Duel in the Abyss (2)
Andreas attacked.
From the very first strike, he was nothing like the freshman Drek. An intermediate spell, Buckshot, detonated with a deafening crack, and the mana projectile that had come screaming in without warning split into dozens of shards and flooded every direction at once. He had watched Levian dismantle Drek's magic, and so he had chosen a spell that would be miserable to answer.
"Oh..."
It was certainly a troublesome spell to face. Inexperience could have ended him—one wrong move, and the follow-up round would have struck him dead on. Levian's answer, though, was immediate. He fired Emergency Barrier, a basic spell he had learned in an earlier lecture and never once managed to use.
A sharp clang rang out. Most of the mana rounds vanished against the barrier, and what remained only grazed past his body. The force had been considerable; his clothes tore with a dry rip, far too easily. Even the students watching the duel flinched as one.
At this level, I could copy it myself.
Levian's assessment was perfectly calm.
"Right. So you're not completely talentless."
Andreas's mouth curled into a sour grin. Levian had blocked Buckshot, yes, but he hadn't broken it apart the way he had against Drek. That was enough to convince him the half-wit's mysterious tricks would no longer work.
"Now it really starts. Don't die!"
And so the assault began in earnest. With no fear of his attacks being dismantled, all he had to do was pour out the strongest magic he had, no second thoughts required.
But—
His spells really are more varied than the freshmen's.
It wasn't that Levian couldn't dismantle them.
This time, maybe I'll borrow those.
Repeating the same method would never satisfy him. He meant to learn Andreas's magic for himself.
His heart hammered wildly, though not from fear or nerves. It was closer to anticipation and excitement—an aggressive pounding that would have made even the Administrator click his tongue. Andreas lifted his staff, and Levian lifted his in the exact same motion, like a decal pressed to glass.
"Go!!"
Irritated by something he couldn't name, Andreas cast the intermediate spell Blade Wind. A mass of wind studded with densely packed blades was a breath away from launching off the tip of his staff. Levian's heart thudded and thudded. His focus was so sharp he could see the grain of the wood. In the midst of it he plunged into reverse-calculating the spell, as if time itself had slowed: the number of strokes in Blade Wind, its points and lines and planes; the distribution of mana and the structure of the circuit; and, on top of all that, the patches for everything it lacked.
Copying it is possible. But it's inefficient.
It took no longer than a blink. Eyes bloodshot and wide, enduring the pain of blood surging backward through his whole body, Levian cast. The same Blade Wind.
And then the two collided with a grinding roar.
"You've got to be kidding me...!"
Had he actually copied the spell? How could a half-wit cast intermediate magic? Thoughts flashed past like a spinning lantern. Even so, Andreas never believed his own magic would lose to some half-wit. A complacent judgment.
"...Huh?! Damn it!!"
It should have been the same spell. Levian's was enormous—not merely large to the eye, but different in momentum, in force, in the composition itself. A storm of blades howled without mercy, swallowed Andreas's magic whole, and surged straight at him. The dormitory floor was gouged. The hems of the watching students' clothes were snipped away in little flicks.
"AAAAAGH!!"
There wasn't even time for a defensive spell. Pathetically, Andreas hurled himself sideways, rolled twice, and only then escaped.
"Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!!"
What in the world had just happened? How had he lost to the magic of some half-wit? If he had thrown up a barrier, could he have stopped it? Cold sweat ran. Goosebumps prickled over his skin. Both legs shook miserably. It was instinctive fear—an overwhelming gap in caliber, the helpless feeling of meeting a typhoon that ate the wind. He could not imagine winning.
No. No! Me, lose? Me?
In the end Andreas refused to throw away his pride. Inferior student or not, he was, whatever anyone said, the boss of the Abyss Dormitory. He could not lose like this. It had to have been simple chance.
While he strained in that taut tug-of-war between despair and pride, Levian watched the students flee the aftermath of Blade Wind and tilted his head.
The calculation was exact. The result was what I expected. But this phenomenon wasn't.
Improved for mana efficiency and in several other respects, it was still Blade Wind at the root. He had thought it would smash through the opposing spell and pass. Swallowing it completely was something he had not predicted. A predation like this, born of two spells colliding, was the first he had ever seen.
