"
Power armor.
Lord Redburn's assassin, Roderus, approached the Capital Knight Order building amid settling dust. Time to finish the mage.
Tough opponent.
He'd dominated throughout, now going for the kill shot. But only because he'd stacked every advantage.
No artifacts? Ricochets would've hit. No mage-counter metamorphosis? Dead already.
A mage even keeping up in close combat? Absurd. He'd been faster, yet the mage's hand struck first every time.
Same specs? He'd have lost. Spine chilled.
Failure's penalty heavy. Roderus shoved grim thoughts aside.
Unpredictable foe. Swift caution—impale his skull. Roderus crushed debris from the breached wall, stepping inside.
Then, from the fading dust, three shadows leaped out.
Holograms clad in power armor.