Rowen's Method of Using Magic

Hundreds of half-moons hurtled toward Kazin's eyes. A direct hit would surely erase a fragment of his presence. But Kazin remained calm—more than calm, he dismantled Rowen's attack with effortless simplicity.

Frost mana resonated, layering multiple waves upon one another. Wave Overlap Separation Technique. <Black Isle>—a black wave. He merely overlapped his two spears to meet the incoming technique...

Krunch!

A colossal wave's breath, devouring the black energy, overwhelmed Rowen. A flawless motion. Textbook precision without a single inch of error.

"I told you, didn't I? Sheer quantity or power alone won't cut it in a fight. You're getting too cocky."

"...What the hell is this?"

Truth be told, Rowen was stunned too. He'd simply swung for the heavens, and the ancestral spirits had merged with him, tracing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hundreds of half-moons. Black moonlight had shot forth, only for Kazin to shatter it effortlessly—with minimal mana, conjuring that wave!

Rowen could feel it. That was skill. The art of battle, honed by one who had stood on the battlefield longer than anyone. The reason he knew for certain was obvious to all: the aura emanating from him, and that flawless exchange moments ago. It truly showed what realm meant. At the very least, a veteran who had lingered far longer than Rowen.

So he's the founding family head...

Rowen straightened his stance, pondering how to wield the ancestral spirits. But Kazin gave him no such time. A mere step, yet swift enough to evoke Lucius's Rosmerta.

Wasn't the frost's power supposed to weaken the further back you go?

Kazin smirked. "It's not the power of frost. Just a realm achievable if you know how to fight."

"Damn...!"

"Try keeping up with my speed, and then we'll talk contracts."

"Here I come!"

"Come on already! Don't keep your father waiting too long."

Rowen glanced toward Valenos, but the spear thrust came first. Over five strikes per second rained down. He barely blocked, but his shoulder was pierced all the same.

No pain registered. Rowen's body was now a spirit, and so was Kazin's. Battles in this imaginal realm, devoid of physical form, heightened the tension even further.

"At this rate, you won't catch me."

"You mocking me right now?"

"I have to. You're contracting with my father. The future of the house rests on you—I must pour everything I have into you. Become a vessel worthy of me. Block every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one of my spears without fail."

"...I'll shut that mouth of yours soon enough."

Rowen spun his core mercilessly. He pushed the frost mana to its explosive limits.

Don't rely on quantity? What bullshit was that? In his past life, overwhelming mana alone might have let him live peacefully without dying. He wouldn't have had to endure the agony of losing family again.

Yet he'd still strived. Become the strong. Climbed to this point to reclaim his past realm.

Skill? Fine, skill it is. But skill required mana to acquire. In the past, he'd lacked so much. Did you know that despair? No, of course not. Born blessed as Valenos's son, with a hero for a father. A hero's son, yet mana so pitifully scarce. Even in that fucked-up situation, you'd prattle on about skill?

Now, grasping realms his past self never touched, he'd end this with overwhelming power. If they thought he'd been going all-out so far, they were dead wrong. The core had only just begun to spin, and Rowen hadn't even deployed his buff spells yet.

Could anyone wield magic better than the him who'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pored over tomes from dawn till dusk? No. Kazin had poured Valenos's blessings entirely into spear arts—that's why the gap existed.

Rowen had run toward what effort alone couldn't reach, what effort couldn't grant. Mana scant as a rat's tail, yet his mind a grand magical library. One of the few ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keys to the Akashic Records.

Rowen let his mana rampage unchecked. To be denied by mere phantoms of the past? What utter nonsense.

He'd come for power, not lessons. And getting smug over scraps like Four Heavenly Kings or legion commanders? Pathetic. He wanted to laugh inwardly. He'd slain the weakest Demon King's—Frost King's—subordinates. But even then, he couldn't seal the Frost King.

Rowen had challenged the Demon King even six united couldn't fell. He died, yes—but pushed Belzebub to a tenth of his life. Reduced to a soul fragment and sealed.

One sword against Belzebub's legion commander. Solo charge into the Demon King's castle, facing Four Heavenly Kings and commanders at once—victory. Then, dragging his exhausted body, he'd faced Belzebub. In full health, he'd have won.

So which worthless old fart was yapping now, in front of whom?

This wasn't filial impiety. Nor folly. Just showing this wretched geezer who denied his past what was what.

Rune language swirled around Rowen. Not its usual modest form. Vast, infinite attributes beyond dimension infused him. Beyond the four elements constituting the world, even the essence of nothingness crushed down around him.

This wasn't mere affinity for mana. He dominated it.

"Guess you got comfy just taking my spears."

"...Hah."

"My turn now."