I missed something. I need to test it.
Blade Wind was still scattering in every direction, and the other students were beginning to wonder whether someone ought to stop the duel. Instead of pressing the fallen Andreas, Levian chose to provoke him. His victory was already obvious. He intended to take a little more from this before it ended.
"Don't you have any more magic I can learn?"
"AAAAAGH!!"
Humiliation. From a half-wit he had ignored all this time. To be looked down on by a kid who couldn't cast a single spell. Andreas let out a beast's howl and hauled himself up, and the attack that followed was a surprise.
He'll never block this!
It was the beginner spell Gust. Beginner magic or not, Gust was difficult to stop, its movement too willful and erratic. Levian knew that. He copied it again—this time, too, a spell he had seen through with Clairvoyance and improved with the principles of Creation.
Andreas's Gust tore across the dormitory sky like a colt with the reins cut, flying however it pleased. Levian's improved Gust moved with composure, following the tip of the caster's staff.
"Ah!"
It swallowed the incomplete spell and flew straight back at Andreas.
It ate the spell again. Not a coincidence.
That strange motion left no time to dodge. While everyone watching held their breath, Andreas cried out once and was swept into the dormitory wall. True to that huge frame, he crashed to the floor with a tremendous thud.
"Kgh... ghrk..."
Unable to fight. He had struck the wall headfirst, then the floor, and now lay in a shabby faint, foaming at the mouth. Blood from his nose pooled thick beneath him.
"...Seniors really are a little better. I'll give you that."
It wasn't a perfect victory, and that was all he regretted. He had dragged on Mana Link the instant it recovered, and his head felt bleached white.
Blood kept surging up his throat, and he was busy swallowing it dry. In this state, if even one more person came at him, it might be dangerous. He had stepped out eager, convinced he had new power and hungry to test it. Intermediate magic, it seemed, was still too much.
Even so, what he had gained was considerable: the knowledge that Creation let him dismantle an incomplete spell with a minimum of mana, and the further fact that an improved spell produced some phenomenon that preyed upon an opponent's magic. Had his body only been sound, he would have wanted to keep the duel going and put the realization to the test.
Events went as he expected. After watching him overwhelm Andreas, one of the dormitory's best, no student stepped forward. Even the blustering fourth-years edged backward, watching his eyes. Not one of them tended the injured Andreas, lest they catch Levian's notice.
He snorted. To fear someone they had ignored until now—worse than bats. The laugh came on its own. Nothing but trash, a perfect fit for the Abyss Dormitory.
"Anyone else?"
"Uh... well..."
Was there someone to take Andreas's place after all? At Levian's flat question, the fourth-years' eyes turned toward a corner of the dormitory—a dim stretch of wall sunk in shadow. A woman he had never seen, identity unknown, leaned there with her arms folded and met his gaze. Her eyes were a violet that, at a glance, resembled the color of blood.
Name Noxisia
Age 24
Status □□□
Assessment A person met while re□ing □□. Presumed to use a □ magic that is not easily found. Memory may become confused. You may be □□ed, so keep your distance whenever possible.
A stab of headache struck him—whether from forcing Mana Link, or from some other cause. Noxisia offered him an inscrutable smile. Levian turned his gaze away without mercy. It was not something to worry about now.
"If there's no one, clean up yourselves."
"R-right. Leave it to us."
The seniors could no longer bar his way. Determined not to show a weakness, Levian walked out as upright as he could manage. He crossed the dormitory's central hall, now remade into a dueling ground, and climbed to the upper corridor where the rooms lay. His vision flickered. When he could no longer endure the pain and set his shoulder to the wall, someone he had not expected appeared.
"L-Levian!"
Temporary Professor Ivy Rain.
"W-wait, look at me a second!"
He had been so fixed on the duel that he hadn't noticed she was there. She seemed to have come in Spirit Form again, and whatever the trouble was, her face was pinched tight.
"...Ugh."
The problem was that, unlike in the library, he had no strength left to deal with her. A nosebleed poured down harder than Andreas's, who had struck the wall with his head.
"Huh...? Huh?! Student Levian?! I-I haven't even done anything yet?!"
His body slid down the wall where his shoulder rested.
"Kyaaaah!!"
There was no helping it. Levian collapsed where he stood.