Chapter 181
Chapter 181
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 181
Chapter Title: Sign Here, Battle Mage! (7)
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After a few exchanges, he reads his opponent's skill.
Of course, Lania knew Kelrhalim's prowess from her encounters with him as Raniel. But Kelrhalim didn't. This was his first time trading spells with her, and he felt astonishment toward the girl before him.
"...Impressive."
She didn't rely solely on that irregular combat style called Stock. To her, Stock was like a scabbard—an undefined one, without fixed form or size.
"What will be drawn from it?"
He couldn't tell. That's what made it so annoying.
Stock merely provided the weapons; it was up to the girl to wield them. And she handled her spells with expert precision—a realm honed not by theory, but in the heat of real battle.
Kelrhalim's eyes narrowed.
"As I thought."
Doubt flickered in his gaze.
It was an impossible phenomenon by any common sense, something incomprehensible. Yet his superhuman instincts rang alarm bells. Up close like this, that suspicion only grew.
"I need to watch a bit longer."
An unwanted duel had sparked his interest.
He now had reason to see it through.
"...Hoo."
Kelrhalim exhaled shortly.
In response, the girl moved. For the first time, the distance between them shifted.
Bam!
The girl kicked off the ground and charged.
Dust erupted in an instant, her figure shooting forward like an arrow. With each step, the gap closed in a flash.
"Certainly."
Kelrhalim extended his arm.
"She's a nuisance."
He flicked his fingers, weaving a circuit. At his first-class level, the circuit formed swiftly and precisely.
Whoosh!
The completed circuit blazed with light in a heartbeat.
First, he needed to slow her down. The finished spell slammed into the ground. The arena floor buckled and protruded in places, blocking her path.
This was how a mage handled a warrior.
The simplest tactic: erode their footing and momentum. Kelrhalim hadn't seen her as a fellow mage from the start.
"Battle Mage."
A class blending mage and warrior traits.
It bit into the mage's weakness—powerlessness up close—like a warrior would. Thus, countermeasures mirrored those against warriors.
Block the approach.
Widen the gap and intercept with powerful spells.
Kelrhalim moved according to the playbook in his mind. His actions were as precise as clockwork. His spells flared repeatedly.
Stone walls rose to bar the way.
Flames snaked along the ground, cutting off advances.
A typical warrior, or even an ordinary Battle Mage, would falter here. Blocked from closing in, they'd resort to ranged spell intercepts. And if it went that way...
Thud.
The wizard held the advantage.
But his opponent was far from ordinary.
A girl with exceptional talent, resembling that Ashen Mage above all.
Boom, ruuuumble!
Ashen Mage, Raniel van Trias.
A mage who favored neither warrior nor mage extremes... wielding both strengths in full.
Thud.
In short, there was no way to handle a girl like him with standard methods.
Kabooom!
With a roar, stone walls shattered skyward. Amid the terrain Kelrhalim had warped, a single pillar thrust up. It wasn't his summon—it pulverized the walls on its rise.
Stone Wall.
Lania van Trias.
She leaped off the slanted pillar. In midair, her ash-gray hair fluttered. Hovering, she smirked.
"How about this?"
Her clenched fist.
Mana leaked ominously between her fingers. Layers of basic spells overlapped. How had she prepared that much so quickly? No need to wonder.
"Stock."
A combat style that upended mage foundations.
Face-to-face, nothing was trickier. Kelrhalim reversed his nearly complete circuit.
Switch from offense to defense.
Form and direction shifted in a blink. Lania swung her fist just as Kelrhalim's circuit ignited—nearly simultaneous.
Spell-Boost.
Spell-Reinforce.
Smite.
A single flash-line shot like an arrow.
To counter, Kelrhalim drew his specialty: an elemental basic spell honed to extremes.
Spray.
A massive jet of water surged from below. It clashed head-on with the incoming flash.
Splash!
Water sprayed everywhere, the duel truly commencing. Kelrhalim no longer stood still. He moved; Lania pursued. Spells tangled in chaos.
A mage-versus-mage duel.
Before countless students, it unfolded utterly unlike their expectations.
2.
The students watched the duel in bated breath.
This was different from before. Once they started moving... the duel transformed. It felt like the real fight was just beginning.
Thud, boom!
The arena shook nonstop. Spells collided. New ones flared every second, every moment.
Spray.
Fire Ball.
Elemental Magic students, who attended Professor Lertia's classes, held their breath watching him wield opposing elements simultaneously. They'd expected high skill, but this exceeded imagination.
"Double-casting, spell precision..."
Even on the defensive, his spells didn't waver. Circuits finished cleanly, precisely measured mana flowing smoothly. Every process seamless.
Like beholding mage orthodoxy incarnate.
"Maximize spell utilization to its limits."
Elemental students recalled the seminar. They watched the duel, minds flashing to the varied circuit applications Professor Lertia had demonstrated in class.
"Utilization is the path to mastery."
Could basic spells vary that much?
Every instant, every moment, forms shifted. One spell in use, yet to students' eyes, he cycled through dozens.
Fire Balls split, surged, fractured.
Sprays splashed, flowed, dropped.
Fluid transformations meant ever-changing purposes. There lay the practicality wizards pursued.
Fwoosh! Splash!
And Professor Lania? Flame streams shattered by Smite, disrupted. Ground-flowing water? A light stomp raised earth to dispel it. Maximum efficiency with minimal spells.
Intercept spell with spell.
Charge straight through everything.
Her momentum never flagged.
Combat Magic students scrutinized her movements. They recalled class lectures.
"Stock's greatest strength in combat is acting one step later than your opponent."
Professor Lania's emphasis.
"Wizards must read foes first. Unsure of their moves, they lay preemptive spells and predict. Head games."