Come at him.

"Try keeping up."

The four elements of the world: water, fire, earth, wood. Beyond them, myriad others. Elements of good and evil, including light and darkness; celestial and terrestrial forming heaven and earth. Gravity devouring all, and nothingness—the void element, essence of nihility.

Rowen—Rian—had grasped all this at fifteen. His genius in magic was recognized by his entire village. Lianod's residents worried for the boy who'd lost his father, lending him magic tomes at his request.

Even mastering all attributes yielded no powerful spells—just basic emissions. But comprehending the void that absorbed them all eased his despair somewhat. Minimal mana could produce decent power.

Then what of overwhelming mana? Far greater might.

Years later, knighted, he received an oracle. Took up his father's relic, the holy sword, contracting an angel to borrow its mana—headaches with each use, but not lethal. Thus, blending mana and void birthed new energy: black energy. A colossal, vicious force wielded only by those who grasped nothingness.

Long time no see, Akashic Records.

His mind sorted tangled spell formulas. The grand library unfolded within. Buff section: countless formulas imported to circuits. Scanned and read in full.

Mana circuits across his body began parsing formulas. Matching rune language arrays formed. Spirits' tongue solidified, amplifying power. Magic manifested that force.

Rowen's genius allowed chantless, imageless casting.

Black energy shattered the dam, bursting forth.

Chaos. A veritable storm of magic.

He layered it all without restraint. Even if it cost thirty percent mana—plenty remained.

Discordant magical traces bloomed on Rowen's body. Was this even magic? No. Pure violence!

"Discharge."

With that word, every attribute dwelled in his soul.

Krunch!

Myriad energies manifested on his ice armor. Black holes sucked in whatever his hands touched. Ancestral spirits merged, moving with him. Earth attributes in ice spears triggered quakes. Azure flames on ice halberds birthed purgatory. Lightning speed in ice bows forged thunder bows.

Dodging Kazin's strikes, Rowen drew and loosed a thunder bow with full force.

Bang!

Not a bowstring snap—atmosphere exploding. Fierce lightning crackled, birthing an electric storm. Light and darkness formed opposing radiant wings. The makings of an archmage.

"...Your state changed suddenly."

Kazin eyed the lightning storm's core, resonating mana. Aiming for weakness to dismantle the magic. But it only sucked in his ice spear.

"Sucking it in?!"

"Best watch out for the black energy. It absorbs existence itself."

"...Where the hell did you learn this?!"

"Even if you saw my past, you can't see every lifetime."

Why? Because Rowen's other fragment—Rian Rose's soul—handled past memories within him. Only Valenos knew the full truth. These mere offspring and kin couldn't interfere with the contractor Rowen's god-set fate.

Gravity lifted his body. Chaos amplified demon hatred into rage-fueled fury. A means to make the fight visceral. A debuff for emotion control, but aptly used, a buff. Likely only Rowen wielded Chaos thus.

Painful that even this falls short of Mio.

What could he do? She was magic incarnate. Chasing the unreachable was folly. Mio was, after all, like his magic mentor.

Thinking of comrades waiting outside, Rowen unfurled his mandala.

"Why run? Keep dodging, and I can't even counter."

"...How is a monster like you even possible."

"That's a far cry from before. Kinda ugly now."

"...Father chose well for a partner."

Kazin ignored Rowen's barbs as best he could. To stay unfazed after such dismissal? That'd make him an emotionless fool.

Rowen approached with a faint smile. Whirr!—core spinning, black energy devouring surroundings. Black hole. Void magic turned black energy, forming a singularity that ballooned, sucking all in. Ancestral support amplified it vastly.

Now I know how to use them.

Time to end this dull fight. Contracting would benefit Kazin too. He wasn't weak—shattering black energy surprised Rowen. But multilayered attributes? He couldn't pierce them. A wave breaching two layers? What of ten-plus?

Simultaneous casting taxed even him. But as Akashic accessor, Rowen managed.

"...One Isle!"

Kazin broke sound barrier, twin spears thrusting. His ultimate from finishing Frost King's elites: Four Heavenly Kings and commanders.

But—

Clang!

"...Huh?"

Rowen's gauntlets blocked and shattered it. Crossed arms—right over left—halted the ice spear. Gusts whipped his snow-white wolf pelt.

In the end, their mana stemmed from Valenos too—Rowen's mana. Couldn't overcome his own and claim magic mastery?

Attribute Granting was Rowen's original; ice blades too. Kazin merely wielded ice spears from it. For Rowen to lose? Absurd.

Rowen lightly flicked Kazin's forehead. Smiling softly at the ancestor's dazed face, he said,

"Enough playing. Let's contract."

"...Yeah."