Ashen Clouds
Shiron had no way of knowing just how strong Elysee truly was, but he judged her to be at least on par with an Apostle.
Long-Range Teleport
Anyone might scoff and say that tossing around a bit of teleportation was nothing to brag about—but this was not some ordinary fantasy world. This was a world inside a game.
The developers of Reincarnation Sword God had never been willing to let players breeze past carefully crafted regions with something as convenient as teleportation. Barring a complete rewrite of the scripts, a player could not learn the teleport spell at all.
Even within the game's own lore, the mages capable of casting teleportation alone were, as far as Shiron knew, few enough to count on one hand.
Flame Dragon Demodoras
Third Apostle Oblivion
Tower Master of Despair
Martial King Ju
Forgotten Mage Seira
Just listing the names was enough to make his chest swell. And yet a slave put up for auction at some ordinary market could use teleportation? Not even on herself, but on someone else? It was only natural that Shiron's wariness spiked to its absolute limit.
Gritting his teeth hard enough to crack his molars, Shiron squeezed his eyes shut.
It was not anger. It was not fear. He was simply bracing himself against a speed that defied all common sense.
KWA-AAAANG!! BOOM!! KWA-AAAAAH!!!
The sound of air shattering roared into his ears. Encia, clutching Shiron tight, moved so fast Elysee would never notice—blindingly, impossibly fast. In three strides they had left the place behind and climbed all the way to the pinnacle of Dawn Castle's highest spire.
Cradled in Encia's arms, Shiron fought to keep hold of a consciousness that threatened to slip away entirely.
Beeeeeeeeee—
Young Master—
...My head hurts.
Young Master, are you all right?!—
...Shut up.
"Young Master! Stay with me!"
He forced his eyes open a crack. The world around him was dyed a deep, searing red. Sound barely reached him, and a hot, wet sensation bloomed across his philtrum.
"Haaah...! Khuhk!"
Blood pattered onto the cold stone floor, steaming white in the chill. His insides were a wreck. Steadying his trembling lips with effort, Shiron fixed his gaze on the frantic Encia.
"...Encia."
"Yes!"
"Let's never do that again."
"Yes...!"
Encia nodded so hard her head might come off. Shiron pulled a handkerchief from his coat and wiped his face. After a few passes, the white cloth was stained a dark, clotted red.
Fleeing at the speed of a lightning strike had been pure insanity. Cheap enough, if the alternative was his life—but having tasted the aftermath once, he never wanted to experience it again.
"Ahem. Hrk! Cough!"
Shiron steadied his breathing and hauled himself upright by the tower railing. There was no time to lounge about. Injured or not, he needed to see the battle for Dawn Castle with his own eyes.
When his shaking legs refused to hold him, Encia caught his shoulder and braced him up.
"...What a mess."
Leaning against the railing, Shiron looked out toward the distant storm. It was a long way off, yet he saw it as clearly as his own front yard. Thanks to the Blessings, he could read exactly how the situation was unfolding.
Twenty-eight demons had cast off their human guises and moved at once to eliminate the threat. In the game, Lucia had cut them down one by one—but those systemic constraints no longer applied. This was doable.
Doable?
Chin in hand, Shiron's mouth twisted into a wry smile.
No. Better than that.
Even his unreasonable order to subdue rather than kill—they would manage it just fine.
Seira immediately drew the mana from her lower dantian. She did not drop her polymorph. Not for any petty desire to keep her identity hidden.
She simply had no time to spare.
Yuma of the Single Horn.
A demon who had once been toyed with by Kyle until she even lost her horn—but she had also been a Demon General who once led the Evil God's armies. Seira could not afford to show a single opening.
Why is that woman with the brat...?
Violet flashes began to orbit around Seira. At the same moment, the mana saturating the air answered her call and surged into motion. The world's mana whirled around her as its center, until no mana remained outside the reach of her awareness.
⟨ Celestial Thunder Bastion ⟩
A moving fortress of lightning took form.
KRRRRRUMBLE—!
The guardians of Dawn Castle reeled in shock. To wrap herself in a barrier of that magnitude without so much as a chant—and so soon after assuming a combat stance. Such was the might of the greatest mage of all ages.
Seira decided the worst had been weathered for now and turned her awareness skyward.
The sky?
She was shifting her awareness. Mid-battle?!
Her body reacted before judgment could form.
KWA-RRRRRR—
A thick, wet dripping filled the air.
The pure white sky, pale as a snowfield, turned black. Dark chains ringed the surroundings as viscous liquid dripped steadily down.
She must not let that touch her. Seira's instincts screamed the warning. Yet the blackness pressed her toward a single point, tightening like a snare.
She had to get out of here.
SWOOSH!
An attack came out of the blind edge of her awareness. Seira threw up a guard at once.
CLANG! "Ugh!"
Her arm went numb. Something massive had tried to shatter bone. Seira snapped her focus forward.
Before her stood a figure in blue armor, belching ghostly flame as it readied the next blow. Boom—boom-boom—every time those fists, pure mass given form, slammed home, the shock rattled not only her bones but the dantian deep within her body.
Crackle-snap—
Violet lightning lunged to envelop the blue armor. The Celestial Thunder Bastion had reacted of its own will, outside her conscious command, to protect its caster from the attacker.