Professor Lertia trapped the floor.
Hurled fireballs, raised Spray to blind.
"But we don't need to."
All of it.
"We have every weapon ready. Whatever they play, see it first, then draw. Never too late."
Only after taking it all in did Professor Lania move.
"Watch to the end. It's not late. See clearly, act surely."
She read flame paths, Spray flows.
Then countered with minimal spells. Thus, her movements seemed leisurely.
"Drive them to the corner."
She acted after seeing all moves, yet stayed ahead. Battle Mage advantage, as if proclaiming it.
"...No need to obsess over acting first."
Finally, it clicked.
Combat Magic students tracked Professor Lania intently. There lay the essence of Battle Mages they'd learned.
Crack!
As students grasped insights, the fight intensified. The arena was a mess—rock piles everywhere, scorch marks abundant.
Treacherous footing.
Not small, not vast—an arena.
From afar, two mages chased and evaded in what seemed a mere step's space. Complex process, simple goals.
"Widen the distance."
Wizards needed space.
"Close the distance."
Battle Mages needed proximity.
That was the fight, ultimately.
Each mindful of the gap. Spells to close it, widen it—clashing in thunderous roars.
And slowly, the end neared.
Prey cornered. No escape, truly backed into a wall—the hunter lunged for the throat. But prey didn't yield.
Held-back reserves.
Power stockpiled in retreat.
Fwaaah!
Unleashed in a burst. Dozens of circuits materialized behind Professor Lertia. Cornered, back to wall, he swung his arms. Circuits blazed. Completed spells poured.
And the hunter.
"Ha!"
Laughed and stomped.
Thud—the arena quaked. Distance: mere five steps.
Five steps ahead.
Victory in five steps.
3.
I glared wide-eyed.
Dozens of circuits behind Kelrhalim lit sequentially. At least thirteen spells, easy estimate.
"If I use Smash, I could wipe them at once, but..."
Smite wouldn't cut it.
With five steps left, wall-bound Kelrhalim was going all-in too.
"Thirteen, fourteen..."
Roughly fourteen spells.
"Buy time with these, then when I close, unleash the final prep."
Plus one more: fifteen.
Decided in fifteen. Duel's end in sight, I reflected. Original goal—reading Kelrhalim's constraints—long achieved.
"Original objective met."
Bonus: lessons for students.
"So now, just lose."
Lose spectacularly, regrettably, by a hair. Truly hate losing, but promised Kalt.
"Promises must be kept..."
Tsk, I licked my lips, pondering.
How to lose stylishly? Answer in mind, I moved.
Thud!
Stomped, shredding their spells.
Swept hand burst Fire Balls, punched flying rocks aside, advanced one step.
"Four steps left."
Spray clashed Fire Balls. Steam obscured vision, but mana flows beyond guided counters.
"Three."
Another step.
"Two."
Two steps away, eyeing four incoming spells, I concluded. Stylish loss: defeat at the very last.
"Just one more step to 'victory' in their minds!"
Leave a tinge of regret.
So, one more step forward.
Thwack!
Shredded three. Left one deliberately: rock from blind spot. Perfect excuse—narrowed view.
"Of course, mana flow shows all."
Pretended ignorance, moved.
Step.
Casual step. Surging rock smashed my jaw. Crack—impact, head snapped back.
"Now just fall."
Not painful.
Jaw tingled, but no hurt.
"Must fall..."
Just close eyes, flop.
"...Ah."
Head back like that.
Defeat imminent, audience came into view. Combat Magic students visible. Fists clenched, sweating palms incarnate, watching me.
Their eyes sparkled fiercely.
Truly rooting for my win.
"...Gotta lose."
...One more step?
I glanced forward slightly. While piercing spells to close, Kelrhalim wove one circuit targeting me.
"If I don't fall now, he'll fire that...?"
Final blow.
Literal finisher.
"Really, just one step."
Lowered head. GlarED, stepped forward. Distance to Kelrhalim vanished. Point-blank, his circuit glowed.
That instant.
"...Hoo."
Breath heard.
Then, ambient mana cleared abruptly. Sudden shift froze me mid-motion.
"What the fuck."
I glared at Kelrhalim, eyes wide.
Signaling 'shoot already, so I can fall,' but... his words weren't incantation.
"I'll count as the loser."
Kelrhalim waved dismissively. He disrupted his circuit, raised arms overhead.
"...What?"
"I said I'll concede defeat."
No.
"What, did you say?"
"I lost. You win. Congratulations."
No, wait.
"Referee. Duel's over, looks like."
[Uh, uhhh...]
Broadcasters flustered, Kelrhalim brushed past. I cranked my stiff neck to stare. Meeting my gaze nonchalantly, he said,
"Good match."
Condescending tone.
Like he was being generous. Winner himself, but further might hurt me, so forfeiting. A tone inducing massive humiliation...
"You were skilled."
Kelrhalim said.
"No, fuck."
Eyes bulged.
"No, ha. Hey, wait. Hey."
Shoulders trembled.
This—this wasn't even defeat. A forced win.
"Shoot! Shoot, damn it! You think I want that? Who falls for...!"
As I pointed at Kelrhalim, someone grabbed my arm. Whispered in my ear softly.
"Sunbae, enough now..."
"No, let go. Let me go, fuck...!"
"Sunbae, please..."
Kalt dragged my arm.
I bellowed at Kelrhalim, eyes wide. For some reason Kalt wouldn't look up, but irrelevant.
"No, hey! Let go!"
This victory—this pathetic win—I won't accept.
"Sunbae..."
"Ah, let go!"
"Please, let's just go...!"
📝 Author's Note In games, the most infuriating thing isn't defeat. It's getting "forced a win." Humiliating victory...!