But before the lightning could close the final stretch—right at the tip of her nose—the blue armor yanked backward.
Not a retreat. Not a leap. It was sucked away, as if something had reeled it in, vanishing into the distance with a sharp whoosh.
The orphaned lightning swirled uselessly through empty air.
...What the hell.
Incredulous, Seira clenched her teeth and braced for the next assault. She chose to defend rather than break free. Again, instinct told her why: dozens of attacks were already screaming toward her.
She raised her arms to cover what she could not otherwise shield—
Legs. Shoulders and waist, chest and belly and head, and then the legs again.
Ice spikes drove in. Spears of light stabbed down. Red sludge crashed over her, and green mist tried to fill her lungs.
Yet none of those attacks managed a killing blow.
Because Seira's magic was that superior?
No. They were toying with her.
It did not take long to reach that conclusion.
The moment her violet barrier cracked, they pulled back and struck again. Even when her eyes and ears—her most vulnerable points—lay fully exposed, they never once aimed there.
Subdue. So that was the order.
The demons were targeting the violet barrier protecting her with open, deliberate intent.
Celestial Thunder Bastion devoured mana at a monstrous rate. Manifesting living lightning into the world was far less efficient than simply hurling fireballs or bolts of thunder.
At this rate...!
She would be caught for certain.
Realizing she could not stay, Seira decided to abandon the field. Violet light wrapped her legs. Spatial transfer was useless—the black chains binding the sky nullified the spell no matter how many times she tried.
KWAANG—
Seira kicked hard off the ground. No direction looked weak, but she flung herself toward a single point regardless. A one-point breakthrough.
Then the sky flipped. The ground vanished from beneath her feet, and the landscape inverted in a single lurch.
A dense forest.
Where am I?
Seira's eyes went wide as she scanned her surroundings. The change of scenery brought her no relief. The demons would never let her go this easily.
And just as expected, the sky flipped again.
THUD—!
Seira's body slammed into the earth.
"......Ghk!"
Nausea rolled through her. The world spun. How many times had she tumbled through the air? Or was it a hallucination?
Footsteps approached—a small-framed woman walking steadily toward her. Seira's limbs still tingled too badly to push herself up.
"Lady Yuma. Will this do?"
"Jaina. Do not let your guard down."
"I'll be careful."
A cold hand touched Seira's waist. Fwoosh— blue flame bloomed across her back. Setting a living person on fire—only a demon would think of that.
"Eeeek!"
Seira shrieked as if insects were crawling up her spine. No matter how she thrashed or tried to smother the flame, it was useless. The blue fire clung like tar and burned on.
"W-what did you do to me..."
Sweat-streaked and caked in dirt, Seira stared up at Yuma. Of course Yuma offered no answer. She had neither reason nor obligation to. She simply looked down at Seira with cold, indifferent eyes.
"Be grateful for the Young Master's mercy."
The training grounds of Dawn Castle.
A crimson-haired woman sat bound in thick black chains. Binding her was not all—blue flame still flickered and danced across her back, unextinguished.
Shiron knew exactly what that fire was.
Jaina's ability: Mana Devour.
As long as that flame clung to her, a mage could store no mana in her dantian. The moment any filled it, it became fire.
Looking at the wretched figure of Elysee, Shiron turned his head.
"Well done, Yuma. Truly flawless work."
"You are too kind. I merely performed my duty as keeper of the castle."
Yuma bowed her head toward Shiron. The crimson hair wound around her horn shifted slightly with the motion.
"...What?"
Suspicion flooded Seira's eyes. What in the world was that brat, that a demon like Yuma of the Single Horn would take such a subordinate posture?
"What are you—what the hell is this?! Why are you bowing and scraping to some little brat?!"
SMACK—
"..."
Seira's eyes flew open at the stinging heat blooming across her cheek.
"Know your fucking place, you bitch."
The one who had slapped her was a black-haired boy.
Seira's mouth worked soundlessly. Who had just hit whom?
The greatest mage of all ages. The strongest living mage. Companion of the hero and one of the legends who had felled the Evil God.
Seira Romere—treated like trash and slapped across the face by some human brat.
She fixed Shiron with a venomous glare.
"...H-how dare you."
"How dare I what."
SMACK—
Shiron slapped her again.
SMACK—
"What, you little shit."
"Do you even know who I am? Do you—"
SMACK—
"No."
SMACK—
"So go on. Tell me yourself."
SMACK—
"Who the hell are you?"
Shiron regarded Elysee with ice-cold eyes. Thinking of Siriel, he wanted nothing more than to kill her on the spot—but he had to learn here and now who this teleport user was, a figure who had never appeared in the game.
Water droplets began to fall, one by one, onto the stone floor where she was bound.
"It's no use anyway..."
Crimson hair bled into ashen silver. Black eyes washed over with violet.
The polymorph dissolved.
The tear-streaked face looking up at him was one Shiron knew very well.
"E-even if I tell you, y-you won't know anyway."
"..."
"E-even if I say it, you w-won't remember...!"
What the fuck?
"Waaaah! Hwaaaang!"
Seira burst into full-throated sobs, and cold sweat poured down Shiron's back.
Affinity.
For that alone, he had spent a fortune of twenty-seven and a half million—and the true owner of that staff was sitting right in front of him.